"Build me a hundredth bridge, the best,
Higher and wider than all the rest,
With posts of teak and cedarn rails
And planks of sandal, with silver nails;
Gild it and paint it vermilion red,
And over it place the dragon's head;
And be it proclaimed to high and low
That over this fortunate arch shall
go
Passenger none that doth not throw
Golden toll to the river below.
And when the piece of gold is cast,
Thrice let the trumpets sound a blast :
And the mandarin write with respectful look
The passenger's name in a silken book,
So that I, the King, may have in hand
The list of the wealthiest of my land."

Straightway the bridge was builded so
As had spoken the wisdom of King Tee Poh.
And every day, from dawn till dark,

They who watched the fortunate arch could mark

Like a cloud of midges that glow and gleam,
The gold toll cast to the hurrying stream;
And all day the trumpet sounded loud,
And the mandarin of the guard kowtowed,
As he wrote the name, with respectful look,
Of the passenger high in his silken book;
And all the while grew the renown
Of the fortunate arch in Pekin town,
Till of the wealthiest it was told,

"He spends his day on the bridge of gold.”

And when a month and a day were spent,
The King Tee Poh for his treasurer sent
"Go to the bridge," said he, "“and look
At the list of names in the silken book,
And of all that are written, small and great,
Confiscate to me the estate;

As the sage Confucius well doth show,
A wealthy fool is the State's worst foe."

And the treasurer whispered, bending low, "Great is the wisdom of King Tee Poh."

66

George T. Lanigan, in " The Century."

THE BALLAD OF THE STRANGER.

T WAS off the coast of Scarboro'
In sixteen eighty-three;

An April night fell lowering
Upon an angry sea.

And on the heights above the town

Was many a watcher gazing down,
And murmuring with a shrug and frown:
"A woeful night 't will be !"

The wind across the surges
Came howling to the land;
In foaming wrath the breakers

Came bounding on the strand;
When with a voice from turret high
Sounded aloud that startled cry:
"A wreck! a wreck !-Shoremen ahoy!
She's plunging for the land!"

Down from the heights went skurrying
The wreckers to the shore,

And women wild, who seaward smiled
Hopeful an hour before!

The ship-Great God!—in flames her prow!—
The flames are bursting from her bow!

She speeds full sail!

Thank Heaven the gale

Is blowing to the shore!

Red are the waves before her-
Each crest a flaming brand!

With tongues of wrath and fiery breath
She leaps toward the strand.

"Ahoy! ahoy!"-the trumpet rings-
See! on the hidden reef she springs!
To rock she clings,—

On rock she swings

Her larboard to the land.

A thousand shrieks of terror
Arise from ship and shore!

"Launch launch the boats!"-the trumpet

notes

Blare out above the roar.

But every boat, from beach or deck,

Like shells the breakers crush and wreck.

Stranded she stood . .

...

In fire and flood . . .

But a hundred yards from shore.

Down to the beach a stranger

Stept calmly thro' the crowd;

...

He doffed his cloak, and up he spoke

With startling voice and loud: "Come on with me, the bravest three!" (In yawl they plunged into the sea.)

"Give me the rope

Cowards are we,

To cringe at watery shroud ?"

Athwart the breakers plunging

Went gallant men and yawl;
A rope they bore, the coil on shore
Trailed out with snaky crawl.

See! heavens! they sink!

A mountain wave

Buries them deep in yawning grave!
A shriek! a wail from women pale
The bravest souls appall.

Up! see-the dauntless heroes
Upon the surges rise!

"Praise God!" a shout from ship and shore
Breaks upwards to the skies.

66

Courage !"—peals out that stranger's shout,— He strikes the wreck .

He leaps on deck ...

His rope ties fast to mizzen mast,
And, "Down the rope!" he cries.

Swift, one by one, like pigeons
From startled cote, they pour—
They glide on rope through breakers
Hand over hand to shore .

The flames! the flames!

With hiss and gnash

Sternward their tongues of fire they flash,

And on the flames the surges dash

With seething shriek and roar !

The last man's o'er the taffrail-
Alone the stranger. . . No!
Horrors!-up from the hatchway
A woman from below!-
Clasping her child, in terror wild
Shrieking:

"O God! my child! my child !”

To the stranger's breast her babe she prest In agony of woe.

Tho' singed with fire, that hero

To his breast the babe he bound;

Then to the sea leapt mother and he—
She clasping him around.

Now on the rope, hand over hand,

Thro' breakers plunging for the strand

"Hold to the rope! it burns!"

From land

Rings out the trumpet-sound.

A shuddering cry uprises

From thousands on the lee-
The rope it parts, and flaming darts

And hisses in the sea!

"Hold to the rope!"

Alas! a wave

O'erwhelms him deep-that hero brave!