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diff --git a/.gitattributes b/.gitattributes new file mode 100644 index 0000000..6833f05 --- /dev/null +++ b/.gitattributes @@ -0,0 +1,3 @@ +* text=auto +*.txt text +*.md text diff --git a/39236-8.txt b/39236-8.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..4fe9d1f --- /dev/null +++ b/39236-8.txt @@ -0,0 +1,6101 @@ +The Project Gutenberg EBook of In the Saddle, by Various + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org/license + + +Title: In the Saddle + A Collection of Poems on Horseback-Riding + +Author: Various + +Release Date: March 24, 2012 [EBook #39236] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1 + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK IN THE SADDLE *** + + + + +Produced by Julia Miller, Josephine Paolucci and the Online +Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net. (This +file was produced from images generously made available +by The Internet Archive/American Libraries.) + + + + + + + + + + + +IN THE SADDLE + +A COLLECTION OF POEMS ON HORSEBACK-RIDING + + "_A good rider on a good horse is as much above himself and + others as the world can make him_" + + Lord Herbert of Cherbury + +BOSTON +HOUGHTON, MIFFLIN AND COMPANY +New York: 11 East Seventeenth Street +The Riverside Press, Cambridge +1882 + + +Copyright, 1882, +BY HOUGHTON, MIFFLIN & CO. + +_All rights reserved._ + +_The Riverside Press, Cambridge:_ +Electrotyped and Printed by H. O. Houghton & Co. + + + + +CONTENTS. + + Page + +DESCRIPTION OF A HORSE. _Venus and Adonis_ 1 + +A DAY'S RIDE: A LIFE'S ANALOGY. _The Spectator_ 2 + +ON HORSEBACK. _E. Paxton Hood_ 3 + +THE HORSEBACK RIDE. _Sara Jane Lippincott_ (_Grace Greenwood_) 4 + +AN EVENING RIDE. _Owen Innsly_ 7 + +THE QUEEN'S RIDE. _T. B. Aldrich_ 8 + +THE LAST RIDE TOGETHER. _Robert Browning_ 9 + +RIDING TOGETHER. _William Morris_ 13 + +SIR LAUNCELOT AND QUEEN GUINEVERE. _Alfred Tennyson_ 15 + +THE KING OF DENMARK'S RIDE. _Hon. Caroline Norton_ 17 + +RHYME OF THE DUCHESS MAY. _Elizabeth Barrett Browning_ 19 + +IRMINGARD'S ESCAPE. _Henry Wadsworth Longfellow_ 37 + +WILLIAM AND HELEN. _Bürger's "Leonore." + Translated by Sir Walter Scott_ 42 + +THE GREETING ON KYNAST. _Rückert. Translated by C. T. Brooks_ 52 + +HARRAS, THE BOLD LEAPER. _Karl Theodor Körner. + Translated by G. F. Richardson_ 57 + +THE KNIGHT'S LEAP. _Charles Kingsley_ 60 + +THE LEAP OF ROUSHAN BEG. _Henry Wadsworth Longfellow_ 61 + +ANNAN WATER 64 + +THOMAS THE RHYMER 66 + +THE GREEK GNOME. _Robert Buchanan_ 70 + +FRIAR PEDRO'S RIDE. _Bret Harte_ 73 + +TAM O'SHANTER. _Robert Burns_ 79 + +THE WILD HUNTSMAN. _Bürger's Wilde Jäger. Tr. by Walter Scott_ 86 + +LÜTZOW'S WILD CHASE. _Theodor Körner_ 94 + +THE ERL-KING. _Walter Scott_ 96 + +MAZEPPA'S RIDE. _Byron_ 98 + +THE GIAOUR'S RIDE. _Byron_ 110 + +THE NORSEMAN'S RIDE. _Bayard Taylor_ 113 + +BOOT AND SADDLE. _Robert Browning_ 116 + +THE CAVALIER'S ESCAPE. _Walter Thornbury_ 116 + +KING JAMES'S RIDE. _Walter Scott_ 118 + +DELORAINE'S RIDE. _Walter Scott_ 119 + +GODIVA. _Alfred Tennyson_ 124 + +HOW THEY BROUGHT THE GOOD NEWS FROM GHENT TO AIX. _Robert Browning_ 127 + +THE LANDLORD'S TALE. _H. W. Longfellow_ 130 + +SHERIDAN'S RIDE. _Thomas Buchanan Read_ 135 + +KEARNY AT SEVEN PINES. _Edmund Clarence Stedman_ 138 + +THE RIDE OF COLLINS GRAVES. _John Boyle O'Reilly_ 140 + +A TALE OF PROVIDENCE. _Isaac R. Pennybacker_ 143 + +KIT CARSON'S RIDE. _Joaquin Miller_ 149 + +TAMING THE WILD HORSE. _W. G. Simms_ 155 + +CHIQUITA. _Bret Harte_ 157 + +BAY BILLY. _Frank H. Gassaway_ 160 + +WIDDERIN'S RACE. _Paul Hamilton Hayne_ 164 + +THE DIVERTING HISTORY OF JOHN GILPIN. _William Cowper_ 174 + +REFLECTIONS OF A PROUD PEDESTRIAN. _Oliver Wendell Holmes_ 184 + + + + +IN THE SADDLE. + + +DESCRIPTION OF A HORSE. + + +Look, when a painter would surpass the life, + In limning out a well-proportioned steed, +His art with nature's workmanship at strife, + As if the dead the living should exceed; +So did this horse excel a common one, +In shape, in courage, color, pace, and bone. + +Round-hoofed, short-jointed, fetlocks shag and long, + Broad breast, full eye, small head, and nostril wide, +High crest, short ears, straight legs, and passing strong, + Thin mane, thick tail, broad buttock, tender hide: +Look, what a horse should have, he did not lack, +Save a proud rider on so proud a back. + + _Venus and Adonis._ + + + + +A DAY'S RIDE: A LIFE'S ANALOGY. + + + 'Mid tangled forest and o'er grass plains wide, + By many a devious path and bridle-way, + Through the short brightness of an Indian day, + In middle winter 'twas my lot to ride, + Skirting the round-topped, pine-clad mountain side, + While far away upon the steely blue + Horizon, half concealèd, half in view, + Himalay's peaks upreared their snow-crowned pride, + In utter purity and vast repose. + I, ere the first faint flush of morning glowed + Within her eastern chamber, took the road, + And, slowly riding between day and night, + I marked how, through the wan, imperfect light, + Ghost-like and gray loomed the eternal snows. + + So near they seemed, each crack and crevice small + Like bas-relief work showed, while in the light + Of ruddy morn, gray changed through pink to white. + But soon the sun, up-climbing, flooded all + The heavens, and then a thin and misty pall + Of exhalations rose, and pale of hue + And fainter ever those far summits grew, + Until the day waned low, and shadows tall + Sloped eastward. Then once more, in radiance clear, + Of setting sunlight, beautiful as brief, + Each peak and crag stood out in bold relief, + Till, slowly, pink faded to ghostly gray. + So through life's morning, noontide, evening, may + Ideal hopes dawn, fade, and reappear. + + _The Spectator._ + + + + +ON HORSEBACK. + + + Hurrah! for a ride in the morning gray, + On the back of a bounding steed. + What pleasure to list how the wild winds play; + Hark! Hark! to their music,--away! away! + Gallop away with speed. + 'Neath the leaf and the cloud in spring-time's pride + There is health in a morning's joyous ride. + + And hurrah! for a ride in the sultry noon, + When the summer has mounted high, + 'Neath the shady wood in the glowing June, + When the rivulet chanteth its lullaby tune + To the breeze as it wanders by, + Quietly down by the brooklet's side;-- + Sweet is the summer's joyous ride. + + And do you not love at evening's hour, + By the light of the sinking sun, + To wend your way o'er the widening moor, + Where the silvery mists their mystery pour, + While the stars come one by one? + Over the heath by the mountain's side, + Pensive and sweet is the evening's ride. + + I tell thee, O stranger, that unto me + The plunge of a fiery steed + Is a noble thought,--to the brave and free + It is music, and breath, and majesty,-- + 'Tis the life of a noble deed; + And the heart and the mind are in spirit allied + In the charm of a morning's glorious ride. + + Then hurrah! for the ring of the bridle rein,-- + Away, brave horse, away! + The preacher or poet may chant their strain, + The bookman his wine of the past may drain,-- + We bide not with them to-day; + And yet it is true, we may look with pride + On the mental spoils of a morning's ride. + + _E. Paxton Hood._ + + + + +THE HORSEBACK RIDE. + + + When troubled in spirit, when weary of life, + When I faint 'neath its burdens, and shrink from its strife, + When its fruits, turned to ashes, are mocking my taste, + And its fairest scene seems but a desolate waste, + Then come ye not near me, my sad heart to cheer + With friendship's soft accents or sympathy's tear. + No pity I ask, and no counsel I need, + But bring me, oh, bring me my gallant young steed, + With his high archèd neck, and his nostril spread wide, + His eye full of fire, and his step full of pride! + As I spring to his back, as I seize the strong rein, + The strength to my spirit returneth again! + The bonds are all broken that fettered my mind, + And my cares borne away on the wings of the wind; + My pride lifts its head, for a season bowed down, + And the queen in my nature now puts on her crown! + + Now we're off--like the winds to the plains whence they came; + And the rapture of motion is thrilling my frame! + On, on speeds my courser, scarce printing the sod, + Scarce crushing a daisy to mark where he trod! + On, on like a deer, when the hound's early bay + Awakes the wild echoes, away, and away! + Still faster, still farther, he leaps at my cheer, + Till the rush of the startled air whirs in my ear! + Now 'long a clear rivulet lieth his track,-- + See his glancing hoofs tossing the white pebbles back! + Now a glen dark as midnight--what matter?--we'll down + Though shadows are round us, and rocks o'er us frown; + The thick branches shake as we're hurrying through, + And deck us with spangles of silvery dew! + + What a wild thought of triumph, that this girlish hand + Such a steed in the might of his strength may command! + What a glorious creature! Ah! glance at him now, + As I check him a while on this green hillock's brow; + How he tosses his mane, with a shrill joyous neigh, + And paws the firm earth in his proud, stately play! + Hurrah! off again, dashing on as in ire, + Till the long, flinty pathway is flashing with fire! + Ho! a ditch!