the place. As my eye pursued the sinuous line of the lake, it was arrested by the appearance of a form, which seemed that of a human being, stretched motionless on the margin. I rose, and on going nearer I saw it was a man—the face cast upon the earth, and the hands spread. I thought death had been there; and while I was waving my hand for a shepherd, who sat on the hillside, to approach and assist me, I heard a groan and a low and melancholy cry; and presently he started up, and, seating himself on an old tree-root, rested a cheek on the palm of either hand, and gazed intently on the lake. He was a young man, the remains of health and beauty were still about him; but his locks, once curling and long, which maidens loved to look at, were now matted, and wild, and withered; his cheeks were hollow and pale, and his eyes, once the merriest and brightest in the district, shone now with a grey, wild, and unearthly light. As I looked upon this melancholy wreck of youth and strength, the unhappy being put both hands in the lake, and, lifting up water in his palms, scattered it in the air; then dipping both hands again, showered the water about his locks like rain. He continued, during this singular employment, to chant some strange and broken words with a wild tone and a faltering tongue:
SONG OF BENJIE SPEDLANDS.
Cursed be thou, O water, for my sake!
Misery to them who dip their hands in thee!
May the wild fowl forsake thy margin,
The fish leap no more in thy waves;
May the whirlwind scatter thee utterly,
And the lightning scorch thee up;
May the lily bloom no more on thy bosom,
And the white swan fly from thy floods!
Cursed be thou, O water, for my sake!
The babe unborn shall never bless thee;
May the flocks that taste of thee perish;
May the man who bathes in thy flood
Be crossed and cursed with unrequited love,
And go childless down to the grave.
As I curse thee with my delirious tongue,
I will mar thee with my unhappy hands!
As this water, cast on the passing wind,
Shall return to thy bosom no more,
So shall the light of morning forsake thee,
