c^. 
 
 ,^ o. 
 
 .V 
 
 
 
 ^ 
 
 ■flP! 
 
 
 :mMh% ^..^ 
 
 ^"^^. 
 
 
 
 
 '^% 
 
 c 
 

 
 
 ,.«^ - 
 
 ^^0^ 
 
 -^ 
 
 ^^■n^. 
 
 
 
 o V 
 
 
 ■^0^ 
 
 > 
 
 
 ' ^i- 
 
 
 ^°-^<^. 
 
 > 
 
 v? Q> ^S vT* 1 ■] <\-^ 
 
 ^0^ 
 
 5^^ 
 
 o 
 
 o V 
 
 
 ^ 
 
 > 
 
 «>^, 
 
 .4*.'^ c ^w.a./Or»v 
 
THE ROSE 
 
 OF 
 
 THE ALLEGHANIES 
 
 PlTTSBUt^G, PR, 
 1892, 
 
COPYKIGRTED. 
 
 1892. 
 
THE ROSE 
 
 OF THE 
 
 ALLEGHANIES 
 
 
 is 
 
 
 ^?S-/''V\ 
 
 prrmBURa, pa. 
 
 1892. 
 

EXPLAXA TION, 
 
 In the yc(ir 1S12, I believe, occurred the tragedij which form i the bui's of th's 
 tale. A young girl, Polly Williams, lived near the western dope of the 
 AllegJianies, in Fayette county, Fe>insylva7iia. Far up on th". side of the 
 mountain is a huge cliff, appropriately ccdledthe ''^ White Hocks.'''' Polly 
 Williams had a lover, Philip Rogers, who, after having betrayed her undi'r 
 promise of marriage, induced her by false re.presentatio')iS to meet him at the 
 secluded spot which before had been their trysting place and threw her over the 
 precipice. Rogers ivas never legally pimishedfox his crime. To th's day 
 may he seen the modest headstone above the grave cU the foot of the mountain 
 -Where lies the dnsf of this humble victim of man's jierfidy. 
 r ' TRE AUTHOR . 
 
THE ROSE 
 
 OF 
 
 THE ALLEGHANIES 
 
 TTlong Monongahela's shore, 
 J-^ The plover builds her nest no more, 
 The eagle's cry, the heron's scream 
 No more resound along the stream; 
 Beside its slo\yl3^ crumbling brink. 
 The deer no moi-e delays to drink 
 Nor on the dewy upland lawn, 
 Will sport cagain the sprightly fawn. 
 The panther on the mountain's brow 
 Hath lost his former boldness now, 
 And slinks away in solitude 
 Through deeper meshes of the wood. 
 His mournful cries faintl}^ awake 
 The midnight echoes of the brake, 
 
THE ndsE 61' 
 
 As forth he prowls, in quest of prt^y. 
 Along his distant mountain wa}'. 
 Tlie Indian's bark, that lightly flew 
 O'er Youghiogheny's waters, true 
 As arrow, and as rapid quite, 
 Has drifted downw^ard out of sight. 
 
 Yes, all the w^orld has changed! but thou. 
 Fair mountain, wast the same as now. 
 When thy invulnerable form 
 First braved the ravage of the storm. 
 Time's devastating hand is laid 
 Upon earth's features, and they fade, 
 For he will let no semblance last, 
 That claims companion of the past; 
 But even time hath left thy range 
 Unchanged amid a world of change. 
 Still in this land that lies betw^een 
 The northern blasts, the southern sheen, 
 That can be called nor East nor West, 
 
THE ALLEGBAytlES. 
 
 But like an island, on the breast 
 
 Of middle ocean, stands and glows 
 
 With every radiant flower that grows, 
 
 Are many a theme for poet's tongue, 
 
 And yet its praise remains unsung, 
 
 While only history doth tell 
 
 The place where Braddock fought and fell 
 
 When crafty warfare havoc made 
 
 Of troops in open field arrayed, 
 
 And many a brave, heroic life 
 
 Was yielded in unequal strife: 
 
 And where, on the unbroken sod, 
 
 The hand of the Almighty God 
 
 Reached down and placed, within the hand 
 
 Of youthful Washington, the wand 
 
 Of liberty — the sword that hurled 
 
 The tyrant from the Western World. 
 
 But I, unable, do not sing 
 Of those immortal tbemeSr They spring 
 
THE RO^E OF 
 
 Eternal in the human breast, 
 Their fame is known from east to west, 
 From north to south. They will arise 
 Eternal in oar nation's e3^es, 
 And all the songs that mortals raise 
 Will be unequal to their praise. 
 And this will prove a sadder lay, 
 Than tnat which tells of the array 
 Of battle and the tented field 
 With all the glory they may yield. 
 It tells of earth's one thing complete, 
 A woman pure, a woman sweet. 
 It tells of this world's foulest blot, 
 A man who honor hath forgot. 
 It tells of purity and trust 
 Betrayed and trampled in the dust, 
 And that is far the saddest thing. 
 The most relentless fate can bring. 
 
 Where AUeghanies' peaks arise 
 
THE ALLEGIIAXIES 
 
 And share the azure of the skies — 
 For both assume so deep a blue 
 You cannot choose between the two; 
 Nor say how high the one. extends, 
 How low the other's boundary bends — 
 Among the crags, projecting bokl, 
 There lived a hermit, weird and old. 
 Few knevr, and no one cared to know. 
 This nameless gnome. The damned below 
 More frightful aspect could not wear; 
 Nor could the wild beasts, from their lair. 
 Gaze with more savage look than he, 
 Who had almost become to be 
 One of them, and he would have been. 
 If it \vere not that his fierce grin 
 And liellish smirk put them to fear. 
 So they woidd fly when he drew near. • 
 
 He was like the wild beasts, in part. 
 In all, e'en nobleness of heart; 
 
THE ROSE OF 
 
 His long, unkempt and shaggy hau' 
 Resembled much the grizzly bear. 
 His uncut nails were like the claws 
 That grew upon the panther's paws, 
 And, when he called or when he spoke. 
 His voice was like the raven's croak. 
 He stole the fiercer part from all, 
 While even from the snakes that crawl, 
 He borrowed eyes which, snake like, fell 
 On you with an unearthly spell. 
 