--Shall we pause? No; the bold leap we dare, + Like a swift-wingèd arrow we rush through the air! + Oh, not all the pleasures that poets may praise, + Not the 'wildering waltz in the ball-room's blaze, + Nor the chivalrous joust, nor the daring race, + Nor the swift regatta, nor merry chase, + Nor the sail, high heaving waters o'er, + Nor the rural dance on the moonlight shore, + Can the wild and thrilling joy exceed + Of a fearless leap on a fiery steed! + + _Sara Jane Lippincott_ (_Grace Greenwood_). + + + + +AN EVENING RIDE. + +FROM GLASHÜTTE TO MÜGELN IN SAXONY. + + + We ride and ride. High on the hills + The fir-trees stretch into the sky; + The birches, which the deep calm stills, + Quiver again as we speed by. + + Beside the road a shallow stream + Goes leaping o'er its rocky bed: + Here lie the corn-fields with a gleam + Of daisies white and poppies red. + + A faint star trembles in the west; + A fire-fly sparkles, fluttering bright + Against the mountain's sombre breast; + And yonder shines a village light. + + Oh! could I creep into thine arms + Beloved! and upon thy face + Read the arrest of dire alarms + That press me close; from thy embrace + + View the sweet earth as on we ride. + Alas! how vain our longings are! + Already night is spreading wide + Her sable wing, and thou art far. + + _Owen Innsly._ + + + + +THE QUEEN'S RIDE. + +AN INVITATION. + + + 'Tis that fair time of year, + Lady mine, + When stately Guinevere, + In her sea-green robe and hood, + Went a-riding through the wood, + Lady mine. + + And as the Queen did ride, + Lady mine, + Sir Launcelot at her side + Laughed and chatted, bending over, + Half her friend and all her lover, + Lady mine. + + And as they rode along, + Lady mine, + The throstle gave them song, + And the buds peeped through the grass + To see youth and beauty pass, + Lady mine. + + And on, through deathless time, + Lady mine, + These lovers in their prime, + (Two fairy ghosts together!) + Ride, with sea-green robe, and feather! + Lady mine. + + And so we two will ride, + Lady mine, + At your pleasure, side by side, + Laugh and chat; I bending over, + Half your friend and all your lover! + Lady mine. + + But if you like not this, + Lady mine, + And take my love amiss, + Then I'll ride unto the end, + Half your lover, all your friend! + Lady mine. + + So, come which way you will, + Lady mine, + Vale, upland, plain, and hill + Wait your coming. For one day + Loose the bridle, and away! + Lady mine. + + _T. B. Aldrich._ + + + + +THE LAST RIDE TOGETHER. + + + I said--Then, dearest, since 'tis so, + Since now at length my fate I know, + Since nothing all my love avails, + Since all my life seemed meant for, fails, + Since this was written and needs must be-- + My whole heart rises up to bless + Your name in pride and thankfulness! + Take back the hope you gave,--I claim + Only a memory of the same, + --And this beside, if you will not blame, + Your leave for one more last ride with me. + + My mistress bent that brow of hers, + Those deep dark eyes where pride demurs + When pity would be softening through, + Fixed me a breathing-while or two + With life or death in the balance--Right! + The blood replenished me again: + My last thought was at least not vain. + I and my mistress, side by side + Shall be together, breathe and ride, + So one day more am I deified. + Who knows but the world may end to-night? + + Hush! if you saw some western cloud + All billowy-bosomed, over-bowed + By many benedictions--sun's + And moon's and evening-star's at once-- + And so, you, looking and loving best, + Conscious grew, your passion drew + Cloud, sunset, moonrise, star-shine too + Down on you, near and yet more near, + Till flesh must fade for heaven was here!-- + Thus leant she and lingered--joy and fear! + Thus lay she a moment on my breast. + + Then we began to ride. My soul + Smoothed itself out, a long-cramped scroll + Freshening and fluttering in the wind. + Past hopes already lay behind. + What need to strive with a life awry? + Had I said that, had I done this, + So might I gain, so might I miss. + Might she have loved me? just as well + She might have hated,--who can tell? + Where had I been now if the worst befell? + And here we are riding, she and I. + + Fail I alone, in words and deeds? + Why, all men strive and who succeeds? + We rode; it seemed my spirit flew, + Saw other regions, cities new, + As the world rushed by on either side. + I thought, All labor, yet no less + Bear up beneath their unsuccess. + Look at the end of work, contrast + The petty Done the Undone vast, + This present of theirs with the hopeful past! + I hoped she would love me. Here we ride. + + What hand and brain went ever paired? + What heart alike conceived and dared? + What act proved all its thought had been? + What will but felt the fleshly screen? + We ride and I see her bosom heave. + There's many a crown for who can reach + Ten lines, a statesman's life in each! + The flag stuck on a heap of bones, + A soldier's doing! what atones? + They scratch his name on the Abbey-stones. + My riding is better, by their leave. + + What does it all mean, poet? well, + Your brain's beat into rhythm--you tell + What we felt only; you expressed + You hold things beautiful the best, + And pace them in rhyme so, side by side. + 'Tis something, nay 'tis much--but then, + Have you yourself what's best for men? + Are you--poor, sick, old ere your time-- + Nearer one whit your own sublime + Than we who never have turned a rhyme? + Sing, riding's a joy! For me, I ride. + + And you, great sculptor--so you gave + A score of years to art, her slave, + And that's your Venus--whence we turn + To yonder girl that fords the burn! + You acquiesce and shall I repine? + What, man of music, you grown gray + With notes and nothing else to say, + Is this your sole praise from a friend, + "Greatly his opera's strains intend, + But in music we know how fashions end!" + I gave my youth--but we ride, in fine. + + Who knows what's fit for us? Had fate + Proposed bliss here should sublimate + My being; had I signed the bond-- + Still one must lead some life beyond, + --Have a bliss to die with, dim-descried. + This foot once planted on the goal, + This glory-garland round my soul, + Could I descry such? Try and test! + I sink back shuddering from the quest-- + Earth being so good, would heaven seem best? + Now, heaven and she are beyond this ride. + + And yet--she has not spoke so long! + What if heaven be, that, fair and strong + At life's best, with our eyes upturned + Whither life's flower if first discerned, + We, fixed so, ever should so abide? + What if we still ride on, we two, + With life forever old yet new, + Changed not in kind but in degree, + The instant made eternity,-- + And heaven just prove that I and she + Ride, ride together, forever ride? + + _Robert Browning._ + + + + +RIDING TOGETHER. + + + For many, many days together + The wind blew steady from the east; + For many days hot grew the weather, + About the time of our Lady's Feast. + + For many days we rode together, + Yet met we neither friend nor foe; + Hotter and clearer grew the weather, + Steadily did the east-wind blow. + + We saw the trees in the hot, bright weather, + Clear-cut, with shadows very black, + As freely we rode on together + With helms unlaced and bridles slack. + + And often as we rode together, + We, looking down the green-banked stream, + Saw flowers in the sunny weather, + And saw the bubble-making bream. + + And in the night lay down together, + And hung above our heads the rood, + Or watched night-long in the dewy weather, + The while the moon did watch the wood. + + Our spears stood bright and thick together, + Straight out the banners streamed behind, + As we galloped on in the sunny weather, + With faces turned towards the wind. + + Down sank our threescore spears together, + As thick we saw the pagans ride; + His eager face in the clear fresh weather + Shone out that last time by my side. + + Up the sweep of the bridge we dashed together, + It rocked to the crash of the meeting spears; + Down rained the buds of the dear spring weather, + The elm-tree flowers fell like tears. + + There, as we rolled and writhed together, + I threw my arms above my head, + For close by my side, in the lovely weather, + I saw him reel and fall back dead. + + I and the slayer met together, + He waited the death-stroke there in his place, + With thoughts of death, in the lovely weather + Gapingly mazed at my maddened face. + + Madly I fought as we fought together; + In vain: the little Christian band + The pagans drowned, as in stormy weather + The river drowns low-lying land. + + They bound my blood-stained hands together, + They bound his corpse to nod by my side: + Then on we rode, in the bright March weather, + With clash of cymbals did we ride. + + We ride no more, no more together; + My prison-bars are thick and strong, + I take no heed of any weather, + The sweet Saints grant I live not long. + + _William Morris._ + + + + +SIR LAUNCELOT AND QUEEN GUINEVERE. + +A FRAGMENT. + + + Like souls that balance joy and pain, + With tears and smiles from heaven again + The maiden Spring upon the plain + Came in a sunlit fall of rain. + In crystal vapor everywhere + Blue isles of heaven laughed between, + And far, in forest-deeps unseen, + The topmost elm-tree gathered green + From draughts of balmy air. + + Sometimes the linnet piped his song: + Sometimes the throstle whistled strong: + Sometimes the sparhawk, wheeled along, + Hushed all the groves from fear of wrong: + By grassy capes with fuller sound + In curves the yellowing river ran, + And drooping chestnut-buds began + To spread into the perfect fan, + Above the teeming ground. + + Then, in the boyhood of the year, + Sir Launcelot and Queen Guinevere + Rode through the coverts of the deer, + With blissful treble ringing clear. + She seemed a part of joyous Spring: + A gown of grass-green silk she wore, + Buckled with golden clasps before; + A light-green tuft of plumes she bore + Closed in a golden ring. + + Now on some twisted ivy-net, + Now by some tinkling rivulet, + In mosses mixt with violet + Her cream-white mule his pastern set: + And fleeter now she skimmed the plains + Than she whose elfin prancer springs + By night to eery warblings, + When all the glimmering moorland rings + With jingling bridle-reins. + + As she fled fast through sun and shade, + The happy winds upon her played, + Blowing the ringlet from the braid: + She looked so lovely, as she swayed + The rein with dainty finger-tips, + A man had given all other bliss, + And all his worldly worth for this, + To waste his whole heart in one kiss + Upon her perfect lips. + + _Alfred Tennyson._ + + + + +THE KING OF DENMARK'S RIDE. + + + Word was brought to the Danish king, + Hurry! + That the love of his heart lay suffering, + And pined for the comfort his voice would bring; + O, ride as though you were flying! + Better he loves each golden curl + On the brow of that Scandinavian girl + Than his rich crown jewels of ruby and pearl; + And his rose of the isles is dying! + + Thirty nobles saddled with speed; + Hurry! + Each one mounting a gallant steed + Which he kept for battle and days of need; + O, ride as though you were flying! + Spurs were struck in the foaming flank; + Worn-out chargers staggered and sank; + Bridles were slackened, and girths were burst; + But ride as they would, the king rode first, + For his rose of the isles lay dying! + + His nobles are beaten, one by one; + Hurry! + They have fainted, and faltered, and homeward gone; + His little fair page now follows alone, + For strength and for courage trying! + The king looked back at that faithful child; + Wan was the face that answering smiled; + They passed the drawbridge with clattering din, + Then he dropped; and only the king rode in + Where his rose of the isles lay dying! + + The king blew a blast on his bugle-horn; + Silence! + No answer came; but faint and forlorn + An echo returned on the cold gray morn, + Like the breath of a spirit sighing. + The castle portal stood grimly wide; + None welcomed the king from that weary ride; + For dead, in the light of the dawning day, + The pale sweet form of the welcomer lay, + Who had yearned for his voice while dying! + + The panting steed, with a drooping crest, + Stood weary. + The king returned from her chamber of rest, + The thick sobs choking in his breast; + And, that dumb companion eying, + The tears gushed forth which he strove to check; + He bowed his head on his charger's neck; + "O steed, that every nerve didst strain, + Dear steed, our ride hath been in vain + To the halls where my love lay dying!" + + _Hon. Caroline Norton._ + + + + +RHYME OF THE DUCHESS MAY. + + + Broad the forests stood (I read) on the hills of Linteged-- + _Toll slowly._ + And three hundred years had stood mute adown each hoary wood, + Like a full heart having prayed. + + And the little birds sang east, and the little birds sang west,-- + _Toll slowly._ + And but little thought was theirs of the silent antique years, + In the building of their nest. + + Down the sun dropt large and red, on the towers of Linteged,-- + _Toll slowly._ + Lance and spear upon the height, bristling strange in fiery light, + While the castle stood in shade. + + There, the castle stood up black, with the red sun at its back,-- + _Toll slowly._ + Like a sullen smouldering pyre, with a top that flickers fire, + When the wind is on its track. + + And five hundred archers tall did besiege the castle wall,-- + _Toll slowly._ + And the castle seethed in blood, fourteen days and nights had stood, + And to-night, was near its fall. + + Yet thereunto, blind to doom, three months since, a bride did come,-- + _Toll slowly._ + One who proudly trod the floors, and softly whispered in the doors, + "May good angels bless our home." + + Oh, a bride of queenly eyes, with a front of constancies,-- + _Toll slowly._ + Oh, a bride of cordial mouth,--where the untired smile of youth + Did light outward its own sighs. + + 'Twas a Duke's fair orphan-girl, and her uncle's ward, the Earl, + _Toll slowly._ + Who betrothed her, twelve years old, for the sake of dowry gold, + To his son Lord Leigh, the churl. + + But what time she had made good all her years of womanhood, + _Toll slowly._ + Unto both those Lords of Leigh, spake she out right sovranly, + "My will runneth as my blood. + + "And while this same blood makes red this same right hand's + veins," she said,-- + _Toll slowly._ + "'Tis my will as lady free, not to wed a Lord of Leigh, + But Sir Guy of Linteged." + + The old Earl he smiled smooth, then he sighed for willful youth,-- + _Toll slowly._ + "Good my niece, that hand withal looketh somewhat soft and small + For so large a will, in sooth." + + She, too, smiled by that same sign,--but her smile was cold and fine,-- + _Toll slowly._ + "Little hand clasps muckle gold, or it were not worth the hold + Of thy son, good uncle mine!" + + Then the young lord jerked his breath, and sware thickly in his teeth,-- + _Toll slowly._ + "He would wed his own betrothed, an she loved him an she loathed, + Let the life come or the death." + + Up she rose with scornful eyes, as her father's child might rise,-- + _Toll slowly._ + "Thy hound's blood, my Lord of Leigh, stains thy knightly heel," quoth she, + "And he moans not where he lies. + + "But a woman's will dies hard, in the hall or on the sward!"-- + _Toll slowly._ + "By that grave, my lords, which made me orphaned girl and dowered lady, + I deny you wife and ward." + + Unto each she bowed her head, and swept past with lofty tread. + _Toll slowly._ + Ere the midnight-bell had ceased, in the chapel had the priest + Blessed her, bride of Linteged. + + Fast and fain the bridal train along the night-storm rode amain:-- + _Toll slowly._ + Hard the steeds of lord and serf struck their hoofs out on the turf, + In the pauses of the rain. + + Fast and fain the kinsmen's train along the storm pursued amain-- + _Toll slowly._ + Steed on steed-track, dashing off--thickening, doubling, hoof on hoof, + In the pauses of the rain. + + And the bridegroom led the flight on his red-roan steed of might,-- + _Toll slowly._ + And the bride lay on his arm, still, as if she feared no harm, + Smiling out into the night. + + "Dost thou fear?" he said at last;--"Nay!" she answered him in haste,-- + _Toll slowly._ + "Not such death as we could find--only life with one behind-- + Ride on fast as fear--ride fast!" + + Up the mountain wheeled the steed--girth to ground, and fetlocks spread,-- + _Toll slowly._ + Headlong bounds, and rocking flanks,--down he staggered--down the banks, + To the towers of Linteged. + + High and low the serfs looked out, red the flambeaus tossed about,-- + _Toll slowly._ + In the courtyard rose the cry--"Live the Duchess and Sir Guy!" + But she never heard them shout. + + On the steed she dropt her cheek, kissed his mane and kissed his neck,-- + _Toll slowly._ + "I had happier died by thee, than lived on a Lady Leigh," + Were the first words she did speak. + + But a three months' joyaunce lay 'twixt that moment and to-day,-- + _Toll slowly._ + When five hundred archers tall stand beside the castle wall, + To recapture Duchess May. + + And the castle standeth black, with the red sun at its back,-- + _Toll slowly._ + And a fortnight's siege is done--and, except the Duchess, none + Can misdoubt the coming wrack. + + *....*....*....* + + Oh, the little birds sang east, and the little birds sang west,-- + _Toll slowly._ + On the tower the castle's lord leant in silence on his sword, + With an anguish in his breast. + + With a spirit-laden weight, did he lean down passionate.-- + _Toll slowly._ + They have almost sapped the wall,--they will enter therewithal, + With no knocking at the gate. + + Then the sword he leant upon, shivered--snapped upon the stone,-- + _Toll slowly._ + "Sword," he thought, with inward laugh, "ill thou servest for a staff + When thy nobler use is done! + + "Sword, thy nobler use is done!--tower is lost, and shame begun"-- + _Toll slowly._ + "If we met them in the breach, hilt to hilt or speech to speech, + We should die there, each for one. + + "If we met them at the wall, we should singly, vainly fall,"-- + _Toll slowly._ + "But if _I_ die here alone,--then I die, who am but one, + And die nobly for them all. + + "Five true friends lie for my sake,--in the moat and in the brake,"-- + _Toll slowly._ + "Thirteen warriors lie at rest, with a black wound in the breast, + And not one of these will wake. + + "And no more of this shall be!