But, in my native village ground,
Near kindred dust, these relics laid:
How calm my slumbers, how profound,

Beneath the old tree's sombre shade.

THE TUSCARORA'S ADIEU.

FAREWELL, O Monilli! I fly to the plain,

Which the blood of our foes shall bedew;
Hark! the death-song that echoes the dirge of the slain,
The war-whoop has sounded-Adieu!

Farewell, O Monilli! in battle afar

When the tomahawk glitters on high,

Should fate give your love to the demon of war,
He will waft to your memory a sigh.

When in regions of sun the red warrior shall rest,
Where the white man can never appear,

In whispers of midnight, the songs of the blest
Shall chase from Monilli the tear.

Farewell love! impatient, I fly to the plain,
Which the blood of our foes shall bedew;

Hark! the death-song that echoes the dirge of the slain,
The war-whoop has sounded-Adieu!

O THOU THAT HATH STRAYED.

O THOU that hath strayed in a pathway of sorrow,
Where joy is a stranger and peril is near;

With regret for the past, and no hope for the morrow,
The sigh thy companion, thy solace a tear:

Though dark thy horizon, no star of day cheering, Though thy way, long and lonely, no pleasures illume; Yet in faith turn thy vision to solace appearing,

For a ray of tranquillity shines from the tomb.

There's bliss yet in store, let reflection still cheer thee;
There's rest for the weary, unfading and true;
On the ocean of life, though the billows are near thee,
Look afar where the haven of peace is in view!

ΤΟ

THE HOLY ALLIANCE.

SAY ye that rule with iron sway

The continental soil,

To whom the nations are a prey

And liberty a spoil,

The generous spirit would ye bind,

Its noble daring blight?

Say, would ye crush the "march of mind," And bring Egyptian night?

Proud Autocrat! "Deliverer" thou!

How dim thy diadem,

When that which once adorned thy brow

Is faded from the gem;

Go, sway thy sceptre o'er a wild;

Satiate ambition's lust;

Let parasites salute thee "mild,"

We know thee deeply curst.

And ye, degenerate, baser kings,
Unknown to godlike fame;
Shall seas of patriot-blood redeem,
With untold years, your shame?
No! rescued from oblivion's gulf,
By bigotry and crime,

Your deeds shall stain the flood of years,

And blot the scroll of time.

Monarchs, think ye leagued tyrants can,

As erst in Italy,
Successfully oppose, when MAN

Arises to be free?

When Freedom quits her mountain height, To seek the battle-field,

And bids her sons sustain the fight,

With heaven and hope their shield,

Think ye the bosom, beating then,
Will shun the fatal blow?

Think ye one heart will shrink that day,
Till tyranny is low?

Go! ask-ye shall not ask in vain—

Of those that bled of yore;

When LEON saw her children slain,

When LEON Smoked with gore.