 None knew him, and no one could tell 
 From whence he came. Whether he fell 
 From some wind-wafted, wandering cloud 
 That often, like a dead man's shroud, 
 Its damp and misty folds entw^ino 
 About the topmost mountain pine; 
 Or whether some dark cave of earth 
 Had given strange, prodigious birth 
 To this weird waif, or wk^thej' l^^^ 
 
Till: ALLEGJiANlE^. 
 
 Had been cast up by some far sea. 
 Was unto all a mystery. 
 
 The}^ knew not, yet the people say 
 He passed through heaven upon his wa}^; 
 For where, on this incarnate sphere. 
 Could he have found an elf so near. 
 So like an angel? Men avow 
 It was the fairest face and brow 
 That e'er was in the wide world seen. 
 And that the love-light's tender sheen 
 Of her enrapturing, wistful eyes 
 Was like the blue of summer skies. 
 Yee, it was plain that such blue eyes 
 Could only come from paradise, 
 And that is why the people say 
 ITe passed through heaven upon his way. 
 
 Why he should bring, unto the wild 
 Of this far world, so fair a child, 
 And seek such lonely place to dwell, 
 
THE no ^E OF 
 
 Was more tiuiii sage or seer con Id tel!. 
 
 But in this fast retreat the maid 
 
 Had passed with him a fall decade, 
 
 And it was thought alnjost the same, 
 
 Her life had been, before she came 
 
 Into this solitary wood 
 
 Where now she reached her womanhood. 
 
 And such a woman! Could 1 draw 
 The image which a llaphaei saw. 
 When, in divinest flight and mood, 
 Tie pictured perfect womanhood. 
 E'en it, I ween, would scarce compare 
 To Rosalie, she was so fair. 
 She had from natiu-e, not b}-^ art. 
 Developed each peculiar part 
 Of lissom form and fair physi(iue. 
 From tiny foot to damask cheek, 
 Into more perfect statuette 
 Than sculptor ever dreamed of yet. 
 
TIJt: ALLECHANIES. 
 
 The fair proportions of lier mold 
 Were not too slight, nor yet too bold, 
 They occupied a place between 
 The fraii, the coarse, so rarely seen. 
 It was that faultless- fashioned form 
 That takes beholders all by storm. 
 
 But if there be l^eyond compare, 
 A beauty, 'tis a woman's hair 
 Descend in o' in a rippling flow 
 From an illumined brow of snow, 
 And hers, escaping from its fold, 
 Was like a serape of gold; 
 It clothed her as a garment would, 
 'Neath which her dimpled shoulders stood, 
 Peeping from out the mesh it weaves. 
 Like blossoms seen through shifting leaves. 
 Upon her breast it lightly fell 
 Like golden-rod on hill and dell 
 Where naught but lilies lift their crest, 
 
10 THE ROtiE OF 
 
 And two are taller than the rest. 
 
 But they were such ill-sorted pair. 
 He was dark, she was so fair, 
 And he had features like the ape, 
 While she had features Grecian shape; 
 And he had locks like to the bear, 
 While she had waving golden hair. 
 And he had eyes like to the snake, 
 While she had eyes of heavenly make; 
 And he had fingers like a claw. 
 While she had such as Raphael saw. 
 It is enough, I can .not bear 
 To think of such ill-sorted pair. 
 But if 3^ou deem it strange that he 
 Possessed a child so fair as she. 
 Behold the lilies of the field. 
 What fragrance and what tints they yie 
 A king's rich raiment can not please 
 The eye of man like one of these. 
 
THE ALLhGHANlE^. 11 
 
 And yet their tints and odors sweet 
 Come from the soil beneath thy feet; 
 And Rosalie, like flowers that draw 
 Their life from depths that seldom thaw, 
 And struggling up from frosts below 
 Burst into bloom above the snow, 
 Had, in this solitary place. 
 Developed into matchless grace. 
 
 This artless child of nature drew 
 Her knowledge but from things in view; 
 She knew the antelope and hind 
 Each ever mated with its kind. 
 That e'en the cougar and the bear 
 Had each a mistress in his lair; 
 What wonder, then, when every spring 
 She saw the ledbreasts build and sine- 
 And love and rear their little brood, 
 That she would deem her solitude 
 Was very strange, and wonder why 
 
12 THE ROSE OF 
 
 She was without a mate, and sigh ! 
 
 For w^hat is woman without love 1 
 
 A poor, unmated, hapless dove 
 
 That can but mourn, and mourn its fate, 
 
 And learn at last its kind to hate, 
 
 Creeping through life with broken wing. 
 
 A most ill-fated, wretched thing. 
 
 The summer days have just begun; 
 With softly tempered light, the sun 
 Propels his woodland-wooing beam 
 Thwart cliff and meadow, glen and stream. 
 Like spears of gold his pencils dart 
 And pierce the shadows to the heart, 
 Which, like the w^ounded raven, fly 
 Far in the forests depths to lie. 
 The laurel blossoms gently wave 
 Their tinted crests, the lilies lave 
 Their snowy petals in the lake. 
 The bluebird warbles in the brake. 
 
THE ALLE GllAiMES 13 
 
 It is a time wiien joy and mirth 
 Sits smiling on the lap of earth, 
 But fairer far than laurel bloom, 
 And sweeter than its rich perfume, 
 Ah! rarer, sweeter, fairer far. 
 Than any woodland blossoms are. 
 Or any thing that tongue could name. 
 Or even wildest fancy frame. 
 Or mind conceive, or eye can see. 
 Is the proud form of Rosalie. 
 
 Her way led to a distant hight 
 Where rose a massive rock, so white 
 It seemed, when you were far below, 
 As if it were a crown of snow; 
 Or some might think, it rose so high. 
 It was a cloud against the sky. 
 Here Rosalie had loved to play 
 In early girlhood's thoughtless day, 
 And now she sauntered toward the spot 
 
14 THE ROISE OF 
 
 So deeply wrapped in sombre thought, 
 She heeded not a single sound 
 That echoed o'er the enchanted ground, 
 Until the growl of some fierce beast 
 Rang harshly on the air, and ceased. 
 
