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COUSIN SALLY DILLIARD.

CHOPS. Well, Sir, go on.

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WITNESS. Well, Sir, Captain Rice he gin a treat, and cousin Sally Dilliard she came over to our house and axed me if my wife she moutn't go

CHOPS. There it is again. Witness, please to stop.

WITNESS. Well, Sir, what do you want?

CHOPS. We want to know about the fight, and you must not proceed in this impertinent story. Do you know anything about the matter before the Court?

WITNESS. To be sure I do.

CHOPS. Well, go on and tell it, and nothing else.

WITNESS. Well, Captain Rice he gin a treat

CHOPS. This is intolerable. May it please the Court, I move that this witness be committed for a contempt; he seems to be trifling with this Court.

COURT. Witness, you are now before a court of justice, and unless you behave yourself in a more becoming manner, you will be sent to jail; so begin, and tell what you know about the fight at Captain Rice's.

WITNESS. [Alarmed.] Well, gentlemen, Captain Rice he gin a treat, and cousin Sally Dilliard-

CHOPS. I hope the witness may be ordered into custody.

COURT. Mr. Attorney, the Court is of the opinion that we may save time by telling witness to go on in his own way. Proceed, Mr. Harris, with your story, but stick to the point.

WITNESS. Yes, gentlemen. Well, Captain Rice he gin a treat, and cousin Sally Dilliard she came over to our house and axed me if my wife she moutn't go. I told cousin Sally Dilliard that my wife she was poorly, being as how she had the rheumatics in the hip, and the big swamp was up; but howsomever, as it was she, cousin Sally Dilliard, my wife she mout go. Well, cousin Sally Dilliard then axed if Mose he moutn't go. I told cousin Sally Dilliard as how Mose--he was the foreman of the crap, and the crap was smartly in the grass--but howsomever, as it was her cousin Sally Dilliard, Mose he mout go. So they goes on together, Mose, my wife, and cousin Sally Dilliard, and they come to the big swamp, and it was up, as I was telling you; but being as how there was a lóg across the big swamp, cousin Sally Dilliard and Mose, like genteel folks, they walked the log; but my wife, like, a darned fool, waded through. And that's all I know about tl fight.

342

GELERT.

GELERT.-W. R. SPENCER.

HE spearmen heard the bugle sound, and cheerly smiled the

THE

morn;

And many a brach, and many a hound, attend Llewellyn's horn;
And still he blew a louder blast, and gave a louder cheer;
"Come, Gelert! why art thou the last Llewellyn's horn to hear?
O! where does faithful Gelert roam, the flower of all his race?
So true, so brave,—a lamb at home, a lion in the chase!"
That day Llewellyn little loved the chase of hart or hare;
And scant and small the booty proved, for Gelert was not there.

Unpleased, Llewellyn homeward hied, when, near the portal seat,
His truant Gelert he espied, bounding his lord to greet;

But when he gained the castle-door, aghast the chieftain stood; The hound was smeared with gouts of gore; his lips and fangs ran blood!

Llewellyn gazed with wild surprise; unused such looks to meet, His favorite checked his joyful guise, and crouched, and licked his feet.

Onward in haste Llewellyn passed (and on went Gelert, too), And still, where'er his eyes were cast, fresh blood-gouts shocked his view!

O'erturned his infant's bed, he found the blood-stained cover 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!

"Death-hound! by thee my child's devoured!" the frantic father

cried;

And, to the hilt, his vengeful sword he plunged in Gelert's side.
His suppliant, as to earth he fell, no pity could impart;
But still his Gelert's dying yell passed heavy o'er his heart.

Aroused by Gelert's dying yell, some slumberer wakened nigh:
What words the parent's joy can tell, to hear his infant cry!
Concealed beneath a mangled heap, his hurried search had missed,
All glowing from his rosy sleep his cherub boy he kissed!

BINGEN ON THE RHINE.

343

Nor scratch had he, nor harm, nor dread; but the same couch

beneath

Lay a great wolf, all torn and dead, tremendous still in death!
Ah! what was then Llewellyn's pain! for now the truth was clear;
The gallant hound the wolf had slain, to save Llewellyn's heir.

