Western Monthly Magazine and Review," | Baker and Scribner, since Scribner, Welford & Co. thus remarks:

"It is not, however, in the epic or the dramatic, but in the descriptive that Mr. Street excels. He is not even contemplative — solely descriptive, and as nice and as elaborate in details as any of the Flemish Masters. His delineations are as close and correct as if Nature herself had employed him as her chief secretary, "Here is a spirited picture of the guardroom revel.

Circling a table flagon-strewed
The soldiers sat in jocund mood;
Around the fort the tempest howls;
Thick, solid-seeming darkness scowls :
But what reck they! with song and shout
Merrily speeds the festive scene,
Loud laughter greets the tawny scout,
As, startling, when, more shrill and keen
Swells on the air the furious gale,
He mutters of the morning's trail.
One, the most reckless of the band,
Viewing the scout with scornful eyes,
Fierce smites the table with his hand,

And swinging high his goblet, cries-
"Fill, comrades, fill, the wine is bright,
We'll drink the soldier's life to-night!
Sing, comrades, sing, the wind shall be
The chorus to our harmony!
This talk forbear- -no trails we fear!
Thy boding's naught, no foe is near !
A guardian kind is Winter old!
He rears his barriers white and cold;
His frozen forests fill the track
Between us and fierce Frontenac !
Hark to the blast, how wild its sweep!
He shouts his chorus strong and deep;
How beats the snow! we envy not
This bitter night, the sentry's lot!
Our comrades at the gates must feel
The driving sleet like points of steel!
Fill, and let thanks to fortune flow
For wine and fire, not blast and snow!
Fill, till the brim is beaming bright!
We'll drink-the soldier's life!-to-night!

"We note several pieces of exquisite description. Nice bits of scenery occur in frequent pages-glimpses of wood and water, rude mountain and cultivated valley, slips of prospect such as a painter's eye would seize upon and fasten in autumnal tints upon the intelligible canvas. Occasionally, too, our author moralizes well upon the things he describes, with a pure spirit and that gentle solemnity which soothes and satisfies, without chilling or oppressing, the heart."

Of this poem

"The Britannia," a London periodical, thus speaks.

"Mr. Street is one of the writers of whom his country has reason to be proud. His originality is not less striking than his talent. In dealing with the romance of North American life, at a period when the red man waged war with the European settler, he has skilfully preserved that distinctive reality in ideas, habits, and action characteristic of the Indian Tribes, while he has constructed a poem In this of singular power and beauty. respect Frontenac' is entirely different from 'Gertrude of Wyoming,' which presents us only with ideal portraiture. Mr. Street has collected all his materials from Nature. They are stamped with that impress of truth which is at once visible even to the inexperienced eye, and, like a great artist, he has exercised his imagination only in forming them into the most attractive, picturesque, and beautiful combinations.

"We can best give an idea of Mr. Street's production by saying that it resembles one of Cooper's Indian romances thrown into sweet and varied verse. The frequent change of metre is not we think advantageous to the effect of the poem as a whole, and the reader uninitiated in the pronunciation of Indian proper names may find the frequent recurrence a stumbling block as he reads; but the rapidity of the narrative, the exciting incidents of strife and peril which give it life and animation, and the exquisite beauty of the descriptive passages must fascinate the mind of every class of readers, while the more refined taste will dwell with delight on the lovely images and poetic ideas with which the verse is thickly studded."

Thus speaks Duyckinck's "Literary World" published some years ago.

The

"When Europeans first penetrated the valleys of the Hudson and the Mohawk, they found a confederacy of Red men, who, by the power of union, bore sway over all the surrounding tribes. Ho-de-no-son-ne, once consisting of nine united nations, for a time, according to Algonquin tradition, were known as the Eight Tribes. At the period of the Dutch discovery, they called themselves the Five In 1849, Frontenac, a long narrative Nations, Akonoshioni; or, as more corpoem from the pen of Mr. Street was pub-rectly written, Ho-de-no-son-ne. Ordinalished by Richard Bentley, London, and rily, when speaking of themselves, they subsequently ushered to the American used the term Ongwe Honwee, a generic public by the then publishing firm of word, equivalent to Indian, and which

applied to the whole red race, just as we, | He has been most happy in the choice of appropriating the name of the continent, his subject.

