As if drinking the breath of each sunny ray,
Which it lives but to feel one short spring's day.
And the proud magnolia's lofty cone

Has its snowy robe around it thrown,

Of pure large flowers where rich odours lie ;-
A form, and a spirit in harmony!

They have enter'd their barks, and as they row
Towards the wide river's centre, calm and slow,
They chaunt a farewell to the winter shore,
And the measure, they mark with the splashing oar;
But list!--'mid their voices, there is one tone
Which thrills through the heart, like a dying moan!---

A strain now wildly shrill, as from agony ;

Now low as the sound of despair's last sigh.
The song of the tribe ceases suddenly,
Their check'd oars rest just above the sea;

A pale woman, guiding a small canoe

Has fixed their fierce gaze; but absorb'd in woe,

Her dark hollow eyes roll abstractedly,

While the voice of her grief breathes unconsciously,
Her trembling lips are withered and wan,

And the bloom from her youthful form is gone,

A mother too, for her heaving breast,

With its wild pulse rocks one child to rest,
And with look of pain, and tear dimn'd eye,
Another lists to her mourning sigh.

They have gathered round Yeruka's bark
And to her wild words are list'ning.

The chieftain's brow is gathering dark,

And a tear on his rough cheek is glistening.

YERUKA'S SONG.

Oh bid me not join in the song of your gladness,

Mine must a death dirge be;

Nor echo your laugh, though I could laugh in madness,

Or in grim mockery,--

My own heart I could mock, as beneath the death blow
The warrior smiles scorn on his conquering foe.

There are flowers on the earth, and warm beams in the sky,

They cheer not, they warm not me ;

And the sounds of rejoicing, that around me rise high,

But wake me to misery.

Songs, gladness, and laughter but shew me the gloom

Of the desert of darkness, my soul has become.

When the rich streams of love in the heart overflow,
Like pure and sunny dreams,

On the clear waves are caught every fair thing that now
To me unlovely seems ;---

But when they have ebbed on the dry tideless shore

Of the heart, lone and loveless, beam bright forms no more.

Oh! it needed not her song to tell
That she had lov'd:-whence ever fell
Such misery on woman's heart,

But love had urged the poison'd dart.
Man loves, but with selfish thought retains
Within his own grasp, his golden chains,
And when, like a foul breath tarnishing
The spirit of change, with its vapour wing
Passes through his thoughts, he wrenches then,
(Though the heart might never close again,
From whose inmost pulse that link was torn,)
The once bright love chain he had borne
Ere now with ecstasy; and hears
Unmov'd, deep prayers, and sees hot tears
Stream from those eyes, whose light he thought

Once was his life, and heeds them not!
But urged by ambition, by change, by pride,

He flings all the wealth of the heart aside,

But when waken'd, the fervour of woman's soul,

Where its ardent thoughts clings, she gives the whole

Of her faith, of her trust, nor can she ever

Though 'tis anguish to hold, from these twined thoughts sever.

The widow'd wife of a living lord,

Yeruka, thy heart keeps thy plighted word;

But the faith and the love once vow'd to thee,

The prize of another thou couldst not see;

From the soul that was faithless you fled, but in vain
Doth thine own seek to part from the shiver'd chain.

Again they pause in the river's tide, While those flowery isles float by the side Of their gather'd boats;-so like a dream, They pass so swift, and so fair they seem; You never could think they children were Of the wintry storm,---that the nenupher B b

On their green shores spread, was twined o'er
Head leafless trees from their earth-beds tore
By the torrent's rage. Above their banks
The water-lily 'mid rainbow-ranks

Of brilliant blossoms, its white head rears
And like flake of snow each bell appears,
As if the fleece drifts, yet loiter'd to show
How fair they could seem e'en 'mid summer's glow.
There's a murmur of sounds from these fairy isles,
For flamingos, blue herons, young crocodiles,
And serpents, whose brightness of glossy green
Is the emerald's tint, on their banks are seen.

Now again, they row on their light canoes,
But oh, what a cry at that moment rose!
Whilst the flowery isles they mark'd to glide,
Yeruka, her bark, down the river's tide
Has turn'd, and now it is swiftly borne
By the current on; and the Indians mourn
And yell in vain: now a wild death song
Is borne on the air as she rows along;
The dark tribe join, for too well they know
That the cataract soon with its foaming glow
The boat must whelm. Ah! how swiftly see,
On, on goes the bark of misery

To its dreadful doom; and her voice is clear
As a strain of joy she were singing to cheer

The children who sportively pull in shreds

The flowers with which she has wreath'd their heads.

She pauses now, as the deaf'ning roar

Of the tumbling torrent had prov'd its power

Ev'n her to awe, who its rage defy'd.

Now a sound, as if on it the heart had died,--

So thrilling, so sad, yet a tone of song,

As to show what sweet sounds may to grief belong.

A shriller tone! and a pause,---the last,--

The horror of her wild death is past.--

The cataract's fall, and the whirlpool's sweep,
She heeds them not now, she is in the deep!

The Indian's moon of flowers* is come;
But the deep cold sea is Yeruka's home!

JOSEPHINE ADA.

* The month of May, or the part of the year corresponding with that which we so term, has obtained amongst the American Indians, the very poetic title of the "month of flowers," at which period, they leave, with much exultation, their winter retreats.

AMUSEMENTS OF CORK IN 1749.-"On Hammond's Marsh, is a large pleasant bowling-green, planted, on its margin, with trees kept regularly cut, whose shade makes it an agreeable walk; it is also washed by a branch of the Lee; and on it, a band of music has been supported by a subscription, for the entertainment of the Gentlemen and Ladies who frequent it; adjacent to it, is the Assembly-House, where assemblies are held two days in the week, as also, a weekly concert, which is maintained by a subscription, for the support of the Infirmary. Here is an organ; the other performers play on violins, German flutes, &c., with vocal music, and are sometimes assisted by Gentlemen, who play to encourage this charity. Mardyke is a pleasant walk, being a bank, walled on both sides, and filled up, extending westerly from the city near an English mile, and washed on each hand by the channel of the river. This bank is carried through a marshy island, and was done at the private expence of Mr. Edward Webber, anno 1719, who also built an house on the west end, where are good gardens, planted with fruit, for the accommodation and entertainment of those who frequent this walk.

"As to diversions, every entertainment that has the authority of fashion in Dublin, (which place also takes its example from London) prevail here; and some, perhaps, in a higher degree: card playing, in the winter evenings, is an entertainment observed to be more used in Ireland, among polite people, than in England; the Ladies are rather fonder of this amusement than the men; and dancing, that pretty innocent house diversion, hardly yields to it in their eyes; for which purpose, here is a weekly drum, besides the assembly where caid playing is intermixed with dancing. Besides the public concerts, there are several private ones, where the performers are Gentlemen and Ladies of such good skill, that one would imagine the god of music had taken a large stride from the continent, over England, to this island; for indeed, the whole nation are of late become admirers of this entertainment; and those who have no ear for music, are generally so