"The Water! the Water! My heart yet burns to think Of mine own native glen; The gladsome tongue I oft have heard, Though fancy fills my ear for aye "The Water! the Water! The mild and glassy wave, The Water! the Water! Oh bless'd to me thou art; And filling it, despite of sadness, With dreamings of departed gladness. "The Water! the Water! The mournful pensive tone, That whispered to my heart how soon The Water! the Water! That rolled so bright and free, And how it glanced to heaven its wave, As wandering on it sought its grave." "THE JOYS OF THE WILDERNESS. "I have a wish, and it is this, that in some uncouth glen, From Worldly guile, from Woman's wile, and Friendships brief and cold; Of Nature's mood, in every rude burst of the thundering storm. "Then would my life, lacking fierce strife, glide on in dreamy gladness, "CERTAIN PLEASANT VERSES TO THE LADY OF MY HEART. "The murmur of the merry brook, As gushingly and free It wimples with its sun-bright look, Speaks to my spirit, at this hour, "The music of the gay green wood, Is coaxed by winds of gentlest mood, And the small birds that answer make In me most blissful visions wake, "The rose perks up its blushing cheek, Along the eastern hills, one streak Laden with dewy gems, it gleams For each pure drop thereon me seems "And when abroad in summer morn, "And when, in midnight hour, I note In their mild beauty, onward float "But oh, the murmur of the brook, The music of the tree; The rose with its sweet shamefast look, The booming of the bee; The course of each bright voyager In heaven's unmeasured sea, Would not one heart-pulse of me stir, "Tim the Tacket-a lyrical ballad, supposed to be written by W. W.," is a failure; for the lines do not seem in the least like Wordsworth's. The "Witches' Joys" can only please those who have a morbid appetite for the horrible. They are fully atoned for, however, by "THEY COME! THE MERRY SUMMER MONTHS. They come! the merry summer months of Beauty, Song, and Flowers; Or, underneath the shadow vast of patriarchal tree, Scan through its leaves the cloudless sky in rapt tranquillity. "The grass is soft, its velvet touch is grateful to the hand, It stirs their blood, with kindest love, to bless and welcome thee: "There is no cloud that sails along the ocean of yon sky, But hath its own winged mariners to give it melody: And feed my fancy with fond dreams of youth's bright summer day, The latter part of the volume is occupied by a short collection of songs-all, with one or two exceptions, beautiful. We wish that our limits would allow us to quote more from this charming volume than the two specimens with which we must conclude. "THE KNIGHT'S SONG. "Endearing! endearing! Why so endearing Are those dark lustrous eyes, Through their silk fringes peering? They love me! they love me! Deeply, sincerely; And more than aught else on earth, "Endearing! endearing! Why so endearing On thy soft cheek appearing? It brightens it brightens ! And 'tis thus that thy fond smile "Endearing! endearing! Why so endearing Is that lute-breathing voice Which my rapt soul is hearing? 'Tis singing, 'tis singing Thy deep love for me, And my faithful heart echoes "Endearing! endearing! Why so endearing, Is the herald's bold cheering? "The grass is wet with shining dews, And hark! hark! hark! His merry chime Chirrups the lark: Chirrup! chirrup! he heralds in The jolly sun with matin hymn. "Come, come, my love! and May-dews shake In pailfuls from each drooping bough, They'll give fresh lustre to the bloom That breaks upon thy young cheek now. O'er hill and dale, o'er waste and wood, Aurora's smiles are streaming free; With earth it seems brave holiday, In heaven it looks high jubilee. For mark, love, mark! Chirrup! chirrup! he upward flies, 66 They lack all heart who cannot feel The voice of heaven within them thrill, Now let us seek yon bosky dell Where brightest wild-flowers choose to be, And where its clear stream murmurs on, Meet type of our love's purity: No witness there, And o'er us, High in the air hark! Chirrups the lark: Chirrup chirrup! away soars he, Bearing to heaven my vows to thee!" 24 The Rocky Mountains; or, Scenes, Incidents, and Adventures in the Far West. Digested from the Journal of Captain B. L. E. Bonneville, U. S. A.; and illustrated from various other sources. By Washington Irving. 2 Vols. Philadelphia; Carey, Lea and Blanchard. THESE Volumes, which may be considered a kind of sequel to " Astoria," complete the picture of the great mountain wilderness of the West begun in the latter work, and possess equal interest and raciness. They record not merely the doings of Captain Bonneville in his adventurous expedition, but may be considered a history of a new race of "Alligators," genuine descendants of the old Salt River stock-the Free Trappers of the Rocky Mountains; whose wild freaks and daring achievements, their sufferings and perils, among regions— “rough quarries, rocks, and hills whose heads touch heaven "--the most extraordinary on earth, and among savage races varied with every characteristic of which savage life is capable, are set forth to the life. "To me," says Mr. Flint in his preface to Pattie's Narrative, and we write approval to the sentiment, "there is a kind of moral sublimity in the contemplation of the adventures and daring of such men. They read a lesson to skrinking and effeminate spirits, the men of soft hands and fashionable life, whose frames the winds of heaven are not allowed to visit too roughly. They tend to re-inspire something of that simplicity of manners, manly hardihood, and Spartan energy and force of character, which formed so conspicuous a part of the nature of the settlers of the Western wilderness." Our first extract illustrates the generosity of the Chief of the Nez Perces, a very venerable, patriarchal, and kind-hearted old fellow. THE GIFT HORSE. Captain Bonneville slept in the lodge of the venerable patriarch, who had evidently conceived a most disinterested affection for him, as was shown on the following morning. The travellers, invigorated by a good supper, and fresh from the bath of repose,' were about to resume their journey, when this affectionate old chief took the captain aside, to let him know how much he loved him. As a proof of his regard, he had determined to give him a fine horse; which would go further than words, and put his good-will beyond all question. So saying, he made a signal, and forthwith a beautiful young horse, of a brown color, was led, prancing and snorting, to the place. Captain Bonneville was suitably affected by this mark of friendship; but his experience in what is proverbially called Indian giving,' made him aware that a parting pledge was necessary on his own part to prove that this friendship was reciprocated. He accordingly placed a handsome rifle in the hands of the venerable chief, whose benevolent heart was evidently touched and gratified by this outward and visible sign of amity. "The worthy captain having now, as he thought, balanced this little account of friendship, was about to shift his saddle to this noble gift-horse, when the affectionate patriarch plucked him by the sleeve, and introduced to him a whimpering, whining, leathern-skinned old. squaw, that might have passed for an Egyp tian mummy without drying. This,' said he,' is my wife; she is a good wife -I love her very much. She loves the horse-she loves him a great deal-she will cry very much at losing him. I do not know how I shall comfort her, and that makes my heart very sore.' * Published in Cincinnati, in 1833, and edited by Mr. Flint, but not in a manner to advance either the interests of the author, (a trader to Santa Fe, and afterwards a trapper of six years' standing in New California,) or, we conceive, the reputation of the editor. The work might have been made extremely interesting and successful, had not Mr. F., in his anxiety to preserve "its keeping the charm of its simplicity," &c., suffered it to go before the world with all its defects and blunders uncorrected. |