The Indian Hunter.

The Indian Hunter.
319.5

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

Let me go to the hills and the valleys so fair.
Where oft I have breathed my own mountain air:
And there through the forest, with quiver and bow.
I have chased the wild deer-oh, there, let me go.

Let me go to the spot where the cataract plays.
Where oft I have sported in my boyish Cays:
There is my poor mother, whose heart will over- flow
At the sight of her child-to her 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 exalted to conquer the insolent foe.
To my father, that chieftain, oh, there let me ko.

And oh, let me go to my dark cyed maid.
Who taught me to love ‘neath the wide willow shade,
Whoss heart is like the fawn and as pure
And she loves her dear Indian, to her let me go.

And oh, let me go to my fair forest home,
And never again will I wish to roam.
And there let my body in ashes lle low.
To that home in the forest, white man, let me go.