44 LAYS OF MANY LANDS. THE STRANGER IN LOUISIANA. An early traveller mentions a 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 among these foreign travellers. Picart's Ceremonies and Religious Customs. "J'ai passé moi-même," says Chateaubriand in his Souvenirs d' Amérique," 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 depuis long-tems en voyage." WE saw thee, O stranger, and wept! We look'd for the youth of the sunny glance, Whose step was the fleetest in the chase or dance! The light of his eye was a joy to see, The path of his arrows a storm to flee! But there came a voice from a distant shore; He was call'd-he is found 'midst his tribe no more! But we look for him still-he will yet return! -His brother sat with a drooping brow In the gloom of the shadowing cypress bough, We saw thee, O Stranger, and wept ! He hath none by his side when the wilds we track, For her breezy step--but the step was thine! We saw thee, O stranger, and wept ! We look'd for the first-born, whose mother's cry THE ISLE OF FOUNTS. AN INDIAN TRADITION. "The River St. Mary has its source from a vast lake or marsh, which lies between 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 highland; 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." Bartram's Travels through North and South Carolina, &c. 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? 46 LAYS OF MANY LANDS. -Let no vain dreams thy heart beguile, 'Midst the gray rocks, his old domain : Yes! there, with all its rainbow streams, Shall greet thee in the purple sky; Or hast thou heard the sounds that rise To which the ancient rocks gave birth ?+ The emerald waves!-they take their hue 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 the 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 within the reach of their eyes. Their heads are said to be crowned with a carbuncle, of dazzling brightness.-See Notes to Leyden's "Scenes of Infancy." The stones on the banks of the Oronoco, called by the South American missionaries Laxas de Musica, and alluded to in a former note. Yet on the breeze thou still wouldst hear Of founts that ripple through its glades: But wo 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! 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 lay beside our glittering rills, 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 spirit's 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, 48 LAYS OF MANY LANDS. 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. See the Cambrian Antiquities. THERE was heard the sound of a coming foe, "Heard ye not the battle-horn? And the reaper arm'd, like a freeman's son, "Hunter! leave the mountain-chase! Arm thee! Britain's foes are nigh." And the hunter arm'd ere the chase was done, "Chieftain! quit the joyous feast! And the chieftain arm'd, and the horn was blown, |