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THE PERUVIAN'S DIRGE OVER THE
BODY OF HIS FATHER.
1. Rest in peace, my Father, rest! With danger and toil have I borne thy corpse
From the Stranger's field of death.
I bless thee, O Wife of the Sun,
While at the pious task
Thy votary toil'd in fear.
But didst thou not see my toil,
All day for another he toils ;
Overwearied at night he lies down,
Thou wert blest in the days of thy youth,
Bore its part of the general task;
Ye brought the harvest home,
3. Thou visible Lord of the Earth, Thou God of my Fathers, thou God of my heart,
O Giver of light and of life!
Visible God of the Earth,
To idols and beams of wood
Where never thy blessed light
Rest with the dust of thy Sires !
And over thy breathless frame
Mumbled his magic hastily.
Oh! could thy bones be at peace
Alone, in danger and in pain,
So may our God, in reward,
Allow me one faithful friend To lay me beside thee when I am released !
So may he summon me soon, That my Spirit may join thee there, 'Where the strangers never shall come!
SONG OF THE ARAUCANS
DURING A THUNDER STORM.
The storm-cloud grows deeper above;
They come to the war of the winds.
The Souls of the Strangers are there, In their garments of darkness they ride through the
heaven; Yon cloud that rolls luridly over the hill
Is red with their weapons of fire.
Hark! hark ! in the howl of the wind The shout of the battle, the clang of their drums ; The horsemen are met, and the shock of the fight
Is the blast that disbranches the wood.
Behold from the clouds of their power
Ye Souls of our Fathers, be brave !
We gaze on your warfare in hope, We send up our shouts to encourage your arms ! Lift the lance of your vencance, O Fathers, with
force, For the wrongs of your country strike home!
Remember the land was your own When the Sons of Destruction came over the seas; That the old fell asleep in the fullness of days,
And their children wept over their graves.
Till the Strangers came into the land With tongues of deceit and with weapons of fire : Then the strength of the people in youth was cut off,
And the father wept over his son.
It thickens.. the tumult of fight ! Louder and louder the blast of the battle is heard !.. Remember the
your country endures ! Remember the fields of your fame!
Joy ! joy ! for the Strangers recoil,. They give way, .. they retreat,.. they are routed, ..
they fly; Pursue them! pursue them! remember your wrongs!
Let your lances be drunk with their wounds.
The Souls of your wives shall rejoice As they welcome you back to your Islands of Bliss; And the breeze that refreshes the toil-throbbing brow
Waft thither the song of your praise. Westbury, 1799.