And to a merry tune she hummed, "Oh, | And while they wondered came the spring Heaven only knows a-dancing o'er the hills;

Whatever will become of the naughty Brier- Her breath was warmer than of

Rose."

Whene'er a thrifty matron this idle maid espied,

She shook her head in warning, and scarce her wrath could hide;

all the mountain-rills

yore, and

With their tinkling and their rippling and their rushing filled the air,

And the misty sounds of water forth-welling everywhere.

For girls were made for housewives, for spin- And in the valley's depth, like a lusty beast ning-wheel and loom, of prey, And not to drink the sunshine and wild- The river leaped and roared aloud and tossed

But Brier-Rose, as was her wont, she cocked It was a merry sight to see the lumber as it

But I can sing a pretty song," full merrily Adown the tawny eddies that hissed and

a steep incline

Then she shook her tiny fist; to her cheeks But in the narrows of the rocks, where o'er the color flew : "However much you coax me, I'll never The waters plunged and wreathed in foam dance with you." the dark boughs of the pine, The lads kept watch with shout and song, and sent each straggling beam

PART II.

Thus flew the years light-winged over Brier- A-spinning down the rapids, lest it should

Rose's head,

Till she was twenty summers old and yet re

mained unwed.

lock the stream.

PART III.

voices in the night,

And all the parish wondered: "The Lord And yet-methinks I hear it now-wild almighty knows Whatever will become of that naughty Brier- A rush of feet, a dog's harsh bark, a torch's flaring light,

Rose."

And wandering gust of dampness, and 'round | But as with trembling hands and with fainting hearts we stood,

us, far and nigh,

A throbbing boom of water like a pulse-beat We spied a little curly head emerging from in the sky.

The dawn just pierced the pallid east with spears of gold and red

As we with boat-hooks in our hands toward the narrows sped;

the wood;

We heard a little snatch of a merry little

song,

And saw the dainty Brier-Rose come dancing through the throng.

And terror smote us, for we heard the mighty An angry murmur rose from the people round about.

tree-tops sway, And thunder as of chariots, and hissing "Fling her into the river!" we heard the

showers of spray.

"Now, lads," the sheriff shouted, "you are strong, like Norway's rock:

A hundred crowns I give to him who breaks the lumber-lock!

matrons shout;

"Chase her away, the silly thing! for God
himself scarce knows

Why ever he created that worthless Brier-
Rose."

For if another hour go by, the angry waters' Sweet Brier-Rose she heard their cries; a spoil little pensive smile Our homes will be, and fields, and our weary Across her fair face flitted that might a stone years of toil."

We looked each at the other; each hoped his neighbor would

Brave death and danger for his home, as valiant Norsemen should;

beguile,

And then she gave her pretty head a roguish little cock;

Hand me a boat-hook, lads," she said: "I think I'll break the lock."

But at our feet the brawling tide expanded Derisive shouts of laughter broke from throats like a lake,

And whirling beams came shooting on and made the firm rock quake.

"Two hundred crowns!" the sheriff cried,
and breathless stood the crowd;
"Two hundred crowns, my bonny lads!" in
anxious tones and loud.

But not a man came forward, and no one

spoke or stirred,

of young and old:

Ho, good-for-nothing Brier-Rose! your tongue was ever bold;"

And mockingly a boat-hook into her hands was flung,

When, lo! into the river's midst with daring leaps she sprung.

We saw her dimly through a mist of dense and blinding spray;

And nothing save the thunder of the cataract From beam to beam she skipped like a wa

was heard.

ter-sprite at play,

A crimson waist, a golden head, a little dainty WHEN the lessons and tasks are all

Ah, little naughty Brier-Rose, thou couldst When I think of the paths steep and stony

And yet the adage lives in the valley of thy They are idols of hearts and of households;

Fill every beaker up, my men! Pour forth Whilst Lou and I shot flitting glances

I hear it faintly louder yet! What clogs Stumbling over trailing flounces, my heavy breath?

Up, all, and shout for Rudiger, 'Defiance Clamoring for sugared dainties, unto Death!'"

Bowl rang to bowl, steel clanged to steel, and These and other kindred trials

Ho, cowards, have ye left me to meet him I wrote those lines one happy summer;