To the faëry people of field and fell,With solemn rites and mysteries ;

Can the church absolve such sins as these?"
My son," said the friar," tell to me

How such enchantment fell on thee;

For thou hadst sinned, or it might not be."
The sick man lay on the greensward low,

But he raised himself and his words were slow:-
"I dwelt, as the minstrel dwells at best,
The thymy wold was my couch of rest;
I watched on the ancient mountains grey,
I dwelt in the greenwood, day by day;
I knew each bird that singeth free,

I had knowledge of each herb and tree;
I called each little star by name,

I watched the lightning's subtle flame;
I was learned in the skies and seas,
And earth's profoundest mysteries.
But best I loved, in the moonlight glade,
To be where the faëry people played;
And list to their music, sweet and low,
Too soft for joy, too wild for woe!
And I tuned, both even and morn,
To the witching airs of the faëry horn,

Till I knew them all, and at will could bring
The revellers wild from their grassy ring.
Then I sate with them at a banquet spread,
I drank their wine that was ruby red,
And a deadly sleep came o'er my brain ; —
But when I opened my eyes again,

I was not beneath my earthly tree —
A heavy darkness hung over me.
I lay in a couch-like chariot wide,
And one who drove me sat beside;

I heard him urge the horses fleet,

And I heard the sound of their ceaseless feet;
On they went, o'er the rugged road,
For days and days, with their easy load;
Swiftly we sped, and the passing air
Was cool on my cheek, and lifted my hair;-
On we went over mountains high,
And roaring waters, we journeyed by ;

And through thick woods, where the air was cold:

O'er sandy wastes, and the furzy wold:
Day after day, as it seemed to me,
In a gloom like the night of eternity.
At length, I sate in another land,
With the faëry people on either hand;

Where was that land, I cannot say
Its light was not like the light of day,
Its air was not like the air of earth-

"T was the wondrous land where dreams have birth
There were glorious things of shape divine,
There were fountains, that poured forth purple wine
There were trees, that bent with their golden load
Of fruits, that all gifts of mind bestowed!
The very air did breathe and sigh,
As if o'erburthened with melody! —
But then there were frightful, creeping things,
The coil of the adder, the harpy's wings,-
The screech of the owl, the death-bed moan,—
And eyes that would turn the blood to stone!
I was set to the feast and half in dread
I drank of the cup, and I ate the bread:
I was told to bathe - and half in fear
I bathed myself in those waters clear;-
I ate I drank - I bathed - and then

I could no longer have part with men.

I dwelt 'mong the faëries, their merry king,—

I danced on the earth, in the charmed ring;
I learned the songs of awful mirth,
That were made cre man abode on earth;
In the time of chaos, stern and grey,
'Mid ruins of old worlds passed away.
A careless, joyful life I led,

;

Till thrice seven years, as a day, had sped ;-
Then a longing wish was in my mind,
To dwell once more among human kind:
So up I rose, but I told to none,
What journey I was departing on;
And at the close of a summer's day,

I laid me down on the Leeder brae.
Ere long, came one, and a friar was he,
Muttering over his rosary;

He was lean, and crabbed, and old,

His voice was thick, and his prayers were cold,— He moved not my heart; — then came there by A fair child, chasing a butterfly;

"T was a lovely boy with his free light hair,
Like a sunny cloud, o'er his shoulders bare;
And as he danced in his glee along,
He filled the air with a joyful song;

I blessed the child from my inmost heart,
With a faëry gift, that could ne'er depart.
Next came a maiden, all alone,
And down she sate on a mossy stone:
Fair was she, as the morning's smile,

But her serious eye had a tear the while;
Then she raised to heaven her thoughtful look,
And drew from her bosom a clasped book;
Page by page of that book she read,-

Hour by hour I listened;

Still on she read, sedate and low,

And at every word I was wrong with woe;

For she taught what I ne'er had known before
The holy truths of the Christian lore!
And I saw the sinful life I led,

And my human heart was shook with dread
And I, who had lived in pleasures wild,
Now wept in awe, like a stricken child!

Down I knelt, and I strove to pray,

But never a hope to my soul found way;
For with that spell I was bound and bound,
And with elvish snares was compassed round; -
But a prayer was ever on my tongue,
For soon I learnt that prayers were strong,
To unweave the webs that were in my track,
To win my soul to the faëry back.

I have wrestled hard, I have fiercely striven
'Gainst them, and for my peace with heaven;-
But now my strength doth ebb apace-
Father, can the church award me grace,

And among the blessed a dwelling-place?"

