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The thousand hues of earth and air, tive white maiden, in whom we of Through varied pictures, rich and rare, course expect to find the object of our Structure and landscape, flame and smoke, long wandering by forest and flood, As painted by the pencil's stroke, but behold, the provoking poet is only And forms which Fancy draws at will tantalizing both his hero and his reader. With all her fair, capricious skill.

It is, after all, another person,-in

whom he discovers a Scottish maiden, “ Amidst all these so strangely given, Long worn by waves, or seamed and riven broken-hearted for the death of a kins. By time and tempest, from the rock

man of his own, who had fallen in

battle in France. The coincidence is Stood forth all shapes the eye to mock. Old fortresses and castles towered,

certainly a very extraordinary one, but Whose battlements and bastions lower we fear that all the pathos attached by Dilapidated, desolate,

the author to her case is lost upon the Where Ruin holds his regal state; reader in his disappointment at her Wide grottoes, smoothly scooped, far down unwelcome intrusion into another's Beneath the lucid waters shone;

more proper place. All we can leam And, reared in majesty alone,

about the laiter individual is the folColumnar rising from the wave,

lowing: Or sunk below with polished pave, Where eddies aye with gurgling sound

“What speak'st thou of another maid? Circle the chiselled shafts around, There was with us,' Omeena said, Were solemn temples, simply grand, Long since, most sorrowful and fair, Hewn not by any mortal hand.

Like this a moon-lit form of air, Hark! through their ancient aisles and But she one night was stole away!'”

dim, And sounding nave, the choral hymn

If this is not treating a confiding and Goes up to Jove!-Nay! 'tis the roar

sympathizing public in a very aggraOf waters rolling evermore Among the massy pillars there,

vating manner, we should like to know With anthems and the voice of prayer,

what would have been better entitled to That, rising to His far abode,

the designation. But there is scant time For ever fill the ear of God!

afforded for complaint. The father of And still beside them, deep and low, Omeena re-appears. Moray's gallantry Pierced darkly, whither none may know, in saving the life of the daughter now Yawn mighty caverns, wherein go

saves him from the immediate renThe smothered billows, to and fro; geance of the Ottawa. The latter While over all, in sullen frown,

gives him and his Huron friend a day's Huge precipices darken down,

start in flight, together with a couple With trees on all their winding verge, of bows and supply of arrows. The Green waving o'er the foamy surge. last thin thread that bound the ScotChaos of splendors! It would seem

tish maiden to life snaps with his de As Natare, known in skill supreme, Had chosen, at some idle hour,

parture. They celebrate her simple To mock vain man's mimetic power,

obsequies, Omeena singing her lament

the vanished And on that solitary shore,

« foam of the Ere broke its wave the Indian's oar,

waters"- the melted “snow-wreath of Displayed with her almighty hand winter”—the departed “ cloudlet of The mortal works of every land,

summer." And o'er the whole assemblage strown,

The Seventh Canto carries our friends Strange lovely fancies all her own !" still further off into the far savagery of

the wild. They fall into the bands On the eighth day, while in the act of another tribe of Indians—Chippe of crossing a broad bay,they are over. was; between whom and the pursuing taken by a terrific tempest, by which Ottowas a fierce conflict takes place, their fráil bark is wrecked, though resulting in the escape of a small numthey are cast up by the billows in safety, ber, including Moray and Owaola, in a high if not dry, on the shore. Making canoe on the lake. His new captors their way through the woods, they strike across the lake, and his journeysoon light upon the beautiful Indian ings end only on the shores of the Lake maiden Omeena, in a situation of ex- of Storms, where his life is spared only treme peril, whom Moray rescues from on the condition of his adoption into the rage of a cataract with great gal- the tribe, as the son of a worthy old lantry. She takes him to see a cap- Sachem named Nidi-Wyan. During

