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66

Oh, turn thee-turn thee, Rudiger,

Why onward wilt thou roam?

"The moon is up, the night is cold,

"And we are far from home."

He answered not, for now he saw
A swan come sailing strong,
And by a silver chain she drew
A little boat along.

To shore they came, and to the boat

Fast leap'd he with the child;

And in leap'd Margaret-breathless now,

And pale with fear, and wild.

With arching crest and swelling breast

On sail'd the stately swan,

And lightly down the rapid tide

The little boat went on.

The full-orb'd moon, that beam'd around
Pale splendour thro' the night,
Cast through the crimson canopy
A dim discolour'd light:

And swiftly down the hurrying stream
In silence still they sail,

And the long streamer, fluttering fast,

Flapp'd to the heavy gale.

And he was mute in sullen thought,
And she was mute with fear,
Nor sound but of the parting tide
Broke on the listening ear.

The little babe began to cry,

Then Margaret raised her head,

And with a quick and hollow voice,
-"Give me the child," she said.

"Now, hush thee-hush thee, Margaret!

"Nor my poor heart distress;

"I do but pay, perforce, the price

"Of former happiness.

"And hush thee too, my little babe!

66

Thy cries so feeble, cease:

"Lie still, lie still a little while,

:

“And thou shalt be at peace!".

So as he spake to land they drew,
And swift he stepp'd on shore;
And him behind did Margaret
Close follow evermore.

It was a place all desolate,

Nor house nor tree was there,

And there a rocky mountain rose,
Barren, and bleak, and bare.

And at its base a cavern yawn'd,

No eye

its depth may view,

For in the moon-beam shining round,

That darkness darker grew.

Cold Horror crept through Margaret's blood,

Her heart it paused with fear, When Rudiger approach'd the cave,

And cried," Lo, I am here!"

A deep sepulchral sound the cave
Return'd-Lo, I am here!"-
And black from out the cavern gloom

Two giant arms appear.

And Rudiger approach'd, and held

The little infant nigh;

Then Margaret shriek'd, and gather'd then

New powers from agony.

And round the baby fast and close

Her trembling arms she folds,

And with a strong convulsive grasp

The little infant holds,

-"Now, help me, Jesus!"-loud she cries,

And loud on God she calls;

Then from the grasp of Rudiger
The little infant falls :

And loud he shriek'd, for now his frame
The huge black arms clasp'd round,
And dragg'd the wretched Rudiger
Adown the dark profound.

No. XXXI.

THE ELFIN-KING:

J. LEYDEN.

"O SWIFT, and swifter far he speeds
"Than earthly steed can run;

"But I hear not the feet of his courser fleet,
"As he glides o'er the moorland dun."-

Lone was the strath where he crossed their path, And wide did the heath extend,

The Knight in Green on that moor is seen

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And swift is the speed of his coal-black steed,

As the leaf before the gale,

But never yet have that courser's feet

Been heard on hill or dale.

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