Scott's measure possesses, that of varying his verse, the sameness of which leads sometimes to monotony. The superiority of that part of the poem, where the warriors recite their past exploits, is a strong proof of this assertion. Escaped from the trammels of the measure he had imposed upon himself, his verse becomes spirited and easy.

Ontwa is supposed to relate his history to a missionary, whose pious zeal had led him to these trackless woods. The description of the scenes through which he passed, till he arrived at the falls of St. Anthony, forms the introduction to the poem, and in it some of the finest passages occur. He thus speaks of a range of islands and rocks, called the Grand Traverse, at the mouth of Green Bay.

'I ask'd the red man for my guide;

He launch'd his bark on Erie's tide,-
Through all the liquid chain we ran,
O'er Huron's wave and Michi'gan,
Veering amid her linked isles
Where the mechanic beaver toils,--*
Still floating on, in easy way
Into her deep indented Bay,t
Through rocky isles whose bolder forms
Are chafed and fritter'd down by storms,
And, worn to steeps of varying shape
That architectural orders ape,
Show ruin'd column, arch and niche,
And wall's dilapidated breach ;
With ivy hanging from above,
And plants below, that ruins love,
Drooping in melancholy grace

On broken frize and mould'ring base.'

At last we reach the narrow mound-
The wide diverging waters bound-
Where, almost mingling as they glide
In smooth and counter-current tide,
Two rivers turn in sever'd race,
And flow, with still enlarging space,
Till one rolls down beneath the north
And pours its icy torrents forth,

*Now called the Beaver Islands-in Lake Michi-egan, (or Great Lake,) as named by the natives.

+ Called Green Bay, whose mouth is almost closed by a chain of islands, called the Grand Traverse. Their sides are high, rocky, and bold; and, being of limestone, have been worn into a thousand fantastic shapes, which, even without the aid of fancy, assume the appearances described in the text.'

While-glowing as it hurries on-
The other seeks a southern zone.

Here, as the heaven dissolves in showers,
The boon on either stream it pours,
And the same sunbeams, as they stray,
On both with light impartial play;
But onward as each current hies,
New climes and sunder'd tropicks rise,
And, urging, growing, as they run,
Each follows down a varying sun,
Till, o'er her tepid Delta spread,
The Michi-sipi bows her head,-
While Lawrence vainly strives to sweep
His gelid surface to the deep.

Scarce did the low and slender neck
The progress of our passage check;

And ere our bark-which, dripping, bore

The marks of rival waters o'er

Had lost in air its humid stain,

'Twas launch'd, and floating on again.' pp. 11-14.

At the falls of St. Anthony, the missionary meets the wandering Ontwa, who, soothed by his kindness, tells his tale of many woes.' But it would be unjust to omit the description of this celebrated fall.

VOL. IV.

Why checks my guide on yonder rise,
And bends to earth in mute surprise,

As the Great Spirit of the air
Had burst upon his vision there?
'Twas the vast Cataract that threw
Its broad effulgence o'er his view,
Like sheet of silver hung on high
And glittering 'neath the northern sky.
Nor think that Pilgrim eyes could dwell
On the bright torrent as it fell,
With soul unawed. We look'd above
And saw the waveless channel move,
Fill'd from the fountains of the north
And sent through varied regions forth,
Till, deep and broad and placid grown,
It comes in quiet beauty down-
Unconscious of the dizzy steep

O'er which its current soon must sweep.
The eye hung shudd'ring on the brink,
As it had powerless wish to shrink,
Then instant sunk, where mid the spray,
All the bright sheet in ruin lay.

12

The tumult swells, and on again
The eddying waters roll amain,
Still foaming down in angry pride,
Till mingling rivers smooth its tide.
Nor did the isle, whose promont wedge
Hangs on the torrent's dizzy edge,
Escape the view; nor sister twin
That smiles amid the nether din-
Closed in the raging flood's embrace,
And free from human footstep's trace;
Where the proud Eagle builds his throne,
And rules in majesty alone.' pp. 16-18.

The poem opens well. The council scene-the aged oak under which it is held-the tempest-and the proud bearing of Kaskaskias, are described with beauty and force. Ontwa is chosen as messenger of war to Saranac, Chief of the invading Iroquois, and invested with the warrior's heron plume. We pass over Kaskaskia's parting direction to his son, (which, though pleasingly written, reminded us of "Speed, Malise, speed,") and the beautiful adventure of the deer, to give the picture of Oneyda, the daughter of Saranac-whose repose Ontwa surprises. The wild warrior is struck with mute admiration, and thinks, in his rapture, that the sleeping beauty is a spirit sent from liquid cave,' to guide the favoured Saranac. This is a pretty image: indeed, the whole description speaks the poet.

