So sweet, so soft, so rich a strain,
It might not bless the ear again,
Now breathed afar, now swelling near,
It gushed on the enraptured ear;—
And hark! was it her well-known tone?
No—naught is heard but the voice alone.
“Warrior of the Lenape race,
Thou of the oak that cannot bend,
Of noble brow and stately grace,
And agile step, of the Tamenend,