 Then pale and trembling at the cry- 
 Stood Rosalie with startled eye, 
 When, with a sudden leap, a hound 
 Crouched mute before her on the £:roand. 
 She turned to flee, but at the stir 
 The creature rose and followed her. 
 And, as she felt his presence near, 
 Her limbs wxre paralyzed with fear. 
 But, when the brute had reached her side, 
 With joy. and wonder, she espied 
 His pleading eyes and mien expressed, 
 'Twas not his purpose to molest. 
 He looked into her face and whined. 
 Then bound away swift as the wind, 
 
THE ALLEGIIANIKS. 15 
 
 Bat soon returned imd cauo^ht her dress 
 Between his teeth, and strove to press 
 Her toward the placo whence he had fled, 
 By instinct or by reason led. 
 
 She followed him, and shyly peeped 
 ' Into the covert where he leaped, 
 And then drew back as if repelled 
 By sofnething dreadful, she beheld. 
 With rapid step she quit the place. 
 When, through the intervening space, 
 She heard the murmur of a sigh, 
 So faint it was and yet so nigh; 
 A sound such as, when morning breaks, 
 The half awakened sleeper makes. 
 The faintly whispered words expressed 
 A fellow being sore distressed, 
 And her young heart at once was stirred 
 With pity as the sound she heard. 
 All fear and shyness now forgot. 
 
THE ROSE OF 
 
 Again she hastened to the spot: 
 
 With fino^ers deft aside she drew 
 
 The cliisterino: vines that hid the view, 
 
 When, on the trampled tarf, she saw 
 
 A sight that filled her soul with awe, 
 
 A man with blood-stain on his head 
 
 Lay still and speechless as the dead, 
 
 And at his feet, with shaggy hair 
 
 All stained with dripping irore, the bear, 
 
 His fierce antagonist at start, 
 
 But now the knife had pierced its heart. 
 
 The maid approached, and stooped to scan 
 
 The livid visage of the man, 
 
 While on her cheeks and lips there shone 
 
 A pallor equal to his own; 
 
 And though her cheeks resigned their hue 
 
 And carmine lips still whiter grew, 
 
 It did not seem, it was not fear; 
 
 For see she now approaches near 
 
TlltJ ALLhJGIlANlI'JS. 17 
 
 And that, if she would coiKjucr him, 
 She imist 1)13 bnive though he were grim, 
 — And she was brave — upon the sod, 
 She knelt, and ])reathed a prayer to God. 
 But what was better far than these, 
 She drew Ids form unto her knees. 
 She placed one hand beneath his head, 
 The softest pillow, whitest bed, 
 Those silken locks, which lay so still, 
 Had ever pressed or ever will; 
 A remnant of the dress she wore. 
 From ojQf the sle -ve, she quickly tore, 
 Unconscious that an arm of snow 
 The rent would leave revealed below, 
 And with it staunched his bleeding wound, 
 And deftly bound it while he swooned. 
 
 While yet his brow her lingers pressed 
 Another sigh escaped his breast, 
 And like a fidntly glimmering spark, 
 
IS THE ROSE OF 
 
 That shines bat dhiily through the dark, 
 His spirit, now so long repressed,- 
 Began to straggle in his breast, 
 Until, at last, the battle o'er. 
 He wandered baek to earth once more. 
 His eye-lids lifted, and his gaze 
 Fell on a lovely face, ablaze 
 With blushes; for his head at ease 
 Reclined upon the maiden's knees. 
 
 The graceful spring of antelope 
 With her swift action could not cope, 
 As she unclasped a soft embrace 
 And vanished from before his face. 
 He gazed around as one, who. hurled 
 In space, should wako in some new world; 
 The trees, the earth, the sky, seemed new, 
 And she an angel to his view; 
 He strove to rise, but groaned with pain 
 And sank upon the earth again. 
 
THE ALLEGHANIES. 10 
 
 How long he lay, and what befell, 
 The helpless sufferer could not tell; 
 His mangled limbs and quivering flesh, 
 With each pulsation, bled afresh; 
 Ills faithful hound, as if to stay 
 The stream that drained his life away,. 
 Crouched silent at his master's side, 
 And licked that gushing, gory tide. 
 
 A leafy oak's o'erhanging limb, 
 When first he fell, protected him, 
 But soon the sun, as if to add 
 Another pang to those he had. 
 Crept up the sky; the shadow past 
 And left him in its fiery blast, 
 lie raised his hand, as if to stay 
 That flaming orb, like Joshua; 
 Or if not that, at least, to clasp 
 The shadows in his eager grasp, 
 But still the hot sun mounted higher, 
 
20 THE ROISE OF 
 
 Still f.'ll on bim his d.'irts of fire, 
 
 And still tlie slia lows dancod and played 
 
 Farther and farther up the glade; 
 
 And, as they from his presence hied, 
 
 His listless hand fell to his side, 
 
 And words which had commenced a prayer 
 
 Were changed to curses of despair. 
 
 Bat where was she, so young, so brave, 
 So quick to succor and to save, 
 And still had made such strange retreat 
 While yet her task was half complete; 
 And was it courage passed to dread, 
 Impelled her to desert the dead; 
 Or worse, the living, in whose br;>ath 
 Are often pangs far worse than deal a ? 
 Was she a vision of the train 
 Produced but to augment his pain. 
 As when the prisoner bound in chains 
 Dreams of the freedom of the plains? 
 
THE ALLECUIAMES. f^l 
 
 Ilfi called, but tliere wus no reply. 
 
 Then she had left him there to die! 
 
 He turned his flushed face to the earth, 
 
 And cursed the moment of his birth; 
 
 Ho cursed his fate and cursed the maid, 
 
 Then looked uj) to the sky and prayed. 
 
 He raised one frail hand to his head, 
 
 It rested on a garment's shred 
 
 Fine as the texture of his hair, 
 
 Some friendly hand had placed it tliere; 
 
 Those Avhite hands had been stained and dim 
 
 With his own blood in aiding him, 
 
 And those fair hands that bound his brow 
 
 Would not be turned against him now. 
 