-

Thou hast fought the fight-thou hast battled long-
And the victor here is not the strong;
But the gates of heaven are opened wide,
And the contrite heart is the sanctified!
Give upstand like the Hebrews, still-
And behold the wonders of God's will;-
Lay down thy strift- lay down thy pride -
Lay all thy hope on Christ who died,
And thou art saved;- for at his spell
Not faëry webs, but the gates of heil
Are dashed aside, like the morning mist
Oh, vainly might fay or fiend resist!
Have faith! 't is the spell of glory, given
To burst all bars on the way to heaven;
Have faith-have heaven, my son."-There ran
A sudden joy through the dying man;
And the holy father bent his knee,
Chanting, "Te laudamus, Domine!"

-

With thee, the dead are blest: they have gone forth.

Thou knowest not whither, but to some fair home, |Brighter, far brighter than our summer earth,Where sorrow cannot come.

It matters not to thee, that angel-guest
Nor spirit hath come down to tell thee where
Lie those delicious islands of the blest,--
Thou knowest that they are!

What marvel, then, that thou shouldest shed no tear, Standing beside the dead, that thou shouldst wreathe

Thyself with flowers, and thy bright beauty wear
Even in the house of death?

Oh! thou undoubting one, who from the tree
Of life hast plucked and eaten, well mayst thou
Unknowing evil, walk in spirit free,

With thine unclouded brow!

Thy faith is knowledge, and without a fear
Lookest thou onward in the light revealed!
Thou blessed child! In thee will I revere
The truth which God has sealed.

I will not doubt-like thee I will arise,
And clothe my soul in light, nor more repine
That life, and death, and heaven, are mysteries:
Thy strong faith shall be mine!

Then may I see the beautiful depart,

The fair flowers of my spring-time fade and die, With an unquestioning, unrebellious heart, Strong in God's certainty!

AMERICA.

A STORY OF THE INDIAN WAR.

"I was at William Penn's country-house, called Pensbury, in Pennsylvania, where I staid some days. Much of my time I spent in seeing William Penn, and many of the chief men among the Indians, in council concerning their former covenant, now renewed on his going away for England. To pass by several particulars, may mention the following: They never broke covenant with any people,' said one of their great chiefs; and, smiting his hand upon his head, he said, they made not their covenants there, but here,' said he, smiting on his breast three times.

"I, being walking in the woods, espied several wigwams, and drew towards them. The love of God filled my heart; and I felt it right to look for an interpreter, which I did. Then I signified that I was come from a far country with a message from the Great Spirit (as they call God.) and my message was to endeavour to persuade them that they should not be drunkards, nor steal, nor kill one another, nor fight, nor put away their wives for small faults; for

THEY read of rapine, war, and woe,

A party by an English fire,-
Of Indian warfare in the wood,
Of stern and ruthless ire.

They read of torture worse than death-
Of treachery dark of natures base-
Of women savage as the beast-

Of the red Indian race.

"Hold!" said the matron of the hearth,
A woman beautiful in age;
"And let me of the Indian speak;
Close, close that faithless page!

"My father was the youngest born
In an old rural English hall;
The youngest out of five stout sons,
With patrimony small.

"His boyhood was in greenwood spent ;

His youth was all a sylvan dream; He tracked the game upon the hills; He angled in the stream.

"Quiet was he, and well content,

With naught to fret, and none to chide;
For all that his young heart desired

The woods and streams supplied.
"Small knowledge had a youth so trained,
College or school ne'er knew his face;
And yet as he grew up, he grew
Superior to his race.

"His brethren were of sordid sort,

Men with coarse minds, and without range; He grew adventurous and bold,

Inquisitive of change.

"And, as he grew, he took to books,
And read whate'er the hall supplied;
Histories of admirals, voyages old,
And travel far and wide.

"He read of settlers, who went forth
To the far west, and pitched their tent
Within the woods, and grew, ere long,

To a great, prosperous settlement.

"He read of the bold lives they led,
Full of adventure, hardy, free;
Of the wild creatures they pursued,
Of game in every tree.

"And how the Indians, quaintly gay,

Came down in wampum-belt and feather, To welcome them with courteous grace; How they and the free forest race

Hunted and dwelt together.

"And how they and their chosen mates

Led lives so sweet and primitive: Oh! in such land, with one dear heart, What joy it were to live!

"So thought he, and such life it were

As suited well his turn of mind; For what within his father's house Was there to lure or bind? "Four needy brothers, coarse and dull; A patrimony, quite outspent ; A mother, long since in her grave; A father, weak and indolent! "At twenty he had ta'en a mate,

A creature gentle, kind, and fair; Poor, like himself, but well content The forest-life to share.