call ourselves Americans. Subsequently, "Street has a peculiar power to see, and and within our written history, another to describe in words and rhythm, visible tribe, the Tuskaroras, was adopted into nature. He paints to the eye of mind as the Union, and the confederacy became Cole and Durand paint to the bodily known as the Six Nations. The polity sight, the woods and waters, the sunny which regulated these United Red Men glades and solemn caverns, the distant is hardly known. So far as ascertained, landscape, and the group just by. Bethe number of tribes might be increased sides, like Cole and Durand, his heart or diminished, according to circumstan- adores his native land. He studies and ces. The power of war and peace was loves our America. His images, his hegiven up by each member of the Confed-roes, his similes, his story, all are Amerieracy: votes were given by tribes. The can; and therefore I love him, and want singular bond of the totem, or family to make you and all true readers of native name and device, ran through all the na- books, love him too. Even as the bold tions, Algonquins as well as Iroquois.leaguers, whose successors we are, paintIt bore some analogy to coats of arms. ed on some barked tree or whitened doeDescent was by the female side. The skin, the brave deeds of their sires and son of a chief could not succeed him. comrades, and by their Ho-no-we-na-to, His brother, or, in default of a brother, or hereditary Keeper of the Records, the male child of his daughter, was the kept alive perpetual tradition from father heir-apparent; and his claims were sub- to son, so has the author of Frontenac mitted to a council for approval, without recorded one chapter of the history of which he was not inducted into office. the United People,' and married it to Married women among them retained verse, which I would fain wish immortal. their name or totem, as well as their prop- I hail this pale-faced Ho-no-we-na-to, erty. Matrons might take part in coun- who has filled his mind with the lore of cil. There were Council Fires or Delib- the Iroquois, and whose diction might erative Assemblies in each tribe, and a have been the utterance of a Ho-de-noGrand Council of the Confederacy made son-ne soul. Hear him: up of delegates from the tribes composing As Thurenserah viewed the lovely sky, it, as our Senate consists of representa- It looked, to his wild fancy-shaping eye, tives of the States. Over all presided Like holy HAH-WEN-NE-YO'S* bosom bright the Atotarho or "Convener of the Coun- With his thick-crowded deeds, one glow of cil;" an office, in some respects, not unlightlike that of President of our Republic. This system was democratic in practice. The independence of the individual tribes was jealously guarded. All warriors were volunteers, without pay or resource from the public. The people were trained to war as the business of life. Hunting was merely foraging. The thirst for glory,' says Mr. School craft, the strife for personal distinction filled their ranks, and led them through desert paths to the St. Lawrence, the Illinois, the Atlantic seaboard, and the southern Alleghanies. They conquered wherever they went. They subdued nations in their immediate vicinity. They exterminated others. They adopted the fragments of subjugated tribes into their confederacy, sank the national homes of the conquered into oblivion, and thus repaired the losses of war.'

"Of the great deeds of this noble race sings our poet. Mr. Street has, in Frontenac, attempted only the metrical romance, and a capital one he has written.

And his rich belt of wampum broadly bound
White as his pure and mighty thoughts, around.

"What an image! The broad expanse of starry sky, belted with constellations, to the untutored Indian's mind, suggested the broad chest of the mighty brave, whose thick-crowded deeds could scarce find room to be emblazoned there in glory. The milky way was the rich belt of wampum, white as His pure thoughts.

"Again: the ATOTARHO is appealing to his warriors, who, overawed by the accounts they receive of the Frenchman's artillery, hesitate to resist:

Have you forgot that here is burning

The pure Ho-de-no-son-ne fire ?
Rather than, from its splendor turning,
Leave it to Yon-non-de-yoh's spurning,

Around it, glad, should all expire!
See! its smoke streams before your eye
Like HAH-WEN-NE-YOH's scalp-lock high!
"The Atotarho, Thurenserah (Anglice,

God.

