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Never to hear the summer cocoa wave, At present we shall content our
Or weep upon thy father's distant grave." selves with quoting a few passages from Mr Bowles' last poem, the Mis
We can conceive nothing more nasionary-not that we think it, with tural, nor more affectingly beautiful all its manifold beauties, by any means
than the following description of the his best, but because we suspect that children of Atacapac, the mountain
chief. it is the least known of all his
In other days, when, in his manly pride,
Two children for a father's fondness vied, We give the author's words in his Oft they essay’d, in mimic strife, to wield preface, in order to explain the ground- His lance, or laughing peep'd behind his shield.
Oft in the sun, or the magnolia's shade, work of the subject.
Lightsome of heart as gay of look, they play'd,
Brother and sister: She, along the dew, 6. The circumstance on which this poem Blithe as the squirrel of the forest flew;
Blue rushes wreath'd her head; her dark brown hair is founded, that a Spanish commander, with
Fell, gently lifted, on her bosoin bare; his army, in South America, was destroyed Her necklace shone, of sparkling insects made, by the Indians, in consequence of the treach- That flit, like specks of fire, from sun to shade;
Light was her form; a clasp of silver brac'd ery of his page, who was a native, and that
The azure-dyed ichella round her waist; only a priest was saved, is taken from his,
Her ankles rung with shells, as, unconfind, tory."
She danc'd, and sung wild carols to the wind.
So beautiful in youth, she bounded by.
The tame Alpaca stood and lick'd her hand; fine description of the scenery of South
She brought him gather'd moss, and lov'd to deck America :
With flow'ry twine his tall and stately neck,
Whilst he with silent gratitude replies, Beneath aerial cliffs, and glittering snows,
And bends to her caress his large blue eyes. The rush-roof of an aged Warrior rose,
These children danc'd together in the shade, Chief of the mountain tribes: high, overhead,
Or stretch'd their hands to see the rainbow fade; The Andes, wild and 'desolate, were spread,
Or sat and mock'd, with imitative glee, Where cold Sierras shot their icy spires,
The paroquet, that laugh’d from tree to tree;, And Chillan trail'd its smoke and smould'ring fires.
Or through the forest's wildest solitude, A glen beneath-a lonely spot of rest
From glan to glen, the marmozet pursued; Hung, scarce discoverd, like an eagle's nest.
And thought the light of parting day too short, Summer was in its prime;-the parrot-tlocks That call them, lingøring, from their daily sport. Darken'd the passing sunshine on the rocks;
In that fair season of awak'ning life, The chrysomel and purple butterfly,
When dawning youth and childhood are at strife; Amid the clear blue light, are wand'ring by;
When on the verge of thought gay boyhood stands The humming-bird, along the myrtle bow'rs,
Tiptoe, with glistning eye and outspread hands; With twinkling wing, is spinning o'er the flow'rs,
With airy look, and form and footsteps light, The woodpecker is heard with busy bill,
And glossy locks, and features berry-bright, The mock-bird sings--and all beside is still.
And eye like the young eaglet's, to the ray And look! the cataract that bursts so high,
Of noon, unblenching, as he sails away; As not to mar the deep tranquillity,
A brede of sea-shells on his bosom strung, The tumult of its dashing fall suspends,
A small stone hatchet o'er his shoulders slung, And, stealing drop by drop, in mist descends;
With slender lance, and feathers, blue and red, Through whose illumin'd spray and sprinkling dews, That, like the heron's crest, wav'd on his head, Shine to the adverse sun the broken rainbow hues.
Buoyant with hope, and airiness, and joy, Check'ring, with partial shade, the beams of noon,
Lautaro was the loveliest Indian boy: And arching the gray rock with wild festoon,
Taught by his sire, ev'n now he drew the bow, Here, its gay net-work, and fantastic twine,
Or track'd the jagguar on the morning snow; The purple cogul threads from pine to pine, Startled the Condor on the craggy height; And oft, as the fresh airs of morning breathe,
Then silent sat, and mark'd its upward flight, Dips its long tendrils in the stream bencath.
