Moyarra: An Australian Legend in Two Cantos

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DRAWN FROM LIFE BY SIR THOMAS MITCHELL.

MOYARRA

An Australian Legend

Canto I

MOYARRA

I.

In that far isle which, long unknown, Confesses now Britannia's throne, The sun who flings his genial ray O'er every clime from day to day. Beheld one born to that dark race Who hail the woods their dwelling place. The opening buds upon the trees Were gently waving in the breeze; The flowerets round, of every hue, Bent with full drops of morning dew; The feathered choir to greet the day Poured forth their merry roundelay; The robin with his blood-red hue, The warbler of cerulean blue.

And all the variegated kind That haunt the grove or ride the wind, All—all conspired with tuneful lays To hymn their great Creator's praise; Nature, and nature's voice were glad— While man—doomed man—alone was sad. But it is past,—one pilgrim more Shall wear the chain his fathers wore: He, too, affection's bonds shall nourish, While yet, alas! their cause may flourish;— And, when those links are rent in twain, He, too, shall find the broken chain. Which once had cheered his happier day, Corrode his inmost heart away. And is this all? And do we cherish The flower that must to-morrow perish? And is our earthly term so brief Of bliss, so permanent of grief? Affections blighted and decaying, Hope once how bright! but still delaying; Where'er our wanderings, shall show This life a pilgrimage of woe.

II.

Moyarra lived a reckless child And deemed, albeit a savage, wild: His mimic spear was early sped Far o'er each wondering comrade's head: The eucalyptus on the hill Was silent challenge to his skill:— Did torrents deck the mountain's side, Moyarra stemmed the foaming tide:— If spies went forth to circumvent The neighbouring tribes on plunder bent, Moyarra clasped his hands in prayer That he, though young, th' exploit might share.

III.

Long years have passed; those rites1 are done Which, handed down from sire to son. Still from that wandering people claim Obeisance to religion's name: Their temple is the earth, air, sky, And through the gorgeous canopy The moon, their priestess, wades in light— While round her path, in order bright,

The stars, her ministers, array Their gleaming ranks until the day, Returning, chase their fires away. Around, in frowning grandeur, stand The forest patriarchs of the land; In sullen sanction of the hour They wave beneath the West wind's power, Till the whole grove, with yielding grace, Murmurs around the sacred place. Moyarra felt his being thrill Within him, as by magic spell; Like lightning, through his sanguine frame As the electric transport came, In fuller tide his life-blood ran; He knew—he felt himself, a man. Then, by those lights which o'er him sparkled, And by the woods which round him darkled. By the blue arch extended o'er him, And by the sacred rites before him. He vowed to that dear mother earth Which gave his ancestry their birth To wage, till life's extremest close, Unyielding warfare 'gainst her foes. His conscious step, his haughty bearing

Bespoke a spirit proud and daring; The flashing of his eye confessed The courage mantling in his breast. The hoary warriors round him smiled Approval of his fervour wild; Recounting deeds themselves had done Ere yet their bloom of youth had flown.

IV.

Rise, Mytah! the graceful, and list to thy lover; The day is declining, my toils are all over; Fresh spoils from the stream and the forest I bring, And flowers wet with dew of the fragrance of Spring.

As the young blade of grass to the swift kangaroo So dear to me, Mytah, one kind glance from you: As the flowers love the dew-drops which nightly they sip, In thy smiles I would revel, and feast on thy lip.

Then haste thee thy faithful Moyarra to cheer With the sound of that voice which is sweet to mine ear;

And the name of my Mytah shall ever remain The home of my thoughts, and the theme of my strain.

Ere the song had ceased the maiden's breast Was throbbing with tumultuous passion, And at its close she gently rose And glided to her lover's station. The hurried air of wild despair That o'er her face a tremor threw, The glossy orb that would absorb Ere he the falling tear might view— In eloquent language have conveyed A tale of anguish and of dread: And when she oped her lips to name The grief which thus had racked her frame. The impatient lover madly hung Upon the accents of her tongue;— Convulsive clenched within his hand More firmly his unfailing brand, As though the foe were now in sight On whom to wreak his wrath in fight.

