CHARADE. Uncouth was I of face and form, Not a warrior went to the battle-plain, And ever the shriek ran loud within, When amid the sin, and smoke, and din, My priests are mould'ring in their grave, There is no victim in my cave, No crown upon my brow; Nothing is left but dust and clay, My name and my memory pass away, But in every week one entire day, Is called by mortals mine. A PARENTAL ODE TO MY CHILD. Thou happy, happy elf! (But stop-first let me kiss away that tear) Thou tiny image of myself! (My love, he's poking peas into his ear) Thou merry, laughing sprite ! With spirits feather light, Untouched by sorrow, and unsoiled by sin, What funny feelings through thy bosom roll; (Why, Jane, he'll set his pinafore a-fire!) Thou rogue of mirth and joy! In love's dear chain so strong and bright a link, K PRAED. Thou cherub-but of earth! (That dog will bite him if he pulls its tail!) (He'll break the mirror with that skipping-rope!) Thou young domestic dove! (He'll have that jug off with another shove!) Dear nursling of the hymeneal nest! (Are those torn clothes his best?) Little epitome of man! (He'll climb upon the table-that's his plan!) Touched with the beauteous tints of dawning life, (He's got a knife!) Thou enviable being! No storms, no clouds, in thy blue sky foreseeing, Toss the light ball-bestride the stick, (I knew so many cakes would make him sick!) (He's got the scissors snipping at your gown!) Ì cannot write unless he's sent above!) HOOD. THE INDIAN'S NOBLE REVENGE. O'er Ohio the day had passed, Had wrapt the mountains and the hills, And in the wide-spread valley's gloom Into a hunter's hut that eve Mocassins, dress, and dancing plume, Faint and imploring was his speech; In vain he asked for a simple draught And for a morsel of the food That from his table fell. When many years had flown away, Went further in the wilderness, But soon his hounds lay spent with toil, Opossums and fowls all kept aloof When they heard the hunter's feet. No food was in that desert place, To slake the torment of his thirst, But lo! while life's dim taper still A ministering angel came- Who shared his forest-food with him, Then led the sick man unto those Adapted from M'LELI LAY OF THE BRAVE MAN.. On mountain summits melts the snow; A mighty stream receives them all. On arches strong and massive piers, Hollow and loud the tempest rang, Loud roared the winds and waves about, "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; The trembling tollman with wife and child, 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; The pale tollman still with wife and child Then galloped a Count amidst the band,- 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? "O brave man, brave man, quickly appear! "Tollman bear up! thy heart be cheered!" See!-plain and honest on his way- Of noble mien and cheerful eye: He heard the Count, prompt words so clear, Then swiftly in God's name he sprang Through whirlpool, wave, and tempest's clang, 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: But scarcely the last had stepped on shore, "Here" cried the Count, "my noble friend, "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. |