The wild and wondrous melodies

To which the ancient rocks gave birth?1
Like that sweet song of hidden caves
Shall swell those wood-notes o'er the waves.

The emerald waves!-they take their hue
And image from that sunbright shore;
But wouldst thou launch thy light canoe,
And wouldst thou ply thy rapid oar,—
Before thee, hadst thou morning's speed,
The dreamy land should still recede!

Yet on the breeze thou still wouldst hear
The music of its flowering shades,

And ever should the sound be near

Of founts that ripple through its glades;
The sound, and sight, and flashing ray
Of joyous waters in their play!

But woe for him who sees them burst

With their bright spray-showers to the lake!
Earth has no spring to quench the thirst
That semblance in his soul shall wake,

For ever pouring through his dreams,
The gush of those untasted streams!

Bright, bright in many a rocky urn,
The waters of our deserts lie,
Yet at their source his lip shall burn,
Parch'd with the fever's agony !

1 The stones on the banks of the Orinoco, called by the South American missionaries Laxas de Musica, and alluded to in a former note.

From the blue mountains to the main,
Our thousand floods may roll in vain.

E'en thus our hunters came of yore

Back from their long and weary quest ;-
Had they not seen th' untrodden shore,
And could they 'midst our wilds find rest?
The lightning of their glance was fled,
They dwelt amongst us as the dead!

They lay beside our glittering rills,
With visions in their darken'd eye,
Their joy was not amidst the hills

Where elk and deer before us fly;
Their spears upon the cedar hung,
Their javelins to the wind were flung.

They bent no more the forest-bow,

They arm'd not with the warrior-band, The moons waned o'er them dim and slowThey left us for the spirits' land! Beneath our pines yon greensward heap Shows where the restless found their sleep.

Son of the stranger! if at eve

Silence be 'midst us in thy place,
Yet go not where the mighty leave

The strength of battle and of chase!
Let no vain dreams thy heart beguile,
Oh! seek thou not the Fountain Isle !

10*

THE BENDED BOW.

It is supposed that war was anciently proclaimed in Britain by sending messengers in different directions through the land, each bearing a bended bow; and that peace was in like manner announced by a bow unstrung, and therefore straight.

the Cambrian Antiquities.

THERE was heard the sound of a coming foe,
There was sent through Britain a bended bow;
And a voice was pour'd on the free winds far,
As the land rose up at the sign of war.

"Heard you not the battle-horn ?—
Reaper! leave thy golden corn!
Leave it for the birds of heaven,
Swords must flash, and spears

be riven!

Leave it for the winds to shed

Arm! ere Britain's turf grow red!"

And the reaper arm'd, like a freeman's son;
And the bended bow and the voice pass'd on.

"Hunter! leave the mountain-chase!
Take the falchion from its place!

Let the wolf go free to-day,
Leave him for a nobler prey!
Let the deer ungall'd sweep by,-

Arm thee! Britain's foes are nigh!"

And the hunter arm'd ere the chase was done;
And the bended bow and the voice pass'd on.

See

"Chieftain! quit the joyous feast!
Stay not till the song hath ceased:
Though the mead be foaming bright,
Though the fires give ruddy light,
Leave the hearth, and leave the hall-
Arm thee! Britain's foes must fall."

And the chieftain arm'd, and the horn was blown; And the bended bow and the voice pass'd on.

"Prince! thy father's deeds are told,
In the bower and in the hold!
Where the goatherd's lay is sung,
Where the minstrel's harp is strung!
Foes are on thy native sea-

Give our bards a tale of thee!"

And the prince came arm'd, like a leader's son; And the bended bow and the voice pass'd on.

"Mother! stay thou not thy boy!
He must learn the battle's joy.
Sister! bring the sword and spear,
Give thy brother words of cheer!
Maiden bid thy lover part,

Britain calls the strong in heart!"

And the bended bow and the voice pass'd on;
And the bards made song for a battle won.

HE NEVER SMILED AGAIN.

It is recorded of Henry the First, that after the death of his son, Prince William, who perished in a shipwreck off the coast of Normandy, he was never seen to smile.

THE bark that held a prince went down,
The sweeping waves roll'd on;
And what was England's glorious crown
To him that wept a son?

He lived for life may long be borne

Ere sorrow break its chain;

Why comes not death to those who mourn?-
He never smiled again!

There stood proud forms around his throne,
The stately and the brave;

But which could fill the place of one,
That one beneath the wave?
Before him pass'd the young and fair,
In pleasure's reckless train;

But seas dash'd o'er his son's bright hair—
He never smiled again!

He sat where festal bowls went round,

He heard the minstrel sing,

He saw the tourney's victor crown'd,

Amidst the knightly ring:

A murmur of the restless deep

Was blent with every strain,

A voice of winds that would not sleep

He never smiled again.