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All the rest, of wood or stone,

By the Devil's hand were overthrown.
He toppled crags from the precipice,
And whatsoe'er was built by day

In the night was swept away;
None could stand but this alone.

LUCIFER, under the bridge.

Ha! ha!

GUIDE.

I showed you in the valley a boulder

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Marked with the imprint of his shoulder;
As he was bearing it up this way,
A peasant, passing, cried, " Herr Jé!
And the Devil dropped it in his fright,
And vanished suddenly out of sight!

LUCIFER, under the bridge.

Ha! ha!

GUIDE.

Abbot Giraldus of Einsiedel,

For pilgrims on their way to Rome,

Built this at last, with a single arch,

Under which, on its endless march,

Runs the river, white with foam,

of a needle.

Like a thread through the eye
And the Devil promised to let it stand,
Under compact and condition

That the first living thing which crossed

Should be surrendered into his hand,

And be beyond redemption lost.

LUCIFER, under the bridge.

Ha ha! perdition!

GUIDE.

At length, the bridge being all completed,

The Abbot, standing at its head,

Threw across it a loaf of bread,

Which a hungry dog sprang after,

And the rocks reëchoed with peals of laugh

ter

To see the Devil thus defeated!

They pass on.

LUCIFER, under the bridge.

Ha ha! defeated!

For journeys and for crimes like this

I let the bridge stand o'er the abyss!

THE ST. GOTHARD PASS.

PRINCE HENRY.

THIS is the highest point. Two ways the rivers Leap down to different seas, and as they roll Grow deep and still, and their majestic pres

ence

Becomes a benefaction to the towns

They visit, wandering silently among them,

Like patriarchs old among their shining tents.

ELSIE.

How bleak and bare it is! Nothing but

mosses

Grow on these rocks.

PRINCE HENRY.

Yet are they not forgotten;

Beneficent Nature sends the mists to feed

them.

ELSIE.

See yonder little cloud, that, borne aloft
So tenderly by the wind, floats fast away
Over the snowy peaks! It seems to me
The body of St. Catherine, borne by angels!

PRINCE HENRY.

Thou art St. Catherine, and invisible angels Bear thee across these chasms and precipices, Lest thou shouldst dash thy feet against a stone!

ELSIE.

Would I were borne unto my grave, as she

was,

Upon angelic shoulders! Even now

I seem uplifted by them, light as air!

What sound is that?

PRINCE HENRY.

The tumbling avalanches!

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