"From village to village he passed with cheer;
And the people followed; but when drew near
The stride of the moose, they fled in fear.
"Like smoke in a wind they fled at the last
But he in a pass of the hills stood fast,
And down at his feet his bow he cast.
"That terrible forehead, maned with flame,
He smote with his open hand,—and tame
As a dog the raging beast became.
"He smote with his open hand; and lo!
As shrinks in the rains of spring the snow,
So shrank the monster beneath that blow,
"Till scarce the bulk of a bull he stood.
And Clote Scarp led him down to the wood,
And gave him the tender shoots for food."
He ceased; and a voice said, "Understand
How huge a peril will shrink like sand,
When stayed by a prompt and steady hand!"
A SONG OF REGRET.
In the southward sky
The late swallows fly,
The low red willows
In the river quiver;
From the beeches nigh
Russet leaves sail by,
The tawny billows
In the chill wind shiver;
The beech-burrs burst,
And the nuts down-patter;
The red squirrels chatter
O'er the wealth disperst.
Yon carmine glare
Would the west outdare;—
'Tis the Fall attire
Of the maples flaming.
In the keen late air
Is an impulse rare,
A sting like fire,
A desire past naming.
But the crisp mists rise
And my heart falls a-sighing,—
Sighing, sighing
That the sweet time dies!