And now, in fancy’s airy dream, The LASCAR Boy his Mother spied; And, from her breast, a crimson stream Slow trickled down her beating side: And now he heard her wild, complain, As loud she shriek’d—but shriek’d in vain! And now she sunk upon the ground, The red stream trickling from her wound, And near her feet a murd’rer stood, His glitt’ring poniard tipp’d with blood! And now, “farewell, my son!” she cried, Then clos’d her fainting eyes—and died! III. The Indian Wand’rer, waking, gaz’d With grief, and pain, and horror wild; And tho’ his fev’rish brain was craz’d, He rais’d his eyes to Heav’n, and smil’d! And now the stars were twinkling clear, And the blind Bat was whirling near; And the lone Owlet shriek’d, while He Still sate beneath a shelt’ring tree; And now the fierce-ton’d midnight blast Across the wide heath, howling past, When a long cavalcade he spied By torch-light near the river’s side. IV. He rose, and hast’ning swiftly on, Call’d loudly to the Sumptuous train,— But soon the cavalcade was gone— And darkness wrapp’d the scene again. He follow’d still the distant sound; He saw the lightning flashing round; He heard the crashing thunder roar; He felt the whelming torrents pour; And, now beneath a shelt’ring wood He listen’d to the tumbling flood— And now, with falt’ring, feeble breath, The famish’d LASCAR, pray’d for Death. V. And now the flood began to rise And foaming rush’d along the vale; The LASCAR watch’d, with stedfast eyes, The flash descending quick and pale; And now again the cavalcade Pass’d slowly near the upland glade;— But HE was dark, and dark the scene, The torches long extinct had been; He call’d, but, in the stormy hour, His feeble voice had lost its pow’r, ’Till, near a tree, beside the flood, A night-bewilder’d Trav’ller stood. VI.