BWP BGR BBE FE The Al ian rom Epirus’ strand,
& is Patriot.
X LPI LISS ps SpE SI SSS TTT TG
Eloquence thesoul,song charms the sense
PGS TIT OTST STS LT ELIS ETS SST
BELLEFONTE ocr’z 1822
SELECTED.
From the Charleston Courier.
Two flowers were budding on onc stem,
imbued with fragrance fresh with dew,
And bent with many a trickling gem,
That wrembled as tiie west wind blew ;
Aud soitly shone their crimson through
That veil of corysal purity,
Aud as the thiush argund them flow,
He clearly p'ped his melody.
RS
Two fledglings in a ring-dove’s nest
With tender bill, and feeble wing
| Satbrooding on their downy bieas’y
"And they had just begun to sing,
And 8 they saw their mother bring
With tirel +s love the food she bore,
They made tue woods around them TING
Thc infant ule they caroll’d oer.
§ saw, along the orcean, sail
~~ ‘Two bai, that flew before the wind ;
The can 2% welling ta the gale,
o They icf a framing wake behind,
And low the Le'lying sheet inclinyd
But »'iit the plist kept in mind,
Tiere was a peaceful port at last.
I suw along the cloudless sky,
'Lwo stars adorn the brow of night j
They shone serenely on my eye,
With pure and unoffending light ¢
The beam was m-ilower than bright,
Like gems that twinkle in their mine;
It sooth’ and trungaihz’d the sight,
And scem’d a spark of love divine.
I saw twosisters——they were one
In beauty, sweetness, age and soul,
Their bosom was the siainless throne,
\\ here virtue held supreme controul ;
Their hearts were pointed to the pole,
B. God wo erring mortals given,
The bught. the pure, the happy goal,
Tuat waits the fair and eocd in heaven:
ntti FP) IO
THE PIRATE,
Te wave is resting on the sea,
QO only upples into smiles,
4 hat curl and twinkle silently
Around the cocoa tufied isles ;
Yeucath tie Moros frowning walls
Th {a niest chime of occean falls,
Asif the rolling tempest sweil,
- Subdued by moonlight’s magic spell,
~ Were murmuring its last farewell ;
And now the distant breath of flutes,
Or tinkling of the light guitars
~The macliow sound of love that suits,
~The silent winds and drowsy stars,
When each disco dant note is sill,
| Ard all the hum of day at rest,
And tender tones more inly thrill
The yet unstained 20d virgin breast
| These sonnds, tha: tells the haart’s devotion,
Come floating upwaid from the occean,
As sk mening {rom the flaky foam
Tlie tight canacs are calmly driven
~ By winds that send them to their Lome
| Bo soft, they se<m the winds of heaven.
But yet the restless pirate kocps
H's tiger watch, wile nature sce; s,
A+ in his thirsting hope unshcathes
} «© swotd, that glares with sullen flame,
AW th fiym set teeth he sternly breathes
Hi: curses on each better pane ;
b Careleos he stands, pre par’d 0 trike
Friend. stranger, foe, for pain alike ;
As waives, who gaiher in the wood,
And {ua k till chance their prey bas given,
“Then burning in his thirst for blood,
We it. tend like yells are madly driven ;
So cowers (he pirate in his cave,
Till far away the snowy sail
Mo: es caliuly o'er the mirrored wave,
Aud flutters in the dying gale ;
Tien, with a demon swell of heart,
He hurries fiom the guilty shore,
And stealing on ity like a dart,
dlc dyes tbat snewy sail io gore.
—— § 1 CD I TE © I —e
I'orm the Scotsman,
TO THE GREEKS.
