Page:The Wild Goose.djvu/64



Then the Old Wind heaved a mighty sigh; "Oh! woe is me!" did he say, "That I must return with such sad dining thoughts from such a cheerful day." As thus he mused from a windows sill, he gazed o'er the dismal place; Then turning, he looked within the cell and beheld an upturned face, All rigid and pale, and with lowering brow looking out on te gathering night, The Old King gazed through his mortal's soul, and with pity was moved at the sight. He looked in the depths of the troubled heart, and an evil spirit was there: "Ah!" said he, as he gazed at the stormy eye, "'tis the work of grim Despair, Who is seeking his prey on this blessed night but I swear by my crown of snow That I’ll thwart his plan 'gainst this wretched man ere I back to my ice caves go! Then a cheering note did the Old Wind blow, as he entered the gloomy cell; But all in vain were his cheering tones—still the restless footstep fell. Again he blew in a stronger key, till at length his loudest roar he had tried in despair: still the wretched man was heedless as before; And with hasty step his dungeon paced, with a fevered throbbing brain, And the spirit of evil triumphant laughed at the Old Wind's efforts vain. But once more he paused in his weary walk to gaze with abstracted eye Through the massive bars that in bold relief stood out 'gainst the wintry sky. Again as the Old Wind scanned that face his courage revived; and now Like Zephyr, soft as an angels wing, he played o'er that troubled brown, He gently fanned the fevered cheek and cooed the throbbing brain, Till the heart grew calm and the eye had lost its weary look of pain; The broken spirit he mildly soothed with a low and plaintive air, Till at length the weary soul he lured from the grasp of dark Despair. The troubled heart was now at rest, and borne on the cadence mild, came long-forgotten scenes of youth when he played a happy child; But softer still the Old Wind blew, and recalled his father's death, And his mother's voice—and a sob burst forth, for he felt her loving breath Again on his brown: then he bowed his head 'neath the father's chastening rod, And the penitent tears gushed freely forth as he raised his soul to God. Then as he prayed, a heavenly voice brought peace to his heaving breast, Saying—"Come to me all you weary ones, and I will give you rest." "Oh! how glad I am!" said the Old North Wind; "now back again I'll go to my own loved north, 'mid the icebergs vast and the pure eternal snow," Ah! well might he sing his boisterous song on his rapid homeward flight; For a stricken soul made its peace with God on the blessed Christmas night. J.B. O'Reilly.