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« 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.

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“ And she, the perjur'd Nymph, shalt fcel, " Howe'er she force the tear to flow, “ Howe'er in artful guise she veil « Her alter'd faith and broken vow, 6. That stubborn Justice holds secure “ The heart from Beauty's witching lure, “ And arms the hand in awful state, 6 Th’avenging Minister of Fate. .“ And hear, ye Matron-Spirits, hear! 6 O by your chastest Loves I swear, " That she shall mount the lustral Aame, “ 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 fore'd Deceit “ Inconstant, faithless, perjur'd prove?

« No, never shall the thought unkind
“ Again distract my lab'ring inind.
* In all the pride and bloom of youth,

My Abra swore, in solemn truth,

By every stream, by every grove,
" And all the guardian pow'rs of Love,
“ That she would bless but me alone,
" While Life and while the Gods allow
“ But me her answering heart would own,
" Love heard, and seal’d the generous vow.

Avaunt, ye meaner thoughts, that move
“ The breast, unhumaniz'd by Love!
For never shall my soul again,
“ Impatient of her long delay,
" of broken vows unkind complain,
“ But bless the Maid where'er she stray.
And sure the gentle Muse may dare
“ To breathe for her the warmest prayer,

May fondly wish, in glad return,
“ By laughing hours and pleasures borne,
That now the Nymph would haste to wear
“Of coral pure and flow'rets fair,

(It was her Moluck's hand that wove) The simple wreath of truest Love." More had he sung, but from the neighb'ring glades In genuine smiles and native charms array'd, A Virgin form soft won her easy way, Fair without pride, and without folly gay; To

grace the brow, or please the taste, she bore The choicest fruits, and every sweetest flow'r:

The Warrior rose, and seiz'd her to his breast, And every laughing Love proclaim'd the loters blest.


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ye break, ye Sons of War, The long sleep of the battle-bow?

When shall your jav'lins give to flow
The hated blood of Hindvar's offspring slain,

(Tho'round in armed state,

Their Guardian * Genij wait)
Curst, and unburnt upon their native plain :

If now your sluggard hands abhor
The sword of Fury, and if now

your coward feet to tread, Wherever Rutren loves to lead,

While lusty youth and life allow,
The walks of War, and fiery fields of Fate.

Now by the plumed head 110 more
Let foul Reproach, and skulking Shame,

And coward Fear, a forcigu name,
Scowl with their baleful pinions on our shore,
As when, of old, the sons of Hindvar came
And swept their hostile banners, blood-bedew'd,
Nurst in gaunt Terrors, and upborne by Fame,
While on cach helmet glory sate and smild:
Thro' every parting rank destruction wild,
With pow'r remorseless, in her bloody car,
Rode fierce upon the lurid air,

And from her vengeful bow,

With many a fatal blow, Flung swift th' envenom'd shaft 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 theis Dæmons and Giants to molest them. But they are all in subjection to their three superior Deities.

There then we saw, with surest feet,
The ghastly forms of Fate to meet,
Death stride his horrid sweep along;
And there we heard the sadd’ning cry
Of those that fell, and fear'd to fly,

Yet shall their names for ever live,
(Such the reward that deeds of glory give)
Embalmed in the dews of sacred song.

"Tis o'er-but hark! the lingering cry
Pierces still yon troublous sky,
Of those, whom Fate refus’d to lead
And number 'mongst the mighty dead;
To each, with coward-hand she gave

Chains, and stamp'd the name of Slave;
Still shall we hear, and not our arms assail
To stop the captive-cry, that rends the neighb'ring vale?

And now we see, and now we hear, (To purer eyes and cars alone 'tis giv'n, Warriors, and Priests, and bards belov'd of Heav’n)

The unembody'd forms of War,
And the thin notes that float upon the air.

The trembling shades of Hope are fled;
Amazement wild, and Desolation drear

Rush forth, and strike with thrilling dread
The savage hosts, to Fame no longer dear;

And stern Reproach, with angry cry,
Mocks, in her airy call, the hostile sky;
And Death, in all his Indian Terrors drest,
Sends forth his Spirits strong, who gladly go,

Laughing at ev'ry mournful sound,

To deal the destinies around From the long Jav'lin, and the bounding bow, While Shame pursues them close, and waves her bloody vest.

* See the Song of Defeat and Captivity.

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Such are the forms that fleet before mine eyes;
Visions of Fame that wake the bold emprize,

While from each airy car

They beckon to the war,
And lead our hero-troop where Freedom lies:
And still the sounds remurmur thro' the land,
Heard only by a few, a chosen band,

'Triumphant sounds of Fate,

That 'round our warriors wait,
And swell the beating heart, and arm the desperate hand.

“ Heroes ! ye who lately trod,
(Your feet bedew'd in kindred blood)
“ The adverse fields of Hindvar's plain,
“ The spirits of your fathers slain

“ Call aloud, in solemn sound,
“ Revenge; revenge the hoarser echos 'round

“ Redouble quick in martial mood.
“ Arise! where once your fathers stood,
“ And from many a warrior-row
Flung the


and bent the bow. “ Arise ! 'tis yours, my sons, to lead “ The souls of War and Vengeance to the meed “ That Rutren, with a generous hand,

Prepares for those, a favourite band, “ Who bravely for their country fight,

“ Bravely fight and nobly die, “ Such shall

escape the shadowy realms of Night, “ Shall live in Rutren's Hall, and breathe a better sky.

“ But you, to whom your fate shall give

Again to fight, again to live,
“ Shall deeply drink your Country's praise ;
“ And ev'ry sainted Bramin 'round,

" In words of more than mortal sound, “ Shall deck each honour'd name with hallow'd lays.

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