V.

"Moyarra, I have trembled here In agony of doubt and fear— Mistrusting e'en thy constant heart; Hear but the cause—thou wilt not start. Thou know'st Muntookan (of the race For whom the hills are dwelling-place); Before our gathered tribe, this morn,— E'en now I shudder:—he hath sworn That, ere to-morrow's speeding rays Are quenched in darkness, he will seize Thine own loved Mytah for his bride."2 "Perish the thought!" Moyarra cried— "Nay, hear my tale," she gently said; "But late the tribe have onward strayed;— E'en now, perchance, they seek for me,— Oh ! bliss ! that I have met with thee! I knew, I feared thy soul of flame If sudden to the camp you came;— I thought my o'er-strung heart would break"- 'Nay, weep not, Mytah! this is weak: Am I not here thy cause to try With him who thus hath dimmed thine eye?

Am I not here thy foes to chase As thus the tear from thy dear face? Methinks the caitiff I could bless Who drove thee thus to my caress; Who quelled for me those vain alarms Which held thee from my longing arms." The dark blood mantling in her face, The maiden flew to his embrace; Her head upon his breast reclining, Her swimming eyes the while declining, She lent his tale a willing ear, And sighed, assenting to his prayer. The night-enamoured cuckoo's call3 Aroused them from their pleasing thrall,— One raptured glance around he took. Then silence thus Moyarra broke:— "Such was the night, and such the hour My country to defend I swore; That oath I've sacred kept, and now I pledge me to a tenderer vow. By those all-hallowed rites I swear, Whose mysteries not thyself may'st share, While yet within these throbbing veins One feeble pulse of life remains.

Thee as my dearer self to cherish, For thee to live, with thee to perish. But haste thee;—ere to-morrow's sun My native valley must be won: Once-there, all danger we'll defy To dim our hopes, or cloud our joy." He said, and o'er the maiden threw A furry robe which half concealed Her graceful form, and half revealed Its moulding and proportions due. The mantle which a gift he brought From wild beasts' skins himself had wrought. The glimmering moonbeams faintly showed Where lay the dreary, winding road; But still his way through brake and fen He followed on with watchful ken. With faltering step, and anxious mind Dark Mytah traced his steps behind.

VI.

"Brethren! full long the sun hath set,- That brain-sick girl appears not yet. If more she dallies thus——;howe'er,

The exerted voice she yet may hear." The savage called, and a wilder cry Ne'er thrilled upon Tartarean gloom, Wrung from a soul in agony:— You'd deem a voice from out the tomb Alone could wake that echo shrill Responsive from the neighbouring hill. No voice replied. In baffled pride Muntookan laid him by the side Of the embers dim, which fitful showed The swarthy forms around that glowed. The gaunt white stems of the trees around Moaned in the breeze with solemn sound: The hoarse frog croaked in dismal tune From the weedy shore of the near lagoon; The mournful note of the cuckoo seemed To wail a crime yet unredeemed, As nightly here, exiled from home The ghost of the spring bird wept its doom: The hungered dog in the distant dell Discordant howled with painful yell. But darker than surrounding shade, Than the gloomy sounds by night conveyed. The mingled tide of wrath and pride

That raged within Muntookan's breast; "So lightly prized! my love despised! And who to me preferred? 'Twere best He shun my path. The rifle bird4 To whom the serpent glides unheard, Not surer rues the fatal spring When vainly flaps its struggling wing Than he shall rue the luckless hour He trifled with Muntookan's power. If curse availeth, mine shall cling Worse than the soul's imagining. Ye powers who rule the midnight air,5 Fell spirits! Hear, and grant my prayer! His be the seared and lifeless heart Jiist skilled to view its joys depart, But sunk in hopelessness to save Its dearest blossom from the grave; Till nerveless, sapless as the oak Scathed by the livid lightning stroke, Fostering the canker which destroys. His heart's core wither ere he dies."

