Wyoming, its history, stirring incidents, and romantic adventures . Canada who professed to knowthe truth of what he related, and, so far as could beknown at the time, was perfectly reliable. The following lines are by a literary friend: The morning sun rose bright and clear,The birds sang blithely on the bough; But many an eye held trembling tear,And many a one showd troubled brow. 5|C 3|C *l& Jjt SJC SjC And there was one, a tear was in her eye,As silently she gazed upon her Henry dear, Which spoke a language that all words defy—That jewel of the heart, a sympathetic tear. Oh, Henry, go not
Wyoming, its history, stirring incidents, and romantic adventures . Canada who professed to knowthe truth of what he related, and, so far as could beknown at the time, was perfectly reliable. The following lines are by a literary friend: The morning sun rose bright and clear,The birds sang blithely on the bough; But many an eye held trembling tear,And many a one showd troubled brow. 5|C 3|C *l& Jjt SJC SjC And there was one, a tear was in her eye,As silently she gazed upon her Henry dear, Which spoke a language that all words defy—That jewel of the heart, a sympathetic tear. Oh, Henry, go not out to-day, His good companion cried;Can fiends snatch thee from me away? She wept, and sobbed, and sighed. One moment in each others arms entwined They stood, as one united strong;The next saw Henry tread the wild, Toward the muster, gainst the wrong. At what befell that gallant little band,Memry would shrink in horror to relate ; How some did fall by cruel savage hand,And some had torturing, lingering fate. THE NEW YORK- PUBLIC LIBRAfif TLDEN ?AQ H <M i. H n THE FRATRICIDE. 375 But Henry fled to Susquehannas isle, And sought a covert in Monocasy ;And thought himself secure from Indian wile— Equally safe from treacherous Tories eye. But hark! he hears a crackle and a tread,And, looking up, his Tory brother spies; Then shrinking back instinctively with dread,He finds himself perceived, and upward hies. Oh, it is you ! the haughty brother said; You are a d—d rebel, and not fit for life!Then raising up his gun, the fatal bullet sped, Making children orphans, a widow of his wife. John Pencil wanderd outcast and alone ; The Indians shunnd him—were themselves afraid—The awful deed softend their hearts of stone, They thought his company a curse was made. He tried to flee; Conscience always pursued,And found him evry where—asleep, awake ; His brothers blood was in his soul imbued,Himself a fiend, and it a burning lake. The hungry, ravenous wolves pursued h
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