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Into a hunter's hut that eve

There came an Indian chief; O'er all his frame was weariness,

And on his face was grief. Mocassins, dress, and dancing plume,

Were weather-soiled and rent, Broken were both his bow and spear,

And all his arrows spent.

Faint and imploring was his speech;

He knew the white man's hand
Was turned against the Indian tribes,

Still wasting from the land.
In vain he asked for a simple draught

Of water from the well,
And for a morsel of the food

That from his table fell.

When many years had flown away,

That hunter of the hill
Went further in the wilderness,

The deer and fowl to kill.
But soon his hounds lay spent with toil,

The deer were shy and fleet,
Opossums and fowls all kept aloof

When they heard the hunter's feet.

No food was in that desert place,

Nor crystal rivulet
To slake the torment of his thirst,

Or his hot brow to wet.
But lo! while life's dim taper still

Burned feebly in his breast,
A ministering angel came-

His ill-used Indian guest !

Who shared his forest-food with him,

His cup of water shared,
Then led the sick man unto those

For whom his heart most cared.
“I cursed thee not,” the Indian said,

“ When thou wast stern to me, And I have had my vengeance now; White man! farewell to thee !"


On mountain summits melts the snow;

A thousand torrents swell the fall ; A lake o’erwhelms the vale below;

A mighty stream receives them all. High roll'd the waves and onward bore The floating blocks of ice before.

On arches strong and massive piers,

A noble bridge above the flood,
Of well-squard stone its structure rears,

And in the midst the tollhouse stood : There dwelt the tollman with child and wife, “Oh! tollman, tollman, arise for thy life !”

Hollow and loud the tempest rang,

Loud roared the winds and waves about, Up to the roof the tollman sprang,

And looked upon the tumult out: “ I'm lost ! I'm lost! no safety I see, Oh! Heaven in its mercy have mercy on me!”

Clod after clod, the solid bank,

Rolled in the waves from each torn shore;
And down the stream on each wide flank,

Pillar and arch together bore;
The trembling tollman with wife and child,
Called loudly above the tempest wild.

Stone after stone at each loose end,

The foaming torrent tears away; Pier after pier begins to bend;

Arch after arch to lose its stay; The ruin approaches the centre near : “O merciful Heaven in mercy give ear !”

High on the farther border stands

A crowd of gazers large and small; And each one cries, or wrings his hands,

But none durst venture of them all. The pale tollman still with wife and child Out shouted for safety the tempest wild.

Then galloped a Count amidst the band,

A noble Count on charger strong What held the Count forth in his hand ?

It was a purse both full and long“ Two hundred pistoles shall be counted to-day To him who will bring them in safety away!”

Who then that heard stept forth to save ?

Say, noble song, if say you can !
The Count ? Indeed the Count was brave;

But yet I know a braver man!
“O brave man, brave man, quickly appear!
For death and destruction are fearfully near."

“Tollman bear up! thy heart be cheered !"

High held the Count the golden prize; But each one heard and each one feared:

Of thousands there, not one replies. In vain the tollman with wife and child Out shouted for safety the tempest wild !

See !-plain and honest on his way,

A peasant man was passing by,
In simple garb and kirtle grey,

Of noble mien and cheerful eye:
He heard the Count, prompt words so clear,
And he saw the swift destruction near.

Then swiftly in God's name he sprang

Into a boat, and bravely steered,
Through whirlpool, wave, and tempest's clang,

Until the pier he safely neared ;
But the boat, alas ! was far too small
With safety to receive them all.

Thrice then his little bark he steered,

Where whirlpool tossed and billows raved :
And thrice the destined point he neared,

Until at last he all had saved ;
But scarcely the last had stepped on shore,
When the ruins sank, and the waves rolled o'er.

“ Here” cried the Count, “my noble friend,

Here in this purse the gold you'll find.”
Well knew the Count his gold to spend !

Doubtless the Count had a noble mind, -
But nobler and loftier the bosom felt,
That beat beneath the peasant's belt.

“My life shall not for wealth be sold,

Poor though I am, I've enough to eat;
So to the tollman give your gold,

For he has lost both goods and meat;"
With lofty tone he was heard to say,
Then he turned on his heel, and went his way.

From the German of Burger. LORD WILLIAM AND EDMUND.

No eye beheld when William plunged

Young Edmund in the stream;
No human ear, save William's, heard

Young Edmund's drowning scream.

Submissive all the vassals owned

The murderer for their Lord :
And he-now rightful heir-possessed

The house of Erlingford.

But never could Lord William dare

To gaze on Severn's stream:
In every wind that swept its waves,

He heard young Edmund scream !

In vain at midnight's silent hour,

Sleep closed the murderer's eyes; In every dream, the murderer saw

Young Edmund's form arise !

Each hour was tedious-long, yet swift

Twelve months appeared to roll; And now the day returned, that shook

With terror William's soul.

A fearful day was that! the rains

Fell fast, with tempest roar,
And the swoln tide of Severn spread

Far on the level shore.

Reluctant, now as night came on,

His lonely couch he pressed; And, wearied out, he sank to sleep,

To sleep-but not to rest.

When lo! the voice of loud alarm

His inmost soul appals" What ho! Lord William rise in haste !

The water saps the walls !”

He rose in haste, beneath the walls

He saw the flood appear : It hemmed him round-—'twas midnight now,

No human aid was near.

He heard a shout of joy ! for now

A boat approached the wall;
And eager to the welcome aid

He sprang with joyous call.
The boatman plied the oar, the boat

Went light along the stream;
Sudden Lord William heard a cry,

Like Edmund's dying seream.

“ I heard a child's distressful scream"

The boatman cried again;
Nay, hasten on—the night is dark,
And we should search in vain."

Oh, God! Lord William, dost thou know

How dreadful 'tis to die?
And canst thou, without pity, hear

A child's expiring cry?

“How horrible it is to sink

Beneath the chilly stream;
To stretch the powerless arms in vain !

In vain for help to scream !”

The shriek again was heard, it came

More deep, more piercing loudThat instant, o'er the flood, the moon

Shone through a broken cloud;

And near them they beheld a child;

Upon a crag he stood,-
A little crag, and all around

Was spread the rising flood.

“ Now reach thy hand,” the boatman cried,

“Lord William, reach and save;" The child stretched forth his little hands

To grasp the band he gave.

Then William shrieked ;- the hand he touched

Was cold, and damp, and dead ! He felt young Edmund in his arms,

A heavier weight than lead ! “For mercy help,” the murderer cried,

As he sank in the raging stream; He rose-he shrieked-no

human ear Heard William's drowning scream.


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