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84

WILLIAM TELL.

'The fault is mine, if fault there be,'
Cried Tell, in accents wild;

'On manhood let your vengeance fall,
But spare, oh, spare my child!'

'I will not harm the pretty boy,'
Said Gesler, tauntingly;

'If blood of his shall stain the ground,
Yours will the murder be.

'Draw tight your bow, my cunning man,
Your straightest arrow take;
For know, yon apple is your mark,
Your liberty the stake.'

A mingled noise of wrath and grief
Was heard among the crowd;
The men they muttered curses deep,
The women wept aloud.

Full fifty paces from his child,

His cross-bow in his hand,

With lip compressed, and flashing eye,

Tell firmly took his stand.

Sure, full enough of pain and woe
This crowded earth has been ;
But never since the curse began,
So sad a sight was seen.

The noble boy stood bravely up,
His cheek unblanched with fear:

'Shoot straight,' he cried; 'thine aim is sure,
It will not fail thee here.'

'Heaven bless thee now,' the parent said;

'Thy courage shames me quite :'

Then to his ear the shaft he drew,

And watched its whizzing flight.

'Tis done! 'tis done !-the child is safe!'

Shouted the multitude;

'Man tramples on his brother man,

But God is ever good.'

For, sure enough, the arrow went

As by an angel guided;
In pieces two, beneath the tree,
The apple fell divided !

""Twas bravely done,' the ruler said,
'My plighted word I keep ;
'Twas bravely done by sire and son—
Go home and feed your sheep.'

'No thanks I give thee for thy boon,'
The peasant coldly said:

'To God alone my praise is due,

And duly shall be paid.

"Yet know, proud man, thy fate was near:
Had I but missed my aim,

Not unavenged my child had died,

Thy parting hour the same!

'For, see! a second shaft was here,

If harm my boy befell:

Now go, and bless the heavenly powers

My first has sped so well.'

God helped the right, God spared the sin;
He brings the proud to shame ;

He guards the weak against the strong-
Praise to his holy name!

1 William Tell, the legendary hero of Switzerland, is represented by tradition as acting a chief part in freeing his country from the yoke of Austria. Nothing is certainly known about his history; it is even doubtful if there ever was such a

man.

Rev. J. H. Gurney,

The story of shooting the apple occurs in the traditions of other people. Yet the stories of Tell's exploits have helped to cherish Swiss patriotism just as if they had been true. 2 Uri, a canton in the

centre of

86

LOCHINVAR.

Switzerland, noted for its confederacy with Unterwalden and Schwyz in the assertion of Swiss liberty. It is traversed in all its extent from north to south by the river Reuss,

3 Altorf, the capital of Uri, lies near the head of Lake Lucerne. Foun

tains mark the spots where Tell and his son are supposed to have stood when the incidents narrated in the poem occurred.

4 Chamois, a kind of goat whose skin is much valued for a soft kind of leather made from it.

LOCHIN VAR.

Oh, young Lochinvar is come out of the west!
Through all the wide Border 1 his steed was the best;
And save his good broadsword, he weapon had none-
He rode all unarmed, and he rode all alone!
So faithful in love, and so dauntless in war,
There never was knight like the young Lochinvar !

He staid not for brake, and he stopped not for stone,
He swam the Esk river where ford there was none,
But ere he alighted at Netherby gate,
The bride had consented, the gallant came late :
For a laggard in love, and a dastard in war,
Was to wed the fair Helen of young Lochinvar !

So boldly he entered the Netherby Hall,
'Mong bridesmen, and kinsmen, and brothers, and all!
Then spoke the bride's father, his hand on his sword—
For the poor craven bridegroom said never a word—
'O come ye in peace here, or come ye in war,
Or to dance at our bridal, young Lord Lochinvar ?'

'I long wooed your daughter, my suit you denied:
Love swells like the Solway, but ebbs like its tide!
And now I am come, with this lost love of mine
To lead but one measure,3 drink one cup of wine!
There be maidens in Scotland, more lovely by far,
That would gladly be bride to the young Lochinvar!'

The bride kissed the goblet; the knight took it up,
He quaffed off the wine, and he threw down the cup!
She looked down to blush, and she looked up to sigh-
With a smile on her lips and a tear in her eye.

He took her soft hand ere her mother could bar-
'Now tread we a measure!' said young Lochinvar.

So stately his form, and so lovely her face,
That never a hall such a galliard did grace;

While her mother did fret, and her father did fume,
And the bridegroom stood dangling his bonnet and plume;
And the bride-maidens whispered: "Twere better by far
To have matched our fair cousin with young Lochinvar.'

One touch to her hand, and one word in her ear,

When they reached the hall-door, and the charger stood near; So light to the croup 6 the fair lady he swung,

So light to the saddle before her he sprung!

'She is won! we are gone, over bank, bush, and scaur ; They'll have fleet steeds that follow,' quoth young Lochinvar.

There was mounting 'mong Graemes of the Netherby clan;7
Forsters, Fenwicks, and Musgraves, they rode and they ran ;
There was racing and chasing on Cannobie Lea,

But the lost bride of Netherby ne'er did they see.
So daring in love, and so dauntless in war,

Have

ye e'er heard of gallant like young Lochinvar?

1 Border or Borderland is the name given to those parts of England and Scotland where the two countries lie contiguous to one another. In former times this district was peopled with a race of hardy warriors whose livelihood depended chiefly on their expertness in plundering.

2 Solway, Solway Firth, an arm of the Irish Sea which forms the boundary between England and

Scott.

Scotland for upwards of fifty miles.

3 To lead but one measure, to lead only
one dance.

4 Galliard, sprightly dance.
5 Charger, war-horse.

6

Croup, behind the saddle.

7 There was mounting 'mong Graemes of the Netherby clan. The Graemes

of Netherby formed one of the most powerful of Border clans in freebooting times.

88

GLENARA.

GLENAR A.

O heard ye yon pibroch1 sound sad in the gale,
Where a band cometh slowly with weeping and wail?
'Tis the chief of Glenara laments for his dear;
And her sire and her people are called to her bier.

Glenara came first, with the mourners and shroud;
Her kinsmen they followed, but mourned not aloud;
Their plaids all their bosoms were folded around;
They marched all in silence-they looked to the ground.

In silence they reached over mountain and moor,
To a heath where the oak-tree grew lonely and hoar:
'Now here let us place the gray stone of her cairn 2-
Why speak ye no word?' said Glenara the stern.

'And tell me I charge you, ye clan of my spouse,
Why fold ye your mantles, why cloud ye your brows?'
So spake the rude chieftain: no answer is made,
But each mantle unfolding, a dagger displayed.

'I dreamed of my lady, I dreamed of her shroud,' Cried a voice from the kinsmen, all wrathful and loud; 'And empty that shroud and that coffin did seem; Glenara! Glenara! now read me my dream!'

O pale grew the cheek of that chieftain, I ween,
When the shroud was unclosed, and no body was seen;
Then a voice from the kinsmen spoke louder in scorn-
"Twas the youth that had loved the fair Ellen of Lorn:

'I dreamed of my lady, I dreamed of her grief,
I dreamed that her lord was a barbarous chief;
On a rock of the ocean fair Ellen did seem;
Glenara! Glenara! now read me my dream!'

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