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Llewelyn gazed with fierce surprise ;
Unused such looks to meet, His favorite checked his joyful guise,
And crouched, and licked his feet.
Onward, in haste, Llewelyn passed,
And on went Gêlert too;
Fresh blood-gouts shocked his view.
Hot-steaming, up behind him come again
O'erturned his infant's bed he found,
With blood-stained covert rent ; And all around the walls and ground
With recent blood besprent.
He called his child, — no voice replied,
He searched with terror wild ; Blood, blood he found on every side,
But nowhere found his child.
“Hell-hound! my child's by thee devoured,"
The frantic father cried ;
He plunged in Gelert's side.
But nearer was the copsewood gray
As Chief who hears his warder call,
'T were long to tell what steeds gave o'er,
Yelled on the view the opening pack;
Alone, but with unbated zeal,
Less loud the sounds of sylvan war
And pondered refuge from his toil, · By far Lochard or Aberfoyle.
The Hunter marked that mountain high,
He heard the baffled dogs in vain
No more at dawning morn I rise, Rave through the hollow pass amain,
And sun myself in Ellen's eyes, Chiding the rocks that yelled again.
Drive the fleet deer the forest through,
And homeward wend with evening dew; Close on the hounds the hunter came,
A blithesome welcome blithely meet, To cheer them on the vanished game;
And lay my trophies at her feet, But, stumbling in the rugged dell,
While fled the eve on, wing of glee, – The gallant horse exhausted fell.
That life is lost to love and me! The impatient rider strove in vain
SIR WALTER SCOTT. To rouse him with the spur and rein, For the good steed, his labors o'er, Stretched his stiff limbs, to rise no more ; Then, touched with pity and remorse, THE ARAB TO HIS FAVORITE STEED. He sorrowed o'er the expiring horse. “I little thought, when first thy rein I slacked upon the banks of Seine,
My beautiful ! my beautiful ! that standest meekThat Highland eagle e'er should feed
ly by, On thy fleet limbs, my matchless steed!
With thy proudly arched and glossy neck, and Woe worth the chase, woe worth the day,
dark and fiery eye, That costs thy life, my gallant gray !" Fret not to roam the desert now, with all thy
wingéd speed ; Then through the dell his horn resounds, From vain pursuit to call the hounds.
I may not mount on thee again, — thou 'rt sold, Back limped, with slow and crippled pace,
my Arab steed!
Fret not with that impatient hoof, - snuff not the The sulky leaders of the chase ;
breezy wind, — Close to their master's side they pressed, With drooping tail and humbled crest;
The farther that thou fliest now, so far am I behind;
The stranger hath thy bridle-rein, — thy master But still the dingle's hollow throat
hath his gold, Prolonged the swelling bugle-note.
Fleet-limbed and beautiful, farewell; thou 'rt The owlets started from their dream,
sold, my steed, thou 'rt sold.
Farewell ! those free, untiréd limbs full many a To join some comrades of the day ;
mile must roam, Yet often paused, so strange the road,
To reach the chill and wintry sky which clouds So wondrous were the scenes it showed.
the stranger's home ; Some other hand, less fond, must now thy corn
and bed prepare, Thy silky mane, I braided once, must be another's
care ! LAY OF THE IMPRISONED HUNTSMAN.
The morning sun shall dawn again, but never My hawk is tired of perch and hood,
more with thee My idle greyhound loathes his food, Shall I gallop through the desert paths, where My horse is weary of his stall,
we were wont to be ; And I am sick of captive thrall.
Evening shall darken on the earth, and o'er the I wish I were as I have been,
sandy plain Hunting the hart in forest green,
Some other steed, with slower step, shall bear me With bended bow and bloodhound free, | home again. For that's the life is meet for me. I hate to learn the ebb of time
Yes, thou must go ! the wild, free breeze, the brilFrom yon dull steeple's drowsy chime,
liant sun and sky, Or mark it as the sunbeams crawl,
Thy master's house, -- from all of these my exiled Inch after inch, along the wall.
one must fly; The lark was wont my matins ring, Thy proud dark eye will grow less proud, thy The sable rook my vespers sing ;
step become less fleet, These towers, although a king's they be, And yainly shalt thou arch thy neck, thy masHave not a hall of joy for me.
ter's hand to meet.
SIR WALTER SCOTT.
CAROLINE E. NORTON.
Only in sleep shall I behold that dark eye, | Thus, thus, I leap upon thy back, and scour the glancing bright ;
distant plains ; Only in sleep shall hear again that step so firm Away! who overtakes us now shall claim thee for and light;
his pains ! And when I raise my dreaming arm to check or
cheer thy speed, Then must I, starting, wake to feel, — thou 'rt sold, my Arab steed!
JINGLE, jingle, clear the way, Ah ! rudely, then, unseen by me, some cruel hand
'Tis the merry, merry sleigh, may chide,
As it swiftly scuds along Till foam-wreaths lie, like crested waves, along
Hear the burst of happy song, thy panting side :
See the gleam of glances bright, And the rich blood that's in thee swells, in thy
Flashing o'er the pathway white. indignant pain,
Jingle, jingle, past it flies, Till careless eyes, which rest on thee, may count
Sending shafts from hooded eyes,
Roguish archers, I 'll be bound, each starting vein. Will they ill-use thee ? If I thought — but no,
Little heeding who they wound; it cannot be,
See them, with capricious pranks, Thou art so swift, yet easy curbed ; so gentle,
Ploughing now the drifted banks ; yet so free :
Jingle, jingle, mid the glee And yet, if haply, when thou 'rt gone, my lonely
Who among them cares for me? heart should yearn, —
Jingle, jingle, on they go, Can the hand which casts thee from it now com
Capes and bonnets white with snow, mand thee to return?
Not a single robe they fold
Jingle, jingle, mid the storm,
Fun and frolic keep them warm ; master do,
Jingle, jingle, down the hills, When thou, who wast his all of joy, hast vanished
O'er the meadows, past the mills, from his view ?
Now 't is slow, and now 't is fast ; When the dim distance cheats mine eye, and
Winter will not always last. through the gathering tears
Jingle, jingle, clear the way, Thy bright form, for a moment, like the false 'Tis the merry, merry sleigh.
G. W. PETTEE. mirage appears ; Slow and unmounted shall I roam, with weary
step alone, Where, with fleet step and joyous bound, thou
OUR SKATER BELLE. oft hast borne me on; And sitting down by that green well, I'll pause ALONG the frozen lake she comes and sadly think,
In linking crescents, light and fleet; “ It was here he bowed his glossy neck when last | The ice-imprisoned Undine hums I saw him drink !" .
A welcome to her little feet.
I see the jaunty hat, the plume When last I saw thee drink! — Away! the fevered,
Swerve bird-like in the joyous gale,
| The cheeks lit up to burning bloom, dream is o'er, I could not live a day, and know that we should the young eyes sparking througa me velt. meet no more !
The quick breath parts her laughing lips, They tempted me, my beautiful ! — for hunger's The white neck shines through tossing curis ; power is strong, —
Her vesture gently sways and dips,
loved too long.
They gaze, they smile in pleased surprise ; "T is false, — 't is false, my Arab steed! I fling They ask her name; they long to show them back their gold !
| Some silent friendship in their eyes.