I would, oh! gentle lady, that the minstrel’s art were mine, I’d weave a wreath of poesy as an off’ring at thy shrine; But my wild and tuneless harp in vain essays its meed to bring, And the brooding spirit of despair has hushed each trembling string. In vain, in vain I’ve tried to wake some gentle lay for thee, But the chords refuse the melody they once gave out for me; And when I fain a few wild notes from memory’s lyre would sweep, Sad spirits of the past appear and mournful vigils keep. There was a time when borne along on wild ambition’s wing, I sought to place my name above—where storied minstrels sing; Nor dreamed the crown, so bright and green, by laureate genius worn, Though gorgeous to the eye, each leaf concealed a cruel thorn. But when I saw that those who gazed above with eagle eye, And dared the tempest and the storm of fate’s malignant sky, With folded wing, and wearied foot sat down at evening’s gloom, And sought beneath the withered flowers a rest within the tomb; ’Twas then I bade the spell dissolve that chained my soul so long, And sighed a trembling, sad farewell to all entrancing song; And though I may not weep that I forsook sweet poesy’s train, A foolish boy—I sometimes wish I was her child again! When gentle ones like thee invoke, then, then I feel how dear The boon I madly forfeited, nor gave one farewell tear; The gift of song, oh! hallowed gift! Song, bright, entrancing, sweet! Had I again its rosy wreath I’d fling it at thy feet! ’Tis gone, ’tis gone! I may no more its thrilling impulse feel, Yet I can pray for thee and thine, when to my God I kneel; And, gentle lady, well I know thou wilt not, wouldst not, blame, Instead of song that I should blend God’s blessings with thy name. May every joy that life can give, around thy path be strewn, May its young morn to thee foreshow a bright and happy noon; And when thy last sweet song on earth in lapses faint is given, Oh may it be a prelude soft to deathless strains in Heaven! * * * * * AMERICAN INDIANS. WITH AN ENGRAVING. We have thought proper, in conducting a magazine of higher reputation and aim than the usual run of the light periodicals of the day, to devote a part of the pictorial department to pictures of American Scenery and Indian Portraiture, as better fitted to give the work a permanent value in libraries and on centre-tables, than the ordinary catch-penny pictures which disgrace a number of the magazines. Our illustrations of Southern and Western Scenery have commanded the respect and support of a very large class of readers; and the constantly growing celebrity and profit of Graham’s Magazine, indicate that we have judged wisely and well.