The tall, gray forest; and a band They sang, that by his native bowers A dark cloak of the roebuck's skin Covered the warrior, and within Its heavy folds the weapons, made For the hard toils of war, were laid; The cuirass woven of plaited reeds, Before, a dark-haired virgin train Stripped of his proud and martial dress, Uncurbed, unreined, and riderless, With darting eye, and nostril spread, And heavy and impatient tread, He came; and oft that eye so proud They buried the dark chief; they freed Beside the grave his battle steed; And swift an arrow cleaved its way MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. THE VILLAGE BLACKSMITH. UNDER a spreading chestnut-tree With large and sinewy hands; His hair is crisp, and black, and long, His face is like the tan ; His brow is wet with honest sweat, He earns whate'er he can, And looks the whole world in the face, For he owes not any man. Week in, week out, from morn till night, Like a sexton ringing the village-bell, And children coming home from school Look in at the open door ; They love to see the flaming forge, And hear the bellows roar, And catch the burning sparks that fly He goes on Sunday to the church, He hears the parson pray and preach, Singing in the village choir; And it makes his heart rejoice. It sounds to him like her mother's voice, Singing in Paradise! He needs must think of her once more, How in the grave she lies ; And with his hard, rough hand he wipes A tear out of his eyes. Toiling, rejoicing,-sorrowing, Something attempted, something done, Has earned a night's repose. 240 MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. Thanks, thanks to thee, my worthy friend, Thus on its sounding anvil shaped ENDYMION. THE rising Moon has hid the stars ; With shadows brown between. And silver white the river gleams, Had dropt her silver bow On such a tranquil night as this, |