Each gentle eve, at our own hour of tryst,
To hold my vigils o’er thy pilgrimage,
And with my spirit’s-pinion I will fan
Thy aching brow, and by a holy spell,
That I may learn in Heaven, will charm away
All evil thoughts and passions from thy breast,
And calm the raging tumult of thy soul.
THE LOST DEED.
A LEGEND OF OLD SALEM.