over

the ensuing summer and winter, he from his confinement, and conducts hunts with his tribe over the whole him to Perry's fleet lying on the Derange of wilderness from the Lake of troit river, opposite to Malden,--for the the Woods to the head waters of the relief of which place he had overheard Missouri. At last Tecumseh re-appears, that the British fleet was about to proto bind again the ligaments of his great ceed. But our author has no idea yet league; and a vow of exterminating of letting him off so easily. A boat is war against the whites being circulated lying off apparently for his reception; among all the warriors of the tribe, but as they approach the shore, behold Moray's refusal to unite in it would from behind a prostrate tree starts up have cost him his life, but that his a band of hostile Indians,-under his adopted father effects his discharge old persecutor the Ottowa chief, of from the tribe and safe departure course. Tecumseh and Ken-hàt-ta-wa homeward. They again see Omeena engage in a fierce grapple, during on their way; and learn from her that which Moray and Owaola dash Mary had been heard of as dwelling through the interception before them, on ihe eastern shore of Superior, and plunging into the water, reach the among the Mississagues, during the boat in safety, though through a rain absence of De Vere, by whom she had of bullets from the baffled ambuscade. been stolen off by night, the latter The struggle between the two Indian being on a mission as a bearer of Bri- chieftains is thus vigorously painted : tish presents through distant tribes. She furnishes him a guide to her, and,

“ But fearful now became the strife as a passport of protection, she gives

Those chieftains urged for death and him a shell which she had received as

life. a pledge of memory from Tecumseh.

With fiercer might and vaster frame He is quickly conducted to her, and as Ken-hat-ta-wa to conflict came; quickly carries her off, and “all is

But, if more grace around them clung, merry as a marriage bell,”-of which Tecumseh's every limb was strung we half fancy that we hear the distant With tireless nerves, and calmness sound; when, behold, pursuit appears gave in their rear-a chace down the river More lasting strength than wrath can St. Mary's, the fugitives in one canoe,

have. and De Vere and a hostile band in

Wreathing their corded arms another--a plunge into the Rapids-a

pressed backward shot by Moray which misses

Around each painted slippery breast, its chief aim, and only tumbles one of

And striving, hand and teeth, to tear

And throttle neck and bosom bare, De Vere's companions into the water

The while their bony knees to bring a shock of the canoe against a hidden

And crush beneath the vital spring, rock-a triumphant whoop of his pur

In serpent coilings, fold in fold, suers-a last glimpse of Mary “ borne

They rose and struggled, writhed and down amid the foam and whirl”-and

rolled, there certainly seems a final end to our Till from their mouths and nostrils wide, unlucky friend at last! But he is saved Gushed the dark blood in mingled tide, from drowning, to find himself in the And each strained sinew seemed from flesh hands of De Vere and the British to part, troops, to whom the former denounces And each wild eye-ball from its socket him as a hostile agent long engaged in tampering with the British tribes beyond Superior. Being informed, how “ Yet neither might the advantage gain, ever, that his mistress was drowned, of And fainter grew their desperate strain, course he cares now very little what When, where their slippery blood was may become of himself.

shed, But in this belief he was very much Tecumseh fell, with struggling tread, mistaken, as we learn from the Eighth Who then in triumph, rage, and scorn,

Beneath the giant Ottowa borne; Canto, Mary being confined in another Shook from his eyes the clotted hair, apartment of the same fort, but equally And raised his glittering knife in air, supposing her lover to have perished be. And grimly frowned Hate's darkest frown, neath the wave of St. Mary's Rapids. As came his arm in vengeance down. Moray contrives to convey his shell to That blow had sent the hero's soul Tecumseh, who thereupon rescues him Fast fleeting from its mortal goal,

com

start.

But that, with motion as of thought, And when at last, the conflict o'er,
A youthful savage sprang and caught Their shroud enwrapped the wrecks no
Th' uplifted hand :the keen blade found more,
Its deep sheath in th' insensate ground. A boat far out, with hasty sweep,
By quick and desperate effort turned, Seemed pressing shoreward o'er the deep,
His baffled foe the Shawnee spurned, Unknown, nor seen to reach the coast,
And burst away : in madness' might, So soon through deepening distance lost.”
That foe, like whirlwind of the night,
Pursued, o'ertook, the sudden flight. After the battle he and his trusty
Upon the river's crumbling brink fidus Achates follow in its direction-
Again in deadly close they sink;

find the abandoned boat and the trail of
And now beneath the Ottowa fell, the fugitives,
And now the dusky frown of Hell
A moment on Tecumseh's brow

( Which then they traced as sure and Lowered storm-like, and a mortal blow

fleet He lifted high-why strikes he not ?

