(2)

[Add. MSS. 35,343.]

THE CIRCASSIAN'S LOVE-CHAUNT [*Wild Indians*]

High o'er the rocks at night I rov'd [*silver*] To forget the form I lov'd. Image of LEWTI! from my mind [*Cora*] Depart! for LEWTI is not kind! [*Cora*] Bright was the Moon: the Moon's bright beam Speckled with many a moving shade, Danc'd upon Tamaha's stream; But brightlier on the Rock it play'd, The Rock, half-shelter'd from my view By pendent boughs of tressy Yew! True to Love, but false to Rest, My fancy whisper'd in my breast-- So shines my Lewti's forehead fair Gleaming thro' her sable hair, Image of LEWTI! from my mind [*Cora*] Depart! for LEWTI is not kind. [*Cora*]

I saw a cloud of whitest hue; Onward to the Moon it pass'd! Still brighter and more bright it grew With floating colours not a few, Till it reach'd the Moon at last.