 And it is true; for all the while, 
 His heart these rising hopes beguile, 
 Young Rosalie, with willing feet, 
 Iler grateful office to complete, 
 Is hastening over glebe and glade, 
 
23 THE ROSE OF 
 
 A sunbeam through a world of shade. 
 She reached her home and sought her sire, 
 She told him of the stranger's dire 
 Misfoi tune, and how she had found 
 Ilim limp and speechless on the ground, 
 His fair face stained as red as are 
 The redmcn's, when they go to war, 
 And that he lay as still as they 
 Who dare to meet them in the fray. 
 
 She told her story, not as one 
 Who feels that, when her task is done, 
 She has inspired in him the zeal 
 Iler own impassioned spirits feel; 
 For she could not recall the time, 
 Since they abode within that clime, 
 When he by, word or sign expressed, 
 A genial welcome to a guest. 
 IJc shunned all intercourse with men^ 
 Like bears that burrow^ in a den^ 
 
TUE ALLEGIIANIES. 
 
 And like them bat one wish made known, 
 
 And that was, to be left alone. 
 
 So when she knelt beside his chair, 
 
 As sweetly as a nun at pra^^er, 
 
 To ask if he with her would speed 
 
 To aid the stranger in his need, 
 
 The fierce and fri<rhtful look he gave 
 
 Proved he would rather kill than save; 
 
 But though his gaze was hard to brook, 
 
 Ilis words were fiercer than his look; 
 
 * 'Bring me a serpent for my guest^ 
 And I will take it to my breast, 
 And, if it can no warmth impart 
 Then thou shalt clasp it to thy heart; 
 For it can only strike to kill, 
 But greater, for eternal ill 
 Will spring — and has since earth began — 
 From man, the enemy of man. 
 From yon aceuuso I world I came, 
 
2i THE ROSE OF 
 
 The cause you never heard me name, 
 You were so happy all the while 
 I could not cheat you of a smile; 
 But I was once as other men, 
 And dwelt and dealt among them then, 
 And lived as they and bought aad sold, 
 And was possessed of all that gold 
 Could gain, aye, more than all above, 
 A woman's pure and priceless love. 
 Yes, I was once loved, even I, 
 Whose features thus my race belie. 
 And I, I worshiped her because, 
 III spite of these unseemly flaws, 
 A woman, worthy of a king, 
 Should stoop to me, so foul a thing. 
 
 "The world was not content with this. 
 They must have envied me my bliss; 
 Or else the wretched creatures new 
 Their own were to thoiv vows untrue, 
 
THE ALLEGTIANIES. 25 
 
 And, with that malice envy boars, 
 Proclaimed that mine was false as theirs, 
 And coupled her unclouded name 
 With others in the foulest shame; 
 Yet, when the slander reached her ears, 
 She shed no unavailing tears. 
 She ne'er protested, ne'er denied, 
 She only sulfered, — thus she died. 
 1 knew it all, I knew that she. 
 In word nor deed, was false to me, 
 But that availed not, naught avails 
 When slander's stealthy tongue assails; 
 You can not talk, you can not frown, 
 You can not live a slander down, 
 And so, w^ith you my life to share, 
 I fled from vdiat I could not boar." 
 
 Young Rosalie knelt by and anzcd 
 Upon the tempest she had raised, 
 As words which seemed both wild and vain 
 
26 THE JW^E OF 
 
 Fell round her fast as faliinsr rail 
 Until her weeping could be heard 
 Above each harshly spoken word. 
 She could not comprehend the blow, 
 It had been dealt so long ago, 
 Nor feel, a mother's love unknown, 
 Her loss was greater than his own; 
 While he. who, on the mount she left. 
 So near of every hope bereft, 
 To her with greater force appealed, 
 Than all the woes her sire revealed, — 
 But when she spoke 'twas to assuage 
 Alike his sorrow and his rage: 
 
 "Oh! father, dear, what e'er hath been 
 The strange misfortune, or the sin. 
 That drove thee from a happier lot. 
 To be by all save me forgot. 
 Have 1 not ever been to thee 
 All that devotion, love, could be^ 
 
THE ALLEGIIANIES. 27 
 
 Iliive I iK)t miidc thy burden light, 
 
 Trovcd true and faithful in thy sight? 
 
 I speak not now to boast of it, 
 
 But if its merit thou admit, 
 
 1 only ask that thou wouldst take 
 
 On him compassion, for my sake; 
 
 For I would feel his murderer, 
 
 If in his aid, we failed to stir. 
 
 And he would come and haunt my sight 
 
 111 every vision of the night. 
 
 Till I, who ne'er saw ghost before, 
 
 Would have one with me evermore. 
 
 '•Thou lovest me? Then what if I 
 Were left upon the mount to die. 
 And those who passed should look and see, 
 Yet raise no helping hand to me? 
 But look! the sun is almost hid 
 Behind yon cliff. O! God forbid, 
 We tarry till his dying ray 
 
28 ^ THE ROSI'J OF 
 
 Shall fail to light us on the way!" 
 She felt his rough hand seek her own, 
 It shook as leaf the wind hath blown; 
 She knew by this her sire would stir 
 In aid of him for love of her, 
 And when she urged that he should go, 
 He only answered, "be it so." 
 
 For many a weary night and day 
 Within the cot the stranger lay 
 His spirit struggling to retain 
 Its hold upon a life of pain, 
 Till, through the crisis safely borne. 
 It left him pale and weak and worn, 
 As some one, who, for days might be 
 Cast helpless on an angry sea, 
 And then, when hope is almost o'er. 
 The fretful waves cast him ashore, 
 As if he were too slight a thing 
 For them to longer toss and fling. 
 
THE ALLEGHANIES. 20 
 
 The day they thought would be liis last, 
 The day of danger, long had passed, 
 But still, within the cottage wall, 
 lie stayed, a welcome guest to all; 
 For even the old anchoret 
 Would seem his sorrows to forget, 
 In the companionship of one 
 Whom lately he had tried to shun. 
 