Arise, arise ! he time is come,
The skies ac bright’ning red,
"Tis glory calls thee from the tomb,
With voice to wake the deid ;
No weakness now, no dull delay,
Fair laird of Geece, for thee ;
Then rouse tice from thy death like pall,
The breezes of thy mountains call
To life aud Liberty ;
And gird thee with thy glit’ring sword,
To cit thyself a way
| Through thousands of the Turkish hordes
To Tyrunoy’s deray 3
O [dream not th t thy spirits fled,
Whiie yet one boson burns,
| And the ashes of the plorious dead
That nobly fought, and ever fled,
Arc startiug from their urns.
| Unfold thy banners to the breeze,
And marshal ev'ry man,
From Ida to the Tonian seas,
With freedom in the van;
The tyrants step is faltering now ;
The world will smile to see
The standard of ie Sultan lowe
dhe crescent sink beneath the blow
L Toav's leveii’d by the free:
The [or ian from the sea,
The Sp.rian and Thessalian band
Are burning 10 be free: 2
Viount Arhos secs the Cress on high
Above’its convenis wave,
lchigion fires the coldes. cye—
Une n.ght of lavery nas gone by,
And God is with the brave.
Can agestame the warrior’s arm,
Besides the Azgian Isles?
Tan youth’s high blood forget to warm
When firstdiis countiy smiles ¢
O ! by the thrilling battle cry
That swell’d upon the sea,
When Victory saw with joylul eye,
That Athens yet was fee!
Think pot of an ignoble peace—
Jusheathe the sword ne'er sheathed of yore,
And dye the streains with Turkish Foley
For Giory and for Greece.
ner EY I CBee.
EMILY,
The lodian Princess
¢ Full many a gem of purest ray serene,
The dark unfathom’d caves ot ocean bear §
Full many a fower is born to blush unseen,
And waste ils sweetness in the desert air,”
1n the vicissitudes of human life, it seems to
be the prerogative of nu one to be supremely
blest, or perhaps none to be completely misera-
bls. A succession of pruspeiiiy and adversity,
of sunshine and sorrow, Is {ie inheritance of
all, and censtitutes the picture of human life.—
We find sometimes when the bitter blast of ad
versity assails, misfortune with her attendant
train of evils may follow, and misery and des-
pair implant a sorrow in the heart which no
act can sooth,and which fora time may baffle
the efforts of friendship to remove. Yet amidst
light, a ray of pleasure, wi'l break in upon the
sufferer, to whisper pace to his mind, and luli
Ye
there are some strokes of calamity that fix an
impression on the heart which neither time nor
art can remove, and which. make us feel the
to sleep the tumnlt of his bosom. I believe
impotence of cons ation. Lhe truth of this be-
story which I heard during an excursion into
the south, in the fall of 18231: It was the story
of Emily the bapless Indien maid, and her tra-
gical fate : 1 shail give them in the mauner in
which they were related.
Emily was the descendant of the great M'Gil-
ray, king of the Greeks. Her fither was that
daring and enter prising cbiely the prophet Fran-
cis ; or he was better known in the British
service, as brigadier general Hillis-ha«adjo, the
intrepid leader of the Seminoles, For 18 years
her life had been a dream of picasure, and ¢ hope
with fairy gleam, enchantment threw o'er dis.
tant days ;” but strange and unexpected are of
{tentimes the vicissitudes of Luman life. The
storm of war, which had for some time been
lowering to the west, now burst forth 1n a tor.
rent—a distinguished American officer, high in
command, about this time, perhaps with more
spirit than prud-nce, made a sudden atiack on
en Indian town upon the Georgia frontier —
This seemed to be the sigial for general hos-
tilitics—the torch of war was now lighted up
amidst the Creeks and Seminoles, murder and
rapice, the tomasawk and scalping knife, fol-
lowed in the desolating train. At this critical
teered his services to his country, and repaired
with his army, as a volunteer to tne escmy’s
country.
Returning from a scouting pary ® short time
found by the enemy, and carried a prisoner be.
fore their leader, who received him with a de
gree of savage exultation that was expressive o
his character. Recent disaster had added a
tenfold force to his vindictive and cruel digposi-
tion, and he determined to discharge his
{vengeance upon the unhapp
ven-
y Yictim new ip his
i suffering.
