VII.

Unblest distinction! showered on me
To bind a lingering life in chains :
All that could quit my grasp, or flee,
Is gone ;-but not the subtle stains
Fixed in the spirit; for even here
Can I be proud that jealous fear
Of what I was remains.

VIII.

A Woman rules my prison's key
A sister Queen, against the bent
Of law and holiest sympathy,
Detains me, doubtful of the event;
Great God, who feel'st for my distress,
My thoughts are all that I possess,
O keep them innocent!

IX.

Farewell desire of human aid,
Which abject mortals vainly court:
By friends deceived, by foes betrayed,
Cf fears the prey, of hopes the sport;
Naught but the world-redeeming Cross
Is able to supply my loss,

My burthen to support.

X.

Hark! the death-note of the year
Sounded by the castle-clock !
From her sunk eves a stagnant tear
Stole forth, unsettled by the shock;
But oft the woods renewed their green,
Ere the tired head of Scotland's Queen
Reposed upon the block!
1817.

XXI.

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 companions intend to pursue, and if he be unable to follow, or overtake them, he perishes alone in the desert; 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 lati tudes, as the same writer informs us, when the northern lights vary their position in the air, they make a rustling and a crackling noise, as alluded to in the following poem.]

I.

BEFORE I see another day,
Oh let my body die away!

In sleep I heard the northern gleams;
The stars, they were among my dreams;
In rustling conflict through the skies,
I heard, I saw the 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!

II.

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.

III.

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,
Dear friends, when ye were gone away.

IV.

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.

VII.

Another still! and still another!
A little lamb, and then its mother!
It was a vein that never stopped-
Like blood-drops from my heart they
dropped.

Till thirty were not left alive,
They dwindled, dwindled, one by one;
And I may say, that many a time
I wished they all were gone-
Reckless of what might come at last
Were but the bitter struggle past,

VIII.

To wicked deeds I was inclined,
And wicked fancies crossed my mind,
And every man I chanced to see,
I thought he knew some ill of me;
No peace, no comfort could I find,
No ease, within doors or without;
And, crazily and wearily

I went my work about;

And oft was moved to flee from home,

And hide my head where wild beasts roam.

IX.

Sir! 'twas a precious flock to me,
As dear as my own children be;
For daily with my growing store
I loved my children more and more.
Alas! it was an evil time;

God cursed me in my sore distress;
I prayed, yet every day I thought
I loved my children less;
And every week, and every day.
My flock it seemed to melt away.

X.

They dwindled, Sir, sad sight to see!
From ten to five, from five to three,
A lamb, a wether, and a ewe ;-
And then at last from three to two;
And, of my fifty, yesterday
I had but only one:

And here it lies upon my arm,
Alas! and I have none;-

To-day I fetched it from the rock;
It is the last of all my flock."
1798.

XXIII.
REPENTANCE.

A PASTORAL BALLAD.

THE fields which with covetous spirit we sold,

Those beautiful fields, the delight of the day,

Would have brought us more good than a burthen of gold,

Could we but have been as contented as they.

When the troublesome Tempter beset us, said I,

"Let him come, with his purse proudly grasped in his hand;

But, Allan, be true to me, Allan,-we'll die Before he shall go with an inch of the land !''

There dwelt we, as happy as birds in their bowers;

Unfettered as bees that in gardens abide; We could do what we liked with the land, it

was ours:

And for us the brook murmured that ran by its side.

But now we are strangers, go early or late; And often, like one overburthened with sin, With my hand on the latch of the half opened gate,

I look at the fields, but I cannot go in!

When I walk by the hedge on a bright summer's day,

Or sit in the shade of my grandfather's tree, A stern face it puts on, as if ready to say, "What ails you, that you must come creep ing to me!"

With our pastures about us, we could not be sad;

Our comfort was near if we ever were crost But the comfort, the blessings, and wealth that we had,

We slighted them all,-and our birth-right was lost.