 Each day a new found pleasure brought. 
 For now the cunning trout were caught. 
 And then they wandered forth, and found 
 A cave that led far under ground. 
 And where, like prisoners in a cell. 
 Brown bats in gloomy silence dwell. 
 They climbed the peaks where clouds are curled, 
 And they could look o'er half the world, 
 Seeing, in re2:ions far to north. 
 Blue Ridge and Chestnut stretching forth— 
 So like enormous graves, you must 
 
so THE ROSE OF 
 
 Conclude, within them lies the dust 
 Of those huge beings of the earth, 
 Before the human race had birth, — 
 And when their lengthened course is run 
 Rise Moosehillock and Killington, 
 Like headstones o'er their graves to sho\» 
 What mighty giants sleep below. — 
 
 But when the summer day was o'er, 
 They sat beside the cottage door, 
 And lingered often until late. 
 While each a story would relate. 
 And when the hermit found the talc, 
 A s often happened, long or stale, 
 His bearded chin would sink to rest 
 In slumber on his aged breast. 
 And Rosalie's attentive ear, 
 Alone the story's end would hear. 
 With no one by to bid them stay. 
 What wonder if those two should stray 
 
TIJE ALLEGEANIES. Zl 
 
 Within the wood? Was it not best, 
 Lest they disturb the heimit's rest? 
 Besides, beneath the full moon's ray, 
 The night was almost bright as day. 
 They strayed, as young hearts ever stray, 
 When youth and passion lead the way. 
 
 She went, at first she knew not why. 
 And walked beside him, mute and shy, 
 As grows the timid woodland bird 
 When first the whirring hawk is heard. 
 She listened to his subtle voice, 
 And went next night of her own choice; 
 Then ever after, with him near. 
 She felt their was no cause for fear; 
 lie seemed so strong, so brave, yet mild, 
 She learned to trust him as a child, 
 She grew to wonder if the day 
 I \Vould ever, ever pass away. 
 And, when the night had come, there seemed 
 
32 THE HO:SE OF 
 
 More joy in life than slie hafl droanied. 
 
 She said not much when they would meet, 
 Alone in that far- oil' retreat; 
 A brilliant sparkle of the eye, 
 And absent air, a sudden sigh, 
 A redder bloom upon the cheek, 
 And lips apart, as if to speak. 
 Were all that told how quick and strange 
 Unto her heart had been the change; 
 He marked the change, he knew full well 
 The. story which such blushes tell. 
 He read, as in an open book, 
 A love-tale in her very look, 
 And if she chanced to close her eyes, 
 He heard love" music in her sighs, 
 And if she had not sighed, he knew 
 By some new sign that it was true. 
 It was revealed in all she did; 
 For love and smoke cannot be hid. 
 
THE ALLEGHANIES. 33 
 
 Beneath the moonlight's mellow ray, 
 That gilds with gold the rocky w^ay, 
 They sit, in that momentous hour, 
 With thoughts too deep for human power 
 Of utterance. They gently float 
 In fancy's realm, swift as a boat 
 Without a helm, without a guide, 
 Adown the current of a tide. 
 
 At last she lifts her azure eyes, 
 And in his own a light descries 
 Which makes the warm blood, through her veins 
 Spread rapidly, in damask stains, 
 Unto the ripples of her hair, 
 And o'er her neck and bosom fair. 
 Half kneeling o'er her trembling form, 
 Eowed like the lily in the storm, 
 He holds her hands within his own, — • 
 They feel so lonely and alone, — 
 And whispers to her tenderly, 
 
31 THE ROSE OF 
 
 ""1 love yon, sweetest Rosalie." 
 
 She feels so lonely and alone, 
 There is such music in the tone, 
 She loves and thinks she is beloved. 
 Who thus can be and not be moved? 
 Like bird unto its mate, she flies 
 Unto his arms where fondly lies 
 Her yielding form in close embrace. 
 She hides her blushing, burning face 
 Upon his breast, her white arms twine, 
 Like clematis about the pine. 
 Around his neck; her g owing breast 
 To him is close and closer pressed, 
 While, in the first long kiss of love. 
 Her lips meet his, — their bliss to prove. 
 It is her life's completcst bliss 
 Experienced in that rapturous kiss. 
 And feeling it is bliss complete. 
 She sinks, half-swooning, at his feet. 
 
THE ALLEGHANIES. 35 
 
 I qiie-ition if she thouscht of wrong. 
 
 I only know her love was strong, 
 
 Ani warm as sunshine in the south, 
 
 Warm as the kisses of her mouth; 
 
 It was not love like yours or mine, 
 
 That can be measured by a line, \ 
 
 Or any boundery to it trace, 
 
 For it was li mitless as space. 
 
 You could not count it o'er and o'er, 
 And say, there is so much, no more; 
 It was so richer far than ^old, 
 Its value could not thus be told; 
 And it was like the mountain spring. 
 Its depths unstirred by any thing. 
 No one could go to him and say, 
 "Why, 1 have known her many a day;" 
 Then look into his face and laugh 
 And whisper, "I was first to quaff 
 The sweetness of that mountain rill, 
 
36 TUE RO^E OF 
 
 And 'twas not till I drank my fdl 
 Tbit yoa cams hero, and blindly took 
 What I <yvGW tired of, and forsook." 
 For there was, even, not so much 
 As one slight stain, nor tinge, nor loiioh, 
 Of love-kiss on her golden hair. 
 No hand had touched her anywhere. 
 Her form Avithout and soul within 
 Were free from any trace of sin. 
 
 I do not judge, condemn, nor blame, 
 I apeak not lightly of her shame; 
 He that is without bin, or blur, 
 Let him first cast a stone at her. 
 I only say she was as pure 
 As lilies, when they first m.ituro; 
 She left him, in a single hour, 
 A blasted soul, a withered flower; 
 She was as fair as snow-flakes, vvhero 
 They have their birth, in realms of air; 
 
THE ALLI'JGUANIES. 
 
 Siie left him, as the snow is when 
 
 All trampled under foot of men; 
 
 She was as fresh as is the rill, 
 
 AVhcn first it leaves the creviced hill, 
 
 She loved him, and the stream was rank, 
 
 With foulest slime, from bank to bank. 
 
 He came with kisses and with lies, 
 
 (They arc the same unto the wise;) 
 
 He knelt, he vowed, her heart was won. 
 