{ened and all the man died witbin him.
on, to the farthest extreme of human
Young R. was a stranger to fear; he wa:
brave to an excess; yet he now shuddered with
an involuntary feeling of horror, at the prospect
b-fore him. He contrasted his formeily envi
ous situation with lus present miserable condi.
tion. The idea of his mother, disconsolate,
beart-broken, neglected and forsaken, sorrowing
down to the grave—nhis helpless little sister too,
forlorn, destitute and unprotected, all rushed at
once upon his distracted mind ;—=his soul sick”
To die,
50, in the dawn of manhood ; to be cut off, in
the vivacity and vigor of life, from the pleasures
of the world, before he had yet tasted its sweets
the gloom and darkness of Jespair, a gleam of
liefis strongly coufymed by an affecting little;
moment an appeal was made tothe bravery and;
patriotism of the Georgians ; a detachment un- would be in vain to describe. Fe made a fie-
der general Glassock, was immediately put in:
readiness, and marched to the scene of action
: {
~It was in the early par: of 1318. Fired with
military pride and a sense of duty, young R**¥,
a man ot worth and talents, generously volup-isanguinary disposition, she told him
afterwards, his detachment was defiated and’
dispersed, and in the hurry and confusion of]
was a eruely killing thought : But to die, unpre-
pared as he was, with, his blushing sins” thick
upon himeto be tortured, racked, and consum-
ed by the insatiate fury of merciless savages :
Oh! it was a refinement upon cruelty !—the
very idea of it was a tenfold addition to the com
mon pangs of ordinary death. The shouts of
the savage multilude aroused him at length
from his gloomy reflections ; for his hour was
even now come. For a moment he felt the
most exqnisite pangs of which the human heart
is susceptible :—a momrnt more, and all the
distracted feelings of his soul had sunk into a
calm and silent indifference, and he approach
ed the stake, as a lamb led to the slaughter.—
At this all important moment, a female, young,
ble appearance ; but with him fell the hope and
the pride of the Seminole tribe. The fate of
this chief is well known ; for savage os he wos,
it made a deep impression on the public mind.
Those who did not condemn the act as an inno.
vation upon the usuages of war, and as a viola-
tion of the laws of nations, were obliged to Ja-
ment the stern policy which dictated such a
measures By the treachery of one man, Ham-
bly, the celebrated Seminole trader, and the
connivance of the officers of the Axierican floti”
(a, then at St. Marks, and immediately executes
ed ! This disaster only seemed a prelude to
what was to follow. Soon after the Seminoles
were defeated, dispersed, driven from their couns
try, and almost extirpated from the face of the
earth.
With the first vieu's of peace, young R. flew
to the relict of his hervic mistress, for he hag
heard of her calamities. He found her ; but he
‘ound her not the hay. y, sportive maid, he had
once known her: She had since tasted mis
fortune’s bitter cup ; misery and woe had stamp.
°d a deep impression on her heart. At the sight
of her R. a transient gleam of pleasure seemed
to steal across her mind ; but it was only to be
succeeded by a gloom more fixed and sad. He
soon told her his story ; but she rejected his
vand with such an air of sadness, such an ex»
pression of unutterable distress, as would have
melted the heart of the mos: hardened savage
that strode the forest, She did not deny thas
she Joved Lim ; she confessed that he was still
beautiful, and apparently of superior birth, now
approached ; ca shew of mercy of her counten-
ance there was—an air of innocence in her look.
He had ebserved her before ; a glimpse of her
now uncensciously excited an emotion in bis
breast ; be knew not of what ;—a gleam of hope
darted through his soul ;—he entirely fixed his
gazes upon her as his last, feeble, hopeless hope.
« An angel she was that did preserve him ;”
for jast at that important crisis, when his fatc
was suspended vpon a thread, and his life, ¢ the
poor pensioner of a single moment,” Emily, i
the pure spirit of christian mercy, threw ber
self before het father, and in all the eloquence
of sorrow, begged and implored him. to sparc
the ltfe of the unhappy youth. She told him
in the pure strain of artless love, that the young
officer was dear to her ; that she had loved him
from the Grst, and would continue to do so, un-
til the Great Spirit bore her hence. She said
his image was entwined round her heart ; bis
I'fe
~in mercy to herself she implored her futher to
was ler life, and his fate should be her fate :
spare his life, or involve them in one common
ruin. An.appeal like this was even too grea!
