OSCEOLA’S ADDRESS TO HIS WARRIORS.
Reading edition
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BY WM. H. C. HOSMER.
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Our women leave in fear
Their lodges in the shade,
And the dread notes of fray go up
From swamp and everglade.
From ancient coverts scared,
Fly doe and bleating fawn,
While the pale robber beats his drum—
On, to the conflict on!
Shall tomahawk and spear
Be dark with peaceful rust,
While blood is on the funeral mound
That holds ancestral dust?
No! fiercely from its sheath
Let the keen knife be drawn,
And the dread rifle charged with death—
On, to the conflict on!
The ground our fathers trod,
Free as the wind, is ours;
And the red cloud of war shall soak
The land with crimson showers.
Upon our tribe enslaved
Bright morn shall never dawn,
While arm can strike and weapon pierce—
On, to the conflict on!