W FALL OF TECUMSEH. Above, near the path of the pilgrim, he sleeps, With a rudely-built tumulous o'er him; HAT heavy-hoofed coursers the wilderness And the bright-blossomed Thames, in its majesty, roam, To the war-blast indignantly tramping? Their mouths are all white, as if frosted with foam, The steel-bit impatiently champing. 'Tis the hand of the mighty that grasps the rein, Ah! see them rush forward, with wild disdain, From the mountains had echoed the charge of death, The savage was heard, with untrembling breath, One moment, and nought but the bugle was heard, The next, and the sky seemed convulsively stirred, The din of the steed, and the sabred stroke, In the mist that hung over the field of blood, That steed reeled, and fell, in the van cf the fight, The moment was fearful; a mightier foe Had ne'er swung a battle-axe o'er him ; O ne'er may the nations again be cursed He fought, in defence of his kindred and king, The lightning of intellect flashed from his eye, sweeps By the mound where his followers bore him. 12 THE ENGINEER'S STORY. O, children, my trips are over, A tugging pain i' my breast; We were lumbering along in the twilight, Till we reached the upland's crest. I held my watch to the lamplight- Of the up-grade's heavy climb; That stretched a level track, So I touched the gauge of the boiler, Over the rails a-gleaming, The engine leaped like a demon, But to me-ahold of the lever— My lightest touch to obey. I was proud, you know, of my engine, Where a child of three or four, My hand was firm on the throttle As we swept around the curve, I sounded the brakes, and crashing One instant-one, awful and only, With mad irresistible roll, While the cries of the dying, the night wind Swept into my shuddering soul. Then I stood on the front of the engine- Where the cow-catcher slopes to the rail, And one held out in the night, While my eve gauged the distance, and measured The speed of our slackening flight. My mind, thank the Lord! it was steady; I saw the curls of her hair, I know little more-but I heard it- One rod! To the day of my dying I shall think the old engine reared back, They found us, they said, on the gravel, We men that run on the road - But that night, they said, there were faces, For years in the eve and the morning 66 When little Hal, the captain's son, A lad both brave and good, A shudder shot through every vein- No hold had he above, below; To that far height none dared to go— We gazed, but not a man could speak, In groups, with pallid brow and cheek, As riveted unto the spot, Stood officers and crew. The father came on deck :-he gasped, 'Oh, God; thy will be done!" Then suddenly a rifle grasped, And aimed it at his son. "Jump, far out, boy, into the wave! Jump, or I fire," he said; "That only chance your life can save ; Jump, jump, boy!" He obeyed. He sunk-he rose-he lived--he moved- On board we hailed the lad beloved, His father drew, in silent joy, Those wet arms round his neck, And folded to his heart his boyThen fainted on the deck. "Claimed as a slave, a free-born maid is dragged here from her home. On fair Virginia, Claudius has cast his eye of blight; The tyrant's creature, Marcus, asserts an owner's right, Oh, shame on Roman manhood! Was ever plot more clear? But look! the maiden's father comes! Behold Vir ginius here!" THE MAIN TRUCK, OR A LEAP FOR LIFE. Straightway Virginius led the maid a little space aside, LD Ironsides at anchor lay, In the harbor of Mahon; A dead calm rested on the bay- To where the reeking shambles stood, piled up with horn and hide. Hard by, a butcher on a block had laid his whittle down Virginius caught the whittle up, and hid it in his gown. |