Hang the peace-pipe on the wall, Rouse the nations, one and all, Bid them for the fight prepare, War—red, raging, ruthless war. Now begin the sacred dance, Raise the club, and shake the lance; Now prepare the bow and dart, ’Tis our fathers’ ancient art. Other weapons need we none, All by Indian arms be won; Let each heart be strong and bold, As our fathers were of old; Valiant they, in wood or storm, Panthers’ doublets kept them warm; Warriors, rise, and drive them back! ’Tis the voice of Pontiac. Take the wampum, warrior, fly— Say, a foreign foe is nigh; On he comes, with furious breath Speaking peace, but dealing death; Spreading o’er our native plains Forts and banners, fire and chains. Death comes marching in his train— Death with never-ending pain— Not the pain that warriors fear; Not the faggot, ball, or spear; Not fierce danger—that is sweet; Not the red pine’s burning heat; But the bane from which we shrink, Fiery, fell, destroying drink. New found art to feed the grave, And sink a freeman to a slave. Warriors, hear: if deep below, Where evil dwells, there be a woe More deadly, bitter, foul, and black, Than aught that haunts the Red Man’s track, It is to sit, and tamely see A dog glut up our liberty, Our life, our soil—each dear-loved place, And bind our hands with shackles base. Up—up, and arm for the attack! It is the voice of Pontiac. Is there sachem who is wise? Him, his country bids arise. Is there warrior who is brave? Let him rise, his land to save. Trust not time shall come again E’er to break the iron chain. Or if now ye waive the blow, Once again to strike the foe; Fate forbids it—_now_—’tis _now_! Honor calls to seal the vow. Let the legions clothed with red, Howl their pathway to the dead, Sink, or perish in the sea, But never trample on the free. Tribe that lags or lingers now Breaks the spirit-witnessed vow; Nor shall ever rise again, Lord or master of the plain. Thus, in types of cloud and breeze, Mighty Manito decrees. I have seen his shining throne; I have heard him—I alone. List—the paths of truth I track; ’Tis the voice of Pontiac.