The clouds pass on; they from the heavens depart :
I look-the sky is empty space;

I know not what I trace;

But, when I cease to look, my hand is on my heart.

"O! what a weight is in these shades! Ye leaves, When will that dying murmur be supprest?

Your sound my heart of peace bereaves,

It robs my heart of rest.

Thou Thrush, that singest loud—and loud and free, Into yon row of willows flit,

Upon that alder sit;

Or sing another song, or choose another tree.

"Roll back, sweet Rill! back to thy mountain bounds,

And there for ever be thy waters chained!

For thou dost haunt the air with sounds

That cannot be sustained;

If still beneath that pine-tree's ragged bough

Headlong yon waterfall must come,

Oh let it then be dumb!

Be any thing, sweet Rill, but that which thou art now,

"Thou Eglantine, whose arch so proudly towers,

(Even like a rainbow spanning half the vale)

Thou one fair shrub, oh! shed thy flowers,

And stir not in the gale.

For thus to see thee nodding in the air,

To see thy arch thus stretch and bend,
Thus rise and thus descend,-

Disturbs me, till the sight is more than I can bear."

The Man who makes this feverish complaint
Is one of giant stature, who could dance
Equipped from head to foot in iron mail.

Ah gentle Love! if ever thought was thine
To store up kindred hours for me, thy face
Turn from me, gentle Love! nor let me walk
Within the sound of Emma's voice, or know
Such happiness as I have known to-day.

XII.

THE COMPLAINT

OF A

FORSAKEN INDIAN WOMAN.

[When a Northern Indian, from sickness, is unable to continue his journey with his companions, he is left behind, covered over with Deer-skins, and is supplied with water, food, and fuel if the situation of the place will afford it. He is informed of the track which his companims intend to pursue, and if he is unable to follow, or overtake them, he perishes alone in the Desart; unless he should have the good fortune to fall in with some other Tribes of Indians. The females are equally, or still more, exposed to the same fate. See that very interesting work, Hearne's Journey from Hudson's Bay to the Northern Ocean. In the high Northern Latitudes, as the same writer informs us, when the Northern Lights vary their position in the air, they make a rustling and a crackling noise. This circumstance is alluded to in the first stanza of the following poem.]

BEFORE I see another day,

Oh let my body die away!

In sleep I heard the northern gleams;

The stars were mingled with my dreams;

In sleep did I behold the skies,

I saw the crackling flashes drive;
And yet they are upon my eyes,
And yet I am alive.

Before I see another day,

Oh let my body die away!

My fire is dead: it knew no pain;
Yet is it dead, and I remain.

All stiff with ice the ashes lie;

And they are dead, and I will die.

When I was well, I wished to live,
For clothes, for warmth, for food, and fire;

But they to me no joy can give,
No pleasure now, and no desire.

Then here contented will I lie!

Alone I cannot fear to die.

Alas! ye might have dragged me on

Another day, a single one!

Too soon I yielded to despair;

Why did ye listen to my prayer?

When ye were gone my limbs were stronger;

And oh how grievously I rue,
That, afterwards, a little longer,
My Friends, I did not follow you!
For strong and without pain I lay,
My Friends, when ye were gone away.

My Child! they gave thee to another,
A woman who was not thy mother.
When from my arms my Babe they took,
On me how strangely did he look!
Through his whole body something ran,
A most strange working did I see;
-As if he strove to be a man,

That he might pull the sledge for me.

And then he stretched his arms, how wild!

Oh mercy! like a helpless child,

My little joy! my little pride!
In two days more I must have died.
Then do not weep and grieve for me;
I feel I must have died with thee.

Oh wind, that o'er my head art flying
The way my Friends their course did bend,

I should not feel the pain of dying,
Could I with thee a message send!

Too soon, my Friends, ye went away;

For I had many things to say.