whole length of the poem, by the intrusion of any discordant impression. All that we can now do, however, is, to tell them that this was its effect upon our feelings; and to give them their chance of partaking in it, by a pretty copious selection of extracts.

The descriptive stanzas in the beginning, which set out with an invocation to Wyoming, though in some places a little obscure and overlaboured, are, to our taste, very soft and beautiful.

On Susquehanna's side, fair Wyoming,
Although the wildflower on thy ruin❜d wall
And roofless homes a sad remembrance bring
Of what thy gentle people did befall,
Yet thou wert once the loveliest land of all
That see the Atlantic wave their morn restore.
Sweet land! may I thy lost delights recall,
And paint thy Gertrude in her bowers of yore,
Whose beauty was the love of Pennsylvania's shore!

It was beneath thy skies that but to prune
His autumn fruits, or skim the light canoe,
Perchance, along thy river calm at noon
The happy shepherd swain had nought to do
From morn till evening's sweeter pastime grew,
Their timbrel, in the dance of forests brown
When lovely maidens prankt in flowret new;
And
down
aye, those sunny mountains half way
Would echo flagelet from some romantic town.

Then, where of Indian hills the daylight takes
His leave, how might you the flamingo see
Disporting like a meteor on the lakes—
And playful squirrel on his nut-grown tree:
And every sound of life was full of glee,
From merry mock-bird's song, or hum of men,
While hearkening, fearing nought their revelry,
The wild deer archt his neck from glades, and then
Unhunted, sought his woods and wilderness again.

And scarce had Wyoming of war or crime

Heard but in transatlantic stóry rung, &c.

The account of the German, Spanish, Scottish, and English settlers, and of the patriarchal harmony in which they were all united,. is likewise given with great spirit and brevity; as well as the portrait of the venerable Albert, their own elected judge and adviser. A sudden transition is then made to Gertrude.

Young innocent! on whose sweet forehead mild
The parted ringlet shone in simplest guise,
An inmate in the home of Albert smil'd,
Or blest his noonday walk-She was his only child.

The rose of England bloom'd on Gertrude's cheek-
What though these shades had seen her birth, &c.

After mentioning that she was left the only child of her mother, the author goes on in these sweet verses.

A lov'd bequest! and I may half impart—
To them that feel the strong paternal tie,
How like a new existence to his heart
Uprose that living flow'r 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.

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 reclin'd,

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.

And summer was the tide, and sweet the hour,
When sire and daughter saw, with fleet descent,

An Indian from his bark approach their bow'r, &c.

This is the guide and preserver of young Henry Waldegrave; who is somewhat fantastically described as appearing

Led by his dusky guide, like Morning brought by Night.

The Indian tells his story with great animation-the storming and blowing up of the English fort-and the tardy arrival of his friendly and avenging warriors. They found all the soldiers slaughtered.

And from the tree we with her child unbound

A lonely mother of the christian land

Her lord-the captain of the British band-
Amidst the slaughter of his soldiers lay;

Scarce knew the widow our delivering hand;

Upon her child she sobb'd, and swoon'd away;

Or shriek'd unto the God to whom the christians pray.

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 behold's the ring that Waldegrave's Julia wore.

Albert recognizes the child of his murdered friend with great emotion; which the Indian witnesses with characteristic and picturesqué

composure.

Far differently the mute Oneyda took
His calumet of peace, and cup of joy ;

As monumental bronze unchanged his look;
A soul that pity touch'd, but never shook:
Train'd, from his tree-rock'd cradle to his bier,
The fierce extremes of good and ill to brook
Impassive-fearing but the shame of fear-
A stoic of the woods-a man without a tear.

This warrior, however, is not without high feelings and tender affections.

He scorn'd his own, who felt another's wo:

And ere the wolf-skin on his back he flung,
Or laced his moccasons, in act to go,

A song of parting to the boy he sung,

Who slept on Albert's couch, nor heard his friendly tongue.

Sleep, wearied one! and in the dreaming land
Shouldst thou the spirit of thy mother greet,
Oh! say, tomorrow, that the white man's hand
Hath pluckt the thorns of sorrow from thy feet;
While I in lonely wilderness shall meet
Thy little foot prints-or by traces know
The fountain, where at noon I thought it sweet

To feed thee with the quarry of my bow,

And pour'd the lotus-horn, or slew the mountain roe.

Adieu! sweet scion of the rising sun!

The second part opens with a fine description of Albert's sequestered dwelling. It reminds us of that enchanted landscape in which Thomson has embosomed his Castle of Indolence. We can make room only for the first stanza.

A valley from the river shore withdrawn

Was Albert's home two quiet woods between,
Whose lofty verdure overlookt his lawn;
And waters to their resting place serene
Came fresh'ning, and reflecting all the scene:
A mirror in the depth of flowery shelves.
So sweet a spot of earth, you might, I ween,
Have guess'd some congregation of the elves

To sport by summer moons, had shaped it for themselves.

