Around the centre of the plain A belt of flame retreated denied-- And, like a furnace, glowed the train That walled them in on every side: And onward rolled the torrent wild-- Wreathes of dense smoke obscured the sky! The mother knelt beside her child, And all--save one--shrieked out, "We die." "Not so!" he cried.--"Help!--Clear the sedge! Strip bare a circle to the land!" That done, he hastened to its edge, And grasped a rifle in his hand: Dried weeds he held beside the pan, Which kindled at a flash the mass! "Now fire fight fire!" he said, as ran The forked flames among the grass. On three sides then the torrent flew, But on the fourth no more it raved! Then large and broad the circle grew, And thus the pilgrim band was saved! The flames receded far and wide-- The mother had not prayed in vain: God had the Teton's arts defied! His scythe of fire had swept the plain! The Evergreen. Love can not be the aloe-tree, Whose bloom but once is seen; Go search the grove--the tree of love Is sure the evergreen: For that's the same, in leaf or frame, 'Neath cold or sunny skies; You take the ground its roots have bound, Or it, transplanted, dies! That love thus shoots, and firmly roots In woman's heart, we see; Through smiles and tears in after-years It grows a fadeless tree. The tree of love, all trees above, For ever may be seen, In summer's bloom or winter's gloom, A hardy evergreen. The May-Queen. Like flights of singing-birds went by The cheerful hours of girlhood's day, When, in my native bowers, Of simple buds and flowers They wove a crown, and hailed me Queen of May! Like airy sprites the lasses came, Spring's offerings at my feet to lay; The crystal from the fountain, The green bough from the mountain, They brought to cheer and shade the Queen of May. Around the May-pole on the green, A fairy ring they tripped away; All merriment and pleasure, To chords of tuneful measure They bounded by the happy Queen of May. Though years have passed, and Time has strown My raven locks with flakes of gray, Fond Memory brings the hours Of buds and blossom-showers When in girlhood I was crowned the Queen of May. Venetian Serenade. Come, come to me, love! Come, love!--Arise And shame the bright stars With the light of thine eyes; Look out from thy lattice-- Oh, lady-bird, hear! A swan on the water-- My gondola's near! Come, come to me, love! Come, love!--My bride! O'er crystal in moonbeams We'll tranquilly glide: In the dip of the oar A melody flows Sweet as the nightingale Sings to the rose. Come, come to me, love! Come, love!--The day Brings warder and cloister! Away, then--away! Oh, haste to thy lover! Not yon star above Is more true to heaven Then he to his love! The Whip-Poor-Will.