VII.

Ere yet the day's returning beam Had crimson-tinged the distant hill, Or, glancing on the bubbling stream Lent joyous lustre to its rill. The chieftain rose, and gloomy strode Through twilight grey his lonely road. Morn came; around their watch-fires mustered The warrior chiefs: the children clustered In playful groups; in mimic war To combat some their brethren dare; Quick wielded by the dexterous hand, The club a fresh-peeled myrtle wand; The well-poised reed a spear supplies. While high, in rapid circles, flies The crescent toy whose airy flight6 Full oft attracts the wanderer's sight. Rapt in the counsels of the band One fondly clasps his father's hand, Each intimation of his will Quick to receive and to fulfil.

VIII.

The sun had set; but, tremulously, His rays yet gilt the western sky; The stars with milder radiance shone Beset with lustre not their own, And faintly gleaming seemed to mourn The light of which their spheres were shorn. But in the east the azure sky Wore purple of the deepest dye, Save where the silver queen of night Soothed its blue shade to tender light. The stars in bright succession sprung To light and life, and from them flung That gentle influence which instils Its power upon the soul, and fills (Ah! sad but pleasing melancholy) The heart with musings high and holy. Yes! this the hour in mercy given To wean the world- worn heart to heaven; In aspiration rapt sublime We commune with all space, all time; In unison with the infinite whole

The heart accords to nature's soul Of which it beats a fervent pulse That time nor danger can convulse. And if there be a dull alloy To dim the gushing of our joy It is that we must turn again To smile, to weep, to herd with men Who, swayed by passions which they share With brutes by nature, day by day, Contented, hug their bonds of clay; Their sordid chains still let them wear; Be ours the bliss; their punishment Companion with their crime is sent; To see, and not to feel such joy May well avenge their apathy. Ideal dreams of days gone by Illume our night of lethargy, And quelling dull mortality Float o'er the enraptured brain. When those bright spirits ranked on high Whose beaming effluence gems the sky A mortal penance doomed to try Adorned this world of pain: The fame to which they dared aspire

Shines through all time a beacon-fire To light the enterprising few To their celestial portion true Which, in the dreariest hour can build Hope, all ephemeral ills to gild. Do patriots' laurels earn our praise? Through the far mist of ancient days Gleams a long line of Greece's martyrs Who perished to defend her charters. Their epitaph their country's groans— Their fame a world's approving tones. Doth wisdom claim our reverence? Ages Yet mourn the loss of ancient sages. And wisdom's goddess, drooping, flies To plume her pinion in the skies. Bend we at Poesy's sacred shrine? Oh! thou, Mæonides divine, Before whose throne the boldest falters Ere he approach the Muses' altars, Shed but one feather of that pinion Which gaining thy sublime dominion Gave thee to soar the upper air And dwell in instellation there; Oh! for the faintest colour given

To tint thy page with hues of heaven! Ah! no! for thee reserved alone Thy fire, and unapproached thy throne; Thus Nature vows thy rights to guard, Her earliest—her Grecian bard.

IX.

In frequent bands, the tribe, returning, Bore home the produce of their toil, And o'er their watch-fires brightly burning Prepared for food the welcome spoil: Then, gathering to the wild repast The joke and mirthful taunt flew fast; Not there the courtly, wreathed smile"7 With eye that dubious gleams the while, And features tutored to beguile, The mirth that nature felt, restrained: Flashed many a dark and glittering eye, Dusk faces were dissolved in joy. And yielding to its subtlety Wantoned in gladness unrestrained.

X.

