Anti-slavery bugle. [volume] (New-Lisbon, Ohio) 1845-1861, 1855-02-03
TUE THIRD POOR TRAVELLER.

FROM our Dlue mountains OF the north,
My kinsman kept the lodge that stood
Guarding the entrance near the wood,
BY the stone gateway gray and old,
With quaint devices carved about,
And broken shields; while dragons bold
Glared on the common world without;
And the long trembling ivy spray
Half hid the centuries decay.
In solitude and silence grand
The castle lowered above the land
The castle of the Earl, whose name
Wrapped in old II body ledgonds) came
Down through the times when Truth and Right
Bent down to armed Pride and Might.
He owned the country far and near;
And, for some weeks in every year,
when the brown leaves wer, falling fast,
And the long, lingering autumn passed.
He would come down to hunt the deer,
With hound and horse in splendid pride.
The story lasts the ~live-long year,
The PEASANTS winter evening fills,
When he is gone and they abide
In the lone quiet Of their hills.
l longed too, for the happy night,
When all with torces naring bright
The ~crowding villagers would stand,
A patient, eager, waiting band,
Until the signal ran like flame,
"They GOMEZ" and, slackening speed, they came
Outriders first, in pomp and %state,s
Pranced on their horses thro' the gate:
Then the four steeds, all black as night,
All decked with trappings blue and white,
Drew thro' the crowd that opened wide,
The Earl and Countess side by side.
The stern grave Earl, with formal smile
And glistening eyes and stately pride,
Could ne'er my childish gaze beguile
From the fair presence by his side,
The lady's soft sad glance, her eyes
Like stars that shone in summer skies,)
Her pure white face. so calmly bent.
With gentle greetings round her sent;
Her look, that always seemed TO gaze
Where the blue past had closed again
Over some happy shipwrecked days,
With all their freight of love and pain.
She did not even seem to see
The little lord upon her knee,
And yet he was like angel fair,
With rosy cheeks and golden hair,
That fell on shoulders wife as slow.
But the blue eyes that shone below
His clustering rings of auburn curls,
Were not his mothers but tbs Earl's
feared the Earl, so cold and grim,
| never dared be seen by him,
When thro' our gate he used to ride,
My kinsman Walter babe me hide;
lie said he was so stern.
So, when the hunt cam past our way,
l always hasten'd to obey,
Until heard the bugles play
The notes of their return.
But she-my very heart.strings stir
Whenever l speak or think of her
The whole wide world could never see
A noble lady such as she,
So full of angel charity.
Strange things of her our ~neighbors told,
In the long winter evenings cold,
Around the fire. They would draw near
And speak, notwithstanding, as in fear;
AS if they thought the Earl would hear
Their treason 'gainst his name.
They thought the story that his pride
Had stopped to wed a low-born bride,
A stain upon his fame.
Some said twas false there could not be
Such blot on his nobility:
But others vowed that they had heard
The actual story word for word
From one who well my lady knew,
And had declared the story true.
In a far village, little known,
She dwelt-so ran the tale-alone.
A widowed bride, yet, oh so bright,
Shone through the mist Of grief, her charms
They said it was the loveliest sight,
She with her baby in her arms.
The Earl, one summer morning, rode
By the sea-shore where she abode;
Again he came-the vision sweet
Drew him reluctant to her feet.
Fierce must the struggle in his heart
Have been between his love and pride.
Until he chose that wondrous part,
TO ask her to become his bride.
Yet, ere his noble name she bore,
He made her vow that nevermore
She would behold her child again,
But hide his name and hers from men.
The trembling promise duly spoken,
All links of the low past vera broken,
And she arose to take her stand
Amid the mobiles of the land.
Then all would wonder-could it be
That one so lowly born as she,
Raised to such height of bliss, should seem
Still living in some weary dream?
IT'S true she bore with ealmest grace
The honors Of her lofty place,
Yet never smiled, in peace or JOY,
Not cen to greet her princely boy.
She heard, with face of white despair.
The cannon thunder through the air.
That she had given the Earl an heir.
Nay, even more 1.-THE" whispered low.
As if they scarce burst fancy SOL
That, through her lofty welded life,
No word, no tone, betrayed the wife.
Her look seemed ever in the rast;
Never to him it grew more sweet;
The self-same weary glance she cast
Upon the greyhound at her feet,
As upon him, who babe her claim