--heart-blood weighs too heavily,"-- + _Toll slowly._ + "And I could not sleep in grave, with the faithful and the brave + Heaped around and over me. + + "Since young Clare a mother hath, and young Ralph a plighted faith,"-- + _Toll slowly._ + "Since my pale young sister's cheeks blush like rose when Ronald speaks, + Albeit never a word she saith-- + + "These shall never die for me--life-blood falls too heavily."-- + _Toll slowly._ + "And if _I_ die here apart,--o'er my dead and silent heart + They shall pass out safe and free. + + "When the foe hath heard it said--'Death holds Guy of Linteged,'"-- + _Toll slowly._ + "That new corse new peace shall bring, and a blessed, blessed thing + Shall the stone be at its head. + + "Then my friends shall pass out free, and shall bear my memory,"-- + _Toll slowly._ + "Then my foes shall sleek their pride, soothing fair my widowed bride + Whose sole sin was love of me. + + "With their words all smooth and sweet, they will front her and entreat,"-- + _Toll slowly._ + "And their purple pall will spread underneath her fainting head + While her tears drop over it. + + "She will weep her woman's tears, she will pray her woman's prayers,"-- + _Toll slowly._ + "But her heart is young in pain, and her hopes will spring again + By the suntime of her years. + + "Ah, sweet May--ah, sweetest grief!--once I vowed thee my belief,"-- + _Toll slowly._ + "That thy name expressed thy sweetness,--May of poets, in completeness! + Now my May-day seemeth brief." + + All these silent thoughts did swim o'er his eyes grown strange and dim,-- + _Toll slowly._ + Till his true men in the place wished they stood there face to face + With the foe instead of him. + + "One last oath, my friends that wear faithful hearts to do and dare!" + _Toll slowly._ + "Tower must fall, and bride be lost!--swear me service worth the cost!" + --Bold they stood around to swear. + + "Each man clasp my hand and swear, by the deed we failed in there,"-- + _Toll slowly._ + "Not for vengeance, not for right, will ye strike one blow to-night!"-- + Pale they stood around--to swear. + + "One last boon, young Ralph and Clare! faithful hearts to do and dare!"-- + _Toll slowly._ + "Bring that steed up from his stall, which she kissed before you all,-- + Guide him up the turret-stair. + + "Ye shall harness him aright, and lead upward to this height!"-- + _Toll slowly._ + "Once in love and twice in war, hath he borne me strong and far, + He shall bear me far to-night." + + Then his men looked to and fro, when they heard him speaking so.-- + _Toll slowly._ + --"'Las! the noble heart," they thought,--"he in sooth is grief-distraught. + Would, we stood here with the foe!" + + But a fire flashed from his eye, 'twixt their thought and their reply,-- + _Toll slowly._ + "Have ye so much time to waste? We who ride here, must ride fast, + As we wish our foes to fly." + + They have fetched the steed with care, in the harness he did wear,-- + _Toll slowly._ + Past the court and through the doors, across the rushes of the floors, + But they goad him up the stair. + + Then from out her bower chambère, did the Duchess May repair.-- + _Toll slowly._ + "Tell me now what is your need," said the lady, "of this steed, + That ye goad him up the stair?" + + Calm she stood; unbodkined through, fell her dark hair to her shoe,-- + _Toll slowly._ + And the smile upon her face, ere she left the tiring-glass, + Had not time enough to go. + + "Get thee back, sweet Duchess May! hope is gone like yesterday,"-- + _Toll slowly._ + "One half-hour completes the breach; and thy lord grows wild of speech,-- + Get thee in, sweet lady, and pray. + + "In the east tower, high'st of all,--loud he cries for steed from stall."-- + _Toll slowly._ + "He would ride as far," quoth he, "as for love and victory, + Though he rides the castle-wall. + + "And we fetch the steed from stall, up where never a hoof did fall."-- + _Toll slowly._ + "Wifely prayer meets deathly need! may the sweet Heavens hear thee plead + If he rides the castle-wall." + + Low she dropt her head, and lower, till her hair coiled on the floor,-- + _Toll slowly._ + And tear after tear you heard, fall distinct as any word + Which you might be listening for. + + "Get thee in, thou soft ladye!--here, is never a place for thee!"-- + _Toll slowly._ + "Braid thine hair and clasp thy gown, that thy beauty in its moan + May find grace with Leigh of Leigh." + + She stood up in bitter case, with a pale yet steady face, + _Toll slowly._ + Like a statue thunderstruck, which, though quivering, seems to look + Right against the thunder-place. + + And her foot trod in, with pride, her own tears i' the stone beside,-- + _Toll slowly._ + "Go to, faithful friends, go to!--Judge no more what ladies do,-- + No, nor how their lords may ride!" + + Then the good steed's rein she took, and his neck did kiss and stroke:-- + _Toll slowly._ + Soft he neighed to answer her, and then followed up the stair, + For the love of her sweet look. + + Oh, and steeply, steeply wound up the narrow stair around,-- + _Toll slowly._ + Oh, and closely, closely speeding, step by step beside her treading,-- + Did he follow, meek as hound. + + On the east tower, high'st of all,--there, where never a hoof did fall,-- + _Toll slowly._ + Out they swept, a vision steady,--noble steed and lovely lady, + Calm as if in bower or stall. + + Down she knelt at her lord's knee, and she looked up silently,-- + _Toll slowly._ + And he kissed her twice and thrice, for that look within her eyes + Which he could not bear to see. + + Quoth he, "Get thee from this strife,--and the sweet saints bless thy life!"-- + _Toll slowly._ + "In this hour, I stand in need of my noble red-roan steed-- + But no more of my noble wife." + + Quoth she, "Meekly have I done all thy biddings under sun:"-- + _Toll slowly._ + "But by all my womanhood, which is proved so true and good, + I will never do this one. + + "Now by womanhood's degree, and by wifehood's verity,"-- + _Toll slowly._ + "In this hour if thou hast need of thy noble red-roan steed, + Thou hast also need of _me_. + + "By this golden ring ye see on this lifted hand pardiè,"-- + _Toll slowly._ + "If, this hour, on castle-wall, can be room for steed from stall, + Shall be also room for _me_. + + "So the sweet saints with me be" (did she utter solemnly),-- + _Toll slowly._ + "If a man, this eventide, on this castle wall will ride, + He shall ride the same with _me_." + + Oh, he sprang up in the selle, and he laughed out bitter-well,-- + _Toll slowly._ + "Wouldst thou ride among the leaves, as we used on other eves, + To hear chime a vesper-bell?" + + She clang closer to his knee--"Ay, beneath the cypress-tree!"-- + _Toll slowly._ + "Mock me not, for otherwhere than along the greenwood fair, + Have I ridden fast with thee! + + "Fast I rode with new-made vows, from my angry kinsman's house!" + _Toll slowly._ + "What! and would you men should reck that I dared more for love's sake + As a bride than as a spouse? + + "What, and would you it should fall, as a proverb, before all,"-- + _Toll slowly._ + "That a bride may keep your side while through castle-gate you ride, + Yet eschew the castle-wall?" + + Ho! the breach yawns into ruin, and roars up against her suing,-- + _Toll slowly._ + With the inarticulate din, and the dreadful falling in-- + Shrieks of doing and undoing! + + Twice he wrung her hands in twain, but the small hands closed again,-- + _Toll slowly._ + Back he reined the steed--back, back! but she trailed along his track + With a frantic clasp and strain. + + Evermore the foemen pour through the crash of window and door,-- + _Toll slowly._ + And the shouts of Leigh and Leigh, and the shrieks of "kill!" and "flee!" + Strike up clear amid the roar. + + Thrice he wrung her hands in twain,--but they closed and clung again,-- + _Toll slowly._ + Wild she clung, as one, withstood, clasps a Christ upon the rood, + In a spasm of deathly pain. + + She clung wild and she clung mute,--with her shuddering lips half-shut,-- + _Toll slowly._ + Her head fallen as half in swound,--hair and knee swept on the ground,-- + She clung wild to stirrup and foot. + + Back he reined his steed back-thrown on the slippery coping-stone,-- + _Toll slowly._ + Back the iron hoofs did grind on the battlement behind, + Whence a hundred feet went down. + + And his heel did press and goad on the quivering flank bestrode, + _Toll slowly._ + "Friends, and brothers! save my wife!--Pardon, sweet, in change for life,-- + But I ride alone to God." + + Straight as if the Holy name had upbreathed her like a flame,-- + _Toll slowly._ + She upsprang, she rose upright,--in his selle she sate in sight, + By her love she overcame. + + And her head was on his breast, where she smiled as one at rest,-- + _Toll slowly._ + "Ring," she cried, "O vesper-bell, in the beechwood's old chapelle! + But the passing-bell rings best." + + They have caught out at the rein, which Sir Guy threw loose--in vain,-- + _Toll slowly._ + For the horse in stark despair, with his front hoofs poised in air, + On the last verge rears amain. + + Now he hangs, the rocks between--and his nostrils curdle in,-- + _Toll slowly._ + Now he shivers head and hoof--and the flakes of foam fall off; + And his face grows fierce and thin! + + And a look of human woe from his staring eyes did go,-- + _Toll slowly_. + And a sharp cry uttered he, in a foretold agony + Of the headlong death below,---- + + And, "Ring, ring, thou passing-bell," still she cried, + "i' the old chapelle!"