We alluded to this work very briefly in a former number, and now recur to it mainly for the purpose of presenting some specimens of the author’s versification, by which the reader may be enabled to judge of its general execution. “Tecumseh” is a narrative, founded on the history of that great chief whose name is chosen for its title, and whose efforts to unite the various divisions of the red race into one grand confederacy, to regain their lost inheritance, though unsuccessful, should secure to him a fame as lasting as is awarded to the most celebrated heroes and patriots of the world. The measure of the main part of the poem—extending to nine long cantos—is octo-syllabic. It is free, and generally correct, though in some cases marred by inexcusable carelessness, and phraseology more tame and meaningless than, had he kept his manuscript for a few years, the author would have permitted to go before the critics. The hero, with the wily prophet, Els-kwa-ta-wa, who was his evil genius through life, is introduced in the second canto. Distinguished “By his broad brow of care and thought, By his most regal mien and tread, By robes with richest wampum wrought, And eagle’s plume upon his head,” he emerges with his companion from a forest; “Nor e’er did eye a form behold At once more finished, firm and bold. Of larger mould and loftier mien Than oft in hall or bower is seen, And with a browner hue than seems To pale maid fair, or lights her dreams, He yet revealed a symmetry Had charmed the Grecian sculptor’s eye, A massive brow, a kindled face, Limbs chiselled to a faultless grace, Beauty and strength in every feature, While in his eyes there lived the light Of a great soul’s transcendant might— Hereditary lord by nature! As stood he there, the stern, unmoved, Except his eagle glance that roved, And darkly limned against the sky Upon that mound so lone and high, He looked the sculptured God of Wars, Great Odin, or Egyptian Mars, By crafty hand, from dusky stone, Immortal wrought in ages gone, And on some silent desert cast, Memorial of the mighty Past! And yet, though firm, though proud his glance, There was upon his countenance That settled shade, which oft in life Mounts upward from the spirit’s strife As if upon his soul there lay Some grief which would not pass away.