A NORTHERN LEGEND.

There sits a lovely maiden,

The ocean murmuring nigh;

She throws the hook, and watches;

The fishes pass it by.

A ring, with a red jewel,

Is sparkling on her hand;

Upon the hook she binds it,

And flings it from the land.

Uprises from the water

A hand like ivory fair.

What gleams upon its finger?

The golden ring is there.

Uprises from the bottom

A young and handsome knight;

In golden scales he rises,

That glitter in the light.

The maid is pale with terror —

“Nay, Knight of Ocean, nay,

It was not thee I wanted;

Let go the ring, I pray.”

“Ah, maiden, not to fishes

The bait of gold is thrown;

The ring shall never leave me,

And thou must be my own.”