And when it feels the breeze,
I'll think thy spirit wakes that gentle sound
Such as our fathers thought when all around
Shook the old forest leaves.

Dost thou forget the hour, my brother,
When first we heard the Christian's hope revealed,
When fearless warriors felt their bosoms yield
Beneath Almighty power?

Then truths came o'er us fast,
Whilst on the mound the missionary stood
And thro' the list'ning silence of the wood
His words like spirits passed.

And oh, hadst thou been spared,
We two had gone to bless our fathers' land,
To spread rich stores around, and hand in hand
Each holy labor shared.

But here the relics of my brother lie,
Where nature's flowers shall bloom o'er nature's child,
Where ruins stretch, and classic art has piled
Her monuments on high.

Sleep on, my brother, sleep peaceful here
The traveler from thy land will claim this spot,
And give to thee what kingly tombs have not--
The tribute of a tear with me, my brother.