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With flow'ry blossoms fair, a tulip-grove
“ O thou! whose love, with generous vow
now, while sultrier hours invade,
Seize, ruthless, on thy trembling charms,
6 Where rapes
« And drag thee to the destin'd cell
and horrid murders dwell? “Rise then, my spear of bloody pow'r, “ To thee belongs the vengeful hour! “ And thou shalt give the wretch to know “ The fatal fury of thy blow.
“ But ah, how vain the fancied fear! “ No monster wild, no savage near “ Could force her from the seats of Love : “ Around the sons of Oglu move, “ And every scream, and every cry “Would pierce the verge of yonder sky; " And Love himself would wider bear “ The sound, on Echo's airy car. “ But yet, tho' brutal force should fail “ To move her from the gentle vale ;
Say, O my soul, with sorrow say, “ Might not the Maid delight to stray, “ Where, (O curse the treacherous tongue “ With cunning sounds of Flatt'ry hung!) “ Some happier and some dearer youth, “ In borrow'd words of seeming truth, “ With all the wily tricks of Art “ Has stol’n upon
heart? “ And shall a rival's wanton arms, “ Hang, raptur'd, on her faithless charms;
And, unreveng'd, the sweets enjoy “That all my fond desires employ? “ No, by the lightning of my spear, “ By all my hopes of future fame,
father's shadows drear, “ And holy Rutren's pow'rful name;
« No, never shall my eye-lids sleep, " But a long weary Vigil kcep, “ Till Vengeance, with her sword of fire, “ Shall bid the caitiff wretch expire, “ That dar'd with flame unholy move “ And win a warrior's destin'd Love.
“ And she, the perjur'd Nymph, shalt fcel, “ Howe'er she force the tear to flow, “ Howe'cr in artful guise she veil “ Her alter'd faith and broken vow, 66 That stubborn Justice holds secure “ The heart from Beauty's witching lure, “ And arms the hand in awful state, “ Th' avenging Minister of Fate. .“ And hear, ye Matron-Spirits, hear! “ O by your chastest Loves I swear, “ That she shall mount the lustral Hame, “ Dishonour to her mother's name.
« But-can that Maid of artless mien, “ Of open front, and soul serene, “ So mild, so gentle, and so young, “ Can she deceive, whose raptur'd ear “ So joy'd my simple tale to hear, “ Then bless'd the magic of my tongue? “ But Love was all the magic there, “ In thoughtless words of passion drest
My tale could please the peerless fair, “ And win admission to her breast. “ Can she, whose heart alone could beat • To Pleasure pure, and genuine Love,
By studied arts of forc'd Deceit “ Inconstant, faithless, perjur'd prove?
« No, never shall the thought unkind
My Abra swore, in solemn truth,
And all the guardian pow'rs of Love,
Impatient of her long delay,
By laughing hours and pleasures borne,
“ The simple wreath of truest Love."
The Warrior rose, and seiz'd her to his breast, And every laughing Love proclaim'd the lovers blest.
THE WAR SONG.
Sons of Warg
When shall your jav’lins give to flow
(Tho'round in armed state,
Their Guardian * Genii wait)
If now your sluggard hands abhor
While lusty youth and life allow,
Now by the plumed head 110 more
And coward Fear, a foreign rame,
And from her vengeful bow,
With many a fatal blow, Flung swift th' envenom'd shait where Oglu's cham
pions stood. * The Indians, in a manner similar to the Romans, believe in good and evil Gerii.They have their Angels to protect, and their Dæmons and Giants to molest them. But they are all in subjection to their three superior Deities.