The effect of this seclusion on Gertrude is beautifully represented.

It seem'd as if those scenes sweet influence had
On Gertrude's soul, and kindness like their own

Inspir'd those eyes affectionate and glad,

That seem'd to love whate'er they lookt upon;

Whether with Hebe's mirth her features shone,

Or if a shade more pleasing them o'ercast,

As if for heavenly musing meant alone;

Yet so becomingly the expression past,

That each succeeding look was lovelier than the last.

Nor, guess I, was that Pennsylvanian home,
With all its picturesque and balmy grace,

And fields that were a luxury to roam,

Lost on the soul that lookt from such a face!
Enthusiast of the woods! when years apace
Had bound thy lovely waist with woman's zone,
The sunrise path, at morn, I see thee trace
To hills with high magnolia overgrown;

And joy to breathe the groves, romantic and alone.

The morning scenery, too, is touched with a delicate and masterly hand.

While yet the wild deer trode in spangling dew,
While boatman caroll'd to the fresh-blown air,
And woods a horizontal shadow threw,

And early fox appear'd in momentary view.

The reader is left rather too much in the dark as to Henry's depar ture for Europe ;-nor, indeed, are we apprised of his absence, till we come to the scene of his unexpected return. Gertrude was used to spend the hot part of the day in reading in a lonely rocky recess in those safe woods; which is described with Mr. Campbell's usual felicity.

-

Rocks sublime

To human art a sportive semblance wore;

And yellow lichens colour'd all the clime,

Like moonlight battlements, and towers decayed by time,

But high, in amphitheatre above,

His arms the everlasting aloes threw;

Breath'd but an air of heav'n, and all the grove

As if with instinct living spirit grew,

Rolling its verdant gulfs of every hue ;

And now suspended was the pleasing din,

Now from a murmur faint it swell'd anew,

Like the first note of organ heard within

Cathedral aisles-ere yet its symphony begin,,

In this retreat, which is represented as so solitary, that, except her own,

Scarce an ear had heard

The stock-dove plaining through its gloom profound,

Or winglet of the fairy humming bird,

Like atoms of the rainbow fluttering round.

-a stranger of lofty port and gentle manners surprises her, and is conducted to her father. They enter into conversation on the subject of his travels.

And much they lov'd his fervid strain-
While he each fair variety retrac'd

Of climes, and manners, o'er the eastern main :
Now happy Switzer's hills, romantic Spain,
Gay lilied fields of France, or, more refin'd,

The soft Ausonia's monumental reign;

Nor less each rural image he design'd,

Than all the city's pomp and home of human kind,

VOL. II.

Anon some wilder portraiture he draws;
Of Nature's savage glories he would speak;
The loneliness of earth that overawes;

X

Where, resting by some tomb of old Cacique,
The lama-driver on Peruvia's peak,

Nor voice nor living motion marks around;

But storks that to the boundless forest shriek ;

Or wild-cane arch high flung o'er gulf profound,

That fluctuates when the storms of El Dorado sound.

Albert, at last, bethinks him of inquiring after his stray ward young Henry, and entertains his guest with a short summary of his history. His face the wand'rer hid; but could not hide

A tear, a smile, upon his cheek that dwell;

"And speak, mysterious stranger!" (Gertrude cried)
"It is! it is!-I knew-1 knew him well!

"Tis Waldegrave's self, of Waldegrave come to tell !"
A-burst of joy the father's lips declare;

But Gertrude speechless on his bosom fell:
At once his open arms embrac'd the pair;

Was never group more blest, in this wide world of care.

The burst of their joy and artless love is represented with all the fine colours of truth and poetry; but we cannot now make room for it. The second part ends with this stanza.

Then would that home admit them-happier far
Than grandeur's most magnificent saloon;

While, here and there, a solitary star

Flush'd in the dark'ning firmament of June;
And silence brought the soul felt hour, full soon,
Ineffable-which I may not portray;

For never did the Hymenean moon

A paradise of hearts more sacred sway,

In all that slept beneath her soft voluptuous ray.

The last part sets out with a soft but spirited sketch of their shortlived felicity.

Three little moons, how short, amid the grove,
And pastoral savannas they consume!

While she, beside her buskin'd youth to rove,
Delights in fancifully wild costume,

Her lovely brow to shade with Indian plume;
And forth in hunter-seeming vest they fare;
But not to chase the deer in forest gloom;
'Tis but the breath of heav'n-the bless'd air,
And interchange of hearts, unknown, unseen to share.

What though the sportive dog oft round them note,
Or fawn, or wild bird bursting on the wing;
Yet who, in love's own presence, would devote
To death those gentle throats that wake the spring;
Or writhing from the brook its victim bring?
No! nor let fear one little warbler rouse ;
But, fed by Gertrude's hand, still let them sing,
Acquaintance of her path, amidst the boughs,

That shade even now her love, and witness'd first her vows.

The transition to the melancholy part of the story is introduced with great tenderness and dignity.