Shall light us to the foe:
And we shall share, my Christian boy!
The foeman’s blood, the avenger’s joy!
XXXVI.
“But thee, my flower, whose breath was given
By milder genii o’er the deep,
The spirits of the white man’s heaven
Forbid not thee to weep:—
Nor will the Christian host,
Nor will thy father’s spirit grieve,