Графични страници
PDF файл
ePub

236

THE POLISH BOY.

"One moment!" shrieked the mother;
Will land or gold redeem my son?
Take heritage, take name, take all,

" one!

But leave him free from Russian thrall!
Take these!" and her white arms and hands
She stripped of rings and diamond bands,
And tore from braids of long black hair
The gems that gleamed like starlight there;
Her cross of blazing rubies, last,

Down at the Russian's feet she cast.

He stooped to seize the glittering store;-
Up springing from the marble floor,
The mother, with a cry of joy,
Snatched to her leaping heart the boy.
But no! the Russian's iron grasp
Again undid the mother's clasp.
Forward she fell, with one long cry
Of more than mortal agony.

But the brave child is roused at length,
And, breaking from the Russian's hold,
He stands, a giant in the strength
Of his young spirit, fierce and bold.
Proudly he towers; his flashing eye,
So blue, and yet so bright,
Seems kindled from the eternal sky,
So brilliant is its light.

His curling lips and crimson cheeks
Foretell the thought before he speaks;
With a full voice of proud command
He turned upon the wondering band:
"Ye hold me not! no! no! nor can;
This hour has made the boy a man,-
I knelt before my slaughtered sire,
Nor felt one throb of vengeful ire;
I wept upon his marble brow,
Yes, wept! I was a child; but now
My noble mother, on her knee,

Hath done the work of years for me!"

[ocr errors]

THE POLISH BOY.

He drew aside his broidered vest,

And there, like slumbering serpent's crest,
The jewelled haft of poniard bright
Glittered a moment on the sight,

"Ha! start ye back? Fool! coward! knave!

Think ye my noble father's glaive
Would drink the life-blood of a slave?

The pearls that on the handle flame
Would blush to rubies in their shame;
The blade would quiver in thy breast,
Ashamed of such ignoble rest.

No! thus I rend the tyrant's chain,
And fling him back a boy's disdain!"

A moment, and the funeral light
Flashed on the jewelled weapon bright;
Another, and his young heart's blood
Leaped to the floor, a crimson flood.
Quick to his mother's side he sprang,
And on the air his clear voice rang:
"Up, mother, up! I'm free! I'm free!
The choice was death or slavery.
Up, mother, up! Look on thy son!
His freedom is forever won;
And now he waits one holy kiss
To bear his father home in bliss,
One last embrace, one blessing,-one!
To prove thou know'st, approv'st thy son.
What! silent yet? Canst thou not feel
My warm blood o'er thy heart congeal?
Speak, mother, speak! lift up thy head!
What! silent still? Then art thou dead!

-Great God, I thank thee! Mother, I
Rejoice with thee,-and thus-to die."
One long, deep breath, and his pale head
Lay on his mother's bosom,-dead.

237

238

THE ENCHANTRESS.

THE ENCHANTRESS.-T. B. ALDRICH.

T'S only in legend and fable

The fairies are with us, you know;
For the fairies are fled, little Mabel,
Aye, ages and ages ago.

And yet I have met with a fairy-
You needn't go shaking your curls—
A genuine spirit and airy,

Like her who talked nothing but pearls.

You may laugh, if you like, little Mabel,
I know you're exceedingly wise;
But I've seen her as plain as I'm able
To see unbelief in your eyes.

A marvellous creature! I really
Can't say she is gifted with wings,
Or resides in a tulip, but clearly
She's queen of all beautiful things.

Whenever she comes from her castle,
The snow fades away like a dream,
And the pine cone's icicle tassel

Melts, and drops into the stream.

The dingy gray moss on the boulder
Takes color like bright burnished steel;
The brook puts its silvery shoulder
Again to the dripping mill-wheel!

The robin and wren fly to meet her;
The honey-bees hum with delight;
The morning breaks brighter and sweeter;
More tenderly falleth the night.

The roadsides in pastures and meadows,

The buttercups growing bold,

For her sake light up the shadows

With disks of tremulous gold.

A YANKEE IN LOVE.

Even the withered bough blossoms,

Grateful for sunlight and rain,
Even the hearts in our bosoms
Are leaping to greet her again!