The moon's chaste orb shone clear and cold; Each emerald blade in the grassy glade Sparkled with gems of nature's mould; The fitful shade by light clouds made Checking the smile the moon sent down, And lending the scene a transient frown, Gave to the eye the only token That night's mild charm might e'er be broken, And looking aye tranquillity Partook of mutability. With wary glance and noiseless tread A swart form from the tall trees glided, A moment paused—as if in dread, Then to the nearest watch-fire strided: It was Muntookan: brief reply Explained the seeming mystery. "The fugitive Mytah "he had" traced From brake to fen, from waste to waste." "Did Mytah wander then alone?" "Alone! No—there was with her one;— Vengeance I vowed when on his path,

And dearly he shall bide my wrath," "Who? who?" "Moyarra. Both I tracked;8 But 'tis enough; I know the fact; And for the rest, my deeds shall prove That hate most deadly sprung from love." He ceased, and by the fire reclined, Sought in sweet sleep to soothe his mind. The silent chiefs around withdrew Their several pleasures to renew. Not theirs the prompt officious zeal To probe the wound it cannot heal, Question on question hurrying To fan the flame that grows within: By nature prompted they restrain From tasking Sorrow to explain. And leave to Time those wounds to soothe Inflicted by Care's arrowy tooth.

XI.

Unconscious of a joy denied, And at the wish each want supplied. Dark Mytah with her lover passed Hours which were all too sweet to last.

Those gentle feelings which alone Are found where Love upbuilds his throne,— Which can to trifles light impart Grace unattained by measured art, And, fill the soul with delicate sense Of bliss, pervading and intense,— Each moment ruled with grateful sway Hearts which but throbbed such power to obey Yes! if unnamed desires to guess, To soothe the weary in distress, Each fancied evil to beguile With cheerful song or playful smile; Expected joys to antedate. To treasure brightest hours of fate. And ever with remembrance dear Suppress the sigh or starting tear;— Yes! if such life be love—'twas proved By Mytah and the one she loved.9 Aye! ye may smile whom fickle chance Endows with wealth and arrogance; Who deem that true love doth disdain To quit refinement's courtly train. But know! Love triumphs more in such Harmonious response to his touch

Where hearts with mutual fervour beat, Where hps with unchecked fondness meet, Than when to transient rules of art Fashion would mould the struggling heart.

XII.

Nor wanted they the joy of amity. Koreungat claimed that social tie. Koreungat and Moyarra grew Alike in strength and friendship too; And now, together to the field They sallied forth with spear and shield : Together to the river went To rob the watery element; And when, encumbered with their prey, Homeward, at eve, they bent their way, The tones of Mytah's voice were heard Caroling like a summer bird, As forth she bounded o'er the plain And blithely hailed them home again. Then would she urge the friends to tell How, or by whom, their victim fell; And with quick jibe and mock contempt

Taunt him who failed in his attempt. Full often from the neighbouring stream She caught unhoped repast for them; Then, spreading out her little hoard, Waited the coming of her lord, And joyed to see the fond surprise That glistened in his wondering eyes.

XIII.

"Koreungat! seest thou not? that light That ever wont to shine so bright— Sure, no mischance"——upon his tongue With faltering tone the accents hung. Hapless Moyarra! 'tis too true; The fire that nightly beamed for you. Trimmed by the fostering hand of love, No longer glimmers through the grove; The hands that nursed it, clasped in woe, Plead vainly to the insulting foe; The eyes that ached for thy return Beneath the victor's thraldom mourn; The heart in which thou wert enshrined, Which in thine absence ever pined,

Shrinks, languishing as a blighted flower Beneath the taint of lawless power. He staggers on, his vision swims, Fail in their task his struggling limbs; But on, with desperate energy He reels, the unwelcome truth to see: He nears the spot of past delight, Hence doubly charged with woe to-night; One glance sufficed the tale to own— The idol of his heart was gone, And he dejected—and alone. He spoke not, but his lips compressed,— The throb convulsive of his breast— The expanded nostril—gathered brow Shading the glittering orb below, Whose fiery and insatiate glow Seemed avaricious of a foe— His nervous hand's impatient grasp His weapon seeming now to clasp — All told, though now controlled his ire Within it raged with fiercer fire. Meanwhile, at distance from his friend, (Not friendship now a balm could lend) Koreungat, gloomy, turned to know

