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He seemed a very arctic king Throwing his furry robe aside.
My sire, awakened by the stir,
Gazed through the door with shaded eyes,
And heard the voice of bluff replies,
Had you beheld him stride the floor,
We offered him this cushioned seat:
He took yon great oak chair instead,
It felt more saddle-like, he said, -
“ 'Tis seventy years," he cried, " or more,
, Since first I backed a good, stout steed;
And though to-day with as fearless speed
It boots not to prolong the strife:
Resigns at last the guiding reins :
Shall ring, as once, through these domains.
grace yon antlers tall Which hold those old swords on the wall, The rusty weapons of Sir Hugh: The honor is its well-earned due."
We welcomed him with hearty will,
“Good Uncle Ralph," my mother sighed,
Dropping the embroidery in her lap, "One question I have often tried
To solve; and yet, through some mishap, It seems conjecture wandered wide :
I think, can solve for me Poor Nora's mournful history.”
The old man looked at her a space,
The far scenes of the past, and said, “For her sake you should know it all,
For my sake too, when I am dead; But first, my friends, let me make clear The reason I to-night am here.
Beside the old churchyard to-day
And flung his spade across the wall.
The horses, wagon, bells, and all
Of his maniac lash-
My team, with many a plunge and rear, Went mad, then stood like frighted deer,
While I sat like a girl aghast,
Until that awful wagoner passed; And when I looked behind, 'twas gone, And we were in the road alone.
Think not that superstitious fright
First on the field of Brandywine, (13)
He saw his form's distinct outline Stretched on the sod, -his steed, in fright, Dashing riderless through the fight; Then instantly he galloped on, And sought the fate he could not shun.
It is a bitter night; the cold
And thaw the chill about my heart, And clear this hazy brain of mine."
Again his vague eye scanned the glass,
In many a long and wavering line;
At last he spoke in under-tone,“Those grand old times are past and gone; But, Esther,”—here his eye grew bright With something of its former light,“Do you
remember how of old
I ever loved a fiery song;
That did not to the words belong :