'The Dawn of Day), the hero of the romance, is a heroine- LUCILLE, the daughter of Sa-ha-wee, Priestess of the Sacred Fire of the Onondagas, who had been carried a captive to France, and wedded there Frontenac ; this Lucille becomes Atotarho of the Iroquois, and after performing all chivalrous and gallant acts, according to Indian warfare, at last overcome, is about to be burnt at the stake with Indian torments, a prisoner. The sacred fane has been destroyed and the fire gone out, when her sex is discovered, and her mother avows herself in the priestess, and the wife of the conqueror, the long-lost and long-renowned Sa-ha-wee. Here we have the romance. The interest of the story is well sustained, and the improbabilities are so artfully carried out, of our modern notions of what would be likely, into olden Ho-de-no-sonne days, that no one but an Iroquois has any right to say aught against them. The versification is varied; not always perfect, nor even carefully conducted - but full of substance, needing the file, yet worthy of that toil which, in another edition, the rhyme-builders ought to bestow.

"As for instance:

Now by smooth banks, where, stretched beneath the shade

The Indian Hunter gazed with curious eye, Now catching glimpses of some grassy glade, Rich with the sunshine of the open sky; Now by the vista of some creek, where stood The moose mid-leg, and tossing high his

crown

Hazy with gnats, and vanishing in the wood, Waking to showers of white the shallows brown.

Thus on they passed by day.

A single stanza from the description of
Cayuga Lake:

Sweet sylvan lake! beside thee now,
Villages point their spires to Heaven,
Rich meadows wave, broad grain-fields bow,
The axe resounds, the plough is driven;
Down verdant points come herds to drink,
Flocks strew, like spots of snow, thy brink;
The frequent farm-house meets the sight,
'Mid falling harvests scythes are bright,
The watch dog's bark comes faint from far,
Shakes on the ear the saw-mill's jar;
The steamer, like a darting bird,

Parts the rich emerald of thy wave,
And the gay song and laugh are heard -
But all is o'er the Indian's grave.
Pause, white man! check thy onward stride!
Cease o'er the flood thy prow to guide!
Until is given one sigh sincere

For those who once were monarchs here,
And prayer is made, beseeching God
To spare us his avenging rod
For all the wrongs upon the head
Of the poor helpless savage shed;
Who, strong when we were weak, did not

Alter the words italicized into he van-Trample us down upon the spot,
ished, and both sound and sense are im-
proved, for it was the moose and not the
gnats that vanished. Now you see how
hard I have striven to find fault, and after
all my quotation draws a picture beauti-
ful as Durand can paint. The word-pic-
tures of Street are marvels. Listen-he
is looking over the battlements of Quebec.

But weak when we were strong, were cast
Like leaves upon the rushing blast."

The following is from "The Albion."

"There is something in a name, and Mr. Street has chosen one that has this recommendation. It is peculiar and yet euphonious, begetting some curiosity in those not well read in Canadian story to learn who or what Frontenac might be.

"The scenes are laid in the castle and city of Quebec; in the deep forests of the then uncleared wilderness, and on the waters of the Canadian rivers and lakes; these afford ample scope for description, which is evidently Mr. Street's forte. The poem contains not fewer than seven thousand lines, mainly in the octosyllabic metre, but pleasingly varied.

"Mr. Street must surely have made per

Again does its rich, glowing loveliness deck ing?
River, and castle, and wall.

Follows the twilight haze,

And now the star-gemmed night;

And out bursts the Recollets' Church in a Here, tangled in the forest leaves,

There on the Cataragin gleaming.

A broad glade lay beside the flood
Where tall dropped trees and bushes stood
A cove its semi-circle bent

Within, and through the sylvan space,
Where lay the light in splintered trace,

A moose, slow grazing, went;
Twisting his long, curved, flexile lip
Now the striped moose-wood's leaves to strip,
And now his maned neck, short and strong,
Stooping, between his fore-limbs long,
Stretched widely out, to crop the plant

And the roof in its soaring and stately pitch, And tall, rich grass that clothed the haunt.

