In Californian* mountains

A hunter bold was he :

*

Keen his eye and sure his aim

As any you should see.

A little Indian * boy

*

Follow'd him everywhere,
Eager to share the hunter's joy,
The hunter's meal to share.

And when the bird or deer
Fell by the hunter's skill,*
The boy was always near

To help with right good-will.
One day as through the cleft *
Between two mountains steep,
Shut in both right and left,
Their questing* way they keep,
They see two grizzly bears,

With hunger fierce and fell,
Rush at them unawares *

Right down the narrow dell.

*

The boy turn'd round with screams,
And ran with terror wild;

One of the pair of savage beasts
Pursued the shrieking* child.

The hunter raised his gun,-
He knew one charge was all,-
And through the boy's pursuing* foe*
He sent his only ball.

The other on George Nidiver
Came on with dreadful pace :

The hunter stood unarm'd,

And met him face to face.

I say unarm'd he stood.

Against those frightful paws
The rifle butt* or club of wood
Could stand no more than straws.

George Nidiver stood still

And look'd him in the face;
The wild beast stopp'd amazed,*
Then came with slackening * pace.

*

California, a moun. tainous country of North America, on the Pacific coast. Keen, sharp or quick. Aim, to point or level a gun at some particular object.

Indian, name given to the ancient inhabitants of America. Eager, earnest desire.

Skill, cleverness.

Cleft, a narrow rocky passage between mountains or hills.

Questing, searching, looking for.

Unawares, suddenly,
not expecting it.
Dell, a low place be-
tween two hills, as
it were, separating
them.

Shrieking, screaming, crying out very loudly.

Pursuing, running after.

Foe, the person or thing one is fighting with, an enemy.

Rifle butt, the wooden stock of a gun.

Amazed, astonished, surprised.

Slackening, becoming slower and slower.

JEPHTHA'S DAUGHTER.*—Byron.

LORD BYRON (1788-1824) was born in London, and died at Missolonghi in Greece, whither he had gone to aid in the struggle for Grecian independence. He was one of the greatest English poets, but it is greatly to be regretted that he degraded his genius in his last poem. Chief poems: English Bards and Scotch Reviewers; Childe Harold, one of the greatest poems of the century; The Prisoner of Chillon; Manfred; and Don Juan.

Sire, father.

Vow, a solemn promise.

Mourning, sorrowing for the dead.

Ere, before.

Soothes, comforts.

*

SINCE Our country, our God-O my sire! *
Demand that thy daughter expire;
Since thy triumph was bought by thy vow,*
Strike the bosom that's bared for thee now!

And the voice of my mourning* is o'er,
And the mountains behold me no more :
If the hand that I love lay me low,
There cannot be pain in the blow:

And of this, O my father! be sure-
That the blood of thy child is as pure
As the blessing I beg ere* it flow,

And the last thought that soothes * me below.

5

ΙΟ

Jephtha, one of the judges of Israel. Before going to battle with the Ammonites he swore that on his return, if he gained the victory, he would offer in sacrifice the first thing he met coming out of his house-it happened to be his own daughter.

Though the virgins of Salem * lament, Be the judge and the hero unbent! 15 I have won the great battle for thee,

And my father and country are free!

When this blood of thy giving hath gush'd,*
When the voice that thou lovest is hush'd,
Let my memory * still be thy pride,

20 And forget not I smiled as I died!

"HE NEVER SMILED AGAIN."—Mrs. Hemans.

FELICIA DOROTHEA HEMANS (1793-1835), a distinguished English poetess, was born at Liverpool, but spent her early life in Wales. Her best poem is the Forest Sanctuary, but her minor pieces are most popular, such as The Graves of a Household, The Voice of Spring, &c. She died at Dublin.

THE bark* that held a prince went down,
The sweeping waves rolled on;
And what was England's glorious crown
To him that wept a son ?*

5 He lived, for life may long be borne
Ere sorrow break its chain ; *

Bark, also spelt barque, meaning small ship.

a

Son, Prince William, son of Henry I., drowned in 1120, on his return from Normandy, a province in France.

Break its chain, before death, comes and ends one's grief and sufferings.

Proud forms, persons of high birth or title.

Reckless, not caring for consequences. Festal, in the midst of mirth and joy, as at a feast.

Minstrel, a man who sang verses, accompanying himself on the harp.

Tourney's, tournament, a mock fight, in which knights fought to show their skill in arms. Knightly ring, a company of knights. Knighthood was the highest distinction for those who followed; the profession of arms. Blent, mingled or mixed.

Strain, sound, song,

Graves which true love had bathed with tears
Were left to Heaven's bright rain ;

Fresh hopes were born for other years:

He, Henry I., who died in 1135.

*

He never smiled again!

THE FIRE OF DRIFT-WOOD.
Longfellow.

WE sat within the farm-house old,
Whose windows, looking o'er the bay,
Gave to the sea-breeze, damp and cold,
An easy entrance, night and day.

Port, a harbour, a Not far away we saw the port,
place of safety for
vessels.
Dismantled fort,
place of defence in
former times, now no
longer used, so there-

The strange, old-fashioned, silent town,-
The lighthouse,-the dismantled fort,*-

a

The wooden houses, quaint * and brown.

fore stripped of its We sat and talked until the night,

cannon, &c.

Quaint, odd.

Gloom, partial dark

ness.

Secret, unknown, hidden.

Descending, filled the little room;
Our faces faded from the sight,

Our voices only broke the gloom.*

We spake of many a vanished scene,

Of what we once had thought and said,
Of what had been, and might have been,
And who was changed, and who was dead;

And all that fills the hearts of friends,

When first they feel, with secret* pain,
Their lives thenceforth have separate ends,
And never can be one again.

The first slight swerving of the heart,
That words are powerless to express,

And leave it still unsaid in part,

Or say it in too great excess.

Tones, the sounds of The very tones* in which we spake

our voices.

Had something strange, I could but mark
The leaves of memory seemed to make
A mournful rustling in the dark.

30

5

10

15

20

25

;

30

35

40

45

Oft died the words upon our lips,

As suddenly from out the fire
Built of the wreck of stranded * ships,

The flames would leap and then expire.

And, as their splendour* flashed and failed,
We thought of wrecks upon the main,-
Of ships dismasted,* that were hailed *
And sent no answer back again.

The windows, rattling in their frames,-
The ocean, roaring up the beach,*

*

The gusty blast,-the bickering * flames,—
All mingled vaguely * in our speech.

Until they made themselves a part

Of fancies floating through the brain,—
The long-lost ventures of the heart,
That send no answers back again.

O flames that glowed!* O hearts that yearned ! *
They were indeed too much akin,*

The drift-wood fire without that burned,

Strand, to run ashore, to be wrecked.

Splendour, bright

ness.

Dismasted, ships whose masts had been torn away by the storm.

Hail, to call to at a distance.

Beach, the shore of the sea.

Gusty, stormy, tempestuous.

Bickering, to burn with an unsteady light.

Vaguely, without certainty, not sure.

Glow, to shine with
intense heat.

Yearn, to feel an
earnest desire.
Akin, to resemble

The thoughts that burned and glowed within, closely, relationship.

THE HOMES OF ENGLAND.-Mrs. Hemans.

O'er all the pleasant land!

5 The deer across their greensward bound

ΙΟ

Through shade and sunny gleam,

And the swan glides* past them with the sound
Of some rejoicing stream.

The merry Homes of England!
Around their hearths* by night,

What gladsome looks of household love
Meet in the ruddy light! *

There woman's voice flows forth in song,

Or childhood's tale is told;

15 Or lips move tunefully along

Some glorious page of old.*