"This scarf of crimson grand,
By brave Sir Isaac's hand,
Was bound round me with praise, when his heart towards
me was stirred;
I belt it around you,
My brother brave and true,
Think about Tecumthe, and remember his last word.
"When on the red war-path,
War fiercely to the death,
Be pitiful and tender to the helpless and the fair,
I fought—have many slain,
But not a single stain
Of blood of maids or children dims the good sword I wear.
"Brother, a forest maid
Within my wigwam stayed,
She is called before me, far beyond the glowing west,
This battle lost or won,
You'll take my little son,
Train him a Shawnee brave, let him be in deer skin drest.
"When grown a warrior strong,
To feel his nation's wrong,
When he is fierce in battle, and wise in council fire,
Worthy my sword to wear,
Then with a father's care,
Let thy hand belt upon him the good sword of his sire.
"Tell him, I lived and fought
For my nation and had not
A thought but for their good on resentment for their wrong,
Nor ever wished to have
Any gift the pale-face gave
Nor learned a single word of the fatal pale-face tongue
'Tell him, he is the last
Of a race great in the past,
Before the foot of white men had stepped upon our strand
And if fate will not give
Any place where they may live
Let him die among his people and for his people's land.
'I strip this coat off here
Of a British Brigadier
It is a costly garment with gold lace grand and brave,
The Shawnee chief is best,
In shirt of deerskin drest,
Not in pale-face gift they'll find me who lay me in the grave.
"I have lost all but life
To meet in mortal strife,
To kill many, that the white squaws weep as ours have done,
To lie among the dead,
With garments bloody red,
And go to happy hunting grounds beyond the setting sun.
'This will be, Wyandot brave,
You'll give to me a grave,
In dimness of the forest, in earth my mother's breast,
Each tall tree a sentinel,
Will guard the secret well
Of where you laid Tecumthe down to his lasting rest'
After the fatal fight
The strife became a flight
They found the chief Tecumthe lying still among the slain
Never to fight again.
Ah! little recked he then
That dastard white men outraged his body to their shame.