North American Death Song

The Sun sets in Night, and the Stars shun the Day,
But Glory remains, when their Lights fade away;
Begin ye Tormentors, your Threats are in vain,
For the Son of Alknoomach shall never complain.

Remember the Arrows he shot from his Bow,
Remember your Chiefs by his Hatchet laid low;
Why so slow? do you wait till I shrink from my Pain?
No! the Son of Alknoomach shall never complain.

Remember the Wood where in Ambush we lay,
And the Scalps which we tore from your Nation away;
Now the Flame rises fast, you rejoyce in my Pain,
But the Son of Alknoomach shall never complain.

I go to the Land where my Father is gone,
His Ghost shall rejoyce in the fame of his Son;
Death comes like a Friend, He relieves me from Pain,
And thy Son oh Alknoomach has scorn'd to complain.

Written by Hester Lynch Thrale.
Thraliana entry dated 18 April 1782. Hester Thrale's spelling, grammar and capitalisation, some of which may not conform to today's standards, are reproduced faithfully throughout.