And there I found two silent graves,

Amid the vernal bloom

I ne'er shall see those forms again,
Till Heaven unseals the tomb.

O, Southern summer, false and fair,
Why, on thy loaded wing,

Blent with rich flowers and fruitage rare,
The seeds of sorrow bring?

A NEW-ENGLAND BALLAD.

[An incident, as early in the settlement of New-England as 1630, has been faithfully followed in the subjoined verses, which are written with the hope of drawing the attention of juvenile readers to that interesting era in our national history.]

A BOAT was bound from Shawmut * Bay

To Plymouth's stormy shore,

And on her rough and fragile hull

Five daring men she bore.

With them would Mary Guerard go
In cold December's time,
Though delicate and gently bred,

For such a rugged clime.

"Dear father, do not part from me,"

Entreatingly she cried,

"But when you seek the troubled sea,

Retain me by your side.

* Boston.

"My youthful spirits mount in joy Upon my bosom's throne,

And I can brave the storms with you,

But I shall weep alone."

They launch their shallop on the bay,
And give her to the breeze,

While Mary cheers her father's heart
Upon the sparkling seas.

How sweetly on that savage coast
Her maiden laughter rung!
How doatingly on that fair face
The busy oars-men hung!

But tempests rose, and mid the rocks
Their leaky boat was thrown;

A bed of ice form'd under them-
Their ocean path unknown.

Those five stout hearts with chasten'd looks

Await their mournful doom,

And Mary, Shawmut's gentle flower,

Expects a frozen tomb.

And now that group of pilgrim souls

'Dispose themselves to die;

How bless'd were they in that dread hour To put their trust on high.

But near a lone and surgy cape, †

Land! land! an oarsman spied

With effort strong they clear the skiff,
And catch the favoring tide;

And hoisting up their stiffen'd sail,
The dangerous way explore,

Till chill, and faint, with sinking hearts,
They reach the houseless shore.

Along the glaz'd and crackling ice

They move in

agony,

When starting forward on their track,

The group two red men see,

Who, with the warmth of untaught hearts,

Their generous help prepare, Cover, and feed, and nourish them, With hospitable care.

* Massachusetts Colony Records.

+ Cape Cod.

But cold had struck the chill of death
On Guerard's manly frame;

Fainter and fainter grew the breath
Which sigh'd his Mary's name.

And she, that lone and lovely one,
Sank like a shooting star,

That springing out from all its kin,

Falls scatter'd from afar :

Yet gather'd strength o'er that rough bed On which her father lay,

And on her fair breast laid his head,

And bent her own to pray;

And not until his failing sigh

Had bless'd her to the last, Down by his side in anguish lay, And clasp'd his body fast,

And shriek'd, in tones of piercing woe,

66

Return, return to me,

Leave, leave me not in sorrow here,

Or let me die with thee!"