The Kenosha telegraph. [volume] (Kenosha, Wis.) 1860-1888, 1872-12-12

The shower of hery arrows round?
A louder crash mighty oak
Is smtten from that stormy sky.
The stem is shattered by the stroke;
Around it's roots and branches lie.
fresh breathes tho wind; the STERN is DER,
The piles of mist are swept away,
And from the opening sky once more
Streams gioriously the golden day.
A dusky hunter of the wild
Is passing neSr, and stops to see
The wreck of Spintered branches piled
bout the rootof that huge tree.
10, quantity shaped and fairly strung,
Wrought by what hand he cannet know,
On that drenched pile OF boughs among
The splinters lies polished bow.
he lifts it up; the drops that hang
On it's smooth surface slide away.
he tries the string; no sharper twang
Was ever heard in battle day.
Homeward Onethe bears the prize.
Who meets him as he turns TO gos
AR aged chief with keen quick eyes,
And bending frame and locks of snow.
''See what bring, my father, see
This goodly bow which have found
BeReStha thuRder-riVen tree, s.a....- -.
Dropped with the lightning to the ground"
.
"Beware, my son, it is not well, ;"
, The whttc-hared chiettain makes reply,
"That we who in tho forest dwell
Should WELD the weapons of the sky.
"Lay back that weapon in Its place,
Let those who bore it bear it still,
Lest thou dispease the ghostly race
That float in mist from hill to hill"
''Ny father. will only try E#I- l.
How well C sends shaft, aud then
This goodly bow shall surely lie
- Among the splintcrcd boughs again"
So to the huntlng-ground he HES, Gao
To chase till eve the forest game,
And not single arrow dies
From that good bow with erring aim.
And then he deems that they who swim
In trains of mist the middle air,
PerChance hAys kindly thoughts of him,
And dropped the bow for him to bear.
he bears 1t from that day, and soon
Becomes the mark of every eye,
And wins recoWn with every moon
That nils Its circle in the sky.
None strike so surely in the chase;
None bring such trophies from the fight,
And at the cOuncil-fre his place
Is with the wise and men of might.
And far across the land is spread
Am0ng the hunter-tribes his fame,
Men name the bowyer-chief with dread,
Whose arrows never miss their aim.
See next his broad rooted caotn rise
On q smooth rivers pleasant side;
And abe who has the brightest eyes
OF sll the tribe becomes his bride.
A year Las passed; the forest sleeps
In early autumn's sultry glow;
Cnetho, on the mountain sleeps,
Is hunting with that trusty bow.
But they who by the river dwell,
See the dim vapors thickening DER
Long mountain ridge aud severing dell,
And hear the thunder's sullen roar.
Still darker grows the gathering cloud,
From which the booming thunders sound,
And stoops and hangs q shadowy shroud
Above Onetho's hunting ground.
There they who, from the river-vals.
Are gazing on the distant storm,
See, In the mists that ride the gale,
Dim shadows OF th human form.
Tall warriors, plumed, with streaming hair,
And lifted arms that bear the bow,
And send athWart the murky air
The GrrowY lightnings to and fro.
Loud is the tumult Of an hour
Crash of torn boughs and howl of blast,
And thunder peal and peltinG shower,
And then the storm Ia oVerpAst. ...
Wkereis OnSthoe What delays
His coming? Why should he remain
Among the plaShy woodland ways,
SwolPn brooks, and boughs that drip Will
lain?
lie comes not; and the younger men
Go forth to search the forest round;
fVan i'm fOu mn afafv nrrIa
And find him lifeless on the grouAd.
The Goodly bow that was his pride
Is gone, but thore the arrows lie;
And now they know tho death he died,
Slain by the lightnings OF the sky.
They bear him thence, I'm awe and fear,
.@Back to the vale with stealthy tread.
There silently from far aud near,
The warriors gather round the dead.
But In their homes the women bide.
And sit unseen and weep apart;
And, Ia Der bower, Onetho'S wife,
10 sobbing with broken heart.
They lay ia earth their bowysr.chicG
And at his side their hands bsstew
Hia dreaded bRttle-ax and Rheaf
OF arrows, but without a bow.
''Too so on he died 1t 10 not WE'LL"
The cid men whispered standing nigh.
"That we who in the forest dwell
Should WELD the weapons OF the sky" 4.
a CLERICAL THAEAF.--At the close or sermon
~ casual clerical visitor, lately preached within
hundred miles OF the Clyde, the rev. preacher
gkAted that pantlaman would stand At thu dooI