FROM AN INCIDENT IN IRVING'S LIFE OF COLUMBUS.
(For the Mirror.)
Oh, go not yet, my lord, my love, lie down by Zenia's side,
And think not for thy white men friends, to leave thy Indian bride,
For she will steer thy light canoe across Ozuma's lake,
To where the fragrant citron groves perfume the banyan brake;
And wouldst thou chase the nimble deer, or dark-eyed antelope,
She'll lend thee to their woody haunts, behind the mountain's slope,
And when thy hunter task is done, and spent thy spirit's force,
She'll weave for thee a plantain bower, beside a streamlet's course,