Not Ring To-night" 3131

an, and yet a dreamer,

in some strange, unlooked-for way d in Heaven, the great Redeemer, with wealth some golden day.

arried in a hopeful spirit s patient eye grew dim, er called him to inherit

ealth long garnered up for him,

the home in Heaven

rest I humbly hope and pray,

pany of the forgiven

find old Daniel Gray.

Josiah Gilbert Holland [1819-1881]

JUST NOT RING TO-NIGHT"

n was setting o'er the hilltops far away, th beauty at the close of one sad day, sed the forehead of a man and maiden

w and weary, she with sunny floating

sad and thoughtful, she with lips all

k the murmur,-
not ring to-night."

ite lips faltered, pointing to the prison

id gloomy, with its walls dark, damp,

ison, doomed this very night to die, Curfew, and no earthly help is nigh; ome till sunset," and her lips grew

isky whisper:

not ring to-night."

"Bessie," calmly spoke the sexton,-every word pierced her young heart

Like the piercing of an arrow, like a deadly poisoned dart,— "Long, long years I've rung the Curfew from that gloomy, shadowed tower;

Every evening, just at sunset, it has told the twilight hour; I have done my duty ever, tried to do it just and right, Now I'm old I will not falter,

Curfew, it must ring to-night."

Wild her eyes and pale her features, stern and white her thoughtful brow,

As within her secret bosom Bessie made a solemn vow. She had listened while the judges read, without a tear or sigh:

"At the ringing of the Curfew, Basil Underwood must die.' And her breath came fast and faster, and her eyes grew

large and bright;

In an undertone she murmured:

"Curfew must not ring to-night."

With quick step she bounded forward, sprang within the old church door,

Left the old man threading slowly paths he'd trod so oft

before;

Not one moment paused the maiden, but with eye and cheek aglow

Mounted up the gloomy tower, where the bell swung to and

fro:

As she climbed the dusty ladder, on which fell no ray of light, Up and up,--her white lips saying:

"Curfew must not ring to-night!"

She has reached the topmost ladder; o'er her hangs the great, dark bell;

Awful is the gloom beneath her, like the pathway down to

hell.

Lo, the ponderous tongue is swinging, 'tis the hour of

Curfew now,

And the sight has chilled her bosom, stopped her breath, and paled her brow.

-night

3133

er eyes with sudden

ale delly

eemed a speck of light

pended as the be

as the bell swung

not heard

(year he had not, ig

Curfew rang vo

rang young Basil's

mly, and with trembling lips

swaying, and the maiden stepped
Bowdoider all IT

der where for hundred years before
planted. The brave deed that she

s after: as the rays of setting sun
ith beauty, aged sires, with heads of

ng children,

not ring that night."

is came Cromwell; Bessie sees him, and

fear and anguish, has no anxious traces

ells her story, shows her hands all bruised o sweet and pleading, yet with sorrow pale heart with sudden pity, lit his eyes with misty id Cromwell,

over lives," said Cromwell, rfew shall not ring to-night."

Wide they flung the massive portal; led the prisoner forth to die,

All his bright young life before him. 'Neath the darkening English sky

Bessie comes with flying footsteps, eyes aglow with lovelight sweet;

Kneeling on the turf beside him, lays his pardon at his feet. In his brave, strong arms he clasped her, kissed the face upturned and white,

Whispered, "Darling, you have saved me,

Curfew will not ring to-night!"

Rose Hartwick Thorpe [1850

THE OLD SERGEANT

(JANUARY 1, 1863]

The Carrier cannot sing to-day the ballads
With which he used to go,

Rhyming the glad rounds of the happy New Years
That are now beneath the snow:

For the same awful and portentous Shadow
That overcast the earth,

And smote the land last year with desolation,
Still darkens every hearth.

And the Carrier hears Beethoven's mighty death-march
Come up from every mart;

And he hears and feels it breathing in his bosom,
And beating in his heart.

And to-day, a scarred and weather-beaten veteran,
Again he comes along,

To tell the story of the Old Year's struggles
In another New Year's song.

And the song is his, but not so with the story;
For the story, you must know,

Was told in prose to Assistant-Surgeon Austin,
By a soldier of Shiloh:

e Old Sergeant

3135

who was brought up on the Adams,

th-wound in his side;

ory to the Assistant-Surgeon, night that he died.

it will better suit the ballad, deem it right,

if what it speaks of zed but last night.

Doctor,-thank you; let me take the

draw it closer; just another little sup! Detter; but I'm pretty well used up,— you could do, but I'm just a-going

you want to, but it ain't much use to

the Surgeon, as he smothered down

omrade, for a soldier to say die!" ike no difference, Doctor, when you

en the matter?" "You were very sleep now." "Doctor, have I been ows of!" "Doctor-Doctor, please ust tell you, and you won't have long

Ing orders, and I'm ready now to go; ainted?--but it couldn't ha' been so, ergeant, and was wounded at Shiloh, een back there, on the old field of