Tj A R A.

And some foreboding that it might be crime.Himself unheeded watch’d the stranger’s course,Wh o reach’d the river, hounded from his horse.And lifting thence the burthen which he bore, 1211Heav’d up the bank, and dash’d it from the shore,Then paused, and look’d, and turn’d, andseem’d to watch,

And still another hurried glance would snatch.And follow with his step the stream that flow'd,As if even yet too much its surface show’d:

At once he started, stoop’d , around him strewnThe winter floods had scattered heaps of stone;Of these the heaviest thence he gather’d there, 1219And slung them with a more than common care.Meantime the Serf had crept to where unseenHimself might safely mark what this might mean;He caught a glimpse, as of a floating breast,And something glittered starlike on the vest.But ere he well could mark the buoyant trunk,A massy fragment smote it, and it sunk:

It rose again but indistinct to view,

And left the waters of a purple hue,

Then deeply disappear’d : the horseman gaz’dTill ehb°d the latest eddy it had rais'd;

Then turning, vaulted on his pawing steed,

And instant spurr’d him into panting speed. 1His face was mask’d — the features of the dead 1 ,.!f Head it were, escaped the observer’s dread ;