"TIs said, that some have died for love: And there is one whom I five years have known; Upon Helvellyn's side: He loved- -the pretty Barbara died, Three years had Barbara in her grave been laid, "Oh, move, thou cottage, from behind that oak ! That in some other way yon smoke May mount into the sky! The clouds pass on; they from the heavens depart⚫ I look-the sky is empty space; I know not what I trace; But, when I cease to look, my hand is on my heart. "O, what a weight is in these shades! Ye leaves, When will that dying murmur be suppress'd? Your sound my heart of peace bereaves, It robs my heart of rest. Thou thrush, that singest loud-and loud and free, Upon that alder sit; Or sing another song, or choose another tree. "Roll back, sweet ril!! back to thy mountain bounds, And there for ever be thy waters chain'd! For thou dost haunt the air with sounds That cannot be sustain'd; If still beneath that pine-tree's ragged bough Oh let it then be dumb! Be anything, sweet rill, but that which thou art now. "Thou eglantine, whose arch so proudly towers (Even like a rainbow spanning half the vale), Thou one fair shrub-oh, shed thy flowers, And stir not in the gale! For thus to see thee nodding in the air, To see thy arch thus stretch and bend, Thus rise and thus descend,— Disturbs me, till the sight is more than I can bear.' The man who makes this feverish complaint Ah gentle love! if ever thought was thine THE COMPLAINT OF A FORSAKEN INDIAN WOMAN. (When a Northern Indian, from sickness, is unable to continue his journey with his companions, he is left behind, covered over with deer-skins, and is supplied with water, food, and fuel, if the situation of the place will afford it. He is informed of the track which his companions intend to pursue, and if he is unable to follow or overtake them, he perishes alone in the desert; unless he should have the good fortune to fall in with some other tribes of Indians. The females are equally, or still more, exposed to the same fate. See that very interesting work, Hearne's Journey from Iudson's Bay to the Northern Ocean. In the high Northern latitudes, as the same writer informs us, when the Northern Lights vary their position in the air, they make a rustling and a crackling noise. This circumstance is alluded to in the first stanzas of the following Poem.) BEFORE I see another day, Oh let my body die away! In sleep I heard the Northern gleams; I saw the crackling flashes drive; My fire is dead: it knew no pain; For clothes, for warmth, for food, and fire; No pleasure now, and no desire. Then here contented will I lie! Alone I cannot fear to die. Alas! ye might have dragg'd me on Another day, a single one! Too soon I yielded to despair; Why did ye listen to my prayer? When ye were gone my limbs were stronger; And oh how grievously I rue, That, afterwards, a little longer, My child! they gave thee to another, Through his whole body something ran; That he might pull the sledge for me. My little joy! my little pride! I'll follow you across the snow; Then wherefore shall I fear to die? THE LAST OF THE FLOCK. IN distant countries have I been, He saw me, and he turn'd aside, To-day I fetch'd him from the rock; "When I was young, a single man, Though little given to care and thought. Of sheep I number'd a full score, And now I care not if we dic, "Six children, sir! had I to feed ; They said I was a wealthy man ; 'Do this: how can we give to you,' "I sold a sheep, as they had said, And bought my little children bread, A woeful time it was for me, To see the end of all my gains, The pretty flock which I had rear'd "Another still! and still another! A little lamb, and then its mother It was a vein that never stopp'd Like blood-drops from my heart they dropp'd. Till thirty were not left alive, They dwindled, dwindled, one by one, And I may say, that many a time They dwindled one by one away; "To wicked deeds I was inclined, No peace, no comfort could I find, Oft-times I thought to run away; "Sir; 'twas a precious flock to me, God cursed me in my sore distress; And every week and every day, "They dwindled, sir, sad sight to see! I had but only one; And here it lies upon my arm, Alas! and I have none;— To-day I fetch'd it from the rock; A COMPLAINT. THERE is a change-and I am poor; A well of love-it may be deep; -Such change, and at the very door |