The tokens of successful war,
The ribbon, medal, and the scar,
Proclaimed that guest for one of those
Who face, for pay, their country's foes.
And in that belt so trimly hung,
The cap from which the horsehair swung,
And close green vest of gloomiest hue,
Experienced eyes the Hulan knew.
Hearts oft obey the eye; and these,
I doubt not, Ebba's eye could please.
Yet Ebba's was no heart to gain
By tinsel shew and trappings vain.
But men there are by nature bred
Others to lead, by none be led:
Where'er their lot is fixed, to rule,
Senate or club, or realm, or school;
Wherever chance appoints their post,
First of a squadron or a host.
To strength, which best can give redress,
Defenceless woe complains:
And woman's weakness clings no less
To that which best sustains.
And sweet to woman's ear, the praise
Of that stern voice which man obeys.
That voice most loud in danger's hour,
Has whispers of prevailing power;
And Conrad's accents Ebba knew
Most powerful when he stooped to sue.
Into that home, some service done
For Ebba, first his entrance won :
A comrade in the neighbouring town
Made sober by his voice or frown,
And Ebba, saved from insult rude,
Returned him more than gratitude.
Released from duty and parade,
Still to the Mill his footsteps strayed,
Nor Ebba only watched to hear
Those footsteps fall, the sound was dear
To Ebba's sire; for none so well
As Conrad of those scenes could tell,
Which form the soldier's stormy life,
Like his, the scenes of martial strife.
'T were strange if Conrad had not sighed, Or she such influence quite defied.
In two short months so well he sped,
That many a jealous rival fled,
And neighbours asked how that strange guest Such power o'er child and sire possessed.
""T was strange, an officer indeed
Might claim to sue and to succeed;
But he to boast such power to charm!
The corporal's mark upon his arm!
Why he, the lord of half the land,
Had almost sued for Ebba's hand:
Sprung of the ancient Dummpkof race,
The Baron who so loved the chase.
He met with Conrad there one night,
And broke his meerschaum, out of spite;
And Ebba, when she heard it, said,
She wished that it had been his head."
Such was their talk. But slander's din
No answering echo found within;
The voice of calumny o'erstrained,
For Conrad's cause fresh influence gained :-
And when his blushing child betrayed
Her weakness and her love, and prayed,—
As duteous daughters often pray
In the first act of some new play,-
She almost moved the old man's heart
Of act the fifth to play the part;
Last scene, when stubborn sires relent,
Bestow their blessing and consent.
But, ere that scene the old man closed,
Some obstacle he interposed.
"T was this: let Conrad but obtain
Discharge, and then his path was plain.
He asked no dowry for the bride,
His heiress could for both provide :
He asked not birth in one he knew
Removed above the vulgar crew;
But while his aged limbs had life,
His Ebba was no soldier's wife.
Poor Ebba drooped; but Conrad cried,
"Thanks for that word, I claim
This paper makes my bliss secure,
My pension and retreat are sure.
Read and believe; no more I roam,
And Ebba leaves nor sire nor home."
'T was true. The sire consenting smiled
And blessed her, his affianced child.
They form an awful line in life,
Those words which couple man and wife. Novel and drama seem agreed,
Though I, for one, dispute their creed,
Man's happiest hours those words precede.
The happiness that goes before
Is sure at least; the other, more
Or less perhaps in its degree,
As chance decides. "Tis more for me:
At least, towards that misty shore
And doubtful harbour, Hope ne'er bore
A happier pair upon its tide,
Than Conrad and his promised bride.
Cold Austrian forms, with slow delay,
Deferred awhile the wished-for day.
It came at last. At earliest dawn
Conrad had heard the courier's horn;
Snatched from his grasp with eager
haste
The expected scroll, with joy had traced
The lines confirming his retreat,
And rushed the morrow's bride to meet.
Sure in that spot of hallowed ground,
By many a meeting known,
With shadowing alders fenced around,
And flowers of spring o'ergrown,
His bride, his Ebba, would be found,
Expecting and alone.
No Ebba there to greet his view—
No sign of footsteps on the dew—
No trace upon the shore!—
Is it a dream?-departed, fled—
Buried or drowned, alive or dead,
His bride was seen no more!
All search on earth was vain. In Heaven,
We trust, to that old man 't was given,
To clasp his child again;
For fast his mortal frame decayed,
And death, in mercy soon allayed
The fire in heart and brain.
And Conrad-him at close of day,
By force his comrades dragged away
From that vain search. When morn came round,
He by the Mill again was found;
And statue-like, with fixed eye,
Gazed on the waters hurrying by
The fragments of the scroll which bore
The wished dismission from his corps,
Down the swift stream were floating white;
He sat and tracked them out of sight;
Then rose, and sped with hasty stride
Back to his quarters, to his side
The sabre girt, his gallant steed
Resumed the task to train and feed:
And in his station, half dismayed,
His comrades saw him at parade.
IN far Moravia's farthest lands,
Lie quartered the Hulans' scattered bands.
The adjutant sits in the lonely room
Of the solitary inn.
He sits and writes in gloom,
By the wintry tempest's din.
"Now send me the trusty man who rides
On the right of his company,
I need him when matter of weight betides;
Send Conrad hither to me."
Soon to that summons Conrad came;
Like some dark portrait from its frame,
More than a form of flesh and blood-
Erect and motionless he stood.
It seemed as if the blasting stroke
Which on his youthful fortunes broke,
The toils of many a fierce campaign,
And ten long years of wasting pain,
In powerless rage had scored the brow,
Which all their influence could not bow.
"Now, spare not the spur, for this letter has need
Of a trusty rider and active steed;
"T is for this I have chosen thy steed and thee,
He was bred and was broken in Hungary;
Such steed and such rider will carry aright
This letter to Olmutz ere morning's light.
But the night is stormy, and much I doubt
The ford is swollen, the waters are out;
Who rides to Olmutz, to-night must go
By the bridge and the Mill, where the dark waters flow."
O'er the tall Hulan's iron frame
A momentary shuddering came,
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