We saw thee, O stranger, and wept! We looked for the first born, whose mother's cry And to watch for a step- but the step was thine! THE ISLE OF FOUNTS. AN INDIAN TRADITION. "The River St. Mary has its source from a vast lake or marsh, which lies between Flint and Oakmulge rivers, and occupies a space of near three hundred miles in circuit. This vast accumu lation of waters, in the wet season, appears as a lake, and contains some large islands or knolls of rich highland; 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 incomparably beautiful. They also tell you that this terrestrial paradise has been seen by some of their enterprising hunters, when in pursuit of game: but that in their endeavors to approach it, they were involved in perpetual labyrinths, and, like enchanted land, still as they imagined they had just gained it, it seemed to fly before them alternately appearing 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 North and South Carolina, &c. The additional circumstances in the Isle of Founts are merely imaginary. SON of the stranger! wouldst thou take To reach the still and shining lake Along whose banks the west winds play? -Let no vain dreams thy heart beguile, Yes! there, with all its rainbow streams, And lovely will the shadows be And breathings from their sunny flowers, Or hast thou heard the sounds that rise To which the ancient rocks gave birth? The emerald waves!-they take their hue * 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 inhabitants." They represent them as snakes of an enormous size, and which possess the power of drawing to them every living creature that comes within the reach of their eyes. Their heads are said to be crowned with a carbuncle of dazzling brightness.-See Notes to Leyden's "Scenes of Infancy." + The stones on the banks of the Oronoco, called by the South American missionaries Laxas de Musica, and alluded to in a form er note. Yet on the breeze thou still wouldst hear Of founts that ripple through its glades: But wo for him who sees them borst With their bright spray-showers to the lake; For ever pouring through his dreams, F'en thus our hunters came of yore Back from their long and weary quest; They lay beside our glittering rills, Where elk and deer before us fly; They bent no more the forest bow, They arm'd not with the warrior-band, Beneath our pines yon greensward heap Son of the stranger! if at eve Silence be 'midst us in thy place, 3 THE BENDED BOW. It is supposed that war was anciently proclaimed in Britain by sending messengers in different directions through the land, each bearing a bended bow; and that peace was in like manner an nounced by a bow unstrung, and therefore straight. See the Cambrian Antiquities. THERE was heard the sound of a coming foe, "Heard ye not the battle-horn? And the reaper armed, like a freeman's son, "Hunter! leave the mountain chase! Let the deer ungalled sweep by, Arm thee! Britain's foes are nigh." And the hunter armed ere the chase was done, "Chieftain! quit the joyous feast! Leave the hearth and leave the hall- And the chieftain armed, and the horn was blown, "Prince! thy father's deeds are told, And the prince came armed, like a leader's son, Britain calls the strong in heart!" 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, And what was England's glorious crown He lived-for life may long be borne 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, * Originally published in the Literary Gazette, |