POETRY.

ORIGINAL.

THE SOLDIER'S FUNERAL.

THE mass was said o'er the soldier's bier,

While his comrades around were weeping;

For his heart was cold that ne'er felt fear,
And no sister was there, and no mother was near,
To mourn though their loved one was sleeping.
He was far from the scenes his youth had known,
Nor fell on the field of glory;

And his grave was dug all secret and lone,
Where no eye should gaze on the humble stone,
To read his simple story.

They followed his corse to its lowly bed,

By the mournful bugle's wailing;

All was hushed save its note and the soldiers, tread,
As they slowly marched to the field of the dead,
Their useless muskets trailing.

And they fired o'er his head, as their last adieu,
When the priest had his requiem chaunted,
A volley to one whom his comrades knew,
To his King and his country had ever been true,
And in danger had never been daunted.

'Twas a summer's eve when they left the spot,

And the twilight around them was stealing ;
That scene by the stranger can ne'er be forgot,
Till oblivion the last trace of memory blot,
And hush his heart's last throb of feeling.

NIGHT SCENE IN SUMMER.
THERE came a sigh upon the passing breeze,
A vacant sigh, responsive to my own;
All else around was still-the night bird's tone
Was heard no longer, and the fair moon shone
Upon the lake's clear bosom-by degrees
It sunk, and in the shadow of adjacent trees,
Left me reclining, pensive and alone.

A thousand stars dim twinkled in the sky,

A thousand stars shone upward from the wave,
Where streaming meteors oft sunk down to lave;
It seemed as if some guardian spirit gave

A secret charm to all that met the eye.-
Here (when at last in death's cold arms I lie)

Recluse and hallowed be my lonely grave!

W.

This was an hour of exquisite delight,
To memory sacred and to friendship more,
For then I felt as I had not before,

When past endearing scenes I counted o'er,
My heart was buoyant as the beams of light,
That sparkled still upon the waters bright,

While ran the ripples, rushing to the shore.

I thought of early years and youthful friends,
With whom I bounded over glen and glade,
Along the streamlet's willowy margin strayed,
Or sought repose beneath the thicket's shade,
Reckless of future ills; but time his hand extends,
And they are gone-where truest friendship ends;

Nay; friendship lasts when friends in dust are laid.

SELECTED FROM CAMPBELL'S NEW MONTHLY MAGAZINE.
THE HOME BOUND SHIP.

THE ship was homeward bound-the thrilling cry

Of "Land! our native land!" from tongue to tongue
Has been proclaimed, and hearts were beating high
With hope's wild tumults, as its echo rung-

And rapture smiled or wept in many an eye,

Whilst in the shrouds aloft the sea boy sung

Snatches of songs, which bring to those who roam
The thoughts of welcome, and of home, sweet home!

And gallantly before the favoring gales

She moves in all her pride a pageant fair, The breezes wanton in her swelling sails,

And her gay fluttering pennons fan the air; While music is on deck, the dance prevails,

And every shape of gladness revels there;
Through the far wasted night, as with her store,
Of Indian wealth, the vessel nears the shore.

But hark! e'en now, with awful change of cheer,
The billows rave, the giddy whirlwinds blow,
And breaks the dismal sound on every ear,

Of crashing contact with dread rocks below;
And the wild shriek of agonizing fear,

"The ship is sinking!" in deep tones of woe, Burst from the lips of all, with piercing cries For succor, as the gurgling waters rise.

And hues of death were seen on every face,

And sighs of terror, e'en among the brave,

And lovers folding in a last embrace

The trembling forms of those they could not save!

A.

Then for the lowered boats, the frantic race,

And desperate struggle, while the ocean wave
Grew level with the deck, and kissed the feet
Of those for whom remain'd not a retreat.

From some with outcries borne the billows o'er,

There was the sob, the sigh, the whisper'd prayer; While others wrapt in silent grief are there,

Who breath'd no plaint, but gazed upon the shore,
With the fix'd glances of intense despair;

And thought of those they should behold no more,
With whom was fondly twined each tender tie,
That knits life's cords, and makes it hard to die.

That pause of bitter agony is past,

And the still agitated waters glide
O'er the last vestige of the buried mast,

But striving stoutly with the eddying tide
The greedy billows, and the roaring blast,
(In furious and tempestuous wrath allied)
And rising o'er their mingled might, is seen
A gallant stripling with undaunted mien.

His widow'd mother's hope, the aid and joy

Of orphan sisters-on the treacherous main With firm resolve, no hardships could destroy,

For these, life's needless comforts to obtain, Had early ventured this heroic boy,

Deeming all suffering light and terrors vain,
That frowning Fortune sternly might oppose,
To cross the stormy path he nobly chose.

And must that glowing heart be whelm'd beneath
The raging waters of the restless deep!
And that fair form untimely chill'd in death,
Unshrouded in its gloomy caverns sleep?

