Proud Gordon cannot bear the thoughts The youth, her chosen lover. And, falling into Bruce's arms, And Bruce, as soon as he had slain But many days, and many months, This wretched knight did vainly seek And there his sorrow ended. Now ye, who willingly have heard By Ellen's side the Bruce is laid; And its forlorn HIC JACET. VII. STRANGE fits of passion I have known: And I will dare to tell, But in the lover's ear alone, What once to me befell. When she I loved was strong and gay, And like a rose in June, I to her cottage bent my way, Beneath the evening moon. Upon the moon I fixed my eye, My horse trudged on--and we drew nigh 59 And now we reached the orchard plot; In one of those sweet dreams I slept, My horse moved on; hoof after hoof What fond and wayward thoughts will slide "O mercy!" to myself I cried, "If Lucy should be dead!" VIII. SHE dwelt among the untrodden ways A maid whom there were none to praise, A violet by a mossy stone Fair as a star, when only one She lived unknown, and few could know But she is in her grave, and, oh, IX. I TRAVELLED among unknown men, 'Tis past, that melancholy dream! Among thy mountains did I feel And she I cherished turned her wheel Thy mornings showed, thy nights concealed X. LOUISA. I MET Louisa in the shade; That she is ruddy, fleet, and strong; And she hath smiles to earth unknown; Smiles, that with motion of their own Do spread, and sink, and rise; That come and go with endless play, She loves her fire, her cottage home; And, when against the wind she strains, Take all that's mine "beneath the moon," If I with her but half a noon May sit beneath the walls Of some old cave, or mossy nook, When up she winds along the brook, XI. "TIS said, that some have died for love : Because the wretched man himself had slain, And there is one whom I five years have known; 9 He dwells alone Upon Helvellyn's side: He loved the pretty Barbara died, And thus he makes his moan: Three years had Barbara in her grave been laid, "Oh, move, thou cottage, from behind that oak! That in some other way yon smoke The clouds pass on; they from the heavens depart : I know not what I trace; But, when I cease to look, my hand is on my heart. Oh, what a weight is in these shades! Ye leaves, It robs my heart of rest. Thou thrush, that singest loud-and loud and free, Into yon row of willows flit, Upon that alder sit; Or sing another song, or choose another tree. Roll back, sweet rill! back to thy mountain bounds, And there for ever be thy waters chained! For thou dost haunt the air with sounds That cannot be sustained; 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 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 XII. 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 Hudson'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; And yet they are upon my eyes, My fire is dead: it knew no pain; When I was well, I wished to live, For clothes, for warmth, for food, and fire; Then here contented will I lie! Alone I cannot fear to die. Alas! ye might have dragged me on Too soon I yielded to despair; Why did ye listen to my prayer ? When ye were gone my limbs were stronger; My child they gave thee to another, |