THE WELL OF ST. KEYNE.

BY ANNA SAVAGE

"St. Keyne, saith the chronicle, many a time
Drank of this Crystal Well,

And before the angel summoned her,

:

She laid on the waters a spell :-
If the husband at this gifted well
Shall drink before his wife,
A happy man thenceforth is he,

For he shall be master for life."

"I WILL not throw the sceptre down now that its power I know,

For who that once had reigned a queen would to a subject bow?

Must he to whom my smile was law his freedom hold again,

And woman's will and woman's wit henceforth be all in vain ?

Not till within our favored West one crystal well

is dry!

Save me the dire disgrace, St. Keyne, of blessed memory!

And if I fail to gain the gift thou hast bequeathed

the wave,

Let woman's will make woman's wit henceforth

a willing slave."

So spake fair Margaret. Triumph gleamed upon her smiling face;

The holy well is at her feet, and curbs her hurried pace;

She fills with care the crystal flask, and seeks the charm to hide

Amid the drapery's graceful fold that decks her for a bride:

Stay, maiden! bend above the wave thy pure and joyous brow,

And tell me, saw'st thou aught so fair as that which greets thee now?

Go, vainly seek Cornubia through, from saint or fabled elf,

A mightier spell than that which there reflects thy lovely self!

Oh, who could doubt the gentle power thy feeble hand may try

In thy new home, the ruling star to guide man's

destiny,

And there, by soft affection's chain, bind tyrants to thy sway,

Until they learn the lore they teach, "to honor and obey!"

Though time may rob thy cheek of bloom, thy blue eye of its light,

Still smiles upon life's turbid stream shall make them seem as bright;

Thy low sweet voice, thy kindly smile — these shall the loved one greet,

And these the weapons that shall bind the captive at thy feet.

The little symbol ring at last has clasped her fairy finger,

And now within the rustic porch the bridal party linger,

And many a wistful glance is cast towards the willow tree:

An arch smile played on Margaret's lip, the bridegroom, where is he?

He kneels beside the enchanted well; "Go drink the stream in vain,"

She murmurs, "despot! own my sway; a sovereign still I reign:

Oh, woman's wit more swiftly speeds than lover's step can fly!"

Then pointing to the empty flask, she claims the mastery.

Nor is, they say, that crystal well a legendary dream,

For such there be of virtue rare beyond the Tamar's stream;

And man, who boldly boasts his power, knows

not how soon 't is o'er,

But hastes to drink of freedom's draught—some® Margaret drank before!

And when he thinks, most proud and free, he has dominion shown,

He dreams not who has stolen the spell and made the charm her own:

Yea, kingdoms fall and tottering thrones are from their stations hurled,

But woman's wit and woman's will supreme still rule the world.*

*Les femmes peuvent tout parceque elles gouvernent ceux qui gouvernent tout.