Lessening in ether to a speck of white. There, through the trunks, with moss and lichens
But when th' impassion'd Chieftain spoke of war, white,
Smote his broad breast, or pointed to a scar,-The sunshine darts its interrupted light,
Spoke of the strangers of the distant main, And, 'mid the cedar's darksome boughs, illumes, And the proud banners of insulting Spain, With instant touch, the Lori's scarlet plumes. Of the barb'd horse and iron horseman spoke, So smiles the scene;-but can its smiles impart
And his red Gods, that wrapt in rolling smokeAught to console yon mourning Warrior's heart?
Roard from the guns--the Boy, with still-drawn He heeds not now, when beautifully bright,
breath, The humming-bird is circling in his sight;
Hung on the wond'rous tale, as mute as death; Nor e'en, above his head, when air is still,
Then rais'd his animated eyes, and cried, Hears the green woodpecker's resounding bill;
“ O let me perish by my father's side!" But gazing on the rocks and mountains wild, Rock after rock, in glittering masses pil'd
The Warrior blesses his young son, To the volcano's cone, that shoots so high Gray smoke whose column stains the cloudless sky, their slumbers are suddenly broken by
and the family retire to repose, when He cries," Oh! if thy spirit yet be fled To the pale kingdoms of the shadowy dead, - the attack of a fierce band of SpanIn yonder tract of purest light above, Dear long-lost object of a father's love,
iards, who, notwithstanding the des. Dost thou abide? or like a shadow come, Circling the scenes of thy remember'd home,
perate resistance of the distracted faa And passing with the breeze? or, in the beam ther, bear off, as their prize, his young Of evening, light the desert mountain stream?
son Lautaro. Or at deep midnight are thine accents heard, In the sad notes of that melodious bird,
Sev'n snows had fall'n, and sev'n green summers Which, as we listen with mysterious dread,
pass'd, Brings tidings from our friends and fathers dead? Since here he heard that son's lov'd accents last.
“ Perhaps, beyond those summits, far away, Still his beloved daughter sooth'd his cares, Thine eyes yet view the living light of day;
While time began to strew with white his hairs. Sad, in the stranger's land, thou may'st sustain Oft as his painted feathers he unbound, A weary life of servitude and pain,
Or gaz'd upon his hatchet on the ground, With wasted eye gaze on the orient beam,
Musing with deep despair, nor strove to speak, And think of these white rocks and torrent-stream, Light she approach'd, and climb’d to reach his cheek, the Indians could withstand such an On the broad ocean, where the moonlight slept, army as was now before them.
Held with both hands his forehead, then her head Perhaps, ev'n now, along the moonlight sea, Drew smiling back, and kiss'd the tear he shed. It bends from the blue cloud, remembring me. But late, to grief and hopeless love a prey,
“ Land of my Fathers, yet- yet forgive, She left his side, and wander'd far away.
That with ihy deadly enemies I live. Now in this still and shelter'd glen that smild The tenderest ties (it boots not to relate) Beneath the crags of precipices wild,
Have bound me to their service and their fate; Wrapt in a stern yet sorrowful repose,
Yet whether on Peru's war-wasted plain, The Warrior half forgot his country's woes, Or visiting these sacred shores again, Forgot how many, impotent to save,
Whate'er the struggies of this heart may be,
Land of my Fathers, it shall beat for thee !"
The supposed appearance of the Never to see again the blessed morn
Genius of the Andes, which opens the Slaves in the lovely land where they were born ; How many, at sad sun-set, with a tear,
second canto, is extremely well-conThe distant roar of sullen cannons hear,
ceived, and the imagery which disWhilst evening seems, as dies the sound, to throw A deadlier stiliness on a nation's woe!
misses the Spirit possesses great beauThe Chief is interrupted in his me- ty.. The military preparations of Vallancholy musing by the call of his divia are described in the same style countrymen to arms, and their apply- of grandeur-in particular the waring to him as their leader. His ad- horse and dress of the general and dress to the sun is, we think, very
his poetical, and the concluding lines are The sun ascended to meridian height,
And all the northern bastions shone in light; characterized by Mr Bowles' usual With hoarse acclaim the gong and trumpet rung,
The Moorish slaves aloft their cymbals swung, pathos.
