THE
DEATH
SONG
,
WRITTEN
FOR
,
AND
ADAPTED
TO
,
AN
ORIGINAL
INDIAN
AIR
.
THE
sun
sets
in
night
,
and
the
stars
shun
the
day
,
But
glory
remains
when
their
lights
fade
away
:
Begin
,
you
tormentors
!
your
threats
are
in
vain
,
For
the
son
of
Alknomook
will
never
complain
.
Remember
the
arrows
he
shot
from
his
bow
,
Remember
your
chiefs
,
by
his
hatchet
laid
low
:
Why
so
slow
?
do
you
wait
till
I
shrink
from
the
pain
?
No
;
the
son
of
Alknomook
shall
never
complain
.
Remember
the
wood
,
where
in
ambush
we
lay
,
And
the
scalps
which
we
bore
from
your
nation
away
:
Now
the
flame
rises
fast
;
you
exult
in
my
pain
;
But
the
son
of
Alknomook
can
never
complain
.
I
go
to
the
land
where
my
father
is
gone
,
His
ghost
shall
rejoice
in
the
fame
of
his
son
:
Death
comes
like
a
friend
to
relieve
me
from
pain
;
And
thy
son
,
O
Alknomook
,
has
scorn'd
to
complain
.
THE
idea
of
this
ballad
was
suggested
several
years
ago
by
hearing
a
gentleman
,
who
had
resided
several
years
in
America
amongst
the
tribe
or
nation
called
the
Cherokees
,
sing
a
wild
air
,
which
he
assured
me
it
was
customary
for
those
people
to
chaunt
with
a
barbarous
jargon
,
implying
contempt
for
their
enemies
in
the
moments
of
torture
and
death
.
I
have
endeavoured
to
give
something
of
the
characteristic
spirit
and
sentiment
of
those
brave
savages
.
We
look
upon
the
fierce
and
stubborn
courage
of
the
dying
indian
with
a
mixture
of
respect
,
pity
,
and
horror
;
and
it
is
to
those
sensations
excited
in
the
mind
of
the
reader
,
that
the
Death
Song
must
owe
its
effect
.
It
has
already
been
published
with
the
notes
to
which
it
was
adapted
.