-- + _Toll slowly_. + Then back-toppling, crashing back,--a dead weight flung out to wrack, + Horse and riders overfell. + + _Elizabeth Barrett Browning._ + + + + +IRMINGARD'S ESCAPE. + + + I am the Lady Irmingard, + Born of a noble race and name! + Many a wandering Suabian bard, + Whose life was dreary and bleak and hard, + Has found through me the way to fame. + Brief and bright were those days, and the night + Which followed was full of a lurid light. + Love, that of every woman's heart + Will have the whole, and not a part, + That is to her, in Nature's plan, + More than ambition is to man, + Her light, her life, her very breath, + With no alternative but death, + Found me a maiden soft and young, + Just from the convent's cloistered school, + And seated on my lowly stool, + Attentive while the minstrels sung. + + Gallant, graceful, gentle, tall, + Fairest, noblest, best of all, + Was Walter of the Vogelweid; + And, whatsoever may betide, + Still I think of him with pride! + His song was of the summer-time, + The very birds sang in his rhyme; + The sunshine, the delicious air, + The fragrance of the flowers, were there; + And I grew restless as I heard, + Restless and buoyant as a bird, + Down soft, aerial currents sailing, + O'er blossomed orchards, and fields in bloom, + And through the momentary gloom + Of shadows o'er the landscape trailing, + Yielding and borne I knew not where, + But feeling resistance unavailing. + + And thus, unnoticed and apart, + And more by accident than choice, + I listened to that single voice + Until the chambers of my heart + Were filled with it by night and day. + One night--it was a night in May,-- + Within the garden, unawares, + Under the blossoms in the gloom, + I heard it utter my own name + With protestations and wild prayers; + And it rang through me, and became + Like the archangel's trump of doom, + Which the soul hears, and must obey; + And mine arose as from a tomb. + My former life now seemed to me + Such as hereafter death may be, + When in the great Eternity + We shall awake and find it day. + + It was a dream, and would not stay; + A dream, that in a single night + Faded and vanished out of sight. + My father's anger followed fast + This passion, as a freshening blast + Seeks out and fans the fire, whose rage + It may increase, but not assuage. + And he exclaimed: "No wandering bard + Shall win thy hand, O Irmingard! + For which Prince Henry of Hoheneck + By messenger and letter sues." + + Gently, but firmly, I replied: + "Henry of Hoheneck I discard! + Never the hand of Irmingard + Shall lie in his as the hand of a bride!" + This said I, Walter, for thy sake; + This said I, for I could not choose. + After a pause, my father spake + In that cold and deliberate tone + Which turns the hearer into stone, + And seems itself the act to be + That follows with such dread certainty; + "This, or the cloister and the veil!" + No other words than these he said, + But they were like a funeral wail; + My life was ended, my heart was dead. + + That night from the castle-gate went down, + With silent, slow, and stealthy pace, + Two shadows, mounted on shadowy steeds, + Taking the narrow path that leads + Into the forest dense and brown. + In the leafy darkness of the place, + One could not distinguish form nor face, + Only a bulk without a shape, + A darker shadow in the shade; + One scarce could say it moved or stayed. + Thus it was we made our escape! + A foaming brook, with many a bound, + Followed us like a playful hound; + Then leaped before us, and in the hollow + Paused, and waited for us to follow, + And seemed impatient, and afraid + That our tardy flight should be betrayed + By the sound our horses' hoof-beats made. + And when we reached the plain below, + We paused a moment and drew rein + To look back at the castle again; + And we saw the windows all aglow + With lights, that were passing to and fro; + Our hearts with terror ceased to beat; + The brook crept silent to our feet; + We knew what most we feared to know. + + Then suddenly horns began to blow; + And we heard a shout, and a heavy tramp, + And our horses snorted in the damp + Night-air of the meadows green and wide, + And in a moment, side by side, + So close, they must have seemed but one, + The shadows across the moonlight run, + And another came, and swept behind, + Like the shadow of clouds before the wind! + + How I remember that breathless flight + Across the moors, in the summer night! + How under our feet the long, white road + Backward like a river flowed, + Sweeping with it fences and hedges, + Whilst farther away, and overhead, + Paler than I, with fear and dread, + The moon fled with us, as we fled + Along the forest's jagged edges! + + All this I can remember well; + But of what afterwards befell + I nothing further can recall + Than a blind, desperate, headlong fall; + The rest is a blank and darkness all. + When I awoke out of this swoon, + The sun was shining, not the moon, + Making a cross upon the wall + With the bars of my windows narrow and tall; + And I prayed to it, as I had been wont to pray, + From early childhood, day by day, + Each morning, as in bed I lay! + I was lying again in my own room! + And I thanked God, in my fever and pain, + That those shadows on the midnight plain + Were gone, and could not come again! + I struggled no longer with my doom! + + _Henry Wadsworth Longfellow._ + + + + +WILLIAM AND HELEN. + + + From heavy dreams fair Helen rose, + And eyed the dawning red: + "Alas, my love, thou tarriest long! + O art thou false or dead?"-- + + With gallant Fred'rick's princely power + He sought the bold Crusade; + But not a word from Judah's wars + Told Helen how he sped. + + With Paynim and with Saracen + At length a truce was made, + And every knight returned to dry + The tears his love had shed. + + Our gallant host was homeward bound + With many a song of joy; + Green waved the laurel in each plume, + The badge of victory. + + And old and young, and sire and son, + To meet them crowd the way, + With shouts and mirth and melody, + The debt of love to pay. + + Full many a maid her true-love met, + And sobbed in his embrace, + And fluttering joy in tears and smiles + Arrayed full many a face. + + Nor joy nor smile for Helen sad; + She sought the host in vain; + For none could tell her William's fate, + If faithless, or if slain. + + The martial band is past and gone; + She rends her raven hair, + And in distraction's bitter mood + She weeps with wild despair. + + "O rise, my child," her mother said, + "Nor sorrow thus in vain; + A perjured lover's fleeting heart + No tears recall again."-- + + "O mother, what is gone, is gone, + What's lost forever lorn; + Death, death alone can comfort me; + O had I ne'er been born! + + "O break, my heart,--O break at once! + Drink my life-blood, Despair! + No joy remains on earth for me, + For me in heaven no share."-- + + "O enter not in judgment, Lord!" + The pious mother prays; + "Impute not guilt to thy frail child! + She knows not what she says. + + "O say thy pater noster, child! + O turn to God and grace! + His will, that turned thy bliss to bale, + Can change thy bale to bliss."-- + + "O mother, mother, what is bliss? + O mother, what is bale? + My William's love was heaven on earth, + Without it earth is hell. + + "Why should I pray to ruthless Heaven, + Since my loved William's slain? + I only prayed for William's sake, + And all my prayers were vain."-- + + "O take the sacrament, my child, + And check these tears that flow; + By resignation's humble prayer, + O hallowed be thy woe!"-- + + "No sacrament can quench this fire, + Or slake this scorching pain; + No sacrament can bid the dead + Arise and live again. + + "O break, my heart,--O break at once! + Be thou my god, Despair! + Heaven's heaviest blow has fallen on me, + And vain each fruitless prayer."-- + + "O enter not in judgment, Lord, + With thy frail child of clay! + She knows not what her tongue has spoke; + Impute it not, I pray! + + "Forbear, my child, this desperate woe, + And turn to God and grace; + Well can devotion's heavenly glow + Convert thy bale to bliss."-- + + "O mother, mother, what is bliss? + O mother, what is bale? + Without my William what were heaven, + Or with him what were hell?"-- + + Wild she arraigns the eternal doom, + Upbraids each sacred power, + Till, spent, she sought her silent room, + All in the lonely tower. + + She beat her breast, she wrung her hands, + Till sun and day were o'er, + And through the glimmering lattice shone + The twinkling of the star. + + Then, crash! the heavy drawbridge fell + That o'er the moat was hung; + And, clatter! clatter! on its boards + The hoof of courser rung. + + The clank of echoing steel was heard + As off the rider bounded; + And slowly on the winding stair + A heavy footstep sounded. + + And hark! and hark! a knock--Tap! tap! + A rustling stifled noise;-- + Door-latch and tinkling staples ring;-- + At length a whispering voice. + + "Awake, awake, arise, my love! + How, Helen, dost thou fare? + Wakest thou, or sleepest? laughest thou, or weepest? + Hast thought on me, my fair?"