THE WIZARD.
A BOHEMIAN LEGEND.
Through the dark and lonely forest,
Sparingly the sunlight fell;
Round the forests, rocky mountains,
Where the eagle’s brood doth dwell;
By a little stream of water,
In a cave amidst, the rocks,
Dwelt the wizard of Podjokly,
Old and bent, with snowy locks.
Far and wide they came to see him,
Asking help, and begging aid;
And ’twas said he could do wonders—
But he must be richly paid.
When the shades of evening gather,
Like a dark cloud in the sky,
Once there came a muffled figure,
Hid from every prying eye.
“Wizard, can your magic tell me,
What his fate was who wore this?
Name your price, but tell me truly,
Is your knowledge up to this?”
In his hand he placed a locket
With a curl of golden hair.
“Name your price but tell me truly,
Where is he who owned this hair?”
Then the wizard lit his fire—
Took his hood and drew his spell.
Then he said, “The youth’s voice whispers
From the ground where he doth dwell.
