forth,

That thus apostrophized its viewless scene: "Land of my father's love, my mother's birth! The home of kindred I have never seen! We know not other-oceans are between: Yet say, far friendly hearts! from whence

we came,

Of us does oft remembrance intervene? My mother sure-my sire a thought may claim;

But Gertrude is to you an unregarded name.

And yet, loved England! when thy name I

trace

In many a pilgrim's tale and poet's song, How can I choose but wish for one embrace Of them, the dear unknown, to whom belong My mother's looks, — perhaps her likeness strong?

Oh, parent! with what reverential awe, From features of thine own related throng, An image of thy face my soul could draw! And see thee once again whom I too shortly saw!"—

Yet deem not Gertrude sighed for foreign joy; To soothe a father's couch her only care, And keep his reverend head from all annoy For this, methinks, her homeward steps repair,

Soon as the morning-wreath had bound her hair,

While yet the wild deer trod in spangling dew,
While boatmen carolled to the fresh-blown air,
And woods a horizontal shadow threw,
And early fox appeared in momentary view.

Apart there was a deep untrodden grot, Where oft the reading hours sweet Gertrude wore;

To human art a sportive semblance bore, And yellow lichens coloured all the clime, Like moonlight battlements and towers decayed by time.

But high in amphitheatre above,
His arms the everlasting aloes threw:
Breathed but an air of heaven, and all the
grove,

As if with instinct, living spirit grew,
Rolling its verdant gulphs of every hue:
And now suspended was the pleasing din;
Now from a murmur faint it swelled anew,
Like the first note of organ heard within
Cathedral aisles, ere yet its symphony begin.

stood.

Returning from the copse he soon was there ; And soon has Gertrude hied from dark green wood;

Nor joyless, by the converse, understood
Between the man of age and pilgrim young,
That gay congeniality of mood,
And early liking from acquaintance sprung;
Full fluently conversed their guest in Eng-
laud's tongue.

And well could he his pilgrimage of taste
Unfold,and much they loved his fervid strain,
While he each fair variety retraced
Of climes and manners o'er the eastern main.
Now happy Switzer's hills, - romantic
Spain,-

Gay lilied fields of France,―or, more refined,

Would feel like mine the stigmatizing brand, Could I forsake the cause of Freedom's holy band!

to prove,

The chief his old bewilder'd head withdrew, And grasped his arm, and looked and looked him through.

'Twas strange-nor could the group a smile controul

To hide in exile ignominious fears;
Say, e'en if this I brooked, the public love
Thy father's bosom to his home endears:
And how could I his few remaining years,
My Gertrude, sever from so dear a child?
So, day by day, her boding heart he cheers;
At last that heart to hope is half beguiled,
And pale through tears suppressed the mourn-
ful beauty smiled.

Night came, and in their lighted bower, full late,

The joy of converse had endured-when, hark!

Abrupt and loud a summons shook their gate; And heedless of the dog's obstrep'rous bark, A form has rush'd amidst them from the dark, And spread his arms, and fell upon the floor: Of aged strength his limbs retain’d the mark; But desolate he looked, and famished poor, As ever shipwrecked wretch long left on desert shore.

Upris'n each wond'ring brow is knit and arched:

A spirit from the dead they deem him first: To speak he tries; but quiv'ring, pale, and parched,

From lips, as by some powerless dream accursed,

Emotions unintelligible burst;
And long his filmed eye is red and dim;
At length the pity-proffered cup his thirst
Had half assuag'd, and nerved his shuddering
limb,

When Albert's hand he grasped; but Albert knew not him.

And hast thou then forgot, (he cried forlorn, And eyed the group with half indignant air,) Oh! hast thou, Christian chief, forgot the

morn

When I with thee the cup of peace did share? Then stately was this head, and dark this hair,

That now is white as Appalachia's snow; But, if the weight of fifteen years' despair And age hath bowed me,and the torturing foe, Bring me my boy-and he will his deliverer know!

It was not long, with eyes and heart of flame,
Ere Henry to his loved Oneyda flew:
Bless thee, my guide!-but, backward, as
he came,

Yes! thou recallst my pride of years, for then The bowstring of my spirit was not slack, When, spite of woods, and floods, and ambushed men,

I bore thee like the quiver on my back, Fleet as the whirlwind hurries on the rack; Nor foeman then, nor cougar's crouch I feared,

For I was strong as mountain-cataract: And dost thou not remember how we cheered, Upon the last hill-top, when white men's huts appeared?

Then welcome be my death-song and my death!

Since I have seen thee, and again embraced.
And longer had he spent his toil-worn breath;
But with affectionate and eager haste
Was every arm outstretched around their
guest,

To welcome and to bless his aged head.
Soon was the hospitable banquet placed;
And Gertrude's lovely hands a balsam shed
On wounds with fevered joy that more pro-
fusely bled.

But this is not a time, he started up, And smote his breast with woe-denouncing hand

This is no time to fill the joyous cup; The Mammoth comes,-the foe,-the monster Brandt,

With all his howling desolating band: These eyes have seen their blade, and burning pine

Awake at once, and silence half your land. Red is the cup they drink; but not with wine: Awake, and watch to-night, or see no morning shine!

Scorning to wield the hatchet for his bribe, 'Gainst Brandt himself I went to battle forth:

Accursed Brandt! he left of all my tribe
Nor man, nor child, nor thing of living birth,
No! not the dog that watched my household-
hearth

Escaped that night of blood upon our plains!
All perished!--I alone am left on earth!
To whom nor relative nor blood remains,
No!—not a kindred drop that runs in human
veins!

right These old bewildered eyes could guess, by signs

Of striped and starred banners, on yon height
Of eastern cedars, o'er the creek of pines,
Some fort embattled by your country shines:
Deep roars th' innavigable gulph below
Its squared rock and palisaded lines.
Go! seek the light its warlike beacons shew;
Whilst I in ambush wait for vengeance and
the foc!

Scarce had he uttered-when heaven's verge

extreme

Reverberates the bomb's descending star, And sounds that mingled laugh,—and shout, -and scream,

To freeze the blood, in one discordant jar, Rung to the pealing thunderbolts of war. Whoop after whoop with rack the ear assailed! As if unearthly fiends had burst their bar; While rapidly the marksman's shot prevailed: And aye, as if for death, some lonely trumpet wailed.

Then looked they to the hills, where fire
o'erhung
The bandit-groups, in one Vesuvian glare;
Or swept, far seen, the tower whose clock
unrung

Told legible that midnight of despair.
She faints, she falters not, th' heroic fair,
As he the sword and plume in haste array'd.
One short embrace-he clasp'd his dearest

care

But hark! what nearer war-drum shakes the glade? Joy, joy! Columbia's friends are trampling through the shade.

Then came of every race the mingled swarm; Far rung the groves and gleam'd the midnight grass

With flambeau, javelin, and naked arm;
As warriors wheeled their culverins of brass,
Sprung from the woods, a bold athletic mass,
Whom virtue fires, and liberty combines :
And first the wild Moravian yaegers pass;
His plumed host the dark Iberian joins;
And Scotia's sword beneath the Highland-
thistle shines.

And in the buskined hunters of the deer To Albert's home with shout and cymbal throng:

Roused by their warlike pomp, and mirth, and cheer,

Old Outalissi woke his battle-song, And, beating with his war-club cadence strong,

Tells how his steep-stung indignation smarts

long