-- + + "My love! my love!--so late by night!-- + I waked, I wept for thee: + Much have I borne since dawn of morn; + Where, William, couldst thou be!"-- + + "We saddle late--from Hungary + I rode since darkness fell; + And to its bourne we both return + Before the matin-bell."-- + + "O rest this night within my arms, + And warm thee in their fold! + Chill howls through hawthorn bush the wind:-- + My love is deadly cold."-- + + "Let the wind howl through hawthorn bush! + This night we must away; + The steed is wight, the spur is bright; + I cannot stay till day. + + "Busk, busk, and boune![1] Thou mount'st behind + Upon my black barb steed: + O'er stock and stile, a hundred miles, + We haste to bridal bed."-- + + "To-night--to-night a hundred miles!-- + O dearest William, stay! + The bell strikes twelve--dark, dismal hour? + O wait, my love, till day!"-- + + "Look here, look here--the moon shines clear-- + Full fast I ween we ride; + Mount and away! for ere the day + We reach our bridal bed. + + "The black barb snorts, the bridle rings; + Haste, busk, and boune, and seat thee! + The feast is made, the chamber spread, + The bridal guests await thee."-- + + Strong love prevailed: she busks, she bounes, + She mounts the barb behind, + And round her darling William's waist + Her lily arms she twines. + + And, hurry! hurry! off they rode, + As fast as fast might be; + Spurned from the courser's thundering heels + The flashing pebbles flee. + + And on the right, and on the left, + Ere they could snatch a view, + Fast, fast each mountain, mead, and plain, + And cot, and castle, flew. + + "Sit fast--dost fear?--The moon shines clear-- + Fleet goes my barb--keep hold! + Fearest thou?"--"O no!" she faintly said; + "But why so stern and cold? + + "What yonder rings? what yonder sings? + Why shrieks the owlet gray?"-- + "'Tis death-bells' clang, 'tis funeral song, + The body to the clay. + + "With song and clang, at morrow's dawn. + Ye may inter the dead: + To-night I ride, with my young bride, + To deck our bridal bed. + + "Come with thy choir, thou coffined guest, + To swell our nuptial song! + Come, priest, to bless our marriage feast! + Come all, come all along!"-- + + Ceased clang and song; down sunk the bier; + The shrouded corpse arose: + And, hurry, hurry! all the train + The thundering steed pursues. + + And, forward! forward! on they go; + High snorts the straining steed; + Thick pants the rider's laboring breath, + As headlong on they speed. + + "O William, why this savage haste? + And where thy bridal bed?"-- + "'Tis distant far, low, damp, and chill, + And narrow, trustless maid."-- + + "No room for me?"--"Enough for both;-- + Speed, speed, my barb, thy course!" + O'er thundering bridge, through boiling surge, + He drove the furious horse. + + Tramp! tramp! along the land they rode, + Splash! splash! along the sea; + The scourge is wight, the spur is bright, + The flashing pebbles flee. + + Fled past on right and left how fast + Each forest, grove, and bower! + On right and left fled past how fast + Each city, town, and tower! + + "Dost fear? dost fear? The moon shines clear, + Dost fear to ride with me?-- + Hurrah! hurrah! the dead can ride!" + "O William, let them be!-- + + "See there, see there! What yonder swings + And creaks 'mid whistling rain?"-- + "Gibbet and steel, th' accursed wheel; + A murderer in his chain.-- + + "Hollo! thou felon, follow here: + To bridal bed we ride; + And thou shalt prance a fetter dance + Before me and my bride."-- + + And, hurry! hurry! clash, clash, clash! + The wasted form descends; + And fleet as wind through hazel bush + The wild career attends. + + Tramp! tramp! along the land they rode, + Splash! splash! along the sea; + The scourge is red, the spur drops blood, + The flashing pebbles flee. + + How fled what moonshine faintly showed! + How fled what darkness hid! + How fled the earth beneath their feet, + The heaven above their head! + + "Dost fear? dost fear? The moon shines clear. + And well the dead can ride; + Does faithful Helen fear for them?"-- + "O leave in peace the dead!"-- + + "Barb! Barb! methinks I hear the cock; + The sand will soon be run: + Barb! Barb! I smell the morning air; + The race is well-nigh done."-- + + Tramp! tramp! along the land they rode; + Splash! splash! along the sea; + The scourge is red, the spur drops blood, + The flashing pebbles flee. + + "Hurrah! hurrah! well ride the dead; + The bride, the bride is come; + And soon we reach the bridal bed, + For, Helen, here's my home."-- + + Reluctant on its rusty hinge + Revolved an iron door, + And by the pale moon's setting beam + Were seen a church and tower. + + With many a shriek and cry whiz round + The birds of midnight, scared; + And rustling like autumnal leaves + Unhallowed ghosts were heard. + + O'er many a tomb and tombstone pale + He spurred the fiery horse, + Till sudden at an open grave + He checked the wondrous course. + + The falling gauntlet quits the rein, + Down drops the casque of steel, + The cuirass leaves his shrinking side, + The spur his gory heel. + + The eyes desert the naked skull, + The mouldering flesh the bone, + Till Helen's lily arms entwine + A ghastly skeleton. + + The furious barb snorts fire and foam, + And, with a fearful bound, + Dissolves at once in empty air, + And leaves her on the ground. + + Half seen by fits, by fits half heard, + Pale spectres flit along, + Wheel round the maid in dismal dance, + And howl the funeral song: + + "E'en when the heart's with anguish cleft, + Revere the doom of Heaven. + Her soul is from her body reft; + Her spirit be forgiven!" + + _Bürger's "Leonore"--Translated by Sir Walter Scott._ + +FOOTNOTES: + +[1] _Busk_--to dress. _Boune_--to prepare one's self for a journey. + + + + +THE GREETING ON KYNAST. + + + She said: This narrow chamber is not for me the place, + Said the lady Kunigunde of Kynast! + 'Tis pleasanter on horseback, I'll hie me to the chase, + Said the lady Kunigunde! + + She said: The knight who weds me, I do require of him, + Said the lady Kunigunde of Kynast! + To gallop round the Kynast and break not neck nor limb. + + A noble knight came forward and galloped round the wall; + The lady Kunigunde of Kynast, + The lady, without lifting a finger, saw him fall. + + And yet another galloped around the battlement; + The lady Kunigunde, + The lady saw him tumble, yet did she not relent. + + And rider after rider spurred round his snorting horse; + The lady Kunigunde + Saw him vanish o'er the rampart, and never felt remorse. + + Long time the folly lasted, then came no rider more; + The lady Kunigunde, + They would not ride to win her, the trial was too sore. + + She stood upon her towers, she looked upon the land, + The lady Kunigunde of Kynast: + I'm all alone at home here, will no one seek my hand? + + Is there none will ride to win me, to win me for his bride, + The lady Kunigunde of Kynast? + O fie, the paltry rider who dreads the bridal ride! + + Then out and spake from Thüringen the Landgrave Adelbert: + The lady Kunigunde of Kynast! + Well may the haughty damsel her worthiness assert. + + He trains his horse to gallop on narrow walls of stone; + The lady Kunigunde of Kynast! + The lady shall not see us break neck or limb or bone. + + See here, O noble lady, I'm he that dares the ride! + The lady Kunigunde, + She looks in thoughtful silence, to see him sit in pride. + + She saw him now make ready, then trembled she and sighed, + The lady Kunigunde: + Woe's me that I so fearful have made the bridal ride! + + Then rode he round the Kynast; her face she turned away, + The lady Kunigunde: + Woe 's me, the knight is riding down to his grave to-day! + + He rides around the Kynast, right round the narrow wall; + The lady Kunigunde! + She cannot stir for terror her lily hand at all. + + He rides around the Kynast, clear round the battlement; + The lady Kunigunde! + As if a breath might kill him, she held her breath suspent. + + He rode around the Kynast and straight to her rode he; + Said the lady Kunigunde of Kynast: + Thanks be to God in heaven, who gave thy life to thee! + + Thanks be to God that into thy grave thou didst not ride! + Said the lady Kunigunde: + Come down from off thy horse now, O knight, unto thy bride! + + Then spake the noble rider, and greeted, as he sate, + The lady Kunigunde: + O trust a knight for horsemanship! well have I taught thee that. + + Now wait till comes another who can the same thing do, + O lady Kunigunde of Kynast! + I've wife and child already, can be no spouse for you. + + He gave his steed the spur, now; rode back the way he came; + The lady Kunigunde! + The lady saw him vanish, she swooned with scorn and shame. + + And she remains a virgin, her pride had such a fall, + The lady Kunigunde! + Changed to a wooden image she stands in sight of all. + + An image, like a hedgehog, with spines for hair, is now + The lady Kunigunde of Kynast! + The stranger has to kiss it, who climbs the Kynast's brow. + + We bring it him to kiss it: and if it shocks his