I'll not the little pathway tell

That winds to thy fequefter'd scene;

Where Virtue loves with thee to dwell,
Remote-unfeeing and unseen.

Where Refignation takes her ftand,
Prompt to perform her friendly part,
And gathers with a trembling hand,
The Fragments of a Broken Heart.

An English officer in the late war being taken prisoner by the French Indians, became the flave of an old Indian chief, who treated him with humanity: One day the Indian took the Officer up a hill, and addrefs'd him as follows.

See the Anecdotes of Literature, vol. 5th.

THE

A

INDIAN

CHIE F.

TWELVE tedious moons haft thou my captive been,
I've taught thee how to build the fwift canoe,
To chace the boar, prepare the beaver's skin,

To speed the shaft, and fcalp the fhrieking foe.

<

Say, does thy Father fleep within his grave?' Oh Heav'n forbid, the feeling youth replied !-Then do his forrow's all my pity crave,'

The chief return'd-' 'Twere better he had died.

'I was a Father once-oh valiant Son! Thy lofs each low'ring morn and eve recall. To fhield my years, to Danger's path he run; • These eyes beheld the gallant warrior fall:

• And

-And Glory faw him fall with wounds o'erfpread, Bold on his bosom ev'ry wound he bore:

I rent the forelock from his murderer's head,
And left him breathlefs on the crimson fhore.

Since that fad day my hours no pleasure share'— The Indian chief now paus'd with forrow fraught, Wrapt in the awful filence of despair ;

At length in words he cloath'd his mournful thought.

• Behold that fun! how bright it shines to you! Since that fad day to me it looks a cloud: 'How gay yon blooming rofes meet your view! To me Grief drops o'er Nature's breast a shroud.

Go virtuous ftranger, to thy Father go,

Wipe from his furrow'd cheek Misfortune's tear:

Go, bid the fun to him his fplendor fhew,

And bid the flow'r in all her bloom appear.'

ON

ON SEEING

MRS. MONTAGU'S

PICTURE.

HAD this fair form the mimic art displays
Adorn'd in Roman time the brightest days,
In ev'ry dome, in ev'ry facred place

Her ftatue wou'd have breath'd an added grace,

And on its basis would have been enroll'd
This is Minerva caft in Virtue's mould.

INSCRIPTION

Sap, if to thun the noisy day,
The lummez fun's oppreffive rap,
Thou visit's Contemplation's cell,
Here tarry-the'll repap thee well:
For the can bid each paffion ceafe
And soothe the troubled heart to peace,
Can to thy lober wishes pield
Contentment's flow'r and wildom's
Chield.

* At Coffy, the Seat of Sir WILLIAM JERNINGHAM.

THE