• And with the Hurons planted for a space,

• With true and faithful hands, the olive-stalk;

• But snakes are in the bosoms of their race,

• And though they held with us a friendly talk, 'The hollow peace-tree fell beneath their tomohawk!

XVI.

• It was encamping on the lake's far port,

• A cry of Areouski broke our sleep,

'Where storm'd an ambush'd foe thy nation's fort,.

'And rapid rapid whoops came o'er the deep;
But long thy country's war-sign on the steep
'Appear'd through ghastly intervals of light,
And deathfully their thunders seem'd to sweep,
• Till utter darkness swallow'd up the sight,

• As if a show'r of blood had quench'd the fiery fight!

3 The Indian God of War.

XVII,

It slept-it rose again--on high their tow'r Sprung upwards like a torch to light the skies, 'Then down again it rain❜d an ember show'r,

And louder lamentations heard we rise:

As when the evil Manitou1 that dries

'Th' Ohio woods, consumes them in his ire, • In vain the desolated panther flies,

'And howls, amidst his wilderness of fire:

'Alas! too late, we reach'd and smote those Hurons

dire!

XVIII.

• But as the fox beneath the nobler hound,

So died their warriors by our battle-brand;

And from the tree we with her child unbound

'A lonely mother of the Christian land

Manitou, Spirit or Deity.

'Her lord--the captain of the British band

‹ Amidst the slaughter of his soldiers lay.

'Scarce knew the widow our delivʼring hand;
• Upon her child she sobb'd, and swoon'd away,

'Or shriek'd `unto the God to whom the Christians

pray.

XIX.

• Our virgins fed her with their kindly bowls •Of fever-balm, and sweet sagamité;

• But she was journeying to the land of souls, • And lifted up her dying head to pray

• That we should bid an ancient friend convey 'Her orphan to his home of England's shore; • And take, she said, this token far away

• To one that will remember us of yore,

• When he beholds the ring that Waldegrave's Julia

wore.

XX.

And I, the eagle of my tribe,' have rush'd

With this lorn dove.'-A sage's self-command

Had quell'd the tears from Albert's heart that gush'd; But yet his cheek-his agitated hand

That shower'd upon the stranger of the land

No common boon, in grief but ill beguil'd

A soul that was not wont to be unmann'd;

' And stay,' he cried, dear pilgrim of the wild! Preserver of my old, my boon companion's child!

XXI.

• Child of a race whose name my bosom warms,

• On earth's remotest bounds how welcome here!

5 The Indians are distinguished both personally and by tribes by the name of particular animals whose qualities they affect to resemble either for cunning, strength, swiftness, or other qualities. As the eagle, the serpent, the fox, or bear.

'Whose mother oft, a child, has fill'd these arms,
Young as thyself, and innocently dear,

'Whose grandsire was my early life's compeer.
'Ah happiest home of England's happy clime!
'How beautiful ev'n now thy scenes appear,
'As in the noon and sunshine of my prime!

'How gone like yesterday these thrice ten years of

time!

XXII.

And, Julia! when thou wert like Gertrude now, Can I forget thee, fav'rite child of yore?

Or thought I, in thy father's house when thou

Wert lightest hearted on his festive floor,

And first of all his hospitable door,

To meet and kiss me at my journey's end?

But where was I when Waldegrave was no more?