pride, + The lady Kunigunde of Kynast! + He must pay down his forfeit, who will not kiss the bride, + The lady Kunigunde! + + _Rückert. Tr. C. T. Brooks._ + + + + +HARRAS, THE BOLD LEAPER. + + + The world yet waited in shadowy light + The dawn of the rising day; + And scarcely yet had waked the night + From the slumber in which it lay. + But, hark! along the forest way + Unwonted echoes rung, + And all accoutred for the fray + A band of warriors sprung! + + And forth they rushed along the plain, + In thunder, to the fight; + And foremost of that martial train + Was Harras, the gallant knight. + They ride upon their secret way, + O'er forest and vale and down, + To reach their foe while yet 'tis day, + And storm his castled town. + + So sally they forth from the forest gloom; + But as they leave its shade + They rush, alas! to meet their doom, + And their progress is betrayed: + For suddenly bursts upon their rear + The foe, with twice their force; + Then out at once rush shield and spear, + And the charger flies on his course. + + And the wood in unwonted echoes rang + With the sounds of that deadly fray, + And the sabre's clash and the helmet's clang + Is mixed with the courser's neigh. + A thousand wounds have dyed the field + Unheeded in the strife; + But not a man will ask to yield, + For freedom is dearer than life! + + But their stronger foes must win the day, + And the knights begin to fail; + For the sword hath swept their best array, + And superior powers prevail. + Unconquered alone, to a rocky height + Bold Harras fought his way; + And his brave steed carried him through the fight, + And bore him safe away. + + And he left the rein to that trusty steed, + And rode from the fatal fray; + But he gave to his erring path no heed, + And he missed the well-known way. + And when he heard the foemen near, + He sprang from the forest gloom; + But as soon as he reached the daylight clear, + He saw at once his doom! + + He had reached a frightful precipice, + Where he heard the deep waves roll; + For he stood on Zschopauthal's dread abyss, + And horror chilled his soul! + For on yonder bank he could espy + The remnant of his band; + And his heart impatient panted high, + As they waved the friendly hand. + + And he longed, as he looked o'er that dreadful steep, + For wings to aid his flight; + For that cliff is full fifty fathoms deep, + And his horse drew back with fright. + And he saw, as he looked behind and below, + On either side his grave: + Behind him, from the coming foe; + Before him, in the wave! + + And he chooses 'twixt death from the foemen's hand, + Or death where the deep waves roll; + Then he boldly rides up to that rocky strand, + And commends to the Lord his soul! + And as nearer he hears the foemen ride, + He seeks the utmost steep; + And he plunges his spurs in his courser's side, + And dares the dreadful leap! + + And swiftly he sank through the yielding air, + And into the flood he fell; + His steed is dashed to atoms there, + But the knight lives safe and well! + And mid the plaudits of his band, + He stemmed the parting wave, + And soon in safety reached the land, + For Heaven will never forsake the brave! + + _Karl Theodor Körner. Tr. G. F. Richardson._ + + + + +THE KNIGHT'S LEAP. + + + "So the foeman has fired the gate, men of mine, + And the water is spent and done; + Then bring me a cup of the red Ahr-wine; + I never shall drink but this one. + + "And fetch me my harness, and saddle my horse, + And lead him me round to the door: + He must take such a leap to-night perforce + As horse never took before. + + "I have lived by the saddle for years two score, + And if I must die on tree, + The old saddle-tree, which has borne me of yore, + Is the properest timber for me. + + "I have lived my life, I have fought my fight, + I have drunk my share of wine; + From Trier to Cöln there was never a knight + Led a merrier life than mine. + + "So now to show bishop and burgher and priest + How the Altenahr hawk can die, + If they smoke the old falcon out of his nest, + He must take to his wings and fly." + + He harnessed himself by the clear moonshine, + And he mounted his horse at the door, + And he drained such a cup of the red Ahr-wine + As never man drained before. + + He spurred the old horse, and he held him tight, + And he leapt him out over the wall; + Out over the cliff, out into the night, + Three hundred feet of fall. + + They found him next morning below in the glen, + And never a bone in him whole; + But Heaven may yet have more mercy than men + On such a bold rider's soul. + + _Charles Kingsley._ + + + + +THE LEAP OF ROUSHAN BEG. + + + Mounted on Kyrat strong and fleet, + His chestnut steed with four white feet, + Roushan Beg, called Kurroglou, + Son of the road and bandit chief, + Seeking refuge and relief, + Up the mountain pathway flew. + + Such was Kyrat's wondrous speed, + Never yet could any steed + Reach the dust-cloud in his course. + More than maiden, more than wife, + More than gold and next to life + Roushan the Robber loved his horse. + + In the land that lies beyond + Erzeroum and Trebizond, + Garden-girt his fortress stood; + Plundered khan, or caravan + Journeying north from Koordistan, + Gave him wealth and wine and food. + + Seven hundred and fourscore + Men at arms his livery wore, + Did his bidding night and day. + Now, through regions all unknown, + He was wandering, lost, alone, + Seeking without guide his way. + + Suddenly the pathway ends, + Sheer the precipice descends, + Loud the torrent roars unseen; + Thirty feet from side to side + Yawns the chasm; on air must ride + He who crosses this ravine. + + Following close in his pursuit, + At the precipice's foot, + Reyhan the Arab of Orfah + Halted with his hundred men, + Shouting upward from the glen, + "La Illáh illa Alláh!" + + Gently Roushan Beg caressed + Kyrat's forehead, neck, and breast; + Kissed him upon both his eyes; + Sang to him in his wild way, + As upon the topmost spray + Sings a bird before it flies. + + "O my Kyrat, O my steed, + Round and slender as a reed, + Carry me this peril through! + Satin housings shall be thine. + Shoes of gold, O Kyrat mine, + O thou soul of Kurroglou! + + "Soft thy skin as silken skein, + Soft as woman's hair thy mane, + Tender are thine eyes and true; + All thy hoofs like ivory shine, + Polished bright; O, life of mine, + Leap, and rescue Kurroglou!" + + Kyrat, then, the strong and fleet, + Drew together his four white feet, + Paused a moment on the verge, + Measured with his eye the space, + And into the air's embrace + Leaped as leaps the ocean surge. + + As the ocean surge o'er sand + Bears a swimmer safe to land, + Kyrat safe his rider bore; + Rattling down the deep abyss + Fragments of the precipice + Rolled like pebbles on a shore. + + Roushan's tasselled cap of red + Trembled not upon his head, + Careless sat he and upright; + Neither hand nor bridle shook, + Nor his head he turned to look, + As he galloped out of sight. + + Flash of harness in the air, + Seen a moment like the glare + Of a sword drawn from its sheath; + Thus the phantom horseman passed, + And the shadow that he cast + Leaped the cataract underneath. + + Reyhan the Arab held his breath + While this vision of life and death + Passed above him. "Allahu!" + Cried he. "In all Koordistan + Lives there not so brave a man + As this Robber Kurroglou!" + + _H. W. Longfellow._ + + + + +ANNAN WATER. + + + "Annan water's wading deep, + And my love Annie's wondrous bonny; + And I am laith she suld weet her feet, + Because I love her best of ony. + + "Gar saddle me the bonny black, + Gar saddle sune, and make him ready; + For I will down the Gatehope-Slack, + And all to see my bonny ladye."-- + + He has loupen on the bonny black, + He stirr'd him wi' the spur right sairly; + But, or he wan the Gatehope-Slack, + I think the steed was wae and weary. + + He has loupen on the bonny grey, + He rade the right gate and the ready; + I trow he would neither stint nor stay, + For he was seeking his bonny ladye. + + O he has ridden o'er field and fell, + Through muir and moss, and mony a mire: + His spurs o' steel were sair to bide, + And fra her fore-feet flew the fire. + + "Now, bonny grey, now play your part! + Gin ye be the steed that wins my deary, + Wi' corn and hay ye'se be fed for aye, + And never spur sall make you wearie."-- + + The grey was a mare, and a right good mare; + But when she wan the Annan water, + She couldna hae ridden a furlong mair, + Had a thousand merks been wadded at her. + + "O boatman, boatman, put off your boat! + Put off your boat for gowden money! + I cross the drumly stream the night, + Or never mair I see my honey."