What fairy in all your romances
Is such an enchantress as she,
Who blushes in roses and posies

And sings in the birds on the tree?

239

[ocr errors]

A YANKEE IN LOVE.-BURNETT.

NE day Sall fooled me; she heated the poker awful hot, then asked me to stir the fire. I seized hold of it mighty quick to oblige her, and dropped it quicker to oblige myself. Well, after the poker scrape, me and Sall only got on middlin' well for some time, till I made up my mind to pop the question, for I loved her harder every day, and I had an idee she loved me or had a sneaking kindness for me. But how to do the thing up nice and rite pestered me orful. I bought some love books, and read how the fellers git down onter their knees and talk like poets, and how the gals would gently-like fall in love with them. But somehow or other that way didn't kinder suit my notion. I asked mam how she and dad courted, but she said it had been so long she had forgotten all about it. Uncle Jo said mam did all the courting.

At last I made up my mind to go it blind, for this thing was farely consumin' my mind; so I goes over to her dad's, and when I got there I sot like a fool, thinkin' how to begin. Sall seed somethin' was troublin' me, so she said, says she, "An't you sick, Peter?" She said this mity soft-like. "Yes! No!" sez I; "that is, I an't zackly well; I thought I'd come over to-night," sez I. I tho't that was a mity purty beginnin'; so I tried agin. "Sall," sez I-and by this time I felt kinder fainty about the stommuck and shaky about the knees-" Sall," sez I. "What?" sez she. "Sall," sez I agin. "What?" sez she. I'll get to it arter a while at this rate, thinks I. "Peter," says she, "there's suthin' troublin' you; 'tis mighty wrong for you to keep it from a body, for an inard sorrer is a consumin' fire." She said this, she did, the sly critter. She knowed what was the matter all the time mighty

240

A YANKEE IN LOVE.

well, and was only tryin' to fish it out, but I was so far gone I couldn't see the point. At last I sorter gulped down the big lump a risin' in my throat, and sez I, sez I, "Sall, do you love anybody?" "Well," sez she, "there's dad and mam," and a countin' of her fingers all the time, with her eyes sorter shet like a feller shootin' off a gun, "and there's old Pide (that were their old cow), and I can't think of anybody else just now," sez she. Now, this was orful for a feller ded in love; so arter a while I tried another shute. Sez I, "Sall," sez I, "I'm powerful lonesome at home, and sometimes think if I only had a nice, pretty wife to luv and talk to, move, and have my bein' with, I'd be a tremendous feller." Sez I, “ Sall, do you know any gal would keer for me?" With that she begins, and names over all the gals for five miles around, and never once came nigh naming of herself, and sed I oughter git one of them. This sorter got my dander up, so I hitched my cheer up close to her, and shet my eyes and sed, "Sall, you are the very gal I've been hankering arter for a long time. I love you all over, from the sole of your head to the crown of your foot, and I don't care who nos it, and if you say so we'll be jined together in the holy bonds of hemlock, Epluribusunum, world without end, amen!" sez I; and then I felt like I'd throwed up an alligator, I felt so relieved. With that she fetched a sorter screem, and arter a while sez, sez she, "Peter!" "What, Sally?" sez I. "Yes!" sez she, a hidin' of her face behind her hands. You bet a heap I felt good. must holler, Sall, or I shall bust. jump over a ten-rail fence!" With that I sot rite down by her and clinched the bargain with a kiss. Talk about your blackberry jam; talk about your sugar and merlasses; you wouldn't a got me nigh 'em-they would all a been sour arter that. O these gals! how good and bad, how high and low they make a feller feel! If Sall's daddy hadn't sung out 'twas time all honest folks was a-bed, I'd a sot there two hours longer. You oughter seed me when I got home! I pulled dad out of bed and hugged him! I pulled mam out of bed and hugged her! I pulled aunt Jane out of bed and hugged her! I larfed and hollered, I crowed like a rooster, I danced round there, and I cut up more capers than you ever heerd tell on, till dad thought I was crazy, and got a rope to tie me with. "Dad," sez I," I'm goin' to be married !” "Mar

66

"Glory! glory!" sez I, "I· Hurrah for hooray! I can

« ПредишнаНапред »