Who through the battle’s fiery hail,
Had fought when Britons ran.
Full long he gazed upon the brow,
And marked the placid eye,
Of him who, loved by Manitou,
Could ne’er in battle die!
The chieftain old has gone to rest
By Great Kenawa’s side,
Where th’ waving pine bends low its crest,
And the shadows dimly glide.