As bloodhounds track the murderer's There passed his soul some flash of

feet.” thoughtPerchance, of that great cause, which then That blow would wound-perchance,

An Indian encampment-a council again,

respecting war or peace with the Of her, a father's mourning daughter.

United States, in which the eloquence In wordless scorn upon the water

of Tecumseh for war sweeps the pas He hurled the chief, and, rushing past,

sions of the wild assemblage with him Himself into its billows cast,

—the entrance of a white captive found And breasted high their swelling flood, near, Moray of course—a fierce demand Till on an isle's green verge he stood." for his death and torture by De Vere

and Ken-bat-ta-wa, overpowering Te Next follows an account of the battle cumseh's influence in his favor-and of Lake Erie,—with so much nautical our persecuted friend is bound to the detail, that we even hear Perry's orders stake, and the blue wreaths of the on boarding the Niagara :

smoke begin to ascend round him!

Suddenly «Back with your topsails! Up helm, ho!

“ Lo! like the moon through midnight Yon trysail closely brail !

cloud, Square yards, and fast upon the foe There struggled through that dusky crowd Bear down before the gale !'”

A pale, fair girl. Her wildered gaze

Beheld him bound. Through smoke and And when he had got the ship into blaze position, in the midst of the broken She sprang before those daggers bare, English line:

And stood beside the victim there,

As if an angel from above «« Now,' cried Perry, 'fire !' Should come to save her martyred love !" From on board one of the English

Tecumseh bounds in like a tempest ships, the Charlotte, we presume, a

--scatters the brands--releases the maiden's voice is heard through all the victims--and, before the tormentors din of the fight, calling to her country- around can recover from their astonishmen “ do or die,"-an incident ment, has borne them off, in some un. which Mr. Cooper has overlooked in explained way, to safety. his Naval History,--and Moray catches

The scene changes then to the banks a glimpse of his Mary's form through of the Thames. Omeena appears, and the smoke. But it is of no use. He a parting interview takes place besees her fall; and at the opening of the tween her and Tecumseh before the Ninth Canto we learn that a light battle about to be fought. In this encanoe had been seen to leave the yield- gagement all the characters of the story, ing ship,

except our two lovers, are disposed of.

The battle being lost, Ken-hà t-ta-wa “ A maiden's form into it thrown, While two beside her spring, and ply

aims a blow at Tecumseh, which, Swift oars, as who from peril fly:

missing him, despatches old NidiWyan. Tecumseh thereupon plunges

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his knife up to the hilt in the bosom of parent on the surface, to supersede any the Ottowa, and then himself falls by necessity of our attempting to point the pistol of Colonel Johnson, and thus them out. It contains many passages is settled, not only the hero, but a long which abundantly prove its youthful disputed point of history. What is author capable of something much beleft of life in him is despatched by the yond itself. The descriptions of scenery last effort of the blade of Ken-hàt-ta-wa. are always good, sometimes exquisite; De Vere, somehow or other, seizes and the delineations of sentiment and Mary, and, flinging her on horseback passion afford not a few passages of a with him, is about to bear her off high degree of beauty and vigor; while again, when she is rescued by Moray; in general the narration flows smoothly and the fate of that worthy individual and gracefully. Our praise will find a is, that, after receiving one or two blows sufficient proof and illustration in the from Moray, he is dashed to pieces by liberal extracts which we have made the maddened flight of the horse, his for the purpose. On the other hand, foot clinging to the stirrup, and his the merits of the poem as a whole are head trailed very uncomfortably along sadly weakened by expansion,-the the ground. Owaola falls in the battle. Castalian drops too much diluted with Omeena, after singing a lament over commoner admixture. The “ fatal faher father and lover, follows them to cility” of his measure, combined with the Spirit Land, by plunging into her the exuberance of a young fancy, and own heart the knife which had wreaked a rich copiousness of language, unthe vengeance of the former on the lat- checked by that calm, reflective seveter,-and the poem thus closes, at the rity of self-judgment and taste, which is tomb of the great Indian hero: a faculty yet to be cultivated by our

author, has led him into a flight of “ By Thames's darkly wandering greater length, and perhaps bolder

soaring, than the unpractised strength There is a rude and humble grave. of his pinion could adequately sustain. In place of mausoleum high,

