That sometimes from the savage den,
And sometimes from the darksome shade,
And sometimes starting up at once
In green and sunny glade.

There came and looked him in the face,
An angel beautiful and bright,
And that he knew it was a fiend.
This miserable Knight.

And that unknowing what he did,
He leaped amid a murderous band,

And saved from outrage, worse than death,
The Lady of the Land.

And how she wept and clasped his knees,
And how she tended him in vain,

And ever strove to expiate,

The scorn that crazed his brain.

And that she nursed him in a cave,
And how his madness went away,
When on the yellow forest leaves
A dying man he lay.

His dying words-but when I reached
That tenderest strain of all the ditty,
My faltering voice and pausing harp
Disturbed her soul with pity.

All impulses of soul and sense

Had thrilled my guileless Genevieve,

The music and the doleful tale,

The rich and balmy eve.

And hopes, and fears that kindle hopes,
An undistinguishable throng,
And gentle wishes long subdued,
Subdued and cherished long.

She wept with pity and delight,

She blushed with love and virgin shame,

And like the echo of a dream,

I heard her breathe my name.

Her bosom heaved; she stept aside,
As conscious of my look she stepped;
Then suddenly with timorous eyes
She fled to me and wept.

She half enclosed me in her arms,
She pressed me with a meek embrace:
And bending up her head, looked up,
And gazed upon my face.

"Twas partly love, and partly fear,
And partly 'twas a bashful art
That I might rather see than feel
The swelling of he heart.

I calmed her fears, and she was calm,
And told her love with virgin pride:
And so I won my Genevieve
My bright and beauteous bride.

THE COURTIN'.

LOWELL.

[In reciting this capital sketch of Yankee Courtship, care should be taken not to overdo the humor-it is not a burlesque, but a bit of real life, and the slight nasal drawl and droll pronounciation of the words should be just sufficiently marked to give truthful local coloring to the pretty picture ]

GOD makes sech nights!—all white an' still
Fur'z you can look or listen-
Moonshine an' snow on field an' hill-
All silence and all glisten!

Zekle crep' up quite unbeknown,

An' peeked in thru' the winder;

An' there sot Huldy ail alone,
'Ith no one nigh to hender.

'A fireplace filled the room's one side,
With half a cord o' wood in,-

There warn't no stoves tell comfort died
To bake ye to a puddin'.

The wa'nut logs shot sparkles out
Towards the pootiest, bless her!

An' leetle flames danced all about
The chiny on the dresser.

Agin the chimbley crook-necks hung;
An' in amongst 'em rusted

The ole queen's-arm thet Gran'ther Young
Fetched back from Concord bursted.

The very room, coz she was in,
Seemed warm from floor to ceilin',
An' she looked full ez rosy agin
Ez the apples she was peelin'.

"Twas kin' o' kingdom-come to look
On sech a blessed cretur;
A dogrose blushin' to a brook
Ain't modester nor sweeter.

He was six foot o' man-A 1,—
Clean grit, an' human natur;
None couldn't quicker pitch a ton,
Nor dror a furrer straighter.

He'd sparked it with full twenty gals-
Hed squired 'em, danced 'em, druv 'em-
Fust this one, and then thet by spells:
All is, he couldn't love 'em.

But long o' her his veins 'ould run
All crinkly, like curled maple,
The side she breshed felt full o' sun
Ez a south slope in Ap'il.

She thought no vice hed sech a swing
Ez hisn in the choir.

My! when he made Old Hundred ring,
She knowed the Lord was nigher.

An' she'd blush scarlet, right in prayer,
When her new meetin'-bunnit
Felt somehow, thru its crown, a pair
O' blue eyes sot upon it.

Thet night, I tell ye, she looked some:
She seemed to 've gut a new soul;
For she felt sartin-sure he'd come,
Down to her very shoe-sole.

She heered a foot, an' knowed it tu,
A raspin' on the scraper,-
All ways to once her feelins flew,
Like sparks in burnt-up paper.

He kin' o' l'itered on the mat,
Some doubtfle o' the sekle;
His heart kep' goin' pity-pat,
But hern went pity Zekle.

An' yit she gin her cheer a jirk,
As though she wished him furder;
An' on her apples kep' to work,
Parin' away like murder.

"You want to see my Pa, I s'pose?"

"Wal

no, I come design-in'-" "To see my Ma? she's sprinklin' clo'se Agin to-inorrer's i'nin'."

To say why gals act so or so,

Or don't 'ould be presumin'; Mebby to mean yes an' say no, Comes nateral to women.

He stood a spell on one foot fust,
Then stood a spell on t'other;
An' on which one he felt the wust
He could n't ha' told ye nuther.

Says he, "I'd better call agin;”

Says she, "Think likely, Mister;"
Thet last word pricked him like a pin,
An'. . . . Wal, he up an' kist her!

When Ma bimeby upon 'em slips,
Huldy sot pale ez ashes-
All kin' o'smily roun' the lips,
An' teary roun' the lashes.

For she was jes' the quiet kind,

Whose naturs never vary—

Like streams that keep a summer mind,
Snow hid in Jenooary.

The blood clost roun' her heart felt glued,
Too tight for all expressin'

Tell mother see how metters stood,
An' gin 'em both her blessin.

Then her red come back like the tide,
Down to the Bay o' Fundy;
An' all I know is, they was cried
In meetin' come next Sunday.

THE RICH MAN AND THE POOR MAN.

KREMITZEN.

[The following is a very useful piece for recitation; as it will display all the reciter's ability; not as a powerful speaker, but as being able, by attention to the peculiar punctuation and covert meaning, to render obvious all the delicate lights and shades of truth and irony conveyed by the varying sentences.]

So goes the world;-if wealthy you may call

This, friend; that, brother;-friends and brothers all;
Though you are worthless, witless-never mind it;

You may have been a stable-boy-what then?
"Tis wealth, my friends, makes honorable men.
You seek respect, no doubt, and you will find it.

But if you are poor, Heaven help you! though your sire Had royal blood in him, and you

Possess the intellect of angels, too.

"Tis all in vain ;-the world will ne'er inquire

On such a score:-why should it take the pains? "T is easier to weigh purses, sure, than brains.

I once saw a poor fellow, keen and clever,

Witty and wise; he paid a man a visit,

And no one noticed him, and no one ever

Gave him a welcome. "Strange,” cried he, "whence is it?" He walked on this side, then on that,

He tried to introduce a social chat;

Now here, now there, in vain he tried:
Some formally and freezingly replied,

And some said, by their silence" Better stay at home."

A rich man burst the door,