rt
In all the by-gone's seeming.

I saw that most renowned maid,
Before her father falling,
Those savage hearts, within the shade
Of antique trees, appalling.

I saw the deep and gushing love,
That fearful moment started,
That murmur'd like a turtle dove,
To cheating hope departed.

I saw the kind and gentle deeds,
That gemm'd her after being
That little camp, from sorest needs,
And frequent slaughter, freeing.

I thought that she was kindly sent,
In gracious God's foreknowing,
To save from fatal detriment,
This infant nation growing.

I saw the savage maiden's form
With Culture's graces, glowing;
In virgin beauty, bright and warm,
Like vernal roses blowing.

I saw her sweetly, deeply smile
On Rolfe beside her sitting,
As o'er the neighboring stream the while
The shades of eve were flitting.

I saw her wed in love beneath
The forest's lofty awning;
While white and dusk maids bring a wreath,
Like night commixt with morning.

I saw the strange and novel fame,
She left to song and story,
Which down the future's track of flame,
Beams forth with deathless glory.

FAREWELL TO ALBEMARLE.

Farewell, ye verdant hills and vales,
Farewell thou rolling river,
Whose waves flow onward to the sea,
Returning, never, never.

From all thy scenes, I might have gone,
I might in joy have parted,
But since my love remaineth here,
I wander broken-hearted.

I go from one with whom to part,
Is grief that can't be spoken,
From whom to rend my faithful heart,
That heart, even now, is broken.

SHE WOULD HAVE IT SO.

I loved her; and beneath the moon,
We met among the flowers of June;
I gave her my all, my love's rich boon,
I loved her, but we parted soon,
She would have it so.

I loved her; through my span of life,
She might have been my cherished wife;
And I had striven, with ceaseless strife,
To make her days with pleasures rife;
She would not have it so.

I loved her; for she bent on me
A smile and look of sorcery;
Until my heart could not be free;
Alas! that such deceit should be;--
But she would have it so.

I loved her; and my heart was broke,
Beneath the heavy, crushing stroke;
As 'neath the lightning dies the oak
When she in scorn and anger spoke;
She would have it so!

TO FANNIE.

Fair maid, in those beloved eyes,
The dream of pensive beauty lies,
The radiance when the day grows less,
The