Though the ebbing ocean listens
To Ugondé's throbbing roar,
Calm the conquering flood-tide glistens
Where the river raved before.
So the sea-brought strangers, stronger
Than their Indian foes of old,
Conquered, till were heard no longer
War-songs through the forests rolled.
Yet the land's wild stream, begotten
Where its Red Sons fought and died,
With traditions unforgotten
Strives to stem Oblivion's tide;
Tells the mighty, who, like ocean,
Whelm the native stream, how they
First in far dim days’ commotion,
Wrestling, fought for empire's sway.
Hear the sad cascade, ere ever
Sinks in rising tides its moan,
True may be the tale, though never
By the victor ocean known.
Now the chant rings softly, finding
Freedom as the sea retires;
Loudly now, through spray-tears blinding
Throb and thunder silver lyres;
Silenced when the strong sea-water
To its great’ heart, limitless,
Rising, takes the valley's daughter,
Soothes the song of her distress.