for a savage to withstand: Francis, as I said
before, was stern, vindictive and cruel : he was
obstinate and selfish, immovable in his purpose ;
and persecuting even to the last extremity in
his enmities; yet he was not entirely destitute
of the fine feelings of a father. For once and
perhaps the only time in his lifs, he suffered his
purpose to be shaken. He bid his Emily rise;
dear to her ; that she would liger fondly upon
{the memory of her love, till the Great Spirit
'wou'd bear her sou) far beyond the clouds ; but
she never could be his. Her father, she said
had beed treacherously betrayed, and condemns
ed to a most ignominious death—he had been
murdered by Christians,— but who was there to
say, spare the life of Hiilis-ha-adjo? Alas}
there was not one. Her mother, brother too,
ad falien at the same time beneath the sword
of christian mercy ; but th=re wasnone to mourn
the fate of Chicomico ! Her brother in battle had
nobly died a warrior. Her remaining uncle
had fallen by the treachery of the Creeks—and
she alone, of all the descendants of the great
M’Gilray, remained to weep for her father—to
mourn the fate of her kindred warriors! All
other white men besides himself she said she
hated ; it wae her pride and hor duty to do so
because they were the murderers of her i:ther.
To forsake his country, his country, bis friends
and his family for a poor hapless Indien maid,
she continued, was a sacrifice she could not de-
sire him to make. She told him again and
again, that she loved him, but that she never
could be his.— she herself was unhappy. Sor-
row, she said, had planted a sting in her bosom
ar.d her lifc would bs a life of wretched misery,
She wou!d not make him, too, unhappy by be-
coming his wite. She then implored Lim to
rcturn to his country and his friends, where he
might ind a mistress—che here burst into tears
he told her to take him, he was her's ; do wha!
she woold with him :—but he told her to re
member she was the descendant of King M’
Gilray, the daughter cf general Hillis-ha-adjo
The conflict of feeling which pervaded the
breast of the young hero at this moment, it
ble effort (for his senses were overcome with
the sudden transition) to express his gratitude
to his noble mistress; but she heeded bim not.
Fearful of a recurrence of her father’s natural
0 begone,
delay might be fatal, atime might again come,
when he wou'!d be permitted to speak ;’till then
she told him, to think sometimes of Emily, the
Indian maid.
It was a needless caution, for
young R. was as generous ss he was brave.—
Under the conduct of a safe guide,
|
i
he found!
- 1 fi ] » ) \ {hi if t 1 - I A - !
to the astonishment of the whole army.
About this time the war was prosecuted with,
vigor on one side, and resisted with firmness!
direction, the Seminole war had been carried on
with infinite address ; and so long as he
cr.
and for a moment was overwhelmed with a tor”
rent of grie!,—she continved he might find a
mistress fairer, more refined, and better suited
to his condition, but none more affectionate and
Ste tock
his hand in both of hers, and casting a look og
sincere than the wretched Emily.
unutterable anguish upon bim, told him she
was going to leave him, to bid him adieu forev
It would not be long she said, before she
went to her father, the Great Spirit above ; bug
before she left him, she would ask one little fae
vour, one last reques —sometimes think of Em-
ily ; sometimes weep for her fate — Wild and
hall
frantic she threw his hands from her, and fled in
the wildness of despair. Yowng R more than
ever admired her, more than ever felt for her
sufferings He sought her frequently after,
wards : tendered her his hand over and over ; he
begged, entreated, intrested, implored ; but ig
was ail in vain. The only-reply the ever made
wos, she Joved her R. but she hated the mur-
derers of her father. The ttuth was her mis-
fortune had borne hard upon her; her mind had
sunk ande: the pressure of affliction ; and reason
had fl-d with the spirits of ber kindred, from the
multitude of her suffering. Abstrecied from
the world and every thing in it, except the re-
f and address on the other, by the consummate] collection of her hapless fate.—she wandered
jabilities and enterprise of Francis. Under his
1
about in a sad reverie, unconscious of all around.
Frequeat attempts have been made to sooth her
melancholy and dispel the gloom from her mind ;
but it was all in vain. She still contipues the
emembrance Qf her’ Car ¥ OC Reet oS 0