Vain, vain was all Llewellyn's woe! "Best of thy kind, adieu!
The frantic deed that laid thee low, this heart shall ever rue!"
And now a noble tomb they raise, with costly sculpture decked;
And marbles, storied with his praise, poor Gelert's bones protect.
Here never could the spearmen pass, or forester, unmoved;
Here oft the tear-besprinkled grass Llewellyn's sorrow proved.
And here he hung his horn and spear, and oft, as evening fell,
In fancy's piercing sounds would hear poor Gelert's dying yell.

A

BINGEN ON THE RHINE.-MRS. NORTON.

SOLDIER of the Legion lay dying in Algiers,

There was lack of woman's nursing, there was dearth of
woman's tears,

But a comrade stood beside him, while the life-blood ebbed away,
And bent, with pitying glance, to hear each word he had to say.
The dying soldier faltered, as he took that comrade's hand,
And he said: "I never more shall see my own--my native land!
Take a message and a token to the distant friends of mine,
For I was born at BINGEN-at Bingen on the Rhine!

"Tell my brothers and companions, when they meet and crowd around

To hear my mournful story, in the pleasant vineyard ground,
That we fought the battle bravely, and when the day was done
Full many a corse lay, ghastly pale, beneath the setting sun;
And midst the dead and dying were some grown old in wars,
The death-wound on their gallant breasts, the last of many

scars!

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But some were young, and suddenly beheld Life's morn decline,And one had come from Bingen-fair Bingen on the Rhine.

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BINGEN ON THE RHINE.

"Tell my mother that her other sons shall comfort her old age, For I was still a truant bird, that thought his home a cage; For my father was a soldier, and, even when a child,

My heart leaped forth to hear him tell of struggles fierce and wild;

And when he died, and left us to divide his scanty hoard,

I let them take whate'er they would, but kept my father's sword! And with boyish love I hung it where the bright light used to shine

On the cottage-wall at Bingen-calm Bingen on the Rhine!

"Tell my sisters not to weep for me, and sob with drooping head, When the troops come marching home again, with glad and gallant tread;

But to look upon them proudly, with a calm and steadfast eye,
For their brother was a soldier, too, and not afraid to die!
And if a comrade seek her love, I ask her in my name

To listen to him kindly, without regret and shame;

And to hang the old sword in its place-(my father's sword and mine),

For the honor of old Bingen-dear Bingen on the Rhine!

"There's another, not a sister,-in happy days gone by You'd have known her by the merriment that sparkled in her eye; Too innocent for coquetry, too fond for idle scorning,-

O! friend, I fear the lightest heart makes sometimes heaviest mourning!

Tell her the last night of my life--(for, ere the moon be risen
My body will be out of pain, my soul be out of prison),-

I dreamed I stood with her, and saw the yellow sunlight shine
On the vine-clad hills of Bingen--fair Bingen on the Rhine!

"I saw the blue Rhine sweep along,-I heard, or seemed to hear,
The German songs we used to sing, in chorus sweet and clear;
And down the pleasant river, and up the slanting hill,
The echoing chorus sounded, through the evening, calm and still;
And her glad blue eyes were on me, as we passed, with friendly

talk,

Down many a path beloved of yore, and well-remembered walk;

12

THE DRUNKARD'S DAUGHTER.

And her little hand lay lightly, confidingly, in mine,-

345

But we'll meet no more at Bingen-loved Bingen on the Rhine!"

His trembling voice grew faint and hoarse, his gasp was childish weak

His eyes put on a dying look,--he sighed, and ceased to speak; His comrade bent to lift him, but the spark of life had fled-The soldier of the Legion in a foreign land was dead!

And the soft moon rose up slowly, and calmly she looked down On the red sand of the battle-field, with bloody corses strewn ! Yes, calmly on that dreadful scene her pale light seemed to shine, As it shone on distant Bingen-fair Bingen on the Rhine.

THE DRUNKARD'S DAUGHTER.

O, feel what I have felt-

Go

Go, bear what I have borne-
Sink 'neath the blow a father dealt,

And the cold world's proud scorn:
Then suffer on from year to year-
Thy sole relief the scorching tear.

Go, kneel as I have knelt,

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Implore, beseech, and pray -
Strive the besotted heart to melt,

The downward course to stay-
Be dashed with bitter curse aside,
Your prayers burlesqued, your tears defied.

Go, weep as I have wept

O'er a loved father's fall

See every promised blessing swept—
Youth's sweetness turned to gall—
Life's fading flowers strewed all the way
That brought me up to woman's day.

Go, see what I have seen

Behold the strong man bow,

With gnashing teeth, lips bathed in blood,

And cold and livid brow

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