GERTRUDE OF WYOMING. IX. I boast no song in magic wonders rife, An inmate in the home of Albert smiled, Or blest his noonday walk-she was his only child. X. The rose of England bloom'd on Gertrude's cheek What though these shades had seen her birth, her sire A Briton's independence taught to seek Far western worlds; and there his household fire The light of social love did long inspire, And many a halcyon day he lived to see Unbroken, but by one misfortune dire, When fate had reft his mutual heart-but she Was gone-and Gertrude climb'd a widow'd father's knee; XI. A loved bequest, and I may half impart How like a new existence to his heart Uprose that living flower beneath his eye, Dear as she was, from cherub infancy, From hours when she would round his garden play, To time when, as the ripening years went by, Her lovely mind could culture well repay, And more engaging grew from pleasing day to day. XII. I may not paint those thousand infant charms; (Unconscious fascination, undesign'd!) The orison repeated in his arms, For God to bless her sire and all mankind ; The book, the bosom on his knee reclined, Or how sweet fairy-lore he heard her con (The playmate ere the teacher of her mind): All uncompanion'd else her years had gone Till now in Gertrude's eyes their ninth blue summer shone. XIII. And summer was the tide, and sweet the hour When sire and daughter saw, with fleet descent, An Indian from his bark approach their bower, Of buskin❜d limb, and swarthy lineament! The red wild feathers on his brow were blent, And bracelets bound the arm that help'd to light A boy, who seem'd, as he beside him went, Of Christian vesture, and complexion bright, Led by his dusky guide like morning brought by night. XIV. Yet pensive seem'd the boy for one so young, The dimple from his polish'd cheek had fled; When, leaning on his forest-bow unstrung, Th' Oneyda warrior to the planter said, And laid his hand upon the stripling's head, The paths of peace my steps have hither led :6 This little nursling, take him to thy love, And shield the bird unfledged, since gone the parent dove. XV. "Christian! I am the foeman of thy foe; Our wampum league thy brethren did embrace : |