When the proud victor, in triumphant state, The Mountain-chief essay'd his club to wield, Rode forth, in arms, through the port-cullis gate. And shook the dust indignant from the shield. With neck high-arching, as he smote the ground, Then spoke :
And restless pawing to the trumpets' sound,“o Thou! that with thy ling'ring light
With mantling mane, o'er his broad shoulders Dost warm the world, till all is hush'd in night;
spread, I look upon thy parting beams, o Sun!
And nostrils blowing, and dilated red, And say, 'Ev'n thus my course is almost run.' The coal-black steed, in rich caparison
“When thou dost hide thy head, as in the grave, Far-trailing to the ground, went proudly on: And sink to glorious rest beneath the wave, Proudly he tramp'd, as conscious of his charge, Dost thou, majestic in repose, retire,
And turn'd around his eye-balls, bright and large, Below the deep, to unknown worlds of fire ?
And shook the frothy boss, as in disdain; Yet, tho' thou sinkest, awful, in the main,
And toss'd the flakes, indignant, of his mane; The shadowy moon comes forth, and all the train And, with high-swelling veins, exulting press'd Of stars, that shine with soft and silent light, Proudly against the barb his heaving breast. Making so beautiful the brow of night.
The fate of empires glowing in his thought, Thus, when I sleep within the narrow bed,
Thus arm'd, the tented field Valdivia sought. The light of after-fame around shall spread; On the left side his poised shield he bore, The sons of distant Ocean, when they see
With quaint devices richly blazon'd o'er; The grass-green heap beneath the mountain tree,
Above the plumes, upon his helmet's cone, And hear the leafy boughs at evening wave, Castile's imperial crest illustrious shone; Shall pause and say, “ There sleep in dust the brave! Blue in the wind th' escutcheon'd mantle flow'd “ All earthly hopes my lonely heart have fled!
O'er the chain'd mail, which tinkled as he rode. Stern Guecubu, angel of the dead,
The barred vizor rais'd, you might discern Who laughest when the brave in pangs expire, His clime-chang'd countenance, tho' pale, yet stern, Whose dwelling is beneath the central fire
And resolute as death,-whilst, in his eye Of yonder burning mountain; who hast pass'd
Sat proud Assurance, Fame, and Victory. O'er my poor dwelling, and with one fell blast Lautaro, now in manhood's rising pride, Scatter d my summer-leaves that cluster'd round,
Rode, with a lance, attendant, at his side, And swept my fairest blossoms to the ground; In Spanish mantle gracefully array'd: Angel of dire despair, O come not nigh,
Upon his brow a tuft of feathers play'd: Nor wave thy red wings o'er me where I lie; His glossy locks, with dark and mantling grace, But thou, o mild and gentle spirit, stand,
Shaded the noon-day sun-beams on his face. Angel of hope and peace, at my right hand, Though pass'd in tears the day-spring of his youth, (When blood-drops stagnate on my brow) and guide Valdivia lov'd his gratitude and truth: My pathless voyage o'er the unknown tide,
He, in Valdivia, own'd a nobler friend ; To scenes of endless joy--to that fair isle,
Kind to protect, and mighty to defend. Where bow'rs of bliss, and soft savannahs smile;
So, on he rode: upon his youthful mien Where my forefathers oft the fight renew,
A mild but sad intelligence was seen: And Spain's black visionary steeds pursue;
Courage was on his open brow, yet Care Where, ceas'd the struggles of all human pain, Seem'd like a wand'ring shade, to linger there; I may behold thee-thee--my son, again."
And though his eye shone, as the eagle's, bright, The next image presented is the re
It beain'd with humid, melancholy light. pose of the Spanish general's army, In the exultation of the hour, Valand the reflections that employed him divia addresses the attendant youth, even in sleep, contrasted with the sad asking if he thought it possible that feelings of his page, Lautaro.
The Thoughtful he turn'd his waking eyes, and wept, following is the answer of Lautaro: And whilst the thronging forms of mem'ry start, Thus holds cominunion with his lonely heart: “ Forgive!"-the Youth replied, and check'd a “ Land of my Fathers, still I tread your shore,
tear, And mourn the shade of hours that are no more; “The land where my forefathers sleep, is dear! Whilst night-airs, like remember'd voices, sweep, My native land !--this spot of blessed earth, And murmur from the undulating deep.