'Her raven hair, half wreath'd, descended,
And o'er her face like shadows blended;
Half veiling charms of fairer hue

Than ever forest daughter knew.

Such locks ne'er deck'd the desert child!

Ne'er bloom'd such cheeks in forest wild!
Not that, the skin of doe, or fawn,
That o'er her fairer neck is drawn,
And all the rising breast conceals,
Which Erie's daughter half reveals.
Trembling, as in my dream I knelt,
And all the awe of worship felt:-
"Bright spirit of the air or deep!
Let Ontwa guard thy morning sleep.
This wild rose, blooming o'er thy rest,
I'll pluck to decorate thy breast;
That kind propitious sweets may bear
My name to visions rising there."
I gazed, enchain'd by powerful spell,
Till bow and dart forgotten fell,
And Erie and invading host
Were all in one deep feeling lost.

I watch'd the closing of her dreams
To catch her eye's first opening beams,
The long dark lashes slowly rose,

As all unwilling to disclose

The light beneath: so fringed height

Oft gives delay to morning's light.

They broke, but oh! 'twere vain,-how faint
Were tints the gleam of star to paint!

What wonder, that my forest eye
Should deem her spirit of the sky?
Or, doubt that the red Indian's earth
Could give such shining beauties birth?
My youthful ear had heard of race,
With form enrob'd and snowy face,
Which, coming from the rising sun,
O'er all the morning world had run ;
But Ontwa never knew their blood
Had beat in hearts that roved the wood,
Nor that had their fairer hues had shed

Their lustre o'er our shadowy red.' pp. 47, 48.

He is seized as a spy; but, on producing the blood-stained weapon, as a pledge of Erie's ire, he is released, and suffered to depart. The war dance which is held on his return, and the songs of the Chiefs, are among the best passages in the poem. The adventures of Catawba possess great beauty, both of poetry and imagination. The secret march of the Eries, their battles, and final overthrow, and the noble death of Kaskaskias, follow in swift succession, and are related with animation. Ontwa, the only remnant of his race which the artillery of their foes had spared, is destined as a sacrifice to the insatiable revenge of their conquerors. Bound to the oak, awaiting the dawn of day as a signal to light the fire of death, the captive raises his victim song-which we cannot resist extracting, although we shall exceed our limits.

• Think not Ontwa's spirit shaken ;
Fear can ne'er a throb awaken-
Though this form be captive taken,
Still his soul is free.

All your fiery torments scorning,
Pleased he sees the pile adorning,
Which shall send him, with the morning,

Sire and friends to see.

'What though Erie low be lying-
And no voice will e'er be crying
For revenge of Ontwa dying!

Still his soul will boast:

Where yon vultures now are feeding,
Many a foeman's corse lies bleeding,
Given by Ontwa's dart their speeding:
These revenge his ghost.

'Stars of heaven! why still ascending?
Would your lights were downward bending,
Would the shades of night were ending,
And the day begun.

By delightful rivers staying,
Erie's gather'd bands are straying,
Chiding Ontwa's long delaying-

Would the night were done.' p. 78.

While his intoxicated guards are sleeping, Oneyda releases the Erie, and, after some hesitation, becomes the companion of his flight. The following lines have great sweetness and tenderness: Ontwa is watching the troubled sleep of Oneyda, as she rests in the forest :

• "Sweet sleeper! calm thy vision's fear;
Is not thy watchful warrior near?
The forest sleeps beneath the sun,
The lonely waters calmly run,

And scarce the insect flutters 'round,

Lest it should wake thee with its sound.
Soon as thy broken slumbers end,
Again our course afar we'll bend,
Launch our light bark, and refuge take
In friendlier regions o'er the lake.
There, where Ohio's waters press
Their silent way through wilderness;
And echo, as they wind along,
Only the bird's or hunter's song,
On some lone border of the wild,

I'll shelter thee, thou snowy child!"''

p. 88.

The prophetic vision of the Indian girl is fulfilled-the fugitives are overtaken by their pursuers, and, in shielding her lover, Oneyda receives her death wound.

'The victor chief tore off his plume;
The wailing tribe sat down in gloom :
But chief nor tribe could ever know,
The depth of Ontwa's silent wo.'-

We think we may safely venture to encourage our author to pursue the course, he has with such promise begun. He evidently possesses the most important requisites of a poet-imagination, taste, and feeling. The production before us, betrays an unpractised hand, and a timidity which has led him to repress, rather than exert his powers. We doubt not, that