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

Where pleasantly the moon-beam shone

Upon the poplar trees,

Whose shadow on the stream below
Play'd slowly to the breeze.

He listen'd and he heard the wind
That waved the willow tree;
He heard the waters flow along,
And murmur quietly.

He listen'd for the traveller's tread,
The nightingale sung sweet; ..
He started up, for now he heard
The sound of coming feet;

He started up and graspt a stake,
And waited for his prey;
There came a lonely traveller,
And Jaspar crost his way.

But Jaspar's threats and curses fail'd
The traveller to appal,

He would not lightly yield the

Which held his little all.

purse

Awhile he struggled, but he strove

With Jaspar's strength in vain ; Beneath his blows he fell and groan'd, And never spake again.

Jaspar raised up the murder'd man,
And plunged him in the flood,
And in the running water then

He cleansed his hands from blood.

The waters closed around the corpse, And cleansed his hands from gore, The willow waved, the stream flow'd on, And murmured as before.

There was no human eye

had seen

The blood the murderer spilt, And Jaspar's conscience never felt The avenging goad of guilt.

And soon the ruffian had consumed
The gold he gain'd so ill,
And years of secret guilt pass'd on,
And he was needy still.

One eve beside the alehouse fire

He sate as it befell,

When in there came a labouring man
Whom Jaspar knew full well.

He sate him down by Jaspar's side,
A melancholy man,

For spite of honest toil, the world
Went hard with Jonathan.

His toil a little earn'd, and he
With little was content;

But sickness on his wife had fallen,
And all was well-nigh spent.

Long with his wife and little ones
He shared the scanty meal,

And saw their looks of wretchedness,
And felt what wretches feel.

Their Landlord, a hard man, that day,
Had seized the little left,

And now the sufferer found himself
Of every thing bereft.

He leant his head upon his hand,

His elbow on his knee,

And so by Jaspar's side he sate,

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And not a word said he.

Nay,.. why so downcast?" Jaspar cried, "Come .. cheer up, Jonathan !

Drink, neighbour, drink! 't will warm thy heart.. Come! come! take courage, man!”

He took the cup that Jaspar gave,
And down he drain'd it quick;

"I have a wife," said Jonathan,
"And she is deadly sick.

"She has no bed to lie upon,
I saw them take her bed...

And I have children . . would to God
That they and I were dead!

"Our Landlord he goes home to-night, And he will sleep in peace

...

I would that I were in my grave,
For there all troubles cease.

"In vain I pray'd him to forbear, Though wealth enough has he!

God be to him as merciless

As he has been to me!"

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When Jaspar saw the poor man's soul On all his ills intent,

He plied him with the heartening cup, And with him forth he went.

"This Landlord on his homeward road 'T were easy now to meet.

The road is lonesome, Jonathan ! . .
And vengeance, man! is sweet."

He listen'd to the tempter's voice,
The thought it made him start; . .
His head was hot, and wretchedness
Had harden'd now his heart.