The Massachusetts spy. [volume] (Worcester [Mass.]) 1821-1823, 1821-09-19

chase, through fertile and lovely
country. From distant hill he looks,
that he may see ascending from his
roof
The faint blue wreath of evening smoke"
But in vain-his wife and children. who
should have returned long before, were
Still away.
Already anxious in mind, not for the
welfare, but for the very existence of
his nation and troubled by his melan-
choly dreams, Logan is filled with the
utmost distress. This, and what follows
nearly to the close, we consider the
best part of the poem, and shall, there
fore, make some extracts in confirma-
lion of our opinion.
He reach'd his hut, the door was cios'd !;
Within in stiffness all repos'd,
As when he left it not change
Was there--but saneness still and strange,
As if no hand had Cpd the door.
Or footstep cross'd the threshold floor.
He safe him down in silence stern,
Wishing, yet fearful too, to learn
What evil tidings might await,
Why thus his home was desolate.''-
PSF.
One approaches-
Then Logan nlann'd himself to bear
All he might hear, with unmop'd airy
Ibid.
The friend addresses him
t'' Logan, bring thee tidings dread:
The storm of war above thy head
Has burst, and thou art left alone
For to the land of souls are gone
Thy children and thy wife, no more. -
The fash that wakes the tempest's war,
Bursting around the wanderers head
With sheeted flames and thunders dread,
Scarcely each shrinking sense confounds,
As Logan's now these dreadful sounds.n
sc. &c. PSF.
All he had lost together came
Bursting upon his mind like flame,
With the dread sense that nought could save
Or rush between them and the grave.
Twas but an instant like the light
Of meteor darling through the night
So swiftly, that the gazer's eye
Scarce marks it as it passes by
VANISHED that tempest of the soul,
Which then resun'd its sclf-control.
Struggling each outward sign to hide
OF sottness that might shame his pride,
And stain bis lefty warriour name
With weakness of unmanly name
Tis WE'LL he said, and paus'd-the tone,
Firm and majestick, was his own;
His fearless eye was calm and bright,
His dark lip shew'd no tinge of white,
And his whole mien was self-possess'd,
A if no passion stirr'd his breast
So safe he, and on other theme
Awhile diseours'd, that none would dream
That any tidings bad been brought,
Where joy or sorrow mingled aught."
P. 37-39..
Logan then inquiries of the death of his
family, and is told that they were muir
dered by the whites. Deeply stung
with their treachery, he resolves upon
revenge-is joined by other tribes-and
they begin a merciless war: this RACES
for time-the indians make
a midnight attack upon the whites, and
destroy many-morning comes, and they
are forced to retreat.
The author is very happy in his de-
scription of the battle-ground and the
midnight conflict. We feel DESTROYS of
making some further extracts here, but
we must put restraint upon our wishes,
or else far exceed our proper limits.
The natives, at last, were obliged to
sue for peace; Logan, however, refus-
ed to join with them; but sent an an
swer which is as familiar to every read
er as it is simple and eloquent. In turn
ing this speech into verse, the author
has, perhaps, come as near success as
almost any one can come. Bus we are
inclined TO think that every attempt,
however good, must be failure.
THERE'S something in Indian eIoquence
highly peetical, which is destroyed
when set to measure I; as is apt to be
the case with the power of originality
when worked upon by the lettering,
cramping and refining spirit of the age.
Nothing can add to Indian eloquence.-
1t is all strength, energy, dignity and
it is all nature.
The authors Introductory stanzas
are something more than pretty-they
are good, not as limitations, but good IN
We have taken great sat-
isiaction in examining this poem. The
few hours which alone we have been
able to spend in this employment, have
prevented US frora being as minute and
elaborate as we could have wished.
We are convinced, however, from