THE INDIAN.

ARGUMENT.

Edward, pretending sleep in his tent, anxiously awaits the midnight hour, when, all the Indians being in a state of intoxication, he leaves their camp unnoticed, and meets Susan, the Indian King's daughter, at the cave by the sea-side; they immediately embark, and begin their flight, in which they are favoured with moon-light. The morning ushers in a fine day, when Edward conceives himself thirteen leagues distant from the Indian camp. He sails along the Acadian shore. Description of the rural settlements on that coast. Noon-day heats felt severely. He shoots a seal; but proving too heavy a load for the canoe, throws it overboard. Winds spring up in the evening, which at midnight increase to squalls. The following morning Edward finds himself abreast of the town of Pictou, and proceeds in his flight, with Susan, down the Gulph of St. Lawrence, when, being overcome by hunger and fatigue, he lands at a small creek, with the intention of encamping.

THE INDIAN.

CANTO IV.

For that dead hour which restless souls delight,
When foul designs require the cloud of night,
When vagrant feet at midnight take the road,
And Evil Spirits leave their dark abode,
Long for that hour th' impatient Edward waits. 5
While thoughts of danger more his mind elates,
Close in his tent, pretending sleep he lay,
Deep planning schemes t' avoid the snares of day.
Beneath debauch the strongest chiefs had sunk,

Stretch'd out like death, full more than beastly

drunk ;

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Through flying clouds faint shone the lunar light,

And gloomy silence told the turn of night :

The lonely cave demands a strict research,
And thro' the woods he takes his tiptoe march;
His trembling steps at their own sound recoil, 15
While in his breast a thousand passions boil.
By various windings round the stately trees,
His eye at length the happy beach perceives;
But not a rock lay on the sandy shore,
To tell the spot where he had been before.

His nimble feet another course pursue,

And quick as lightning long the beach he flew,
Till, o'er a lóg fast mould'ring to decay,

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He headlong falls, and breaks his midnight way;
Stunn'd with the knock, he saw blue tapers dance,
Yet must submit to over-ruling chance!
Enrag'd he rose, oppress'd with violent thought.;
Then onward, still the Indian virgin sought;

Where near the cave, now glimm'ring in his view,

He spy'd the brown maid in her birch canoe.

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Like some greyhound, when the fleet hare's in sight, The sudden prospect brings the keen delight,

So Edward started in the lover's chase,

And borne by speed he gains the sacred place.

With Indian art he seats himself aright,

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And Susan whispers to begin the flight;

Their anxious minds dare not a thought express,
While through the waves their muffled paddles press;
The scudding clouds to gloomier regions fly,
And far behind them leave a purer sky,
Where now the moon, 'midst heav'nly splendor

bright,

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To earth still lib'ral shows her borrow'd light......

Close by the shore rough Nature's pencil drew,
Thick groves of fir, dark rising on the view,

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