His volume is evidently the production The hoar trees arch their canopy; of a few months' rapid and easy writInstead of storied marble shining,

ing; and, forgetful of the Horatian preAre loose gray stones, in moss reclin

cept, he has been in too great a hurry ing, And, ages laid along its side

to print it,--too impatient to awake one One chieftain oak in all its pride.

morning, like Byron, and find himself No evil thing, 'tis said, hạth birth,

famous. When Scott was asked by a Or grows, within that lowly earth,

sagacious friend, why he had not writOr, if they may, with reverent love ten his Life of Napoleon in three voDo Indian hands the harm remove;

lumes, instead of nine, his answer conBut there the wild vine greenly veyed a literary moral which, with an wreathes,

affectionate kindness, we commend to And there the wild rose sweetly our young poet's pondering—I had breathes,

not time." Tecumseh would have And willows in eternal gloom,

been a more valuable and a more vaAre mourning round the lonely tomb.

lued contribution to that national litera. And oft, at morn or evening gray, ture which Mr. Colton exhibits so paAs fondly Indian legends say, Nor such be theme for scorn,

triotic an ardor to adorn, if he had be

stowed thrice the time it has cost him, Slow arching round on dusky wing, Or on that huge oak hovering,

upon the process of reducing it to oneWith plumage stained and torn,

third of its present length. The old A solitary eagle there appears,

sibyl who asked of Tarquin the same Watching that silent tomb, as pass the price for three of her books as she had cloudy years.”

demanded for the original nine, under

stood the philosophy of this thing; and We have thus rendered Mr. Colton's only committed one mistake, in not poem the most satisfactory justice in asking more than at first. our power, by presenting a detailed We desire to speak encouragingly analysis of its narrative, illustrated by with a view to the future efforts of our copious and favorable specimens of the author, though perhaps the sensitiveverse in which it is clothed. Its merits ness natural to the poetic temperament as well as its faults lie sufficiently ap- may feel au unwelcome severity in the

general whole of our criticism upon the to which no sympathy will respond. present one. Mr. Colton has the Poet And it may yet perhaps be legitimate in him, and he can yet make all the in the literature of college compositions world confess the divine presence. Let to inflate and embellish up to the dig: him persevere. Let him labor-write, nity of the heroic the barren and brutal re-write, condense, polish, and above all barbarism of savage character and life, freely blot and burn. Let him forget but Mr. Colton has made a mistake Scoti, if he can, and sign a total absti- which we hope he will not repeat, in nence pledge against the octosyllabic. regarding it as a suitable theme for Let him think for himself-as hard as poetry to move the heart or satisfy the he can—and forswear the old common- mind of the grown world of civilisa. places of modern poetasting. Let him lion. Let Mr. Colton choose a better choose, moreover, themes in truer har- theme for his main basis of interest, mony with the genius of his age, as it and write in a spirit more akin to the is beginning more and more sensibly to young progressive and aspiring spirit make itself manifest. The trump of of his time,-and above all let him martial glory has long lost the power it write with a deeper concentration of once possessed to rouse and thrill our thought and labor within less limits of spirits with its splendid rage, and the space and larger limits of time,-and true poetry of the age has virtually we are greatly mistaken in his present cast it aside, as no longer a fit instru- tokens of promise, if he is not destined ment for the utterance of its nobler yet to take a high place in the Panbreathings; let him not take it up, to theon of the literature of his country. attempt to sound upon it again a note

A THOUGHT BY THE SEA-SHORE.

BY MISS ANNE C. LYNCH.

Bury me by the sea,
When on my heart the hand of death is pressed !
If the soul lingereth ere she join the blest,

And haunts awhile her clay,
Then 'mid the forest shades I would not lie,
For the green leaves like me would droop and die.

Nor 'mid the homes of men,
The haunts of busy life, would I be laid ;
There ever was I lone, and my vexed shade

Would sleep unquiet then;
The surging tide of life might overwhelm
The shadowy boundaries of the silent realm.

No sculptured marble pile
To bear my name be reared upon my breast,
Beneath its weight my free soul would not rest;

But let the blue sky smile,
The changeless stars look lovingly on me,
And let me sleep beside this sounding Sea!

This ever-beating heart
Of the great universe. Here would the soul
Plume her soiled pinions for her final goal,

Ere she should thence depart;
Here would she fit her for the high abode;
Here, by the Sea, she would be nearer God.

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