"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 answer'd not; for now he saw
A Swan come sailing strong,
And by a silver chain he drew
A little boat along.

To shore they came, and to the boat
Fast leapt he with the child,

And in leapt 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 through 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! 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 stept on shore,
And him behind did Margaret
Close follow evermore.

It was a place all desolate,

Nor house nor tree was there; But there a rocky mountain rose, Barren, and bleak, and bare.

And at its base a cavern yawn'd,
No eye its depth might 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.

The mother holds her precious babe ; But the black arms clasp'd him round, And dragg'd the wretched Rudiger Adown the dark profound.

Bristol, 1796.

JASPAR.

JASPAR was poor, and vice and want
Had made his heart like stone;
And Jaspar look'd with envious eyes
On riches not his own.

On plunder bent abroad he went
Toward the close of day,
And loiter'd on the lonely road
Impatient for his prey.

And often look'd around,

And paused and listen'd eagerly
To catch some coming sound.

He sate him down beside the stream
That crost the lonely way,

So fair a scene might well have charm'd
All evil thoughts away:

He sate beneath a willow tree

Which cast a trembling shade;

The gentle river full in front

A little island made;