Hagar :: :: University of Virginia Library

'Twas in the far south land that Hortense lived,
Where it is summer all the happy year.
Beside the cottage door the roses bloomed,
And every sunny morn the little maid
Gathered rare flowers in the garden wild;
And often with her mother she would walk,
Under the shade of fragrant orange trees,
And watch the fruit which ripened in the sun,
While to and fro like bells of gold, they swung
To every breeze that rustled thro' the boughs;
And when her mother left her there alone,
She would not play as other children do
With dolls and toys, but gather'd leaves and flowers,
And the gay feathers of the forest birds,
And “played” they were people, to whom she gave
The names of valiant knights and ladies fair,
Like those she read of in her story books;
And Hortense never thought the day too long,

206

While dreaming of the battles and hard toils
Her knights must meet in going thro' the world.
A little story that her mother read
One summer eve, seemed prettier far to her,
Than any tale, she e'er had heard before;
It was Undine's story, sweet and strange,
A wild rose blooming in a haunted wood.
But to this dreaming girl, Undine seemed
A beautiful spirit, who still lived beneath
The sparkling waters of the little brook,
Which flowed so swiftly thro' the forest green.
And often, she would sit for hours and watch
Beside the waters, for a face to rise
Out of their depths, smiling, and cool, and bright,
With long fair tresses floating o'er the waves;
But Hortense watched and waited long in vain,
For sweet Undine with the golden hair.

While this young girl was dreaming by the brook,
Her mother sat and waited by the door
For one she loved—the father of her child,
Who always came just as the sun went down;
And rode a fiery steed, as black as night,
That like a flash went sweeping past the place
Where Hortense watched, low crouching on the grass,
And peeping thro' the leaves. She thought the knights
In those loved “once upon a time” old tales;
Must all have ridden such a fiery steed,
And looked as proud, and brave and princely too,
As the stern man who rode so swiftly past.

And thus the year went by, and Hortense reached

207

Her fourteenth summer. Then a shadow came,
And death and sorrow entered her loved home.
Her mother's cheek grew pale, her eyes were dim
With bitter weeping o'er some secret woe.
Her step was feebler, when she walked beneath
The orange boughs; and heavily she leaned,
Like one a-weary on her dear child's arm.
And then at length there came the dreary time,
When she could walk no more; when day by day
Her couch was moved beside the open door,
And there she lay, so pale and still, and looked
With wistful eyes, along the well known path,
For a swift horseman on a tireless steed,
Who always came just as the sun went down.

One day her voice seemed weaker than t'was wont,
And Hortense trembled with a sudden dread,
When mournfully she called her to her side;
And told her she was going far away,
Upon a pleasant journey, and was glad
So soon to go; but oh, it troubled her,
To know her child must wander thro' the world
Without a mother's love. And here she paused
Awhile and wept. Then once again she spoke,
And said there was a secret, which she hoped
In happier times to carry to her grave,
This could not be. 'Twas a sad tale to tell,
But one too often told. She was a slave,
And her child's father was her master's son;
Long years ago she fled with him by night,
Nor rested till they reached this blessed spot,
And there were safe. “Hush! hark!” she cried—

208

“I hear a horseman coming up the glen,
But cannot see him for the blinding mist
That comes before my eyes. Look child and see!
He comes, and I shall see him ere I die.”
And nearer, nearer came the peerless steed—
Swift as the wind, he bore his master there.
All pale and fearful sprang he to the ground,
And trembling stood before the cottage door.
“Agnes,” he cried “all that I feared has come;
This place of refuge can be ours no more;
My father's spies are on my track, they come,
And we must go, oh haste you, mount my steed,
And we will reach e'er night a place of rest.”
“I'm going fast,” she said “to that dear place;
There is no master there, save God alone.
Leave me, and take our child, poor child so young,
So sinless and so pure. Haste, haste away
She must not be a slave. O by the love
You bear to me—take this dear one and flee!”
One long, long kiss of love, some tender words,
And all was o'er. Then with his child he sprang
Upon the foaming steed, and swift and fast
They journeyed onward to the North. Suns rose
And set, morning and evening came, and all
Passed by her like a dream, when cold and blue
The Northern skies greeted her weary eyes.
She heard her father's voice, so low and deep—
A sweet sad voice, bereft of hope and joy—
“The winds are chill and bleak for one so frail;
But these are freedom's airs, and they are pure
My child, and thou art safe; no slave breathes here,
Rest! sleep in peace, and dream that thou art free.”