Awake my child!--I tremble with affright!-- Awaken!--Fatal thought, thou art no more!-- My child!--one moment gaze upon the light, And e’en with thy repose my life restore. Blest error! still he sleeps--I breathe again-- May gentle dreams delight his calm repose! But when will _he_, for whom I sigh--oh when Will he, beside me watch thine eyes unclose? When shall I see _him_ who hath given thee life,-- My youthful husband, noblest of his race? Methinks I see, blest mother, and blest wife! Thy little hands thy father’s neck embrace. How will he revel in thy first caress, Disputing with thee for thy gentle kiss! But think not to engross his tenderness, Clotilda too shall have her share of bliss. How will he joy to see his image there; The sweetness of his large cerulean eye! His noble forehead, and his graceful air, Which Love himself might view with jealousy. For me--I am not jealous of his love, And gladly I divide it, sweet, with thee; Thou shalt, like him, a faithful husband prove, But not, like him, give this anxiety. I speak to thee--thou understand’st me not-- Thou could’st not understand though sleep were fled-- Poor little child! the tangles of his thought, His infant thought, are not unravelled. We have been happy infants as _thou_ art; Sad reason will destroy the dream too soon; Sleep in the calm repose that lulls thy heart, Ere long its very memory will be gone. In 1823, a visit to England was made by a singular individual, named Hunter, a native of America, who, though it appears certain that he professed to be what he was not, was undoubtedly a man of considerable abilities. During his stay in this country, he published his own adventures, under the title of “Memoirs of a Captivity among the Indians of North America, from Childhood to the Age of Nineteen; with Anecdotes descriptive of their Manners and Customs.” The work contains a highly-interesting narrative of his alleged wanderings with various tribes of the Red Men, and was at first much prized as a faithful picture of Indian life. The society of Hunter was eagerly sought by many eminent literary and philanthropic characters, who were eager to assist him in that which he professed to be his grand object: namely, to devote himself to the civilization of the red race, in order to avert the destruction which seems to impend over it. After his departure from England, however, strong evidence was brought forward, to demonstrate that his story was, in great part, if not wholly, a fabrication. That Hunter had had some intercourse with the Indians, is not improbable; but the romantic tale which he tells of his peregrinations must henceforth be classed among works of fiction.