POETRY.
THE VILLAGE IN THE LAKE.* BENEATH the lake green as a wizard's beryl The village sleeps the centuries away, The bells are ringing somewhere in the sunshine For weddings and for buryings to-day ; But in the waters, The green, shining waters, The village sleeps, while life pursues its way.
The fisher in the bark winged like a swallow,
At dawn fast flitting o'er the crystal wave,
Will swear he sees below it brown, quaint dwellings, Each once a home, each long a nameless grave; For in the waters, The clear, lapping waters, The village sleeps, beneath the crystal wave.
Above, the figs are purpling in the summer, The maize gleams golden in the sun and wind, Around the fountains gossips laugh and prattle, The mother clasps the babe, lovers are kind; Down in the waters, The cool, shadowed waters, The village sleeps, unwarmed by sun or wind.
The storm upon the mountains drives the tempest Across the lake scourged into pallid rage, The wolves proclaim the winter, frost and hunger Beset the folk ashore from youth to age; There in the waters, The calm, peaceful waters, The village sleeps, unscathed by tempest's rage.
Throughout the ages rocky peaks have splintered, The world with wars has reddened to its core, Religions have been changed, and kings been martyred, Since first its place on earth knew it no more; Since in the waters, The deep, flowing waters, The village sleeps, and knows the world no more.
• Lego Alleghe owes Its origin to a landslip which in the eighteeath century buried three villages. In winter, when the ice is not too thick, or in calm summer weather the walls and roofs of one may yet be seen far below. Those there are, say the shore-dwellers, who have beard the bells tolling at midnight under the water for the unburied dead.
Within it brides once wed and reared men children, For it the world was warm, too, in its day; The end was swifter than the summer lightning, That twined the people from their work and play; Now in the waters, The kind, cruel waters, The village sleeps, nor dreams of that death-day.
At times some fair Undine, dimly feeling The human taint in the lake-gladness fall, May float athwart the casements, strangely eyeing
A cradle, or the Christ upon the wall,
Where in the waters, The green, secret waters, The village sleeps, until the mountains fall.
K. L. MONTGOMERY.
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