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Until the shadows of the grave had swept o'er every
Left midst the awfulness of death on the princely form and face.
And slowly broke the fearful truth upon the watcher's breast,
And they bore away the royal dead with requiems to his rest,
With banners and with knightly plumes all waving in the wind
But a woman's broken heart was left in its lone despair behind.
THE AMERICAN FOREST GIRL.
A fearful gift upon thy heart is laid,
WILDLY and mournfully the Indian drum
On the deep hush of moonlight forests broke;
Sing us a death-song, for thine hour is come,"
So the red warriors to their captive spoke. Still, and amidst those dusky forms alone,
A youth, a fair-hair'd youth of England stood, Like a king's son; tho' from his cheek had flown The mantling crimson of the island-blood, And his press'd lips look'd marble.—Fiercely bright, And high around him, blaz'd the fires of night,
Rocking beneath the cedars to and fro,
As the wind pass'd, and with a fitful glow
Lighting the victim's face :-But who could tell
Of what within his secret heart befel,
Known but to heaven that hour?--Perchance a thought Of his far home then so intensely wrought,
That its full image, pictured to his eye
On the dark ground of mortal agony,
The blessing from her voice, the very tone
Of her "Good-night" might breathe from boyhood
He started and look'd up :--thick cypress boughs
Full of strange sound, wav'd o'er him, darkly red In the broad stormy firelight ;-savage brows,
With tall plumes crested and wild hues o'erspread, Girt him like feverish phantoms; and pale stars Look'd thro' the branches as thro' dungeon bars, Shedding no hope.--He knew, he felt his doomOh! what a tale to shadow with its gloom
That happy hall in England!-Idle fear!
Would the winds tell it ?--Who might dream or hear The secret of the forests?-To the stake
They bound him; and that proud young soldier
His father's spirit in his breast to wake,
Trusting to die in silence! He, the love
Of many hearts!the fondly rear'd,—the fair,
He stood beside his death-pyre, and the brand
She had sat gazing on the victim long,
And, by its passion's deepening fervour sway'd,