 He made of her a thing to shun; 
 
 lie, who once kissed her garments' hem, 
 
 Now shudders at the touch of them; 
 
 Though he himself hath dragged her down, 
 
 'Tis he who is the first to frown, 
 
 The first to sneer, the first to scofi'. 
 
 The first, alas, to cast her ofl*. 
 
 And A Ivan Booth was one of thoso 
 Who could appieciate a rose, 
 As long as it was fresh and inu'O, 
 
38 THE ROSE OF 
 
 But he could not abide, endure, 
 
 A rose that had been handled much, 
 
 Thouo^h it were soiled by his own touch, 
 
 And when it withered in his hand, 
 
 He could not see, nor underj?tand. 
 
 Why it should not be cast aside, 
 
 Regardless if it lived or died. 
 
 And in the world, 1 trow, are those, 
 
 And there are more than you suppose, 
 
 Who think a woman such a gem, 
 
 And Alvan Booth was one of them. 
 
 Again they stand upon the height, 
 Within the shadows ©f the night. 
 And Rosalie stands by his side, 
 The sombre darkness cannot hide 
 The look of desolate despair, 
 Which, till that night, had not been there, 
 No more he strokes her yellow hair. 
 Nor calls h^x bis, mx names her fair, 
 
THE ALLEGHANIES. 
 
 For this pale girl to him is now 
 A blighted bud plucked from its bough, 
 And wasted all its sweet perfume, 
 Just when it had begun to bloom. 
 All beauty flown, and if he did 
 Confess the thought, now quick, but hid 
 Within his bosom, he would say, 
 *'0h! would that I were far away! 
 And shall I go? Why linger here 
 Where all is desolate and drear, 
 W^hen love no longer gives delight. 
 And she grows hateful to my sight? 
 The rose of all its beauty shorn. 
 Why linger but to feel the thorn?" 
 What fatal weakness bade me tell 
 To him the place in which I dwell? 
 Would he not follow nae to sate 
 His vengeance with a sleepless hate? 
 With all the cunning of the fox, 
 
iO THE ROSE OF 
 
 And all the patience of the ox, 
 
 Yet all the fury of the bear, 
 
 Would he not follow everywhere; 
 
 And would he not at last proclaim 
 
 My deep dishonor and my shame? 
 
 No, no, it will not do to fly, 
 
 'Twere better that they both should die. 
 
 Die! people will not die at will, 
 
 Or else these very thoughts would kill." 
 
 "Thcie is a better weapon." "Where?" 
 ''The gorge which lies beneath thee there." 
 
 "And how can that my fortunes save?" 
 "It were a most convenient grave." 
 
 "What! add a crime unto my sin?" 
 "Thy sole protection lies therein." 
 
 "There would be blood upon my hands!" 
 "Of one who in thy pathway stands." 
 
THE ALLEGIIANlE'l dl 
 
 *'I5at if detected, what avail—" 
 ''The dead alone can tell no tale." 
 
 *'And, when 'tis done, would I then be"— 
 ''Safe. Then it would be safe to flee." 
 
 These were but thoughts, 3^et thous^hts are things 
 
 From wliich all human purpose springs, 
 
 And they first rose within his breast 
 
 So faint they were scarce manifest, 
 
 But as the river by the rain 
 
 Is swelled until it floods the plain, 
 
 And sweeps, with its resistless force, 
 
 All opposition to its course, 
 
 The purpose grew, and grew, until 
 
 It took possession of his will. 
 
 And as the torrent overflows, 
 
 The hell within his heart arose. 
 
 lie turned and clasped her in his arms. 
 As if enamored of her charms, 
 
THE ROSE OF 
 
 And she, one blissful moment, dreamed 
 He was as faithful as he seemed; 
 The fondness of her heart was such, 
 The very rudeness of his touch 
 Was welcomed, as an evidence 
 Of love, impassioned and intense; 
 Besides, her trust was so complete, 
 She could not understand deceit. 
 And when he bore her to the ledge, 
 A nd held her o'er its extreme edge. 
 She deemed the action but in play. 
 And smiled, and only spoke to say, 
 *'Be careful, do not let me fall," 
 While, into depth that would appaE 
 The heart of hardy mountaineer. 
 She looked without a sign of fear. 
 
 But when he loosens his embrace, 
 She turns to him her trustful face. 
 And sees his purpose, ia the glaro 
 
THE ALLEGHANIES. 4 5 
 
 His demon-imaged features wear. 
 A strange swift li.irht, within her eyes, 
 Sprino;s (luickly up, and quickly dies, 
 'Tis lin.iT^ering hope and wild desi)air. 
 Still struggling for the mastery there. 
 But, ah, despair doth triumph now, 
 For cheeks and lips are white as brow. 
 
 Yet still her frightful fall to check, 
 Her dimpled arms surround his neck. 
 And cling with all their strength to him; 
 She twines in his each supple limb, 
 As if to wrestle with a foe. 
 Till fettered by those bonds of snow. 
 He staggers backward from the brink. 
 Lest he into the depths may sink. 
 Enraged to see, as he recoils. 
 That she his fatal purpose foils, 
 He lays his hands upon her breast, 
 Which never was so rudely pressed, 
 
il THE ROjSE of 
 
 And like the savaofe in his ra^e. 
 That spares nor beauty, sex nor age, 
 And knows not pity nor remorse, 
 He thrusts her from him with such force. 
 Her arms, that bind him in their fold, 
 All suddenly release their h(dd, 
 And, as a worthless thing is thrown. 
 He flin«^s her, bleeding, on the stone. 
 
 Fierce as a beast that's brought to bay, 
 Or one that's baffled of its prey, 
 Or worse, that, at the sight of gore, 
 Becomes more furious than befor^^, 
 He rushes on her, lying there. 
 He twines his fingers in her hair, 
 And all resistance now in vain. 
 He drags her to the brink again. 
 He casts her form far o'er the rim. 
 And only holds her by the slim 
 And shininn^ tendrils of her hair; 
 
THE ALLEGHANIES. 45 
 
 She seems as slipping through the ciir, — 
 
 'Tis f^oih' — but no, her arms thrown wide, 
 
 Cling madly to the mountain side; 
 
 She clasps the rocks in her embrace, 
 
 As though a lover's form and face; 
 
 About the ledge her fingers stray, 
 
 In rapid search of prop or stay; 
 
 They glide along the gorge's edge, 
 
 Until they touch a tuft of sedge. 
 
