Some of them laughed and others jeered,--but
He seemed amazed, like a man gone dazed, the
And for many a week, in spite of their cheek,
And after that day he changed his play, and kept
And whenever an Injin came that way, his con-
But whenever he heard the lying word, 'It's a
'_A Snake is a Snake, make no mistake! but an Injin's
In a land of a strange, outlandish tongue
With the shaven head and the painted face,
But all of the woods to the right and the left
He turned; he felt his heart's blood run;
"You should have kept him here, Nourrice,
We built the tower both thick and broad--
St Maur, you'll build your christened child
There's one that's neither stark nor wan,
"There's a bonny game to play, little man,
"You'll stand so still and stark, my lad;
"You'll stand so still and stark, my lad;
And I'll throw you the forester's whistle
"You'll stand so still and stark, my lad,
And I'll throw you in your father's sword,
At the least word o' your father's mouth,
And the child laughs with a frighted laugh,
St Maur stares out of his bloodshot eyes,
The tower stands fast, and the stones rise high
"Have you finished your devil's work, mason,
There's scarce a sound in the wall by now
There's never a flood shall rock this tower,
She'll weep a year for her youngest child,
"You'll say he fell in the flood, St Maur,
For you've lost the bonniest thing you had,
"Your wife will mourn him a year, St Maur,
For you've lost the bonniest thing you had,
Then clenched her teeth, and read right on.
The branches snatched her streaming cloak;
The blood-stained flame that filled the dome,
She entered heaven; she climbed the stair;
|The wind was waked by the morning light,
And the cry was plain in Bronwen's bower,
Pale, pale sleeps Bronwen, pale she wakes;
And still the wind had her true-love's cry,
She crossed the hill to the fishing-boats,
And he cried all day till his lips grew white,
|That night, when through the mooring-chains
They told their tales of wreck and wrong,
They backed their toughest statements with
Since Life is strife, and strife means knife,
"God save the lad! Whence comes the licht
An' Jock he sniggered, an' Jock he smiled,
"There's a thrid o' hair on your dress-coat
"Oh! lang-haired Sky es are lovin' beasts,
"There's a smirch o' pouther on your breast,