"She left an old white-headed sire;

A mother loving, thoughtful, good;
She left a home of love, to live
For him, within the wood.
"And that old couple did provide,

Out of their need, for many a want Else unforeseen; their daughter's dower In gifts of love, not scant.

66

His father with cold scorn received

So dowered a daughter, without name; Nor could his purposed exile win Either assent or blame.

"All was a chill of indifference;

And from his father's gate he went,
As from a place where none for him
Had kindred sentiment.

"And in the western world they dwelt;
Life, like a joyous summer morn,
Each hope fulfilled; and in the wild
To them were children born.

"All that his youth had dreamed he found In that life's freshness; peril strange; Adventure; freedom; sylvan wealth;

And ceaseless, blameless change. "And there he, and his heart's true mate, Essay'd and found how sweet to live, 'Mid Nature's store, with health and love, That life so primitive!

"But that sweet life came to an end.As falls the golden-eared corn Before the sickle, earthly bliss

In human hearts is shorn.

"Sickness bereavement

widowhood Oh, these three awful words embrace A weight of mortal woe that fell

Upon our sylvan dwelling-place!
"It matters not to tell of pangs,
Of the heart-broken, the bereft;

I will pass over death and tears,
I will pass on to other years,

When only two were left!

"I and a sister; long had passed
The anguish of that time, and we
Were living in a home of love,

Though in a stranger's family.

"Still in the wilderness we dwelt,

And were grown up towards womanhood;
When our sweet life of peace was stirred
By tales of civil feud.

"By rumours of approaching war,

Of battle done, of armed bands;
Of horrid deeds of blood and fire,
Achieved by Indian hands.

"We heard it first with disbelief;

And long time after, when had spread Wild war throughout the land, we dwelt All unassailed by dread.

"For they with whom our lot was cast, Were people of that Christian creed Who will not fight, but trust in God

For help in time of need.

"The forest round was like a camp,
And men were armed day and night;
And every morning brought fresh news
To heighten their affright.

"Through the green forest rose the smoke
Of places burn'd the night before;
And from their victims, the red scalp
The excited Indian tore.

"This was around us, yet we dwelt
In peace upon the forest bound;
Without defence, without annoy,
The Indian camp'd all round.
"The door was never barr'd by night,
The door was never closed by day;
And there the Indians came and went,
As they had done alway.

"For these of Onas are the sons,'

Said they, the upright peaceful men! Nor was harm done to those who held

The faith of William Penn.

"But I this while thought less of peace,
Than of the camp and battle stir;
For I had given my young heart's love
Unto a British officer.

"Near us, within the forest-fort,

He lay, the leader of a band

Of fierce young spirits, sworn to sweep
The Indian from the land-

"The native Indian from his woods-
I deem'd it cowardly and base;
And, with a righteous zeal I pled
For the free forest-race.

"But he, to whom I pled, preferr'd

Sweet pleading of another sort;
And we met ever 'neath the wood
Outside the forest-fort.

"The Indian passed us in the wood,
Or glared upon us from the brake;
But he, disguised, with me was safe,
For Father Onas' sake.

"At length the crisis of the war

Approach'd, and he, my soul's beloved, With his hot band, impatient grown, Yet further west removed.

"There he was taken by the foe,

Ambush'd like tigers 'mid the trees: You know what death severe and dread The Indian to his foe decrees.

"A death of torture and of fireProtracted death; I knew too well, Outraged and anger'd, as of late

Had been the Indian spirit, fell Would be their vengeance, and, to him, Their hate implacable.

When first to me his fate was told,

I stood amazed, confounded, dumb; Then wildly wept and wrung my hands, By anguish overcome.

"Wait, wait!' the peaceful people said;
Be still and wait, the Lord is good!"
But when they bade me trust and wait,
I went forth in my anguish great,

To hide me in the wood.

"I had no fear; the Indian race

To me were as my early kin: And then the thought came to my brain, To go forth, and from death and pain, My best-beloved to win.

"With me my fair, young sister went,

Long journeying on through wood and swamp Three long days' travel, ere we came

To the great Indian camp.

"We saw the Indians as we went,

Hid 'mong the grass with tiger ken;
But we were safe, they would not harm

The daughters of the peaceful men.
"In thickets of the woods at length
We came to a savannah green;
And there, beneath the open day,
The Indian camp was seen.

"I turned me from that scene of war,
And from the solemn council-talk,
Where stood the warriors, stern, and cold,
War-crested, and with bearing bold,
Listening unto a sachem old,
Who held aloft a tomahawk.