 That reaches near, as if it were 
 
 A friendly hand held out to her; 
 
 She grasps it eagerly as he 
 
 Who held Christ's hand on Galilee. 
 
 Those slender tendrils bear her weight 
 
 Bat can they save her from her fate? 
 
 Upon his face her eyes are cast, 
 One wistful look, it is the last, 
 And, could he see that mute appeal, 
 His heart would melt, tliouirh made of steel 
 
46 THE ROSE OF 
 
 He sees it not nor heeds the cry, 
 ^'Oh Alvan save! I fall! I die!" 
 For ere those words of wild dispair 
 Die on the chill, unfeeling air. 
 And leave the silence of the night 
 To hover o'er the sombre height, 
 He reached down and o'er the rock. 
 To where her bleeding hands eniock 
 Support so frail, the zephyr's breath 
 Would dash her down to instant death, 
 If it her form to rudely fanned, 
 And holds within his iron hand. 
 Swift-lifted from the rocky ledge, 
 A stone with sharp and flinty edge, 
 And which, as if to aim with care. 
 He holds suspended in the air 
 An instant, and then lets it fall — 
 A crash, and from that mountain wall 
 It sweeps her to the depths below, 
 
THE ALLEGIIANIES. 47 
 
 As would an avalanche of snow. 
 A sigh of sadness floods the vale, 
 The wakened owlets doleful wail 
 Breaks through the misty mountain air, 
 The only honest mourner there. 
 The mountain wolf's low, distant howl, 
 The piercing cry of some night fowl, 
 Awake the echoes of the glen, 
 Then die, and all is still again. 
 
 The wretch, with visage of a fiend. 
 Above the yawning cavern leaned, 
 And peered, like death into a tomb, 
 T( see how perfect was the doom 
 Of the fair being he had slain 
 To hide from earth a darken stain; 
 Then, like a panic stricken hound, 
 He quickly rose he looked around 
 And listened with averted head. 
 The world was silent as the dead! 
 
43 Till!: ROSE OF 
 
 Yet in that stillness tlioro was more 
 Of terror than the sound of war; 
 No livinif tliin^ was there- to view, 
 Nor tell his perfidy, he knew. 
 And y^'t. as fancy pictured iil, 
 lie shook as with an a^ue chill. 
 lie glared into the dark, as thou^j^h 
 lie feared to stay, yet^ feared to go, 
 An I then, as if alone in flight 
 His safety lay, he left the height, 
 And sought ^he shadows of the wood, 
 With all the haste of one pursued. 
 
 The hermit sat a'on^ that eve, 
 For Rosalie had taken leave, 
 'With Alvan Booth, to wander through 
 Their favorite haimt of pine and yew. 
 IIo needed not the time, until 
 The night-song of the whip-poor-will, 
 In the adjoining hrake. was heard; 
 
THE ALLLGlLiyJLiS. 
 
 It seemed so like a spoken word, 
 The hermit woke, and thought to see 
 The crentle face of Rosalie 
 Bend fondly over him, instead, 
 He saw the white moon over head. • 
 And it was late, the moon had crept 
 High up the mountain, while he slept; 
 The time must midnight be, or more; 
 She never was so late before! 
 
 He restless grew and walked the floor, 
 And ever, as he passed the door, 
 Would stand and shade his waning sight, 
 And peer into the gloom of night 
 With long and anxious look, but ho 
 Saw sight nor sign of Rosalie. 
 His fear increased, he searched around, 
 He called aloud, but heard no sound. 
 Nor saw one trace of her he sought. 
 Each sight and noise his senses caught. 
 
50 THE ROSE OF 
 
 lie stopped to list: his eager ear 
 imaged the sound he wished to hear. 
 
 He stood as if he did not know 
 Which vray to search, or where to go, 
 But grazed upon the frowning cliff, 
 And in the sombre woods, as if 
 Awaiting them to tell the cause 
 Of her dela}^ or where she was; 
 And then, as if to answer him, 
 There came, from out the shadows dim, 
 A sound so sad, and stiil so wild, 
 lie could not say if man or child 
 Or spirit spoke, although each word 
 Filled him with terror, as he heard. 
 He waited not the call again, 
 But dashed in madness down the glen, 
 Immersed in the profoundcst shade 
 That ever cliff and forest made. 
 The leaves above so densely gre":' 
 
THE ALLEGIIANIES. 51 
 
 The moonlight could not pierce them through 
 Yet in the shadows, swift as thought, 
 lie followed on, and faltered not. 
 
 J stand and wait and hold my breath, 
 6ucn reckless flight must end in death, 
 1 list to hear his feeble cry, 
 When he is dashed below to die; 
 But, lo! instead, I see him stand 
 Upon the rocks, with lifted hand; 
 1 hear him shout and call her name, 
 In accents wild as tongue can frame, 
 And now I hear it everywhere, 
 As if each spirit of the air. 
 And every cliff and gorge and peak 
 Were lifting up a voice to speak, 
 And mock him, as in merry glee 
 They laugh the name of Rosalie. 
 He shudders as he hears the sound, 
 And lowly kneeling on the ground, 
 
52 THE ROSE OF 
 
 He peers into the depths below 
 As if their secrets he would know. 
 And, as he looks, the forest trees 
 Are parted by the passing breeze, 
 When, lo! the moon that looks upon 
 So much of guilt, yet tells of none, 
 Lends one stray beam her light to shed 
 Upon the features of the dead, 
 And far below hia eyes can trace 
 The outline of a form and face , 
 
 He starts, as one who sees, or seems, 
 To see strange spirits in his dreams, 
 Ilis burning eyes the cliffs survey, 
 He searches all the rocky way 
 And wanders up and down, to see 
 If a descending path there be. 
 Beyond the cliff, himself, he flings, 
 To jutting stones and shrubs he clings^ 
 He stretches forth a brawny hand 
 
rilE ALLEGHANIES. 53 
 
 And dio^s his fingers in the sand, 
 And thus he picks his toilsome way 
 O'er crags no creature would essay. 
 
