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I'LL HANG MY HARl' ON A WILLOW THEE.
Then I'll hide in my breast every selfish care,
I'll flush my pale cheek with wine, When smiles awake the bridal pair,
I'll hasten to give them mine ; I'll laugh and I'll sing, though my heart may bleed,
And I'll walk in the festive train, And if I survive it, I'll mount my steed,
And I'll off to the wars again.
But one golden tress of her hair I'll twine
In my helmet's sable plume, And then on the field of Palestine,
I'll seek an early doom; And if by the Saracen's hand I fall,
'Mid the noble and the brave, A tear from my lady-love is all
I ask for the warrior's grave.
THE INDIAN'S DEATH SONG.
The following song was written by Mrs. John Hunter, wife of the eminent surgeon and sister of Sir Everard Home. She was born in Scotland, in 1742. She wrote several songs which Haydn set to music, and her verses were very widely known. This song was exceedingly popular in New England in the beginning of the present century. The author says: " The idea was suggested several years ago, by hearing a gentleman who had resided many years ago in America, among the tribe called ' Cherokees' sing a wild air which he assured me it was customary for those people to chaunt with a barbarous jargon, implying contempt of their enemies, in the moments of torture and death."