Tell me, red man! old and hoar,
Dweller on Igomee’s shore!
Wherefore bound by spell or wile,
Spirit guarded, is yon isle?
Is there not embowelled there
Many a gem of lustre rare—
Glow there not, in hidden mine,
Jewel stones of ray divine—
Ore resplendent—crystal bright,
That illume the cavern-night?
Or, along the mystic strand,
Massy piles of golden sand?
Tell me, hunter! wilt thou not
Guide me to the treasur’d spot?
Arms, with Europe’s skill prepared,
Shall the daring deed reward;
Bands shall deck thee, feathers bless,
And the pride of Albion dress,
With Columbia’s banner wide,
And a chieftain’s plate beside.