 Who can depict the agony 
 Of him who lives, at last, to see 
 The dearest object life has souorht. 
 And without which all else is naught. 
 Gained, mayhaps, at the greatest cost, 
 Forever, in an instant, lost? 
 Such was the agony he felt. 
 As o'er her prostrate form he knelt; 
 lie wept nor moved nor spoke a word, 
 I wished he could have cried or stirred; 
 For it seemed such a woeful thing 
 For him to simply kneel and cling 
 And look, with eyes that would not weep, 
 On her in her un waking sleep; 
 For 1 have leaned above the dead. 
 And kissed the clay whose soul had fled, 
 
54 TllF, ROSE OF 
 
 And felt that everything of worth 
 Had passed forever ftom the earth; 
 Yes, I have loved and lost, and knov/n 
 The utmost bitterness of woe 
 Is when, at last, we kneel and bid 
 Farewell, above the collindid. 
 
 So I was glad when he arose. 
 Was glad, although I did sui)j)osc, 
 I knew revenge would follow i)ain, 
 I knew that he would seareh the plain, 
 I knew that he would search the wood, 
 I knew th it blood would follow blood, 
 I knew, in that relentless strife. 
 That life would be the price of life; 
 Yet I was glad to see him go, 
 For where could foe meet worthier foe? 
 They met upon a narrow path, 
 And fearful was the hermit's wratlK 
 Yet Alvan J^oq^i >y(is stoni \M h^. 
 
THE ALLEGHANIES. 
 
 And both were brave as brave could be, 
 And one was armed, a dagger's hilt 
 Shone brightly in defense of guilt. 
 
 The hermit stood as one who dares 
 His foe, and for no danger cares; 
 Nor waited he the fierce attack, 
 As those who heart and courage lack, 
 But on his foe he swiftly dashed, 
 While •'er his head the dagger flashed, 
 But ere the steel his breast had smote. 
 One hand had clutched the villain's throat. 
 And swift another clasp was laid 
 U')on the hand that held the blade; 
 Ana then they fought, they fought as those 
 Who once were friends, but now are foes. 
 They f(.ught so long and fierce and well. 
 And with such fury none could tell. 
 Or even guess which of the two 
 
 y^-^^M >yin Yfhm that affray mm through. 
 
56 TEE ROSE OF 
 
 At last the hermit reeled and fell, 
 And Alvan Booth, with savage yell 
 Of triumph, knelt upon his breast; 
 With dagger's hilt more tightly pressed, 
 lie raised his arm to strike the blow. 
 And smiled exultant on his foe. 
 
 But who can count his battle won 
 Before the steel its work has done? 
 The hermit saw that smile and drew 
 Courage and strength to fight anew; 
 Nor was it hope that urged him on, 
 For life he knew would soon be gone. 
 But, like Manoah's mighty son. 
 He deemed indeed a victory won. 
 If, when himself he could not save, 
 He forced his foe to share his grave. 
 So, as the weapon fell and stung, 
 One arm about his foe he flung. 
 He rose as if to meet the blow. 
 
THE ALLEGHANIES. -57 
 
 He only seemed to move, as though 
 His hold upon that foe to keep, 
 While turning on his side to sleep, 
 When, lo, adown the mountain's side 
 Swift as an avalanche, they glide. 
 Their forms are crushed against a rock, 
 A fragment quivers at the shock. 
 Till like a leaf from off its stem. 
 It breaks and follows after them. 
 And others, still, the slope forsake, 
 And follow downward in its wake. 
 Till rock and shell and earth and all 
 Fill up the crevice where they fall. 
 
 The robin, at the break of day, 
 Sings sweetly as he flits away. 
 But ere his early song hath ceased, 
 The sunlight glimmers in the east, 
 And while, beneath his fiery glance. 
 The earth awakens from its trance. 
 
THE ROSE OF 
 
 A\mg: the ruo-^ed monnlain side, 
 
 Is heard the woodman's heavy stride . 
 
 Unconscious of the world he went, 
 ^Vhcn suddenly with gaze intent, 
 The while his face grew^ deathly pale, 
 lie looked adown the dewy vale. 
 AVhat sight was it that made his blood 
 Rush to his heart, in rapid flood! 
 It seemed a human form, and yet 
 The eyes appeared so strangely set, 
 The features were so still and cold. 
 At first no human could have told; 
 But when that strange, mysterious dread, 
 We feel when first we view the dead. 
 Had passed away, he gazed again 
 Into the shadows of the glen, 
 And recognized that form to be 
 The lifeless, mangled Rosalie. 
 
 Ho knovv hov ^y li^r wonith of iiajr 
 
THE ALLEGHAiYIES. 
 
 That would have marked her anywhere, 
 
 And by that witchery and grace, 
 
 That even death could not efface. 
 
 He gazed a moment on that brow 
 
 As cold as white as marble, now, 
 
 Low-bending his uncovered head 
 
 In silent reverence of the dead. 
 
 And then he raised her form, and drew 
 
 His hand across those eyes of blue; 
 
 He smoothed her garments in their place, 
 
 He wiped the death-damp from her face. 
 
 And, while the morning yet was gray, 
 
 He bore her gentl\' down the way. 
 
 They made for her a narrow cell 
 Beneath the pines she loved so well, 
 They folded her still fingers o'er 
 Her breast, that beat with love no more, 
 And there, regardless of the past. 
 
 Her waj'Wiir4 b^i^rt foi]u4 rest at Imti 
 
60 THE ROSE OF 
 
 A century, almost, 1 ween, 
 'Tvvixt then and now, doth intervene, 
 With all its train of human crime, 
 That follows in the track of time, 
 But still the fireside's saddest tale 
 Is drawn from this secluded vale 
 Where many a swain has sighed to think 
 How low the huziian heart may sink, 
 And many a maid has wept to hear 
 The fate of her now lying here. 
 

 ..'.^^I^^^"^" 
 
 
 •y#^^v V -^^^ 
 
 
 J 
 
 
 p 
 
 o V 
 
N. MANCHESTER 
 INDIANA