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GERTRUDE OF WYOMING.

PART I.

I.

ON Susquehana's side, fair Wyoming, Although the wild-flower on thy ruin'd wall And roofless homes a sad remembrance bring Of what thy gentle people did befal,

Yet thou wert once the loveliest land of all
That see the Atlantic wave their morn restore.
Sweet land! may I thy lost delights recal,
And paint thy Gertrude in her bowers of yore,
Whose beauty was the love of Pennsylvania's
shore!

II.

It was beneath thy skies that, but to prune
His Autumn fruits, or skim the light canoe,
Perchance, along thy river calm at noon
The happy shepherd swain had nought to do-
From morn till evening's sweeter pastime grew,
Their timbrel, in the dance of forests brown
When lovely maidens prankt in flowret new ;
And ay, those sunny mountains half way down
Would echo flagelet from some romantic town.

III.

Then, where of Indian hills the daylight takes
His leave, how might you the flamingo see
Disporting like a meteor on the lakes-
And playful squirrel on his nut-grown tree:

And every sound of life was full of glee,
From merry mock-bird's song,23 or hum of men,
While heark'ning, fearing nought their revelry,
The wild deer arch'd his neck from glades, and
then

Unhunted, sought his woods and wilderness

again.

IV.

And scarce had Wyoming of war or crime
Heard but in transatlantic story rung,
For here the exile met from ev'ry clime,
And spoke in friendship ev'ry distant tongue:
Men from the blood of warring Europe sprung,
Were but divided by the running brook;
And happy where no Rhenish trumpet sung,
On plains no sieging mine's volcano shook,
The blue-ey'd German chang'd his sword to
pruning-hook.

V.

Nor far some Andalusian saraband
Would sound to many a native rondelay.
But who is he that yet a dearer land
Remembers, over hills and far away?

Green Albyn!* what though he no more survey
Thy ships at anchor on the quiet shore,
Thy pellochst rolling from the mountain bay;
Thy lone sepulchral cairn upon the moor,

And distant isles that hear the loud Corbrechtan roar !+24

VI.

Alas! poor Caledonia's mountaineer,

That want's stern edict e'er, and feudal grief,

* Scotland.

+ Pelloch is the Gaelic appellation for porpoise.
The great whirlpool of the Western Hebrides.

Had forced him from a home he loved so dear!
Yet found he here a home, and glad relief,
And plied the beverage from his own fair sheaf.
That fir'd his Highland blood with mickle glee;
And England sent her men, of men the chief,
Who taught those sires of Empire yet to be,
To plant the tree of life; to plant fair freedom's
tree!

VII.

Here was not mingled in the city's pomp
Of life's extremes the grandeur and the gloom;
Judgment awoke not here her dismal tromp,
Nor seal'd in blood a fellow creature's doom,
Nor mourned the captive in a living tomb.
One venerable man, beloved of all,

Sufficed where innocence was yet in bloom,
To sway the strife, that seldom might befal,
And Albert was their judge in patriarchal hall.

VIII.

How rev'rend was the look, serenely aged,
He bore, this gentle Pennsylvanian sire,
Where all but kindly fervours were assuag'd,
Undimm'd by weakness' shade, or turbid ire;
And though amidst the calm of thought entire,
Some high and haughty features might betray
A soul impetuous once, 'twas earthly fire
That fled composure's intellectual ray,

As Etna's fires grow dim before the rising day.

IX.

I boast no song in magic wonders rife,
But yet familiar, is there nought to prize,
Oh, Nature! in thy bosom-scenes of life?
And dwells in daylight truth's salubrious skies
No form with which the soul may sympathise?
Young, innocent, on whose sweet forehead mild

The parted ringlet shone in simplest guise,
An inmate in the home of Albert smil'd,
Or blest his noonday walk-she was his only
child.

X.

The rose of England bloom'd on Gertrude's cheek

What though these shades had seen her birth, her sire

A Briton's independence taught to seek

Far western worlds; and there his household fire

The light of social love did long inspire,
And many a halcyon day he liv'd to see
Unbroken, but by one misfortune dire,

When fate had reft his mutual heart-but she Was gone and Gertrude climb'd a widow'd father's knee;

XI.

A lov'd bequest, and I may half impart
To them that feel the strong paternal tie,
How like a new existence to his heart
Uprose that living flower beneath his eye,
Dear as she was, from cherub infancy,
From hours when she would round his garden
play,

To time when, as the rip'ning years went by,
Her lovely mind could culture well repay,
And more engaging grew from pleasing day to
day.

XII.

I may not paint those thousand infant charms;
(Unconscious fascination, undesign'd!)
The orison repeated in his arms,

For God to bless her sire and all mankind;
The book, the bosom on his knee reclin'd,

Or how sweet fairy-lore he heard her con, (The playmate ere the teacher of her mind) : All uncompanion'd else her years had gone Till now in Gertrude's eyes their ninth blue summer shone.

XIII.

And summer was the tide, and sweet the hour
When sire and daughter saw, with fleet descent,
An Indian from his bark approach their bower,
Of buskin'd limb, and swarthy lineament!
The red wild feathers on his brow were blent,
And bracelets bound the arm that help'd to light
A boy, who seem'd, as he beside him went,
Of Christian vesture, and complexion bright,
Led by his dusky guide like morning brought by
night.

XIV.

Yet pensive seem'd the boy for one so young,
The dimple from his polish'd cheek had fled;
When, leaning on his forest-bow unstrung,
Th' Oneyda warrior to the planter said,
And laid his hand upon the stripling's head,
"Peace be to thee! my words this belt approve;25
The paths of peace my steps have hither led:26
This little nursling, take him to thy love,
And shield the bird unfledged, since gone the
parent dove.

XV.

"Christian! I am the foeman of thy foe; Our wampum league thy brethren did embrace: Upon the Michigan, three moons ago,

We launch'd our quivers for the bison chace ; And with the Hurons planted for a space, With true and faithful hands, the olive-stalk; But snakes are in the bosoms of their race,

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