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The Indian Hunter.


AIR. — Meeting of the Waters.

Let me go to my home that is far distant west.
To the scenes of my youth that I like the best,
Where the tall cedars are and the bright waters flow,
Where my parents will greet me: white man let me go.

Let me go to the spot where the cataract plays,
Where oft I have sported in my boyish days,
There is my poor mother, whose heart will o'er flow
At the sight of her child: O there let me go!

Let me go to the hills and the ralleys so fair
Where aft I have breathed my own mountain air,
And there through the forest with quiver and bow,
I have chased the wild dear: O there let me go!


Let me go to my father, by whose valiant side,
I have sported so oft in the height of my pride,
And exulted to conquer the insolent foe,
To my father that chieftain: O there let me go!

And O let me go to my dark eyed maid,
Who taught me to love beneath the willow shade
Whose heart's like the fawn's, and as pure as the snow,
And she loves her dear Indian: to her let me go!

And O let me go to my fair forest home,
And never again will I wish to roam,
And there let my body in ashes lie low:
To that scene in the forest: white man let me go!