"But thee, my flower, whose breath was given

By milder genii o'er the deep,

The spirits of the white man's heaven

Forbid not thee to weep:

Nor will the Christian host,
Nor will thy father's spirit grieve
To see thee, on the battle's eve,
Lamenting take a mournful leave
Of her who loved thee most:
She was the rainbow to thy sight!
Thy sun-thy heaven-of lost delight!

"To-morrow let us do or die!

But when the bolt of death is hurled,
Ah! whither then with thee to fly,
Shall Outalissi roam the world?
Seek we thy once loved home?

The hand is gone that cropt its flowers:
Unheard their clock repeats its hours:
Cold is the hearth within their bow'rs!
And should we thither roam,

Its echoes and its empty tread

Would sound like voices from the dead!

"Or shall we cross yon mountains blue, Whose streams my kindred nation quaffed; And by my side, in battle true,

A thousand warriors drew the shaft?
Ah! there, in desolation cold,

The desert serpent dwells alone,

Where grass o'ergrows each mouldering bone, And stones themselves to ruin grown,

Like me, are death-like old.

Then seek we not their camp-for there

The silence dwells of my despair!

"But hark, the trump !-to-morrow thou

In glory's fires shalt dry thy tears:
Even from the land of shadows now
My father's awful ghost appears,
Amidst the clouds that round us roll;
He bids my soul for battle thirst—
He bids me dry the last-the first-
The only tears that ever burst
From Outalissi's soul;

Because I may not stain with grief
The death-song of an Indian chief."

CAMPBELL.

The Lament of Outalissi.-The extract is taken from Campbell's poem, "Gertrude of Wyoming," which is founded upon the desolation of Wyoming in Pennsylvania by the Indians in 1778. Outalissi, the Oneyda chief, came to warn the small English colony of their danger, but was too late. Gertrude, the heroine of the poem, was struck with an arrow while attempting to shield her betrothed, who escapes with Outalissi.

HAMLET AND HORATIO.

HAMLET, HORATIO, and MARCELLUS.

[Hamlet's father had been murdered by his brother, who married the queen-his sister-in-law-and succeeded to the throne. The ghost of the murdered king appears to the officers on guard round the castle; and our extract contains an account of the way in which the news was broken to Hamlet.]

Hor. Hail to your lordship!

Ham. I am glad to see you well: Horatio,-or I do forget myself.

Hor. The same, my lord, and your poor servant ever. Ham. Sir, my good friend; I'll change that name

with you.

And what make you from Wittenberg, Horatio?——
Marcellus?

Mar. My good lord

Ham. I am very glad to see you; good even, Sir; But what, in faith, make you from Wittenberg? Hor. A truant disposition, good my lord. Ham. I would not hear your enemy say so; Nor shall you do mine ear that violence, To make it truster of your own report Against yourself: I know, you are no truant. But what is your affair in Elsinore?

We'll teach you to drink deep ere you depart.

Hor. My lord, I came to see your father's funeral. Ham. I pray thee, do not mock me, fellow-student; I think, it was to see my mother's wedding.

Hor. Indeed, my lord, it follow'd hard upon.

Ham. Thrift, thrift, Horatio! the funeral bak'd meats Did coldly furnish forth the marriage tables. 'Would I had met my dearest foe in heaven Or ever I had seen that day, Horatio!— My father,methinks I see my father. Hor. Where,

My lord?

Ham. In my mind's eye, Horatio.

Hor. I saw him once, he was a goodly king.
Ham. He was a man, take him for all in all,
I shall not look upon his like again.

Hor. My lord, I think I saw him yester-night.
Ham. Saw! who?

Hor. My lord, the king your father.

Ham. The king my father?

Hor. Season your admiration for a while

With an attent ear; till I may deliver,
Upon the witness of these gentlemen,

This marvel to you.

Ham. For Heaven's love, let me hear.

Hor. Two nights together had these gentlemen,
Marcellus and Bernardo, on their watch,

In the dead waste and middle of the night,
Been thus encounter'd. A figure like your father,

Armed at point, exactly, cap-a-pie,

Appears before them, and, with a solemn march,
Goes slow and stately by them: thrice he walk'd,
By their oppress'd and fear-surprised eyes,

Within his truncheon's length; whilst they, distill'd
Almost to jelly with the act of fear,

Stand dumb, and speak not to him. This to me
In dreadful secrecy impart they did;

And I with them, the third night kept the watch :
Where, as they had deliver'd, both in time,

Form of the thing, each word made true and good,
The apparition comes: I knew your father;

These hands are not more like.

Ham. But where was this?

Mar. My lord, upon the platform where we watch'd. Ham. Did you not speak to it?

Hor. My lord, I did;

But answer made it none: yet once, methought,
It lifted up its head, and did address

Itself to motion, like as it would speak:

But, even then, the morning cock crew loud,
And at the sound it shrunk in haste away,
And vanished from our sight.

Ham. 'Tis very strange.

Hor. As I do live, my honour'd lord, 'tis true: And we did think it writ down in our duty,.

To let you know of it.

Ham. Indeed, indeed, Sirs, but this troubles me. Hold you the watch to-night?

All. We do, my lord.

Ham. Arm'd, say you?

All. Arm'd, my lord.

Ham. From top to toe?

All. My lord, from head to foot.

Ham. Then saw you not

His face?

Hor. O, yes, my lord; he wore his beaver up.

Ham. What! look'd he frowningly?

Hor. A countenance more

In sorrow than in anger.

Ham. Pale, or red?

Hor. Nay, very pale.

Ham. And fixed his eyes upon you?

Hor. Most constantly.

Ham. I would I had been there.

Hor. It would have much amaz'd you.

Ham. Very like,

Very like Stay'd it long?

Hor. While one with moderate haste might tell a hundred.

Mar. & Ber. Longer, longer.

Hor. Not when I saw it.

Ham. His beard was grizzled ?—no?

Hor. It was, as I have seen it in his life,

A sable silver'd.

Ham. I will watch to-night; Perchance 'twill walk again.

Hor. I warrant, it will.

Ham. If it assume my noble father's person,
I'll speak to it, though EARTH itself should gape,
And bid me hold my peace. I pray you all,
If you have hitherto conceal'd this sight,
Let it be tenable in your silence still :
And whatsoever else shall hap to-night,
Give it an understanding, but no tongue :
I will requite your loves: So, fare you well:
Upon the platform, 'twixt eleven and twelve,
I'll visit you.

All. Our duty to your honour.

Ham. Your loves, as mine to you; Farewell. My father's spirit in arms! all is not well:

I doubt some foul play: 'would that the night were come!

Till then sit still, my soul: Foul deeds will rise,

Though all the earth o'erwhelm them, to men's eyes.

SHAKESPEARE.