Anti-slavery bugle. [volume] (New-Lisbon, Ohio) 1845-1861, 1855-01-13
Miscellaneous
IFfom thn NauonRI Ern.
MAUD MULLER.

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White from its hilLslope looking down.
The sweet song died, and a vague unrest
Aud a namclcss longing filled her breast
A wish, that she hardly dared to own,
For something better than she had known.
The Judge rode slowly down the lane,
Smoothing his horses chestnut maue.
lie drew his bride in the shade
Of the applc-trees, to greet the maid,
And ask a draught from the spring that nowt
Through the meadow, across the road.
She stopped where the cool spring dubbed up,
And filed for him her small tin cup.
And blushed as she gave it, looking down
On her feet so bare and her tattered gown.
Thanks - said the Judge, " sweetcr draugl
From a flirer hand was never quafed."
lie spoke of the grass and flowers and trees,
OF the singing birds and the humming Lees
Then talked of the haying, and wondered whetht
The cloud in the west would bring foul weathe
And Maud forgot her Lrier-torn gown,
And her graceful ANGLES bare and brown
Aud listened, while a pleased surprise
Looked from her long-lashed hazel eyes.
At last, like one who for delay
Seeks a vain excuse, he rode away.
Maud Muller looked and sighed "Ah, me!
That | the Judges bride might be!
'IIe would dress me up in silks so fine,
And praise and toast me at his wine.
"My father should wear a broadcloth coat;
My brother should sail a painted boat.
"Id dress my mother so grand and gay,
And the baby should have a new toy each day.
"And Id feed the hungry and clothe the poor,
And all should bless me who left our door,"
The Judge looked back as he climbed the hill,
And saw Maud Muller standing still.
"a form more fair, a face more sweet,
Meier hath it been my lot to meet.
And her modest answer and graceful air
Show her wise and good as she is fair.
"Would she were mine, and l to-day,
Like her, a harvester of hay:
mo doubtful balance of rights and wrongs,
Nor weary lawers with endless tongues,
But low of cattle and song of birds,
And health and quiet and loving words"
But he thought of his sisters proud and cold,
And his mother vain of her rank and gold.
So, closing his heart, the Judge rode on,
And Maud was left in the fed alone.
But the lawyers smiled that afternoon,
When he hummed in court an old love tune;
And the young girl unused beside the well,
Fill the rain on the unraked clover fell.
lie welded a wife of richest dover,
Who lived for fashion, as he for power.
Yet oft, in his marble hearth's bright glow,
lie watched a picture come and 60:
And sweet Maud Muller's hazel eyes
Looked out in their innocent surprise.
Oft, when the wine in his glass was red,
lie longed for the wayside we'll instead;
And closed his eyes on his garnished rooms,
To dream of meadows and clover blooms.
And the proud man sighed, with a secret pa
"Ah, that | were free again
Free as when ! rode that day,
Where the barefoot maiden raked her hay"
She welded a man unlearned and poor,
And many children played round her door.
But care and sorrow, and childbirth pain,
Left their traces on heart and brain.
And oft, when the summer sun shone hot
On the new-mown hay in the meadow lot,
And she heard the little spring brook fall
Over the roadside, through the wall,
In the shade of the apple-tree again
She saw a rider draw his reir.
And, gazing Town with a timid grace,
She felt his pleased eyes read her face.
3 Sometimes her narrow kitchen walls
Stretched away into stately halls,
The weary wheel to a spinnet turned,
The tallow candle an astral burned.
And for him who sat by the chimneylug,
Doing and grumbling DER pipe and mug,
A manly form at her side she saw,
And JOY was duty and love was law.
Then she took up her burden of life again,
Saying only, 1T might have BEEN"
Alas for maiden, alas for Judge,
For rich repiner and household drudge!
God pity them both and pity us all,
Who yainly the dreams of youth recall.
For Of all sad words of tongue or pen,
The sad9est are these: at might have been
All, we'll for us all, some sweet hope lies
- Deeply buried from human eyes;
i, And, in the hereafter, angels may
Roll the stone from its grave away /!
j. G. '
VICTOR HUGO ON THE EASTERN W