The scene where I, and all I love, had birth! Was it thy voice, my Father?--thou art dead- What gratitude fidelity can give, The green rush waves on thy forsaken bed.
Is yours, my Lord !--you shielded-bade me live, Was it thy voice, my Sistert-gentle maid, When, in the circuit of the world so wide, Thou too, perhaps, in the dark cave art laid; I had but one, one only friend beside. Perhaps, ev'n now, thy spirit sees me stand
I bow'd-resign'd to Fate; I kiss'd the hand, A homeless stranger in my native land;
Red with the best blood of my Father's land!"
But mighty as thou art, Valdivia, know,
She sav'd my life and kindness, if not love, Though Cortez' desolating march laid low
Might sure in time the coldest bosom move The shrines of rich, voluptuous Mexico,
Mine was not cold-she lov'd to hear me sing, With carcasses, though proud Pizarro strew And sometimes touch'd with playful hand the The Sun's imperial temple at Peru-,
stringYet the rude dwellers of this land are brave, And when I wak'd some melancholy strain, And the last spot they lose will be their grave!" She wept, and smil'd--and bade me sing againThen first, when Valdivia turns So many a happy day, in this deep glen,
Far from the noise of life, and sounds of men, away in anger, and Lautaro retires
Was pass'd! Nay! father, the sad sequel hear from the scene, we are introduced to 'Twas now the leafy spring-time of the year
Ambition call'd me: True, I knew, to part, the Missionary. The scenery, in the Would break her generous and her trusting heartmidst of which stands his oratory, Srue, I had pow'd - but now estrang'd and cold, again gives occasion for the exercise She would go with me-leave the lonely glade
Where she grew up, but my stern voice forbade of that power of description, which
She hid her face and wept, 'Go then away,' Mr Bowles possesses in a degree equal (Father, methinks, ev'n now I hear her say) to the best poets of his country. We
Go to thy distant land--forget this tear
Forget these rocks,-forget I once was dear. give a part which impressed us with Fly to the world, o'er the wide ocean
fly, the most lively pleasure.
And leave me unremember'd here to die!
Yet to my father should I all relate, Just heard to trickle through a covert near,
Death, instant death, would be a traitor's fate ! And soothing, with perpetual lapse, the ear, A fount, like rain-drops, filterd thro' the stone,
Yet notwithstanding her pathetic And, bright as amber, on the shallows shone.
remonstrances, ambition conquers love Intent his fairy pastime to pursue, And, gem-like, hovering o'er the violets blue, he leaves “ her sorrows and the The humming-bird, here, its unceasing song Heedlessly murmur'd all the summer long,
scene behind,”—and for this he craves And when the winter came, retir'd to rest, absolution from her father. Though And from the myrtles hung its trembling nest.
all Anselmo's admonition is equally No sounds of a conflicting world were near; The noise of ocean faintly met the ear,
excellent, we think these two lines That seem'd, as sunk to rest the noon-tide blast, But dying sounds of passions that were past;
all-expressive: Or closing anthems, when, far off, expire
« First by deep penitence the wrong atone, The lessening echoes of the distant choir.
Then absolution ask from God alone.”
The succeeding canto presents ma
ny sublime and terrific scenes. The lines There was no worldly feeling in his eye,
different appearance of the several InThe world to him “was as a thing gone by.” dian warriors, particularly Caupolican The lessons of piety and resignation
-their solemn invocation of their by which he instructs his young con- country-gods”-their denunciations vert Lautaro, and the relation of the of vengeance against the tyrants who tale of his misfortunes, are given with invade their rights,-is told in the that sweetness and simplicity which most forcible manner, and bear the the character demands, and which in- attention along with eager impetuosi. deed pervade the whole poem. ty during the continuance of these
The adopted daughter of the Mis mysterious ceremonies, and examinasionary has become the wife of Lau- tion of the unfortunate Spanish captaro, which is the tie that binds him tive, who, as he tremblingly proto the Spaniards. Another personage
nounces the name of the hostile comis now introduced, and one, the no. mander, and casts the billet into the velty of which is extremely pleasing trench, excites the renewed rage of not that we mean to say that an in
the assembled avengers. constant lover is by any means new,
« Cast in the lot." but the mixture of gayety and melan
Again, with looks aghast, choly of warmth of heart, and insta- The captive in the trench a billet cast. bility of principle, forms the charm
“Pronounce his name who here pollutes the plain,
The leader of the mailed hosts of Spain?" which envelopes Zarinel the minstrel.
