Go then, and, in your council hall,
Repeat, that Philip yet is free;
No more deceived, no more your thrall
He strikes for Death or Liberty!

And if, through all your startled land,
The Redman's war-cry ring around;
If thrown aloft, the blazing brand

Fall in the blood that stains your ground;

Afar and near, if all must die,

The virgin pure, the tender wife,

If helpless age, if infancy

Must plead in vain for forfeit life;

Remember, Philip never sought

The war, he fears not, nor desires : On your own heads yourselves have brought The death blow, and avenging fires.

And soon those fires shall blaze on high : To rouse our tribes, from south to north, My wampum belts, of raven die

And blood red beads, have travelled forth.

And answering to our just appeal,

Their fires are lit, their war notes sung;
With hearts, that all your insults feel,
And nerves for vengeance strung.

The strife is mortal: henceforth vain
Be thought of parley, truce, or peace;
The Red Man conquers, or is slain,

He triumphs, or his race must cease.

He fears not: e'en should foul defeat

His steps pursue, and false friends fly,
Philip his last base foe will meet,

And Mount Hope see her warrior die.

LOVE AND GLORY.

Go, saddle my steed, said the brave cavalier,
Tis the voice of my country, it sounds in my ear,
It calls me to battle, o'er hills far away,
And thy Henry, dear Helen! no longer may stay.

;

And must we then sever, said Helen the fair
The sun of our hopes, must it set in despair?
Oh! heed not the trumpet, and silence yon drum ;
It speaks not of glory, but horrors to come,

Of carnage and slaughter, and blood covered fields,
And the weeping of widows the music it yields :
Then heed not its temptings, but free from alarms,
Find glory in safety, and love in these arms.

Oh Helen, fair Helen, my love, he replied,
More lovely, more fair, as in danger more tried,
Can'st thou tempt me, unhappy! my fame to forego,
That life of my love, from base dread of the foe?

The summons to fight should I meanly withstand, When the tempest of war hangs in blood o'er the land, Could those arms of thy beauty encircle me then,

The scorn of the lovely, the outcast of men?

Then go, she replied, since 'tis fortune's decree,
The leader of armies, the valiant, the free:
The fame of thy valour, it won me at first,

I cannot, I will not, to that be unjust.

The heart of the lovely beats high in its pride,

As her soft trembling hand belts the sword to his side. Then go, she exclaimed, and may glory still join

The laurel she wreaths, with the myrtle I twine.

The warrior hath gone to the field in his might,
For freedom, his country, her glory to fight;
And the heart of fair Helen, in love still the same,
Now weeps o'er his absence, now joys in his fame.

From conquest returning, with glory surrounded,
The fame of that warrior afar hath resounded;
But heartless and vain was the joy that he felt,
Till, joined at the altar, with Helen he knelt.

Toil, danger, suspense, were forgot in that hour,
Thy rainbow, O Hope! spanned their love lighted bower;
The fever of glory by love was beguiled,

And Henry was happy, if Helen but smiled.

THE COQUETTE DISTRESSED.

133

THE COQUETTE DISTRESSED.

My lovers all tell me I'm handsome and gay,
They flatter my beauty, which soon will decay,
They talk of my charms, of their love, and their strife,
But none ever told me he wanted a wife!

I play, and they praise me; I sing, and they cry
How charming her voice! how bewitching her sigh!
I join in the dance, they exclaim, how divine!
But none never asked me in marriage to join.

I need but appear on the plain, and they swear
No form is so perfect, no maiden so fair;
I'm followed and flattered, wherever I fly,
Yet single I live, and ah! single must die.

Oh would that this weary flirtation might end;
With lovers in plenty, yet never a friend,
My heart, like the shadow that follows the sun,
Seeks each in its turn, but rests steady on none.

Youth, beauty, enjoyment not always will stay,
My bright dawn of hope, it melts quickly away;
Then oh! ere its happy illusions are past,
May love fix my wide wandering wishes at last.

12

HENRY TO ELLEN.

I.

Tis still the same, 'twas so of

yore,

True love and fortune ne'er combine : Since then, alas! we meet no more,

Farewell, dear maid! no longer mine.

What though, at first, thy friends esteemed
Me, humbly born, no mate for thee;
Yet by their license, as it seemed,
Early thy love was pledged to me.

From cold restraint and caution freed,
What either felt the other knew:
So well our secret thoughts agreed,

་

That love, true love, between us grew.

At first, scarce felt, a gentle heat,
Which well such youthful hearts became,
It grew, with growing years, complete,
And shone in both an equal flame.

Happy, I cried, whom heaven ordains

Love's boundless wealth with thee to share ;

Thy smile shall recompense his pains,

Thy presence banish grief and care.

And then I deemed such fortune mine,

And blest the hours, to care unknown,