The Poetical Works of T. Buchanan Read

His soul responded through his Then Esther

warm,

The old man, Edgar's patriot sire,
Entered with overshadowed brow,
And said, "Sweet daughter, come
with me:

I fear another couch may now
Lay claim to your fidelity.
The strange wild woman you so oft
Encountered in your winter round,
And who so frequently you found
Soothing the sick with accents soft,-
Accents which suited not the dress,
So fitted for the wilderness,-
Now lies a victim to the spell
Which she in others strove to quell,
With fever sorely racked and thrilled,
'Mid kindly hands, but all unskilled.

"I have not yet forgot the day
When on the battle-field I lay
Almost in death, she was the first
To slake my fever-flame of thirst,
Or how within the secret cave

She tended me so well and long, Cheering me oft with some wild

stave

guide,

rose, and joined her

And reached the shed where Nora
lay;

But, when she stood by Nora's side,
Her heart of courage sank away.
For, oh, it was a piteous sight
To see those eyes so strangely bright,
And all that flood of scattered hair
As blown by winds of wild despair,
And all the trappings of her dress
Flung wide by hands of hot distress!

There Ugo by the wagoner stood,
And both in anxious, gloomy mood;
She stared upon the wondering child,
Then wept as o'er some burning
thought,

Then gazed at Ringbolt strangely wild,

And laughed, as though her pain

were naught.

"Thou poor young bride, beware! beware!

Oh, wed not with that cold white hair!

That summer smile is but device:-
His breast is snow, his heart is ice.
Oh, cold was the bridegroom,
All frozen with pride!-
He first slew her lover,

Then made her his bride. Ringbolt, how goes the battle? Ho! Fly, Ugo-fly!-the foe !-the foe! A stealthy trick!-but they shall know

The stricken can return the blow! The tyrant and his host shall flee,— When patriots strike, they shall be free!

"Our flag like a meteor

Sweeps down through the fight: It brightens the valley

And burns on the height.

friends,

It is a sight which sadly sends
The blood back on the heart, to see
Such depths of human misery.
Oh, surely this wild, dismal camp
Is all too rough and cold and damp:
'Twere better if she were conveyed
And in some quiet chamber laid,
'Mid hands that know to tend and
spread

The comforts of a sufferer's bed,
Where pity only holds control,
With not a sound to vex the soul.
And such a room my heart allows,
Within a well-provided house,

And well I know her couch will find

The hands attendant, gentle, kind;
For Hulda, ever good and mild,
Will guard her as she were her child.
Haste, Ugo, haste, and bring the

sleigh,

And let her be enwrapt straight

way:

"Tis but a short two hours' ride;
So easily her course shall glide,
So deep shall be her bed of fur,
So soft and noiseless be the stir,
That she may sleep and never know
How swiftly fly the miles below."

Saw Hope re-fan her smouldering fire Within the cloud's desponding

damp.

'Twas evening, and she watched the gleam

Of moonlight over hill and stream; Though winter now was wellnigh through,

And spring-time promised soon to blow,

Still, all the scene which met her view

Lay in a gleaming robe of snow. She sat and gazed upon the stars, As on a banner there unfurled, And wondered if each sparkling world

Was shocked like this with martial jars,

If through those tranquil, silver skies

Stern warriors bent devoted eyes In worship on the planet Mars.

She mused,-when Hulda's waking hand

Was laid upon her resting arm, And, looking up with mild alarm, She saw within the moonlight stand Another, whose brave feet had paced Through paths of snow in breathless haste.

"I come"-this was her hurried word, She scarcely seemed for breath to pause

"To you, for I have often heard Your heart is with our patriot

cause:

You have swift horses at command, And have, perchance, some trusty hand

By whom a message may be borne: The word I bear must reach our band Before to-morrow morn. 17

"Speak on!" the startled hearer cried :

"It shall, no matter what betide!"

"Our enemy a plan has laid

I got the news, it boots not howBy which our camp shall be betrayed, And all our noble army made

To bite the dust, or basely bow.

This was their threat; and even now Their rapid horsemen form in line, And ere the dawn 'tis their design To strike the fatal blow.

"This is the news: I pray you speed; The hour is short, and dire the need:

I have no time to answer more; But if our noble chief would know The source from which these tidings flow,

Then tell him boldly, undeterred, 'Tis Lydia Darrach's faithful word,18 Which served him once before."

"Thanks, noble heart!" young Esther cried,

And flung her daring tresses wide:
"Spite every danger or mishap,
Ere yon low moon shall disappear,
The news shall reach our General's

ear

Though Death stood in the gap!"

Waiting no more to hear or say,
The herald took her homeward way.

"Now, Ugo!"-this was Esther's

call,

"Bridle the swiftest steed in stall, Fly with the news you just have heard,

And let our chieftain know the word." "but sup

"A steed!" he answered;

pose The road should be beset with foes, The boldest rider scarce would do To bear such needful tidings through. No, no I have a better way,

One quite as swift, and far more

sure;

Nor horse nor man my course shall stay,

I shall be mounted so secure."

She stared at him with puzzled brow,

But he nor look nor answer stayed; She heard the rattling which he made

Within the dusky hall below;
She saw him dash across the snow,

Until he gained the frozen river,

Watched him a moment bending low,
Then, like an arrow from the bow,
Beheld his flying figure go

On skates, with many a flash and
quiver,

As if the glistening ice and steel,
In lightning, would his speed reveal.