Captive. He comes to Anselmo to relieve his * Valdivia !"
At that name a sudden cry conscience by a confession of his cruel
Burst forth, and every lance was lifted high. ty to an Indian maid,” who trust
Warrior. ed, and was by him deserted. This, “ Valdivia!Earth upon the billet heap; it will be readily conjectured, was the
So may a tyrant's heart be buried deep !"
The dark woods echoed to the long acclaim, daughter of Atacapac, and sister of “ Accursed be his nation and his name!" Lautaro, who found him in distress, Their appalling conference is interpitied and led him to her father's hut. rupted.
“ The father spoke not :--by the pine-wood blaze, It ceas'd; when, bursting from the thickest wood, The daughter stood and turn'd a cake of maize, With lifted axe, two gloomy warriors stood: And then, as sudden shone the light, I saw
Wan in the midst, with dark and streaming hair, Such features as no artist hand might draw. Blown by the winds upon her bosom bare, Her form, her face, her symmetry, her air,
A woman, faint from terror's wild alarms, Father ! thy age must such recital spare.
And folding a white infant in her arms,
Appear'd. Each warrior stoop'd his lance to gaze on her pale looks, seen ghastler through the blaze. gayety, and with a mind at variance
“Save!” she exclaim'd, with harrow'd aspect wild; with itself, seeks the shore. “Oh, save my innocent-my helpless child !"
As thus, with shadow stretching o'er the sand, Then fainting fell, as from death's instant stroke. He mus'd and wander'd on the winding strand,
At distance, toss'd upon the foaming tide, To the inquiries of the Chiefs from
A dark and floating substance he espied. whence they come, the answer is, that He stood, and where the eddying surges beat,
An Indian corse was roll'd beneath his feet: the ship in which the Spanish woman
The hollow wave retir'd with sullen soundwas being wrecked, and the seamen The face of that sad corse was to the ground;
It seem'd a female, by the slender form; having borne her and her child to
He touch'd the hand-it was no longer warm; shore, they were attacked and mas- He turn'd its face-oh! God, that eye though dim,
Seem'd with its deadly glare as fix'd on him. sacred by the Indians, leaving these
How sunk his shudd'ring sense, how chang'd his hue, two helpless beings now brought there When poor Olola in that corse he knew! for the sacrifice. They are saved by His keen eye, like a startled eagle's, glancd; ·
Lautaro, rushing from the rocks, advanc'd; the intercession of the Mountain- 'Tis she !-he knew her by a mark impress'd chief. This is the speech of Caupoli
From earliest infancy beneath her breast.
“Oh, my poor sister! when all hopes were past can:
Of meeting, do we meet-thus meet-at last ?"* “ White woman, we were free,
Then, full on Zarinel, as one amaz'd, When first thy brethren of the distant sea
With rising wrath and stern suspicion gaz'd; Came to our shores! White woman, theirs the guilt!
(For Zarinel still knelt upon the sand, Theirs, if the blood of innocence be spilt!
And to his forehead press'd the dead maid's hand.) Yet blood we seek not, though our arms oppose
Speak! whence art thou? The hate of foreign and remorseless foes :
Pale Zarinel, his head Thou camest here a captive--so abide,
" Peace is with the dead! Till the Great Spirit shall our cause decide." He spoke: the warriors of the night obey;
Him dost thou seek who injur'd thine and thee?
Here--strike the fell assassin-I am he!
“ Die !" he exclaim'd, and with convulsive start
Instant had plung'd the dagger in his heart, The Spanish woman is next repre- When the meek father, with his holy book, sented bound, and pale, and weeping Hetrembled-struck his brow-and, turning round,
And placid aspect, met his frenzied look,over her slumbering child, when a fe- Flung the uplifted dagger to the ground. male voice resounds through the
Then murmurd_" Father, Heav'n has heard thy
pray'r gloomy solitude, and an Indian maid But oh! the sister of my soul-lies there ! appears, who, impelled by compas. Some earth upon her bones, whilst I go weep !"