The guilty author of his woe. The trembling women who had been Powerless condemned to view the scene, Yet awed by memory of their fears With converse mingled frequent tears. Two gloomy warriors from the wood To Mytah, fierce and sudden, strode; Dismayed, Muntookan's form she viewed And fled, but swiftly they pursued: The rest, as clouds by winds are shattered, As kangaroos by dogs are scattered, For safety tried each well-known path Intent to shun the spoiler's wrath: And, fearful of Muntookan's force, Ntone knew, none guessed his homeward course.

XIV.

Ere yet the tale was at an end Koreungat stood beside his friend;— "Moyarra! this a time for grief! While Mytah's woes demand relief? Know'st thou Muntookan for the foe Who claims thy bride and dooms thy woe?

She's lost! 'tis now thy task to prove Moyarra worthy of her love." "Full well I know my future life A stern, I hope successful strife: Yes! o'er the vengeance of my soul The foe, at least, has no control;— My ruined hopes, my blighted heart I owe to his malignant art. The single passion left mature Shall wreak on him a reckoning sure: But 'midst the pangs my heart that tear One reigns and will not comfort hear; I—fondly proud—in folly bold, p30I—I should have this foretold." "Nay, nay, Moyarra, say not so, Too well his vantage took the foe! What nightly watch, what course by day Shall screen from us his backward way, Were he protected by the barrier Of each his tribe's most chosen warrior Thy wrath would for the recreant doom That vengeance which shall surely come : What marvel that Muntookan too"— "Enough, enough, all this I know,

But when I think upon my bride But this morn clinging to my side And now—alas! in such reverse When e'en her memory is a curse!— Who-could, with calm dispassionate view Say, thus and thus I ought to do? Go! prate to others of relief Who ne'er have known like mine a grief. You never lost a Mytah! No! You never knew like mine a woe. How canst thou my bereavement tell? His triumph—ha! thou speakest well;— I see, I see her at his side;— Henceforward Vengeance is my bride."

XV.

Assembling at Moyarra's call The dusky chiefs around him throng; Waiting his speech, in silence all As at the close of funeral song. "Brothers! have any heard strange sound, Or seen strange footsteps on the ground?" Each viewed askance his neighbour's face,

As eager there some hope to trace; Each eye, with self-accusing glance Reproached its master's negligence: Not e'en the oldest chieftains spoke But mournfully their grey hairs shook, Reluctant then to trust the voice With words that could not bid rejoice. While all in doubt and sorrow hung The youthful Warrawe 'mongst them sprung (His tale reserved till reverenced age10 Disclaimed its prior privilege). "Three travellers' tracks I viewed to-day; It seemed they journeyed hence; the way I well remember to the spot." Further narration needed not. Moyarra seized a burning brand— Koreungat, Warrawe, all his band, (Though many a proffered arm was there. And many a heart beat high to share The adventure, if perchance their aid Might minister to Moyarra's need). They reached the spot and quickly made Their fire beneath the tall trees' shade: But while his comrades sunk to rest,

Moyarra could not calm his breast. Ye who have seen a cultured mind Range wild, by no restraint confined, And at each thwarting of its will In recklessness plunge deeper still; Think, then, what passions rent the heart Of one not schooled by rules of art. A child of impulse, he had been Till now, spectator in life's scene, And thus to play such bitter part Wrung sighs of anguish from his heart. He sunk to sleep, but 'twas to reap Fresh torture from a feverish dream. His bark was gliding down life's stream, Racked gently by the ambient tide; A guardian angel by his side Seemed round an atmosphere to shed Hallowing the scenes through which they sped; For them the varied shores of life With aye-enduring bliss seemed rife; Each hour owned hues too bright to last Yet each was rival of the past. Alas! he little knew the wave Whose gentle dalliance rose to lave

