ward in his ftrength. Happy are they who die in youth, when their renown is heard! The feeble will not behold them in the hall; or fmile day approaches, and calls his bounding dogs. He He Hark! the whirlwind is in the wood! A low murmur in the vale! It is the mighty army of the dead returning from the air. The moon refts behind the hill. The beam is ftill on that lofty rock. Long are the fhadows of the trees. Now it is dark over all. Night is dreary, filent, and dark; receive me, iny friends, from night. The CHIEF. Let clouds reft on the hills, fpirits fly and tra vellers fear. Let the winds of the woods arife, the founding ftoris defcend. Roar ftreams and windows flap, and green-winged meteors fly; rife the pale moon from behind her hills, or inclofe her head in clouds; night is alike to me, blue, ftormy, or gloomy the fky. Night flies be file at their trembling hands. Their memory fhall be honoured in the fong; the young tear of the virgin fails. But the aged wither away, by degrees, and the fame of their youth begins to before the beam, when it is poured on the hill. return no more. Where our Where are our chiefs of old Raife the fong, and ftrike the harp; fend round the fhells of joy. Suspend a hundred tapers on high. Youths and maids, begin the dance. Let fome gray bard be near me, to tell the deeds of other times; of kings renowned in our land, of chiefs we behold no more. Thus let the night pals, until morning fhall, appear in our halls. Then let the bow be at hand, the dogs, the youths of the chace. We fhall afcend the hill with day; and awake the deer. |