...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. IV. I go to the land where my father is gone; His ghost shall rejoice in the fame of his son: Death...

...which we bore from your nation away ! Now the flame rifes faft — you exult in my pain, But the fon of Alknomook can never complain. I go to the land where my father is gone : His ghort íhall rejoice in tiie fame of his fon. Death comes like a friend, he relieves me from...

...from your nation away; The flame rifcs fall — you erult in myp.iin, But the fon of Acnomac (hall never complain. I go to the land where my father is gone, His ghoft (hall rejoice in the fame of his fon : Death comes like a friend, he relieves me from pain,...