THE LITTLE MAIDEN.

Daily Southern Cross, Volume XXX, Issue 5225, 21 May 1874, Page 2 (Supplement)

THE LITTLE MAIDEN.

In a lonely forest dwelling where a bright Austiahan Poured'itT flood of spaikhng w.itera like to music in a Sat a fa^and lonely nui.kn with hei h.iml upon hei Thinking— thinking ever thinking , what can she bo thinking now ' Thinkirg— thinking— not lepiniug , ah ! it is a mournful t.i'c Makes those mln ips so In id, and that forehead look so pale Still the b oom of lrgin bcaut> seems to linger on her c eek, . But the caine of .ill hei sadness, 'tis of that I i-un would speak. In the years that now are \anishcd she had pligh'ed throth with one "Who had all the manly giuces that a maiden's hcirt e'er won Yet he wanted, to hia thinking, that for which the world is sold, The sworn foe of humble merit— lucre's mighty monarch, gold And to gain Mm fanuul blcs.im,'. he h.ul wandered from her side, Far iuto those >.oithein legions, wheie so many bravo have died Fav Into those distant regions, wheie the »avage yet is seen, Monarch of his native deserts— lithe of limb and fierce of mien Jn his search he was triumphant, all his po\erty was gone, In the held in which lie struggled he the victory had won, Jut, alas for human weakness, soon the wctor drooped his head, And before the day's declining he was cold amongst the dead Tor that scourge of Northern regions— deadly fever had assailed, Sapped the \itals of his system— o'er his youthful •trongth prevailed ; And the strong man of the morning, looking fit for work or strife, Lay a corpse bef. re the sunset, on the battle field of life. Years had passed, and yet no tidings to that little m iiden came Of the lo\ed and long departed- not a word of pi.iiie or blame Ever rose upon her hearing, to disturb the monotone, That expressed her constant j earning in a low continuous moan But at last there came a mu mur from that hot and fevered clime, That the object of hei wishes knew no iuoie of life and time Then her lip<s grow pale and In id— life s enchantments all were gone, And of man.\ hopes long cherished there lemainul not e\en ore. Dally she grew thin and paler, till the smallest tint of red Ne'er was seen upon her features, and the friends who knew hei siid That she was not long predestined to this world of woe to cling, But to some celestial dwelling, soon hor spii it would take wing 1 Paler still she grew and paler, though beside her theie was one, Who still bade her lc\e existence, and forget all pleasures gone 'Twas a fond and loving mother, speaking words so calm and mild, In the hope that >outh would tiiumph, and she jet might sa\ e her child. But the words seemed vain and powerless, for behold her ev en now, In that lonely forest dwelling with her hand upon her brow And she sighs as if her bosom was too feeble to maintain Such an agony of feeling— such a world of grief and pain As the pitcher often carried to the well is broke at last, Into many shattered fragments— once so useful in the past, So the soul of that fair maiden soon will break fiom its abode, And by minist'iliii,' angels guided, find the bosom of Its God, —Town and Covntnj Juut nal. J \f.