To hardest rock, or monumental stone, • Rather than let me know the pangs I've

known,

So fhall I thus no farther torments prove, Nor taunting rivals fay, fhe died for love.' For fure if aught can aggravate our fate, 'Tis fcorn or pity from the breast we hate.' She faid, the gods accord the fad requeft; For when were pious pray'rs in vain addrest ?

Now, ftrange to tell! if rural folks fay true, To harden'd Rock the stiffening damfel grew; No more her fhaplefs features can be known, Stone is her body, and her limbs are stone; The growing rock invades her beauteous face, And quickly petrifies each living grace; The ftone her ftature nor her fhape retains, The nymph is vanish'd, but the rock remains. Yet wou'd her heart its vital spirits keep, And scorn to mingle with the marble heap.

When babbling fame the fatal tidings bore, Grief feized the foul of perjur'd Polydore; Despair and horror robb'd his foul of reft, And deep compunction wrung his tortur'd

breaft.

Then to the fatal spot in hafte he hied,
And plung'd a deadly poinard in his fide:

He bent his dying eyes upon the stone,

And, Take, fweet maid,' he cried, my dying groan.

Fainting, the fteel he grafp'd, and as he fell,
The weapon pierc'd the Rock he lov'd fo well;
The guiltless steel affail'd the mortal part,
And ftabb'd the vital, vulnerable heart.
The life-blood iffuing from the wounded ftone,
Blends with the crimson current of his own.
And tho' revolving ages fince have past,
The meeting torrents undiminish'd last;
Still gushes out the fanguine ftream amain,
The standing wonder of the stranger fwain.

Now once a year, fo ruftic records tell, When o'er the heath refounds the midnight bell;

On eve of midfummer, that foe to fleep,
What time young maids their annual vigils keep,
The tell-tale fhrub fresh gather'd, to declare
The fwains who falfe, from those who conftant.

are;

When ghosts in clanking chains the churchyard walk,

And to the wondering ear of fancy talk: When the scar'd maid steals trembling thro' the grove,

To kifs the tomb of him who died for love:.

When, with long watchings, care, at length

oppreft,

Steals broken paufes of uncertain reft;
Nay grief fhort fnatches of repofe can take,
And nothing but defpair is quite awake:
Then, at that hour, fo ftill, fo full of fear,
When all things horrible to thought appear,
Is perjur'd Polydore obferv'd to rove,
A ghaftly spectre thro' the gloomy grove;
Then to the Rock, the Bleeding Rock repair,
Where fadly fighing, it diffolves to air.

Still when the hours of folemn rites return, The village train in fad proceffion mourn; Pluck every weed which might the fpot dif grace,

And plant the faireft field-flowers in their place.

Around no noxious plant, or floweret grows,
But the first daffodil, and earliest role:

The fnow-drop (preads its whitest bosom here,
And golden cowflips grace the vernal year:
Here the pale primrose takes a fairer hue,
And every violet boafts a brighter blue.

Here builds the wood-lark, here the faithful dove

Laments her loft, or woos her living love,

Secur'd from harm is every hallow'd neft,
The fpot is facred where true lovers reft.
To guard the Rock from each malignant right
A troop of guardian spirits watch by night;
Aloft in air each takes his little stand,
The neighb'ring hill is hence call'd Fairy
Land *.

NUMBER III.

In pity come and cafe my grief,
Bring my diftemper'd foul relief.

THE INDIANS.

A Tale.

MARANO, amiable in her forrow, fat alone by a fhelving rock. She fought in folitude to indulge the anguifh of her foul. She leaned on her fnowy arm. Her treffes flowed careless to the gale. The blooming beauty of her complexion was flushed with weeping. Her blue eyes were full of tender anxiety. And her bofom heaved with repeated fighs.

By contraction Failand, a hill well known in Somersetshire; not far from this is the Bleeding Rock, from which conftantly iffues a crimson current.

When will he return?' fhe faid, 'my beloved Oneyo! the husband of my affections! How I long to behold him! Ye waves of Ontario, convey him to his native fhore; restore him to his friends; reftore him to my tender embrace.. O when fhall I behold him? When will the swift canoe come bounding over the lake, and waft the hero to his gladfome ifle! Yes, thou happy isle! Thy rocks, thy refounding glades, and thy forests 'fhall then rejoice. Gladness shall be in the village. The elders fhall come forth to receive him. The feftival fhall be prepared. Ah me! Peradventure he hath perished! Or now expires in fome bloody field! Impetu• ous in his valour, and eager in the ardour of youth, perchance he rufhes on the foe and falls! While Marano thus indulged her inquietude, the venerable Ononthio was drawing nigh to confole her. He had perceived the uneafinefs of her foul, and had followed her, unobserved, from the village. He was the father of Oneyo, one of the Elders of the nation, revered for his wifdom, and beloved for his humanity. Temperate in his youth and active, in his old age he was vigorous and chearful. The furrows on his brow were not thofe of anxiety, but of time. His gait was stately,