Lamoille newsdealer. [volume] (Hyde Park, Vt.) 1860-1877, 1874-11-25
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THE BALLAD or BReAKNECK.

A'e"' u"9hJ Hditch Win uusilnS CheehS
In his broad brown palm he holds htr hand,
And eager and low are the words they spea
"Weep not, Nekdni; sh Ill return;
Wait for me here Oh the mount,in-side;
When the woods in their autumn glory burn,
l shall come ag lin TO cl lin my bride"
A,wly the Indian lifts her head;
Dry is her check anil clear her eye.
"Nekaiua will wit AS thou h .st said:
The son of the p.lc-face can not lie.
Seeking Thy sails ol the stream below,
Under the shade Of the tall pine-tree,
When the beeches are gol and the sunlachs GLOW
From the mountaiu-top shall watch for thee
The sailors are calling; the broad sails hlp;
From his neck Dirck loosens his great gol
chain,
filings the cleaning links in Nekama's lLp,
Theu springs to the shallop's stern again.
The stout ash bends to the iowers' will
Till the small boat reaches the vessels side,
When he turns to Nekama, waiting still.
Sad, but calm in her savage pride.
Sails the ship under high Gre Nest
Wearing aud tacking in Martyrs Reach,
While Dirck looks back with man s unrest,
And Nekamo fingers upon the beach.
Fade the sails to vague white speck;
Icons the mountains hazy and tall;
Dirck watches still from the vessels deck,
Aud the girl moves not, though the hight
dews fall.
A year has passed, and upon the hills
Scarlet AMI russet ha,e faded to brown;
No sound is heard bur the flowing rills;
The summers voices are husheI aud gone
A late sad crow on bare beech top
Caws and swings in au autumn wind;
The dead leaves fall, and the acorn drop
Breaks the stiffness m s;lres the HAD.
Wrapped in her blanket Nekaum stands.
Scans the horizon with eager eye.
Late he fingers. She clasps her hands,
And II sadness diuls her vide dark eye.
Il il a mist DER the distant shurey
Look how the maiden dusky face
CLOVIS and brighlehs! a mo,nent more.
And the white spcck chinses, and grows ap.c.
''l,e c5mrs! he comes!" From the wigw4m nea
Gather the braves and sqniss again;
I he men are deckcd ' i;h arrow and spear.
Aud the women Of wampulu and fathers ,ail
flcckcd is the ri, er with light canoes,
Laden with gifts for the welcome guest;
The spells Of the chase let him tre;l., choose;
Close to the snip are the frail barks pressed
Brown and still as bronze relief,
Shyly Nlkama keeps her place
Behind her father. ghe Mohawk chief,
Who, plume' and tall, with painted face.
Grisring II spear in his nervous Ii nd,
Looking in vain oiie face to see,
Turns and utters his proud deipaul:
''Dicl. Brandsnen comes not: where hinge.
hep'
"Dirck stays in Holland" the sailors say;
ale has welded Il dame Of wealth ,nd state
lie sails no more for many day
God seul us all like happy fate ~
Dark Crews the brow of the angcreh sire:
Can the white u,an lie like u Hur N knivey
The eyes Of the maiden burn like fire.
But hcr lnien is steady her words are brave
From her bosom she drags the great gold chain
Dashed at the captain = feet il lies:
.'1ake back to lht traitor his gift again;
Nekam.t has learned how II pale-face lies
Proudly she steps to her light canoe;
bends her paddle at every stroke;
The graceful bark Ger the waters flew,
Nor wist they woman's heart had broke.
Up the mountain Nekamt hies;
Stands in the pine-tiee's shade again:
Scans the scene with her wide wild eyes;
Means like CT eature in mortal pain.
The dark clouds crowd round the mountain peak
Caws the CROW OH the bOugh O'crhead;
The great limbs bend, and the branches creak-
"Ah, why Dc lsel He is false!" she said
A shrek is heard through the gathering storm
A rushing figure darkens the air;
Out from the cliff springs slender form.
And the niaiden's grief lies buried there.
Towers the gray crsg grim aud high;
Drips the Il,.od from its rugged side;
Loud and shIill is the eagles call
Ger the mu,tering wash OF the angry tide!
But Storm King mods to old Gro Nest.
Where the pine-trers wave and the hoars
crows call,
Though the Mohawk sleeps meath that rock.
crest,
While the leayts on his ruined castles fall.
To-day On the Hudson smiling by.
Under the shadow Of Breakneck Hill.
We tell the legend; and heavc sigh.
Where Nekama' 8 memory fingers still
Miss NJ. G. PIKE, in Harper's Magazine 70
December.
--4 -s.s.s
"A landlord, having lct oil his house
hut one, was asked If that uulet hous
was his last. Yes, last. but not leased,