San Andreas independent., 1857-03-14
From the Alta California.
A Legend of the Mines.
BY EMILY P. LESDERNIER.


Of miners sift the golden sands
Digging and delving under the mould,
Peering deep for the yellow gold
Many were there with feverish dreams
OF dragging up from the countless streams
The lustrous spirit-which ever seems
Like false gods smile-with its subtle beams
Deep in the gulches, and under the mould,
Luring the searcher after the gold
On mountains brow in the waning light,
The traveller paused with well-pleased sight,
Prospecting the ground before the night
Should settle down with its shroudng might
And fall, like veil 'twixt the miners toll
And the face of his idol under the soil.
And the web of the sleeper's dream was strowed
With golden flowers in a golden road
With golden scythe he cut the gowd,
And bathed where the pure Pactolan flowed;
And then he washed from the yellow tide
Gold enough to send for his bride!
But here voice at his cabin door,
Drifted the happy dream to the Shore
And to real life he woke once more,
And sighed as he murmured Ger and DER,
Deep in the gulches, and under the mould,
must delve and search for the flashing gold
IHt tIitN clcT TOSc Ut Tile utWn OF uay,
And swept the bright curls from his brow away,
For he, too, as on the rock he lay,
Had vision of woman's enhancing sway;
But he woke to pursue wilful and strong,
The mania fierce of the miner throng.
Not in the surface claims he piled,
But sharply he drilled in the mountains side
And the sparkling quartz, with its shining pride,
Told a tale of the boundless wealth inside,
And delving and drilling with pick and bore,
He tunneled path to the bright-eyed ore.
Thus dimly he wrestled along the track,
And never his soul did fear or slack,
For home-thoughts and love-dreams no more
came back,
But his mind forever was on the rack,
To clutch and sever, and mass the gold,
Bedded so pure in its crystal fold!
Among the workers a whisper ran,
That fearfully pointed at the man;
For he grew to ignore the human clan,
And the human on him had fixed a ban,
For strangely when hovered the thick-winced
night,
There, underneath the pregnant hill,
Where the virgin gold was forming STILL
With his peerless treasure he tarried at WILL
And the clang of labor rang terse and shrill,
As delving and drilling with pick and bore,
He tunneled path to the bright-eyed ore
But the word went forth, that unhallowed rays
Lighting the cavern, meet his gaze,
Of thrilling whisperings through the maze,
And flickering CLEANS in the labyrinth ways,
And spirit-maid, with sunlight hair,
That beconed him on to her golden lair.
And he worshipping, listened the magic words,
For she promised him gold in uncounted hordes,
And he loved the maid, and he worshipped the
gold,
And he followed her steps with step as bold,
Till he felt the heart of the mountain beat
And he saw where the veins and arteries meet.
And he knew he had wounded living thing,
And he sought to flee from the mortal sting,
Which the yengeftl spirit hurled at his soul,
But never more to the human goal
Might he backward turn While ages ROLL
Sweet memories bells will echolcss toll.
Meath the heart of the mountain,
Where many fountain
And silvery river are dashing unseen
There where the waters are rushing and flushing,
The gold-seckcr sleeps in a Lcthean dream,
Unwaked by the glorics that over him CLEAN
And the golden veins forever are gushing,
Hidden deep in the precious sands,
That never are reached by the miners hands !;
But many thought,
On his brow is wrought,
As digging and delving under the mould,
He peers so deep for the yellow gold.