His bark with undulating motion In joyous mask beguiled the task Which bore him to the restless ocean; Where, shuddering at the billows' roar Vainly he seeks the varied shore. His faithful spirit from his sight Fades, wrapt in shades of dubious night: He asks in vain the heaven o'erarched, A sulphurous glare its hues hath parched; And vapours dim are gathering fast: The cloud-winged thunderstorm unfurls Its gloomy pinions to the blast; Each lurid mass at random hurls The lightning's intermittent light Whose ghastly vision quails the sight. His bark reels through the trackless foam Staggering beneath the wild waves' shock: Is there no hope to avert his doom? No way to shun th' impending stroke? The vengeful demon of the storm Seemed now endowed with palpable form: Like an eagle he swooped from his airy height; The blood of his victim ran cold at the sight: He shrunk from the breath of the sable plume

Which o'er him was hovering instinct with gloom. Like ice was the chill of the deadly dews That infected his brain with a poisonous juice, Rendering it feeble and languishing: He felt the cold torpor of death's touch cling To his quivering flesh, as each fixed clammy limb Was numbed by the spell of that spectre dim. The throb of his pulse waxes faint in his heart— Shall it cease? With a sudden and desperate start The chains of his slumber he rends asunder:— Was that lightning a vision, illusion that thunder?

Calm, overhead, the clear blue sky Replete with thousand isles of light Met the wild wonder of his eye And soothed the fever of his sight. Lulled in repose, all nature lay Resigned to night's benignant sway. But the beaded drops of terror hung, On his hot temples; still among

His throbbing veins the curdled blood Struggled to gain its equable flood. His scattered senses he recalls— Alas! that inward gaze appals! Though bright above the stars may shine, Dark still is all his breast within: He woke to find the phantom of his brain Too true an emblem of his real pain.

XVI.

While yet the day's reviving light Contended with the shades of night, Winding its radiance with the twilight grey, The friends resumed their tedious way; With patient gaze from print to print Following the foeman as he went. Where, soft, the earth's retentive breast Preserved the footfall as impressed, Elate with hope, they bounded on: Mid rocks, with scanty moss o'ergrown, Erewhile they journeyed, and they cursed The soil whose barren bosom nursed No fragile herb whose wounded stem11

Might claim a mutual wrong with them. Like greyhounds panting in the leash They linger, till, obtained their wish, The obdurate obstacle they pass And wind the trail o'er the prostrate grass. Ha! whither now? With heads erected Headlong they rush,—the track neglected: And see! on yonder gentle slope, Where the forest weaves its verdant cope, What smoke curls faint its ashy wreath Swayed by the morning's gentle breath? They reach the spot:—but vain that glance. Vain that keen eye of vigilance: Around that too delusive fire No victims wait to glut their ire.

Blest be the forest's friendly guard Waving wide shelter o'er the sward: Here, still the glistening dewdrop slept.— There, rudely by the foeman swept, A darker hue the green turf showed. And marked the way the spoiler trod; See! prostrate from his recent tread Each blade yet strives to rear its head.

The omen, seen with keen delight, Inspires new vigour for the fight. As, on some mountain's shaggy crest A rock, for ages fixed to rest, (Which there, a silent moral, long hath stood Firm 'mid the changeful honours of the wood) Now, loosened from its pinnacle. With horrid rumour fills each dell;— Slow creeping first, with sluggish course, Each bound augments its hurrying force; And now, alternate, hurled on high. It seeks communion with the sky; Now plunging downward, ploughs the earth, Goring the womb that gave it birth; Limbs, scattered wide, its track adorn Strewn 'neath their parents' stems forlorn. Sad relics! witness bearing long Themselves how weak, their foe how strong, Who rolls, remorseless, on his way While frighted echo shrieks dismay— So, now, the friends impetuous still, Rebuffed, not daunted in their will, Rush on, their vengeance to fulfil.

