The league of the Iroquois and other legends : from the Indian muse

PROEM.
No more alas !
why still recall
What to the Past must still
belong ?
No more what other word can fall
To make a fuller sorrow - song ?
No more return the days gone by;
The troubled winds, with ceaseless moan,
In sough and sob, in wail and sigh,
Still blend their anguish with my own.
In vain the aching breast enfolds
Each scene it may no longer see,
Save that some drops of comfort holds
The hallowed urn of memory.
Though vain we mourn a glory fled
The fairest forms no longer fair,
A cheerful song for loved ones dead
May win us from more fell despair.
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