Through the dark pine-grove let thy voice be heard. The light of his eye was a joy to see, .th The path of his arrows a storm to flee! But there came a voice from a distant shore: more! He is not in his place when the night-fires burn, He hath none by his side when the wilds we track, We looked for her eye on the feast to shine, breezy step-but the step was thine! ་་ Through the dark pine-grove let thy voice be heard, The light of his eye was a joy to see, We know that the bowers are green and fair For there must the stream in its freshness burst, And we know that they will not be lured to earth By the feast, or the dance, or the song of mirth, Though their hearts were once with ours; Though they sat with us by the night-fire's blaze, But tell us, thou bird of the solemn strain! Doth the warrior think of his brother there, And the chief, of those that were wont to share We call them far through the silent night, THE STRANGER IN LOUISIANA. An early traveller mentions a people on the banks of the Mississippi who burst into tears at the sight of a stranger. The reason of this is, that they fancy their deceased friends and relations to be only gone on a journey, and being in constant expectation of their return, look for them vainly amongst these foreign travellers. Picart's Ceremonies and Religious Customs. "J'ai passé moi-même," says Chateaubriand in his Souve nurs d'Amérique, "chez une peuplade indienne qui se prenait à pleurer à la vue d'un voyageur, parce qu'il lui rappelait des amis partis pour la Contrée des Ames, et depuis long-tems en voyage." We saw thee, O stranger, and wept! We looked for the youth of the sunny glance, Whose step was the fleetest in chase or dance! The path of his arrows a storm to flee! He is not in his place when the night-fires burn, We saw thee, O stranger, and wept! We looked for her eye on the feast to shine, We saw thee, O stranger, and wept! Oh, ask of them, stranger!-send back the lost! Tell, how we sat in the gloom to pine, THE ISLE OF FOUNTS. AN INDIAN TRADITION. "The River St. Mary has its source from a vast lake o marsh, which lies between Flint and Oakmulge rivers, and occupies a space of near three hundred miles in circuit. This vast accumulation of waters, in the wet season, appears as a lake, and contains some large islands or knolls of rich high land; one of which the present generation of the Creek Indians represent to be a most blissful spot of earth; they say it is inhabited by a peculiar race of Indians, whose women are * An expedition was actually undertaken by Juan Ponce do incomparably beautiful. They also tell you that this terresLeon, in the 16th century, with the view of discovering a won- trial paradise has been seen by some of their enterprising derful fountain, believed by the natives of Puerto Rico to spring hunters, when in pursuit of game; but that in their ende in one of the Lucayo Isles, and to possess the virtue of restor- vours to approach it, they were involved in perpetual 'abying youth to all who bathed in its waters.-See Robertson's rinths, and, like enchanted land, still as they imagined they History of America. had just gained it, it seemed to fly before them, alternately pearing and disappearing. They resolved, at length, to leave the delusive pursuit, and to return, which, after a number of difficulties, they effected. When they reported their adventures to their countrymen, the young warriors were inflamed with an irresistible desire to invade, and make a conquest of, so charming a country; but all their attempts have hitherto proved abortive, never having been able again to find that enchanting spot." Bartram's Travels through N. and S. Carolina, &c. The additional circumstances in the Isle of Founts are merely imaginary. SON of the stranger! wouldst thou take O'er yon blue hills thy lonely way, Along whose banks the west-winds play? 'Midst the gray rocks, his old domain; Yes! there, with all its rainbow streams, Floats on the wave in golden light; Shall greet thee in their purple sky; Or hast thou heard the sounds that rise To which the ancient rocks gave birth?t Yet on the breeze thou still wouldst hear Of founts that ripple through its glades; But wo for him who sees them burst With their bright spray-showers to the lake Earth has no spring to quench the thirst That semblance in his soul shall wake The waters of our deserts lie, E'en thus our hunters came of yore And could they 'midst our wilds find rest? They lay beside our glittering rills, Where elk and deer before us fly; They armed not with the warrior band, The moons waned o'er them dim and slow-They left us for the spirit's land! Beneath our pines yon greensward heap Show where the restless found their sleep. Son of the stranger! if at eve Silence be 'midst us in thy place, The strength of battle and of chase! THE BENDED BOW. The Cherokees believe that the recesses of their mountains, overgrown with lofty pines and cedars, and covered with old mossy rocks, are inhabited by the kings or chiefs of the rattlesnakes, whom they denominate the "bright old inhabi It is supposed that war was anciently proclaimed in Britants." They represent them as snakes of an enormous size, tain by sending messengers in different directions through the And which possess the power of drawing to them every living land, each bearing a bended bow; and that peace was in like creature that comes within the reach of their eyes. Their manner announced by a bow unstrung, and therefore straight. neads are said to be crowned with a carbuncle, of dazzling See the Cambrian Antiquities, brightness.-See notes to Leyden's "Scenes of Infancy." The stones on the banks of the Oronoco, called by the Fouth American missionaries Laras de Musica, and alluded to in a former note. THERE was heard the sound of a coming foe, There was sent through Britain a bended bow, And a voice was poured on the free winds far, "Heard ye not the battle-horn? And the reaper armed, like a freeman's son, "Hunter! leave the mountain-chase! And the hunter armed ere the chase was done, "Chieftain! quit the joyous feast! And the chieftain armed, and the horn was blown, "Prince! thy father's deeds are told, In the bower and in the hold! Where the goatherd's lay is sung, Give our bards a tale of thee!" And the prince came armed, like a leader's son, "Mother! stay thou not thy boy! And the bended bow and the voice passed on, HE NEVER SMILED AGAIN.* It is recorded of Henry the First, that after the death of his son, Prince William, who perished in a shipwreck off the coast of Normandy, he was never seen to smile. THE bark that held a prince went down, The sweeping waves rolled on; • Originally published in the Literary Gazette. And what was England's glorious crown To him that wept a son? He lived-for life may long be borne Ere sorrow break its chain; Why comes not death to those who mourn? -He never smiled again! There stood proud forms around his throne, But which could fill the place of one, In pleasure's reckless train, But seas dashed o'er his son's bright hair- He sat where festal bowls went round; A murmur of the restless deep Was blent with every strain, A voice of winds that would not sleep- Hearts, in that time, closed o'er the trace Graves, which true love had bathed with tears, Fresh hopes were born for other years— COEUR-DE-LION AT THE BIER OF HIS FATHER. The body of Henry the Second lay in state in the abbey church of Fontevraud, where it was visited by Richard Ca ur de-Lion, who, on beholding it, was struck with horror and remorse, and bitterly reproached himself for that rebellione conduct which had been the means of bringing his father t an untimely grave. TORCHES were blazing clear, And warriors slept beneath, On the settled face of death Though dimmed at times by the censer's brotn As if each deeply-furrowed trace |