[Cover Page only:] "The Dark Eye has Left Us" (1848)
[Cover & Title Page:] Song of Indian Women, 
From a Poem Entitled 
The Bridal of Pennacook.
by John Greenleaf Whittier, 1807-1892 
Music Composed & Dedicated to
His Friends and Lovers of Son on the 
Beautiful Banks of the
Merrimac River
by
William Richardson Dempster, 1809-1871

Boston: Oliver Ditson, 115 Washington St.
Plate Number: 1540
[Source: 066/031@Levy]

    Passaconaway, the Great Chief of the Pennacook tribe of 
Indians which inhabited that part of the New Hampshire where 
Concord now stands, had an only daughter who was married to 
a chief of another tribe. In the spring following her marriage 
the young wife visited her father, excorted by her husband and 
the principal warriors of his tribe, with much pomp and ceremony 
— She remained with her father during the summer months and in 
autumn she wished to return to her new home — Passaconaway sent 
notice to the young chief, requesting him to come and take his
wife back to again — According to the notion of Indian life he 
felt indignant at this message, replying, that her father ought 
to send her back with as brave an escort as she came with — This 
roused the pride of the great Sarbouy as he would not permit his 
daughter to return — As the breaking up of the ice in the 
Merrimac river in the spring, she attempted to make her escape 
to her husband by paddling her way alone in a canoe, and 
perished in descending the fall of the river. — This song is 
that of the women of her tribe.

1. The dark eye has left us, 
The springbird has flown; 
On the pathway of spirits 
She wanders alone. 
The song of the wooddove has died on our shore; Mat wonck kunna monee!* 
Mat wonck kunna monee! 
Mat womck kunna monee! 
We hear it no more.

[* Translation -- we see or hear it no more.]

2. Oh! dark water spirit!
We cast on thy wave
These furs that may never
Hang over her grave;
Bear down to our lost one the robes which she wore,
Mat wonck kunna monee!
Mat wonck kunna monee!
Mat wonck kunna monee!—
We see her no more.

3. Of the strange land she walks in
No Powah* has told:
It may burn with the sunshine,
Or freeze with the cold.
Let us give to our loved one the robes which she wore.
Mat wonck kunna monee!
Mat wonck kunna monee!
Mat wonck kunna monee!
We see her no more.

[* Powah. Indian Chief.]]

4. The path she is treading
Shall soon be our own;
Each gliding in shadow
Unseen and alone!—
In vain shall we call on the souls gone before—
Mat wonck kunna monee!
Mat wonck kunna monee!
Mat wonck kunna monee!—
They hear us no more.

5. Oh mighty Sowanna!*
The gateways unfold,
From thy wigwam of sunset
Lift curtains of gold!
Take home the pour spirit whose journey is o’er—
Mat wonck kunna monee!
Mat wonck kunna monee!
Mat wonck kunna monee!—
We see her no more.

[* Sowwana. The great southwest God.]