From some lithe, speckled lily stem
Entangled in his antlers wide,
Thus scattering many a sparkling gem
Within the gold-cups at his side.
Sudden he raised his head on high,
Spread his great nostrils, fixed his eye,
Reared half his giant ear-flaps, stood,

Between his teeth a half-chewed root,
And sidelong on the neighbouring wood
Made startled glances shoot.
Resuming then his stem, once more,
He bent, as from suspicion free,
His bearded throat the lilies o'er,
And cropped them quietly.

"Another extract.

The summer sun was sinking bright
Behind the woods of Isle Perrot;
Back, Lake St. Louis gleamed the light
In rich and mingled glow;
The slanting radiance at Lachine
Shone on an animated scene.
Beside the beach upon the swell

Scores of canoes were lightly dancing,
With many a long bateau, where fell

The sun on pole and drag-rope glancing.
Throngs were upon the gravelly beach,
Bustling with haste, and loud in speech;
Some were placing in rocking bateaus
Cannon and mortars and piles of grenades;

Some were refitting their arrows and bows,
Others were scanning their muskets and
blades;

Some were kindling their bivouac fire;
Others were blending

Their voices in song;
While others, contending
With utterance strong,

Forest Spring,' we select as an instance of his nature-painting, his Forest Walk.' We have not space here for any other than this poem of Street whose love for Nature made him her original and striking delineator."

In a large, closely printed, double-column octavo volume entitled, "Bildersaal der Welt Literatur, von Dr. Johannes Scherr," embracing a selection of translations by various writers, from the poets of the Indian, Chinese, Hebrew, Arabian, Persian, and Turkish; Greek and Roman; Provençal, Italian, Spanish, Portuguese and French, English, Scotch, German and Dutch, Icelandic, Swedish, Norwegian and Danish; Bohemian, Servian, Polish and Russian; Hungarian and Romaic, America is represented. We have Percival's "Eagle," Bryant's "ThanLongfellow's atopsis," "Excelsior," Street's "Settler," Irving's "Falls of the Passaic," and Drake's "American Flag."

Philarète Chasles, late Professor in the College of France, and one of the most distinguished French authors and critics, in his Anglo-American Literature and Manners," and in a chapter, "Of some Anglo-American Poets," speaks thus:

"The only names which we can single out from this forest of versifiers are Street, Halleck, Bryant, Longfellow, and Emerson."

The following notice occurs in the "Hand-Book of American Literature," Scarce kept from blows in their reckless ire." published by W. & R. Chambers, LonIn a Dutch work entitled "De Kerk don and Edinburgh. "Alfred B. Sreet School en Witenschap in de Vereenigde has published descriptive poems highly Staten Van Nord-Amerika," by D. Bud- commended for their graphic power. In dingh, a distinguished scholar and anti-Frontenac, a tale of the Iroquois, the quarian of the Netherlands, is the follow-author has added a narrative interest to ing, translated by Mr. E. B. O'Callaghan. his descriptive passages, of which sevWe here pass by the poets James G. eral are clearly written with picturesque Percival, J. G. C. Brainard, John Pierpont, effect," Willis and others, in order to make close acquaintance with the poets Alfred B. Street, and Henry W. Longfellow, already named above by us as the Minstrel of the Night."

After a biography of Mr. Street, in which Mr. Buddingh remarks, "His_reputation as a poet even extended to England, when he, in 1846, published a volume in large octavo in New York, in which were The Lost Hunter,' and his wood-picture, The Gray Forest Eagle,' surpassing his descriptions of the Seasons (which remind us of Thomson), and his Indian Legends.

In Vapereau's "Dictionnaire Universel des Contemporains," published at Paris, in Mr. Street's biography, M. Vapereau in speaking of his works remarks, "Where is found an undeniable power of description, a vivid appreciation of nature, and a manner of thought entirely American."

66

In "The Poets and Poetry of AmerMr. Street deica," Mr. Griswold says, scribes with remarkable fidelity and minuteness, and while reading his poems one may easily fancy himself in the forest, on the open plain, or by the side of the shining river."

"Street's great merit as a poet con- In "Allibone's Dictionary of Authors" sists in his rare gift of nature-painting. it is said of Mr. Street, "In 1843-44 Passing by the earlier poem, 'American (succeeding General John A. Dix,) he