Undo this necklace from my neck,

And take this bracelet ring,

And send me where my brother reigns,

And I will fill thy hands

With store of ivory from the plains,
And gold-dust from the sands.”

"Not for thy ivory nor thy gold
Will I unbind thy chain;
That bloody hand shall never hold
The battle-spear again.

A price that nation never gave
Shall yet be paid for thee;

For thou shalt be the Christian's slave,
In lands beyond the sea."

Then wept the warrior chief, and bade

To shred his locks away;

And one by one, each heavy braid
Before the victor lay.

Thick were the platted locks, and long,

And closely hidden there

Shone many a wedge of gold among

The dark and crispèd hair.

"Look, feast thy greedy eye with gold

Long kept for sorest need;

Take it-thou askest sums untold

And say that I am freed.

Take it my wife, the long, long day,
Weeps by the cocoa-tree,

And my young children leave their play,
And ask in vain for me."

"I take thy gold, but I have made
Thy fetters fast and strong,
And ween that by the cocoa-shade
Thy wife will wait thee long."
Strong was the agony that shook
The captive's frame to hear,
And the proud meaning of his look
Was changed to mortal fear.

His heart was broken-crazed his brain:
At once his eye grew wild;
He struggled fiercely with his chain,
Whispered, and wept, and smiled;
Yet wore not long those fatal bands,
And once, at shut of day,

They drew him forth upon the sands,
The foul hyena's prey.

New York, 1825.

"United States Review," December, 1826.

THE GREEK PARTISAN.

UR free flag is dancing

Ο
On the

In the free mountain air,

And burnished arms are glancing,

And warriors gathering there;

And fearless is the little train

Whose gallant bosoms shield it;

The blood that warms their hearts shall stain
That banner, ere they yield it.

Each dark eye is fixed on earth,
And brief each solemn greeting;

There is no look nor sound of mirth,
Where those stern men are meeting.

They go to the slaughter

To strike the sudden blow,

And pour on earth, like water,

The best blood of the foe;

To rush on them from rock and height,
And clear the narrow valley,

Or fire their camp at dead of night,

And fly before they rally.

-Chains are round our country pressed,
And cowards have betrayed her,

And we must make her bleeding breast
The grave of the invader.

Not till from her fetters

We raise up Greece again,
And write, in bloody letters,
That tyranny is slain,—

Oh, not till then the smile shall steal
Across those darkened faces,
Nor one of all those warriors feel
His children's dear embraces.
-Reap we not the ripened wheat,
Till yonder hosts are flying,
And all their bravest, at our feet,
Like autumn sheaves are lying.

A SONG OF PITCAIRN'S ISLAND.

'OME, take our boy, and we will go

COM

Before our cabin-door;

The winds shall bring us, as they blow,

The murmurs of the shore;

blue eyes,

And we will kiss his young
And I will sing him, as he lies,

Songs that were made of yore:
I'll sing, in his delighted ear,
The island lays thou lov'st to hear.

And thou, while stammering I repeat,

Thy country's tongue shalt teach; 'Tis not so soft, but far more sweet

Than my own native speech: For thou no other tongue didst know, When, scarcely twenty moons ago,

Upon Tahete's beach,

Thou cam'st to woo me to be thine,
With many a speaking look and sign.

I knew thy meaning-thou didst praise
My eyes, my locks of jet;