"Hear me, Tlatzeca, hear me now;
Each word that thou hast said
Hath been an arrow tipp'd with fire,
An omen from the dead.

"Why didst thou fight my father's fight?
Why didst thou save my life?
Why burst my tyrant's iron chain,

And brave the murd'rer's knife?

"Thou knew'st I could not-dared not love

Him whom my Sire had cursed;

For he forbade to raise the flame
Our infancy had nursed;

"For this poor heart had ne'er forgot
Those hours of childhood's day,
When sorrow and grief were never known,
And all was bright and gay;

"When ev'ry moment, wing'd with joy,

To ecstacy was given;

And we lived on in love of Earth,
And purity of Heaven.

"But whisp'ring tongues and envy's blight
Madden'd my aged sire;

And then he snatch'd me from thy love,

And cursed thee in his ire.

"He gave me to another chief

This morn the pomp I led;

Thou know'st the dreadful hour that came,

And left a nation dead.

"Th' unfinish'd rites were stain'd with blood;

My sire gasp'd on the ground;

Brethren and friends all struggling died;

And I was seized, and bound;

"Thou cam'st, an angel from above!
Youth, innocence to save ;-
A moment of forgetfulness,
And we were on the wave.

"Thou only now art left on earth,
Of all who once were mine;
All ties are broken now, which once
Forbade me to be thine.

"Take then, dear youth, that heart again,
Which ne'er from thee has ranged;
Which, bending to a father's voice,
Was ne'er a moment changed."

Tlatzeca stood a moment's space,
In mute and vacant gaze;

And sense and reason all were lost
In dark delirious maze.

At length, across his deep-flush'd cheek,
Glances shot from his eye,

Like ev'ning lightning flashing fast
On Autumn's dark'ning sky.

But Nature and Love the struggle soothed,

The choking of the breast;

And then gush'd forth delicious tears,
And brought repose and rest.

He clasp'd the Maiden in his arms;
And she in his embrace
Entranced lay; then breathed his name,
And gazed upon his face.

And they were silent-while around
Loud echoed the wild wave;

And the distant swell of the nightly tide
Resounded in the cave.

And they were silent-'t was a bliss
That could no longer last,
Than just to feel it had been there,
And feel that it was past.

And he is gone, Tlatzeca now,
The depth is pass'd again,

And the boatman is in his skiff once more,
And bounding o'er the main.

And time roll'd on in ceaseless course;

But aye, at ev'ning tide,

A gilded skiff, with a plumed chief,
Was seen o'er the wave to glide.

And none could tell its destined port,
Or its path on the wat'ry way;
But ever at morn that chief return'd,
Wet with the Ocean spray.

And Time roll❜d on-and Right had burst
The tyrant's hated chain;
And Vict'ry shouted long and high,
And Freedom rose again.

Tlatzeca drew the first his sword,
First dealt the godlike blow,
That loosed the bonds of slavery,
That dash'd the murd'rer low.

And where is he? On the deck he stands Of the gilded galley now;

And marks the green wave flashing fast Before the coming prow.

On goes the galley before the gale,
And Ocean foams behind;

And rattling cords, and streamers gay,
Are fluttering in the wind.

On goes the galley before the gale,
And the seaman's song is sung;
And friends and slaves, together met,
Around Tlatzeca hung.

On goes the galley before the gale,

And the dearest of them said,

"Why seeks not the Youth, who is brave and young, The love of a lovely Maid?"

On goes the galley before the gale,

Till under the rock 't is moor'd ;

"Now seek I my bride!"—he said, and sprung Like lightning overboard.

A space they stood, in fearful guise,
All gazing silently,

With beating hearts, and eager glance,
On the blue tumbling sea.

Mute gaze they, as each flashing wave
Just burst, and før aye is gone ;
And broken flings back its rippling foam
On the wave that is coming on.

And now they despair for their drowned Chief;
But under the stern-see! see!

Out of the surge: comes their Chief, and a Maid
Beautiful exceedingly!

Again he stands on the crowded deck,

With the maiden by his side;

Whose long loose locks, and garments green,
Bright sparkled from the tide.

And all fell down in a ring around
The Youth and the Maiden fair;

For she, they thought, was an Ocean Nymph,
Or Angel sprung from air.

But none of the Nymphs, on their sea-shells borne,
That boast of the Ocean race,

Might vie by their hair and their dark green eyes
With the blush upon Hilla's face..

And her smile around was a ray of Heaven,
And she hung on Tlatzeca's arm;

And the glance of her eye has fix'd them there,
As it were with an elfin charm.

"Rise, dear ones, rise," the Chieftain cried,
"And up with the swelling sail;

And on with the galley to our home,
Before the rising gale.

"You bade me seek a lovely Maid,—
I saw her beneath the waves ;
And here is my bride that I have found
In the green Ocean's caves."

And a chorus wild arose around,
"Hail to the Maid of the Wave!

Hail to her whom Tlatzeca loves

The Bride of the Ocean Cave!"

H. N. C.

NUGE AMATORIÆ.

"Aliter non fit, Avite, liber."-MARTIAL.

"'Tis thus, old boy, a book is made."-ELPHINSTONE.

CERTAIN Members of the Club, who are desperately in love, take this the last opportunity of addressing their sweethearts, under cover of "The Etonian," and of