The legendary consisting of original pieces, principally illustrative of American history, scenery, and manners |
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THE HAUNTED GRAVE. |
 | THE HAUNTED GRAVE. The legendary |  |
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THE HAUNTED GRAVE.
BY E. P. BLOUNT.
The sun had set and the last faint trace
Of the twilight dimly burned,
When with a light and hastening pace
The hunter homeward turned.
He had been out on the hills all day
Amidst the old gray woods,
And the chase had lured him far away
Into their solitudes.
But now when its stirring joys were past,
He thought of his pleasant home—
Of the anxious looks to the forests cast,
And the prayers that he might come—
And he hastened on with a rapid tread;
But the fading light was gone,
And the mountain path that homeward led,
Was a dark and a lonely one.
And the fogs were gathering dense and chill,
And the clouds shut out the moon,
And the autumn winds, before so still,
Sighed forth a desolate tune;
And harsh low sounds were heard among
The dead boughs of the trees;—
But he had dwelt on the hills too long
To fear such things as these.
Of the twilight dimly burned,
When with a light and hastening pace
The hunter homeward turned.
He had been out on the hills all day
Amidst the old gray woods,
And the chase had lured him far away
Into their solitudes.
But now when its stirring joys were past,
He thought of his pleasant home—
Of the anxious looks to the forests cast,
And the prayers that he might come—
And he hastened on with a rapid tread;
But the fading light was gone,
And the mountain path that homeward led,
Was a dark and a lonely one.
And the fogs were gathering dense and chill,
And the clouds shut out the moon,
And the autumn winds, before so still,
Sighed forth a desolate tune;
And harsh low sounds were heard among
The dead boughs of the trees;—
But he had dwelt on the hills too long
To fear such things as these.
81
Then the night owl's scream came ominously
Upon the burdened air,
And the hunter's heart at the boding cry
Felt a superstitious fear.
And he cast a timorous look before,
And a timorous look behind,
For a thousand fearful tales of yore,
Came thronging on his mind.
He had almost reached the hill where lies
The Indian burial place,
And his mind was full of the memories
And the legends of their race.
Still the branches creaked above his head,
And the screechowl moaned alway,
And a gloomy light the fire fly shed,
And the frogs croaked out their lay.
But on he urged—he was at the side
Of the Indian sepulchre;
—But why doth he stop as if life's fresh tide
In his heart had ceased to stir?
He saw on that ancient grave uprise
A form distinct and clear,
And he knew by its tall gigantic size,
'T was the chief's whose bones were there.
The night fogs were out upon the land,
And the distant owl screeched on,
When he saw the chief raise a shadowy hand,
And wave him to begone.
Aghast he turned—`through brook, through briar,'
Full swiftly hastened he,
Till he saw the light of his cottage fire
Shining bright and peacefully.
Upon the burdened air,
And the hunter's heart at the boding cry
Felt a superstitious fear.
And he cast a timorous look before,
And a timorous look behind,
For a thousand fearful tales of yore,
Came thronging on his mind.
He had almost reached the hill where lies
The Indian burial place,
And his mind was full of the memories
And the legends of their race.
Still the branches creaked above his head,
And the screechowl moaned alway,
And a gloomy light the fire fly shed,
And the frogs croaked out their lay.
But on he urged—he was at the side
Of the Indian sepulchre;
—But why doth he stop as if life's fresh tide
In his heart had ceased to stir?
He saw on that ancient grave uprise
A form distinct and clear,
And he knew by its tall gigantic size,
'T was the chief's whose bones were there.
The night fogs were out upon the land,
And the distant owl screeched on,
When he saw the chief raise a shadowy hand,
And wave him to begone.
Aghast he turned—`through brook, through briar,'
Full swiftly hastened he,
Till he saw the light of his cottage fire
Shining bright and peacefully.
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Upheaving 'mongst the leaves that grave
Is visible even yet,
And the ancient woods that o'er it wave,
Are kept inviolate.
And since that time no living wight
Of all the country round,
Dares after the fall of the dim twilight
Approach that haunted ground.
Is visible even yet,
And the ancient woods that o'er it wave,
Are kept inviolate.
And since that time no living wight
Of all the country round,
Dares after the fall of the dim twilight
Approach that haunted ground.
| THE HAUNTED GRAVE. The legendary | |