E'en now with fainting limbs, and laboring breath,

He strives, while thought of those who soon shall weep

In cureless anguish for his fate, comes o'er

His soul, and nerves his fading arm once more.

His rolling eye grows dim, though from the strand,
The fishers cheer him, and, intent to save,

The life boat launch'd by her determined band
Of dauntless heroes dances o'er the wave,
He sees not, feels not, does not understand,
His own deliverence from a watery grave,
Till his fond mother's joyful sob he hears,
And reads his recent peril in her tears.

HISTORICAL.

HISTORY OF THE COUNTY OF WORCESTER.

HISTORY CONTINUED.

PHILIP of Pawkunnawkut, a son of Masassoit, who at the time of the emigration of our fathers was the reigning sovereign of the Wamponoags, beheld with dismay the falling fortunes of his country. He saw his race wasting away, and speedily to become extinct. His forests and his hunting grounds would no longer afford more than a scanty subsistence for his people. Strangers more adroit and successful than himself engrossed his fishing grounds, and,as he conceived, invaded his rights. The arts of agriculture interrupted his extensive forest ranges, and the establishment of mills obstructed the progress of the fish over his water falls and his rivers. Notwithstanding the new Governments protected him in all the rights that he or his predecessors had claimed, still he found that the restraints of law and of civilization were incompatible with the freedom of the savage life. The vices of Europe too, were making fearful inroads upon the national character; his subjects naturally inclined to indulge in propensities of indolence and sloth, were now sinking their lofty spirit of noble daring, in the effeminacy of debasing habits. And what is more to the savage soul, he had family wrongs to redress, and personal enmities to avenge. His venerable father had yielded too early to the pacific propositions of the Whites, and in reciprocating the benevolent offices of Christian kindness, the good Masassoit had paid too little regard to the future destinies of his country. A beloved brother and reigning prince had been basely surprised at a hunting house, and carried to the Governor at Plymouth, to answer to a charge, founded merely upon suspicion, of his plotting with the Narrhagansetts against the English. The haughty spirit of the savage King could not brook this indignity; the turbulence of his feelings threw the unhappy Alexander into a violent fever, which terminated his existence and his feeble reign. Philip was the next heir, and although then a youth, the Government was now placed in more energetic hands.* He had been subjected to the most ignominious treaties; to humiliating disavowals of measures, which he considered necessary for the preservation of his empire. For these purposes he was repeatedly summoned before the English courts at Boston and Hutchinson I-252.

Plymouth. He was required to deliver into the hands of his enemies all his weapons of defence; and was charged with perfidy in breaking promises made while under restraint; and with impiety,for adhering to the religion of his ancestors in compliance with the injunctions of his father.* Expressions of reverence and respect for the British Monarch were tortured into declarations of submission and fealty. Three of his intimate friends and counsellors whom he had impelled to the base act of assassinating an Indian friendly to the English, were arraigned and ignominiously executed for the murder. Such were his supposed wrongs; whether real or imaginary, it is not our province to determine. His vengeance could be glutted only by the blood of his enemies. In violation of all his treaties and promises, without waiting for his allies, the more perfidious Narrhagansetts, he flew to arms, on the 24th of June, 1675. The war began in his immediate neighborhood, but in July his Nipmuc subjects fell upon Mendon, in this County, and killed four or five of the inhabitants. This is said by the historians of that day, to be the first blood shed in Massachusetts in a hostile manner, after its settlement by the English. The town was deserted by its inhabitants, and the next winter was laid in ashes. Early in August Brookfield was destroyed. Twenty houses were consumed by fire, and the inhabitants slaughtered or hurried into a dreadful captivity. These outrages were not, probably, committed without the direction of Philip; for when the facts were communicated to him by the Quabaog and Nipnet Indians, the next day in a swamp where they had been secreted, and where the Sachem and his men joined them, he rewarded the perpetrators, by a liberal supply of Wampum. After this event Philip disappeared. He knew that vengeance awaited him, and that a price was set upon his head. There is some evidence that he passed the winter in the vicinity of Albany, or in Canada. It is not improbable that he was at the destruction of Lancaster, or, at least, that he instigated the bloody deed. This

Hutchinson I-253. + Ibid-260. The unfortunate victim of this cruelty was John Sausaman, who had been educated by the English and by Philip considered as a renegade. These criminals were tried by the humane principles of the English common law; and in order to afford an impartial trial, one half of the Jurors were Indians.-Col. Records. Mather's Magnalia II-493. The learned pedant of the Magnalia uses the vulgar Orthography, "Mendham," in speaking of this town. Harrington's Century Sermon-12. Mr. H. states that Philip with 1500 of his men achieved these atrocities. Dr. Mather says that the French from Canada sent, recruits for this purpose. This is the first instance when our Fathers were called to drink the waters of bitterness, that afterwards flowed in such profusion, from that baleful spring.