XVII.

On! on!—behold the foe! their speed Shames all past efforts;—every nerve To straining, ministers to their need When most its sacrifice may serve. Rapid, they gain: the conscious foe Now, first, his danger starts to know: With fiercer gesture, feller tone, His trembling prey he urges on:— She, witless of the succour nigh Tasks her reluctant strength to fly: Now, now, Moyarra! let your need Add wings to favour yet your speed. Yet, look back, Mytah! as a flower Beneath the pitiless thunderstorm Droops, laden with the dropping shower, So yielded Mytah's fainting form:— Her fate how different! from her fall No gentle breath can bid her rise:— Life's sunshine never can recall The light of life to her dark eyes. Muntookan paused—and backward cast One glance—a moment, and 'tis passed—

Yet, in that glance, a quenchless hate, Lost but with life, was concentrate, Glaring as, Gorgon-like, endowed To freeze the reckless gazer's blood. He laughed—a laugh that fiends might use. Deriding man's ephemeral views: One hand he wreathed in Mytah's hair;— Whirled then the tomahawk in air;— It glittered—sunk:—a thrilling shriek Its mission served too well to speak: With grim delight the savage drew His weapon wet with gory dew— Waved it, exulting, o'er his head, Then through the wood's wide shelter fled.

Moyarra saw not; for his eye When flashed the fateful axe on high Convulsive closed in dizzy trance:— Vain hope! to dwell in ignorance: That thrilling cry the air that rent To his prophetic heart hath sent The curst conviction that his fate Is sealed, and he now desolate.

XVIII.

In hours with bitterest anguish fraught Hope courts each vision fancy-wrought; Each aid, though fragile as the reed That mocks the drowning suppliant's need. Though Reason's monitory call May warn us from delusion's thrall, Hope, like the rainbow's lovely form, Waves its bright hues to mock the storm, Luring from earth our dull regard Like Icarus on high to soar; Alas! like his, too, our reward: The pleasant paths of earth no more To trace; in the ocean of despair Wailing the loss of visions fair Whose fairy scenes, that charmed the sight, Rose but to whelm in deeper night The trusting heart that fain would think They wooed it from destruction's brink. Alas! when sorrow's bitter cup The hand of fate hath lifted up, What mortal hand hath power to fling The pestilent potion to the wind ?

From Nature's stores can wisdom wring An antidote to soothe the mind? No! as the deadly adder's fang On corporal sense inflicts a pang Whose rankling venom subtly glides, Empoisoning life's crimson tides; So, when of sorrow's bitter draught The shuddering heart hath, loathing, quaffed, Sinks each enervate faculty As paralyzed beneath a spell Concentrate of malignity, Potent as if on earth th' archfiend Thus wrung a fealty from mankind- Triumphant in the petty hell That rends each victim's proper mind,

XIX.

"The foe 'twere folly to pursue His native hills are now in view; And Mytah stretched upon the plain Bedews the earth with crimson stain." To her Moyarra madly sped; With faltering hand he raised her head

"Mytah! my Mytah!"—languidly Quivered the dark fringe of her eye; Heaved her shut lips with tremulous motion 'Neath gentle winds as stirs the ocean. In vain—her eyes no lustrous glances dart, No tuneful notes her trembling lips impart; But for those panting sobs for breath You'd deem her frame resolved in death. Such scene was not for words; nor now Griefs dalliance did the time allow; The shallow streamlet's scattered spray Each pebble marks that checks its way; The unruffled river's surface hides The rocks o'er which its mightier current glides. In silent grief the warriors bare The unconscious object of their care; Fearful to harm, with reckless touch. That form already scathed too much. Who ever knew of love the pain, Till grief had bound him in its chain? Oh! 'tis grief alone that proves The heart that deeply, truly loves. In the fresh dawn of life's young spring When varied joys each moment wing;