The smile applauded the device:
She watched him, with a glad sur-
prise,

Until he vanished from her eyes.
But suddenly, with fear renewed,
She stood in anxious attitude:-
That messenger upon the ice,
It might, and yet might not, suffice.
If highways held the foeman wolf,
The river also had its gulf,

And 'twas the season when the sun
Old Winter's work had half undone;
The snowy eaves were thawed at
noon,

The thinning ice must vanish soon;
The moon, too, hung with sinking
disk;

Her light would shortly be at end.
No, no: it would not do to send
One messenger on such a risk:
All must be staked to win or lose;
In such a cause, who stayed to choose?

In haste she ordered out the sleigh:
None heard the maid her purpose say;
'Twas not for others' ears discussed,
For there was none whom she would
trust,

Save Hulda, and her duty lay
Round suffering Nora night and
day.

Alone she mounted, without pause,
To save, perchance, her country's

cause:

Away, away, the light car flew ;
The hoofs flung up the powdery

snow;

Swift as a river seemed to flow The road beneath, where, slipping through

The crispy foam with whistling shrieks,

The runners left their glistening streaks.

Oh, enviable star in heaven

And saw how those two heralds went,
Each on the same high mission bent,-
One on a road of ice below,
One on a stream-like road of snow,
The locks of each flung backward far,
And trailing like a meteor star:
Oh, ne'er before sped soul with soul
In holier race for earthly goal!

Just as the last hill-top was neared,
And the swift horses slackened pace,
A voice, as if it broke through space,
Pealed to the welkin as it cheered,
Announcing the last danger cleared:-
"Twas Ugo's wild, triumphant mirth,
Ringing as it would circle earth.

And thus the two young heralds met,
In spite of foes about them set,

In spite of dark and wintry
weather,

And to the grateful patriot chief,
In burning language plain and brief,

Delivered their great news together; And soon the horses, flecked with foam,

Well pleased, were turned again for home.

While Ugo took the guiding rein, Thus held the maid her musing vein:

"Now the moon has left her track,

Dropt behind the mountain-bars; Paly shine the cold white stars, And the pale earth answers back; All the world a shadow lies,

Darkly, breathless, deathly still, While above us hang the skies, Throbbing to our throbbing eyes, Till the fancy almost hears

Something of the strains that thrill, Passing through the happy spheres.

"Yonder the great Northern, Wain
Rings across the azure plain,

Nightly rolling toward the goal
Of the ever-steadfast Pole:
Every steed in that great car
On his forehead wears a star,
Proud with bells upon his mane.

"Sweetest of the chimes of heaven,
Is yon clustered sister-seven,

That looked through that still crystal In their turret's misty height,

even,

Like a stem of lilies white,

Our sweet valley Pleiades,
Ringing perfume on the breeze.
Ring, sweet sisters, clearer still:
My heart listens for the thrill
From your sacred belfry-cell:
Pour your chime; but, ah, the knell
Floats from off your silver lips
For that lost one in eclipse!

"Lost!-ah, no: she is not lost;
Her song was too fine and sweet
With your singing to compete ;
On some more celestial coast
She is now the angels' boast,
With her joy forever told,
In a tower of shining gold.

"Ring, sweet stars of heaven, anew, And my heart will sing with you; Ring!-oh, ring!-that I may hear And feel that heaven is sometimes near."

Thus Esther in her happy breast The pleasure of her soul confest; For she was glowing with a sense (Although the thought had scarcely heed)

That she had done a sacred deed Which was its own sweet recompense. The singing sleigh, the horses' tread,

Slow pacing homeward at their will, The flowing road that backward sped, The stars that chased her overhead, Like heavenly guardians with her still,

The crystal air, but not too chill, All soothed her with a gentle calm, As if a cool and tender palm Were on her tranquil forehead prest To woo her into peaceful rest.

And Ugo held in dreamy spell

The reins which seemed about to fall;

But homeward steeds remember well The road which leads them to their stall.

All nature seemed as it were fanned With Slumber's cool and downy pinions; But, hold-the steeds are at full stand!

Around them close the foeman's minions!

Is she awake, or does she dream?

The sword-flash that before her stirs, The scarlet coat, the helmet's gleam, The bursting laugh of rude derision,

A rough voice shouting, "Pris

oners!"

A soldier at each horse's rein,
And Ugo dragged among the train,—

All this proclaims it is no vision. The boy is loud,-he will not stay: A boy is he, armed soldiers they. "What men are ye," she strove to say,

"Who dare to stop a lady's way?

I charge ye, off! Unbind the boy!" Whereat the captain's voice replied, Close at the startled maiden's side,

"Lady, we wish not to annoy Further than strictest duty calls: Be not alarmed: if aught befalls Amiss, the fault shall not be ours,— We serve the cause of higher powers: Though it seem hard, and you condemn,

Our prisoner, you must go to them."

He took the reins, and said no more: With mounted men to guard them down,

Even past her own unhappy door
She went a captive to the town.

PART III.

THE TANKARD OF WINE.

Он, what delight is in the air What time the new-born spring is there!

How sweet it is on the breezy slope, 'Mid flowers in bloom or about to ope, When the dog-wood, like a maiden dight

In bridal robes of snowy white, Beside the flaming maple stands, While the oak, with priestly hands Spread above their bowing heads, His whispering benediction sheds; Where never a careless wind forgets To tell of the woodland violets,

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