The Christian's God has triumph'd! Father, heap sion, has been induced to visit, and
The seventh canto is taken up with endeavour to relieve the captive; on hearing whose story, when she is told niards, till the final engagement, all
the warlike preparations of the Spathat the wretched mother was follow
which is conducted with great spirit ing a beloved husband, the tender re
and dignity of expression. The foland finely shewn in her empassioned decisive moment: exclamation.
With breathless expectation, on the height, * “ Oh! did he love thee then ? let death betide, Lautaro watch'd the long and dubious fight: Yes, from this cavern I will be thy guide.
Pale and resign’d the meek man stood, and press'd Nay, do not shrink! from Caracalla's bay,
More close the holy image to his breast. Ev'n now, the Spaniards wind their march this way.
Now nearer to the fight Lautaro drew, As late in yester eve I pac'd the shore,
When on the ground a Warrior met his view, I heard their signal-guns at distance roar.
Upon whose features Memory seem'd to trace Wilt thou not follow? He will shield thy child, A faint resemblance of his Father's face; The Christian's God,-through passes dark and wild O'er him a horseman, with collected might, He will direct thy way! Come, follow me,
Rais'd his uplifted sword, in act to smite, Oh, yet be lov’d, be happy, and he free!
When the Youth springing on, without a word, But i, an outcast on my native plain,
Snatch'd from a soldier's wearied grasp the sword, The poor Olola ne'er shall smile again!"
And smote the horseman through the crest: a yell So guiding from the cave, when all was still, Of triumph burst, as to the ground he fell. And pointing to the farthest glimmering hill, -Lautaro shouted, “On! brave brothers, on! The Indian led, till on Itata's side,
Scatter them, like the snow !-the day is won! The Spanish camp and night-fires they descried: Lo, l! Lautaro,-Atacapac's son!" Then on the stranger's neck that wild maid fell, And said, “Thy own goris prosper thee!-Farewell!" The Indians rally inspired with
Canto the sixth. From the festivi- fresh courage, attack the enemy anew, ties of “ the Castle Hall” Lautaro re- and in a few moments the fate of the tires to " wander by the moonlight Spaniards is decided. The shouts of sea,” his bosom torn with sad remem- victory ascend-Valdivia is made pribrance. A scene of
soner. Anselmo, too, is carried away there ensues between him and the captive, and Zarinel expiates by death unhappy Olola, whom at first he his injuries to Olola. knows not; but after she had fled, a The last canto records the fate of sudden thought flashes on his mind the devoted Valdivia, which Lautaro that he has beheld his sister.
is unable to prevent. The aged and Zarinel, whose minstrelsy, mean- mortally wounded Atacapac survives while, had delighted the revellers, but to know and embrace his son. now languid and weary from the past The Missionary is preserved, and, in Vol. VI.
collections of the Indian are awakened, lowing is tủe energetic account of the
the Spanish woman and her infant, O may it-(when the sons of future days
Shall hear our tale, and on the hilloc gaze,)
Where'er they roam, the brothers of mankind ! The last dutjes are paid to the re- The time shall come, when wildest tribes shall hear mains of the Mountain-chief; and Thy voice, O Christ! and drop theslaughtring spear. such is Anselmo's concluding prayer :
“ Yet, we condemn not him who bravely stood, To seal his country's freedom with his blood;
And if, in after-times, a ruthless band “Here, too," hecried,"mybones in peaceshallrest! Of fell invaders sweep my native land, Few years remain to me, and never more
May she, by Chili's stern example led, Shall I behold, oh Spain! thy distant shore!
Hurt back his thunder on the assailant's head; Here lay my bones, that the same tree may wave Sustain'd by Freedom, strike th' avenging blow, O'er the poor Christian's and the Indian's grave. And learn one virtue from her ancient foe!"
THE CHRISTIAN AND CIVIC ECONOMY OF LARGE TOWNS, BY THOMAS
CHALMERS, D. D. *
Ir is the intention of Dr Chalmers to the misleading causes to which phi-
Glasgow : Printed for Chalmers and Collins, 18, Wilson Street.