Crockett.
Thou jestest, friend—it cannot be—but, ah!
It must be true—who is this handsome maiden?
Col. Wm. Travis.
'T is Elsie Bradburn, my heroic bride.
Crockett.
And who is this I am I awake or dreaming?
James Travis, thou? my youthful, gallant friend.
The fear for whose imperiled fate has wrung
The first right-fervid prayer I e'er in life
Have uttered, from my anxious bosom's shrine.
But speak! declare to me the riddle, how
Thou hast escaped the tyrant's tiger-claws
And comest here, I know not, through the air
Or from the, ground, albeit we saw thee not.
James Travis.
Hast ever thou, amid thy many feats
Of danger, as I well surmise, been saved
From out the very jaws of direst death
By wondrous, providential interference,
To fathom which thy mind proved impotent?
If had thy fancy's eye on such occasion
Attired thy intercessor with the brightest hues
Of Heaven and Earth, of Morn and Evening-sky,—
