When Uri's beechen woods wave red From the flashing billow sprung!1 They shall wake beside their Forest-Sea, When they linked the hands that made us free. And their voices shall be heard, And the land shall see such deeds again When Winkelried, on Sempach's plain, For the Kühreihen's 3 notes must never sound And the yellow harvests wave SWISS SONG. ON THE ANNIVERSARY OF AN ANCIENT BATTLE. [The Swiss, even to our days, have continued to celebrate the anniversaries of their ancient battles with much solemnity; assembling in the open air on the fields where their ancestors fought, to hear thanksgivings offered up by the priests, and the names of all who shared in the glory of the day enumerated. They afterwards walk in procession to chapels, always erected in the vicinity of such scenes, where masses are sung for the souls of the departed.- See PLANTA'S History of the Helvetic Confederacy.] LOOK on the white Alps round! If yet they gird a land Where Freedom's voice and step are found, Forget ye not the band,— 1 The point of rock on which Tell leaped from the boat of Gessler is marked by a chapel, and called the Tellensprung. 2 Crowned Helmets, as a distinction of rank, are mentioned in Simond s Switzerland. 3 The Kühreihen-the celebrated Ranz des Vaches. The faithful band, our sires, who fell If yet, the wilds among, Our silent hearts may burn, When the deep mountain-horn hath rung, And home our steps may turn,— Home!-home !-if still that name be dear, Praise to the men who perished here! Look on the white Alps round! They saw the princely crest, Praise to the mountain-born, Look on the white Alps round! Our children's fearless feet may bound, Teach them in song to bless the band If, by the wood-fire's blaze, When winter stars gleam cold, Forget not then the shepherd race, Look on the white Alps round! Comes o'er them with a gladdening sound, For blood first bathed its flowery sod, That chainless hearts might worship God! THE MESSENGER BIRD, [Some of the native Brazilians pay great veneration to a certain bird that sings mournfully in the night-time. They say it s a messenger which their deceased friends and relations have sent, and that it brings them news from the other world. See PICART'S Ceremonies and Religious Customs.] THOU art come from the spirits' land, thou bird! Through the dark pine grove let thy voice be heard, We know that the bowers are green and fair In the light of that summer shore; And we know that the friends we have lost are there, And we know they have quenched their fever's thirst For there must the stream in its freshness burst And we know that they will not be lured to earth By the feast, or the dance, or the song of mirth, Though they sat with us by the night-fire's blaze, And heard the tales of our fathers' days, But tell us, thou bird of the solemn strain! We call-and they answer not again : Doth the warrior think of his brother there, And the chief of those that were wont to share We call them far through the silent night, We know, thou bird! that their land is bright, 1 An expedition was actually undertaken by Juan Ponce de Leon, in the sixteenth century, with a view of discovering a wonderful fountain, believed by the natives of Puerto Rico to spring in one of the Lucayo Isles, and to possess the virtue of restoring youth to all who bathed in its waters.-See ROBERTSON'S History of America. 2 ANSWER TO "THE MESSENGER BIRD." BY AN AMERICAN QUAKER LADY. YES! I came from the spirits' land, THE STRANGER IN LOUISIANA. [An early traveller mentions people on the banks of the Mississippi who burst into tears at the sight of a stranger. The reason of this is, that they fancy their deceased friends and relations to be only gone on a journey, and, being in constant expectation of their return, look for them vainly amongst these foreign travellers. -PICART'S Ceremonies and Religious Customs. "J'ai passé moi-même," says Chateaubriand in his Souvenirs d'Amerique, "chez une peuplade Indienne qui se prenait à pleurer à la vue d'un voyageur, parce qu'il lui rappelait des amis partis pour la Contrée des Ames, et dupuis long-temps en voyage."] WE saw thee, O stranger! and wept. The path of his arrows a storm to flee. But there came a voice from a distant shore He was called-he is found midst his tribe no more: We saw thee, O stranger! and wept. He hath none by his side when the wilds we track, To say, if a wish or a vain regret Could live in Elysian bowers, "Twould be for the friends they can ne'er forget, To whisper the dear deserted band, Who smiled on their tarriance here, That a faithful guard in the dreamless land 'Tis true, in the silent night you call, But the spirits of bliss are voiceless all- That their land is bright and they weep no more, But my plaintive strain should have told before, They bid me say that unfading flowers And a welcome true to their deathless bowers, He hath none when we rest-yet she comes not back! We saw thee, O stranger! and wept. We looked for the first-born, whose mother's cry Tell, how we sat in the gloom to pine, And to watch for a step-but the step was thine! THE ISLE OF FOUNTS. AN INDIAN TRADITION. ["The river St. Mary has its source from a vast lake or marsh, which lies be tween Flint and Oakmulge rivers, and occupies a space of near three hundred miles in circuit. This vast accumulation of waters, in the wet season, appears as a lake, and contains some large islands or knolls of rich high land; one of which the present generation of the Creek Indians represent to be a most blissful spot of earth. They say it is inhabited by a peculiar race of Indians, whose women are incomparably beautiful. They also tell you that this terrestrial paradise has been seen by some of their enterprising hunters, when in pursuit of game; but that in their endeavours to approach it, they were involved in perpetual labyrinths, and, like enchanted land, still as they imagined they had just gained it, it seemed to fly before them, alternately appearing and disappearing. They resolved, at length, to leave the delusive pursuit, and to return; which, after a number of difficulties, they effected. When they reported their adventures to their countrymen, the young warriors were inflamed with an irresistible desire to invade and make a conquest of so charming a country; but all their attempts have hitherto proved abortive, never having been able again to find that enchanting spot."-BERTRAM'S Travels through North and South Carolina. The additional circumstances in the "Isle of Founts' " are merely imaginary.] SON of the stranger! wouldst thou take To reach the still and shining lake Along whose banks the west winds play? Let no vain dreams thy heart beguile Oh! seek thou not the Fountain Isle ! Lull but the mighty serpent-king,1 Midst the grey rocks, his old domain; 1 The Cherokees believe that the recesses of their mountains, overgrown with lofty pines and cedars, and covered with old mossy rocks, are inhabited by the kings or chiefs of rattlesnakes, whom they denominate the "bright old inhabitants. They represent them as snakes of an enormous size, and which possess the power of drawing to them every living creature that comes withir the reach of their eyes. Their heads are said to be crowned with a carbunck of dazzling brightness.-See Notes to LEYDEN'S Scenes of Infancy. |