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136 Songs and Ballads
4 Repress that tear, my Mary, dear,
Said Harwood to his loving wife, It tries me hard to leave thee here, And seek in distant woods the strife.
5 When gone, my Mary, think of me,
And pray to God, that I may be, Such as one ought that lives for thee, And come at last in victory.
6 Thus left young Harwood babe and wife,
With accent wild, she bade adieu; It grieved those lovers much to part, So fond and fair, so kind and true.
7 Seth Wyman, who in Woburn lived,
(A marksman he of courage true,) Shot the first Indian, whom they saw, Sheer through his heart the bullet flew.
8 The Savage had been seeking game,
Two guns and eke a knife he bore, And two black ducks were in his hand, He shrieked, and fell, to rise no more.
9 Anon, there eighty Indians rose,
Who'd hid themselves in ambush dread; Their knives they shook, their guns they aimed, The famous Paugus at their head.
10 Good heavens! they dance the Powow dance, What horrid yells the forest fill? The grim bear crouches in his den, The eagle seeks the distant hill. |
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