4

st. Michael’s eve.

Then Sir Walter’s brow would darken, and he’d mutter, “ Alice,hearken !

By my child no such treason shall be spoken, e’en in jest;

And bethink you, 0 my daughter ! there is one across the waterWho shall one day have his own again, though now lie’s soredistress’d.”

Little knew he that each even, ’twixt the hours of six and seven,

Just below his daughter’s casement a whistle low was blown ;

And that soon as e’er it sounded through the wicket gate she bounded,And was clasped in the embrace of one of bold “King William’sown.”

Ay ! Be Ruyter was a gentleman, and high-bred were his people;

No chapel-going- folks were they, but loved a church and steeple !

His blood of every good Dutch race contained a little sprinkle—

A Knickerbocker was his sire, his aunt a Rip van Winckle ;

And so well he danced, and sang, and kissed, and talked so wondrousclever,

He gave this maiden’s heart a twist, and conquered it for ever !

And being thus a captain gay, “ condemned to country quarters,”

A favorite of his royal lord, adorned with stars and garters,

He saw this young maid,

As one day on parade

He was gaily attired, all jackboots and braid ;

He staved, she but glanced,

Her charms it enhanced,

She passed by him quickly, he rested entranced !

No orders he utters,

But vacantly mutters

(Though, clamouring round him, his underlings gabble hard),

“ She’s to me Eloi'sa; to her I’ll be Abelard !”