The voice of freedom. [volume] (Montpelier, Vt.) 1839-1848, 1843-10-05
From the Northern Light.
THE SPIRIT OF THE LAKE.
A VISION.

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( lowing sketch is an attempt 10 account To-
its present application.
"I saw it all in fancys glass,
, Herself the fair, the wild magician,
That bid the heeting ay-dream pass,
And nared its gliding apparition.
stood alone before the lofty portico oil
the elegant mansion of my friend, gazing ou
upon one OF the lovlest aspects of the fairy
scene one may ever behold from that en-
lchanIing spot. | watched the bright lines
of light that were reflected from the win.
dows of the quiet village dwellings, and fell
in golden CLEANS across the waveless sur
face of the lake. Nature slept in the soft
moonlight. No wing of huttering zephyr
no voice of tiniest insect broke the swee,
stiffness of night Moving impusively
nearer to the water-side, but with soft, slow
steps, whose noiselessness accorded with the
profound silence and repose that reigned
around again | paused, and looked over
the fair waters, so distinctly mirroring the
verdant banks that encircled them as with
wreath. Whence arose the name, swee
lake, murmured, that thy primitive children
gave thee ?-the Beautiful Squaw-would
that knew! They sleep around me on
thy shore, and beneath thy waves, who
could tell-lhe Indian dead % AS | uttered
these words half aloud, soft strain Of most
enchaating melody fell on my ear. II SEEM
ed to come floating over the bosom of the
water. Looking inrently, to discover, if
possible, the origin Of these aerial sounds,
thought discovered in the distance, the
dim outline OF a tiny boat gliding towards
the spot where stood. In moment more
The arrowy swiilness with which it moved !,
rendered me certain that my first suppo>lion
was correct, and in another, the form Of the
solitary occupant OF the fairy bark, became Wis
! IDLE in the clear moonlight. twas the figure
OF female, who guided her slight vessel with
a single, slender oar, and as the slvery wa
Ter was slightly parted by its touch, no
splashing sound responded 10 its gentle mo-
zion: The boat, itself, scarcely seemed 10
rest on the waves, so unruf1led was its sur
face. No bright track marked where lis
pain had been, but, like the moon when
cloud has passed over its face, unaltered
|hone The lake, be1eatn the brow of night.
Onward. and more clearly came too, the
invisible source OF the melodous song: these
words were chanlPd, seemingly by many &C
cording voices, whose tones, as they neared
he shore, grew more and more plaintive,
until they melted into gentle murmur: -
d" We bear thee on but not in mirh,
Bright Queen of the beautiful Lake |!
We bea, thee on to thy native earth,
Yetnot long Thy realm forsake -
So brea,hed The sweet notes of the unseen
choir, as the course of the spectre boat was
STAYED and the foot of her who had moored
lis lral form, rested on the dew gemmed
turf
Fly not, daughter of the pale faces, fear
not % said voice, soft and musical as the
last sigh of the gentle ripple that dies on the
shore, "iear not, | came but 10 answer thy
prayerw Astonishment restrained the
flight that alarm would otherwise have
prompted, and | remained without motion
surveying the Mysterious figure before me.
United ma esty and sweetness oeamed from
her beautiful features, and grace was en-
bodied in The exquisite proportions Of her
form. Her brow was encircled with dia-
dem Of brilliant flowers, whose balmy
breath, # more than earthly fragrance, per-
vaded the surrounding air. Drapery com
posed Of the blended plumage Of birds, of
thousand gorgeous hues, foaled around her
in folds soft as the bllowy clouds Of a sum-
mer sunset. A ceslus Of gem like shells
alone confined this waving mantle. She
held in her hand an elegant and delicately
proporlioned bow and culver and arrows,
were visible from behind The shivering locks
of datk, luxurant hair, that fell like veil
over her shoulders. "Know, child of EARTH"
she continued, "lhat am that Skaneateles
whose history you would learn.-To the
mercy of these waters, was indebted for
the preservation Of my infant existence, and
their blue depths are now my home. In a
cradle of bark Aoated over their bosom TO
their shore, where stranger hands received
and cherished me. The red children of the
Great Spirit at first called me in their tongue,
the 'ChiId of the Lake. for SkanealeIes
could claim no mother save the compassion
ale wave. on whose breast she had safely
reposed, when all else had forsaken her.
But when many moons had rolled away, the
aged warrior in whose heart The Child Of the
Lake had slept secure from the storm king,
and from every evil that visits the forest
home OF the red man, went 10 the far spirit
land Then the young braves called me
no more the Child of the Lake, but The
Beautiful One'--and Skanealeles was free,
with liberty that belonged not to The wo
men of her people called her wife or
daughter. Thus ever remained near the
silvtry lake, by whose side had been my
forest home. / was never weary OF looking
on its face, soothing as The presence Of low
ed ones 10 me, and when the fiery eye of
heaven was shut, glided forth in my ca
noe and fondly gazed down into its star lit
waters, for had dreamed that my mother
dwelt in its calm and silent Depths
boarded 10 my lone bower the shells that
gathered on The beach-they seemed her
Gilt NY soul yearned 10 behold The moth
er whose fancied image ii treasured, and
many times called on her name when /
fioaled by the moons light, far over the wave
AT last she heard my cry, and from shadow
ing curtains of mist she beckoned me 10
come 10 her arms. They who saw Shame