AN INDIAN LEGEND.
WE young people in the shade
Nothing can now the beauteous growth retard;
Air is still, and hush'd the breeze,Sultriness, this fullness loving,
With creative joy possess'd.Then a heavy sigh arose,
Appear again!How bright the sunbeams!
He finds the proper time at last,
Ah, I see it! woe, oh woe!
The space thou doubtless filledst up in sport.And sent it me, to make my joy grow bright.
See! the infant band with mirthMoves and dances nimbly, lightly,
Thus she spoke, and with her silent companion advanced sheThrough the garden, until the floor of the granary reach'd they,Where the sick woman lay, whom she left by her daughters attended,Those dear rescued maidens, the types of innocent beauty.Both of them enter'd the room, and from the other direction,Holding a child in each hand, her friend, the magistrate, enter'd.These had lately been lost for some time by the sorrowing mother,But the old man had now found them out in the crowd of the people.And they sprang in with joy, to greet their dearly-loved mother,To rejoice in a brother, the playmate now seen for the first time!