-- + + "O I was sworn sae late yestreen, + And not by ae aith, but by many; + And for a' the gowd in fair Scotland, + I dare na take ye through to Annie." + + The side was stey, and the bottom deep, + Frae bank to brae the water pouring; + And the bonny grey mare did sweat for fear, + For she heard the water-kelpy roaring. + + O he has pou'd aff his dapperpy coat, + The silver buttons glanced bonny; + The waistcoat bursted aff his breast, + He was sae full of melancholy. + + He has ta'en the ford at that stream tail; + I wot he swam both strong and steady; + But the stream was broad, and his strength did fail, + And he never saw his bonny ladye! + + "O wae betide the frush saugh wand! + And wae betide the bush of brier! + It brake into my true love's hand, + When his strength did fail, and his limbs did tire. + + "And wae betide ye, Annan Water, + This night that ye are a drumlie river! + For over thee I'll build a bridge, + That ye never more true love may sever." + + + + +THOMAS THE RHYMER. + + + True Thomas lay on Huntlie bank;[2] + A ferlie[3] he spied wi' his ee; + And there he saw a ladye bright, + Come riding down by the Eildon Tree. + + Her shirt was o' the grass-green silk, + Her mantle o' the velvet fyne; + At ilka[4] tett of her horse's mane, + Hung fifty siller bells and nine. + + True Thomas, he pulled aff his cap, + And louted[5] low down to his knee, + "All hail, thou mighty Queen of Heaven! + For thy peer on earth I never did see." + + "O no, O no, Thomas," she said, + "That name does not belang to me; + I am but the Queen of fair Elfland, + That am hither come to visit thee. + + "Harp and carp, Thomas," she said; + "Harp and carp along wi' me; + And if ye dare to kiss my lips, + Sure of your bodie I will be." + + "Betide me weal, betide me woe, + That weird[6] shall never daunton me."-- + Syne he has kiss'd her rosy lips, + All underneath the Eildon Tree. + + "Now, ye maun go wi' me," she said; + "True Thomas, ye maun go wi' me; + And ye maun serve me seven years, + Thro' weal or woe as may chance to be." + + She mounted on her milk-white steed; + She's ta'en true Thomas up behind: + And aye, whene'er her bridle rung, + The steed flew swifter than the wind. + + O they rade on, and farther on; + The steed gaed swifter than the wind; + Until they reached a desert wide, + And living land was left behind. + + "Light down, light down, now, true Thomas, + And lean your head upon my knee; + Abide and rest a little space, + And I will show you ferlies[7] three. + + "O see ye not yon narrow road, + So thick beset with thorns and briers? + That is the path of righteousness, + Though after it but few inquires. + + "And see ye not that braid braid road, + That lies across that lily leven? + That is the path of wickedness, + Though some call it the road to heaven. + + "And see not ye that bonny road, + That winds about the fernie brae? + That is the road to fair Elfland, + Where thou and I this night maun gae. + + "But, Thomas, ye maun hold your tongue, + Whatever ye may hear or see; + For, if ye speak word in Elfyn land, + Ye'll ne'er get back to your ain countrie." + + O they rade on, and farther on, + And they waded through rivers aboon the knee, + And they saw neither sun nor moon, + But they heard the roaring of the sea. + + It was mirk mirk night, and there was nae stern light, + And they waded through red blude to the knee, + For a' the blude that's shed on earth + Rins through the springs o' that countrie. + + Syne they came on to a garden green, + And she pu'd an apple frae a tree-- + "Take this for thy wages, true Thomas; + It will give thee the tongue that can never lie." + + "My tongue is mine ain," true Thomas said; + "A gudely gift ye wad gie to me! + I neither dought to buy nor sell, + At fair or tryst where I may be. + + "I dought neither speak to prince or peer, + Nor ask of grace from fair ladye." + "Now hold thy peace!" the lady said, + "For as I say, so must it be." + + He has gotten a coat of the even cloth, + And a pair of shoes of velvet green; + And till seven years were gane and past, + True Thomas on earth was never seen. + + _Walter Scott._ + +FOOTNOTES: + +[2] A spot afterwards included in the domain of Abbotsford. + +[3] Wonder. + +[4] Each. + +[5] Bowed. + +[6] Destiny shall not alarm me. + +[7] Wonders. + + + + +THE GREEN GNOME. + +A MELODY. + + + Ring, sing! ring, sing! pleasant Sabbath bells! + Chime, rhyme! chime, rhyme! through dales and dells! + Rhyme, ring! chime, sing! pleasant Sabbath bells! + Chime, sing! rhyme, ring! over fields and fells! + + And I galloped and I galloped on my palfrey white as milk, + My robe was of the sea-green woof, my serk was of the silk; + My hair was golden-yellow, and it floated to my shoe; + My eyes were like two harebells bathed in little drops of dew; + My palfrey, never stopping, made a music sweetly blent + With the leaves of autumn dropping all around me as I went; + And I heard the bells, grown fainter, far behind me peal and play, + Fainter, fainter, fainter, till they seemed to die away; + And beside a silver runnel, on a little heap of sand, + I saw the green gnome sitting, with his cheek upon his hand. + Then he started up to see me, and he ran with a cry and bound, + And drew me from my palfrey white and set me on the ground. + O crimson, crimson were his locks, his face was green to see, + But he cried, "O light-haired lassie, you are bound to marry me!" + He clasped me round the middle small, he kissed me on the cheek, + He kissed me once, he kissed me twice, I could not stir or speak; + He kissed me twice, he kissed me thrice; but when he kissed again, + I called aloud upon the name of Him who died for men. + + Sing, sing! ring, ring! pleasant Sabbath bells! + Chime, rhyme! chime, rhyme! through dales and dells! + Rhyme, ring! chime, sing! pleasant Sabbath bells! + Chime, sing! rhyme, ring! over fields and fells! + + O faintly, faintly, faintly, calling men and maids to pray, + So faintly, faintly, faintly rang the bells far away; + And as I named the Blessed Name, as in our need we can, + The ugly green gnome became a tall and comely man: + His hands were white, his beard was gold, his eyes were black as sloes, + His tunic was of scarlet woof, and silken were his hose; + A pensive light from faëryland still lingered on his cheek, + His voice was like the running brook when he began to speak: + "O, you have cast away the charm my step-dame put on me, + Seven years have I dwelt in Faëryland, and you have set me free. + O, I will mount thy palfrey white, and ride to kirk with thee, + And, by those dewy little eyes, we twain will wedded be!" + + Back we galloped, never stopping, he before and I behind, + And the autumn leaves were dropping, red and yellow in the wind; + And the sun was shining clearer, and my heart was high and proud, + As nearer, nearer, nearer rang the kirk bells sweet and loud, + And we saw the kirk, before us, as we trotted down the fells, + And nearer, clearer, o'er us, rang the welcome of the bells. + + Ring, sing! ring, sing! pleasant Sabbath bells! + Chime, rhyme! chime, rhyme! through dales and dells! + Rhyme, ring! chime, sing! pleasant Sabbath bells! + Chime, sing! rhyme, ring! over fields and fells! + + _Robert Buchanan._ + + + + +FRIAR PEDRO'S RIDE. + + + It was the morning season of the year; + It was the morning era of the land; + The watercourses rang full loud and clear; + Portala's cross stood where Portala's hand + Had planted it when Faith was taught by Fear, + When monks and missions held the sole command + Of all that shore beside the peaceful sea, + Where spring-tides beat their long-drawn réveille. + + Out of the Mission of San Luis Rey, + All in that brisk, tumultuous spring weather, + Rode Friar Pedro, in a pious way, + With six dragoons in cuirasses of leather, + Each armed alike for either prayer or fray, + Handcuffs and missals they had slung together; + And as in aid the gospel truth to scatter + Each swung a lasso--_alias_ a "riata." + + In sooth, that year the harvest had been slack, + The crop of converts scarce worth computation; + Some souls were lost, whose owners had turned back + To save their bodies frequent flagellation; + And some preferred the songs of birds, alack! + To Latin matins and their soul's salvation, + And thought their own wild whoopings were less dreary + Than Father Pedro's droning _miserere_. + + To bring them back to matins and to prime, + To pious works and secular submission, + To prove to them that liberty was crime,-- + This was, in fact, the Padre's present mission; + To get new souls perchance at the same time, + And bring them to a "sense of their condition"-- + That easy phrase, which, in the past and present, + Means making that condition most unpleasant. + + He saw the glebe land guiltless of a furrow; + He saw the wild oats wrestle on the hill; + He saw the gopher working in his burrow; + He saw the squirrel scampering at his will;-- + He saw all this and felt no doubt a thorough + And deep conviction of God's goodness; still + He failed to see that in His glory He + Yet left the humblest of His creatures free. + + He saw the flapping crow, whose frequent note + Voiced the monotony of land and sky, + Mocking with graceless wing and rusty coat + His priestly presence as he trotted by. + He would have cursed the bird by bell and rote, + But other game just then was in his eye-- + A savage camp, whose occupants preferred + Their heathen darkness to the living Word. + + He rang his bell, and at the martial sound + Twelve silver spurs their jingling rowels clashed; + Six horses sprang across the level ground + As six dragoons in open order dashed; + Above their heads the lassos circled round, + In every eye a pious fervor flashed; + They charged the camp, and in one moment more + They lassoed six and reconverted four. + + The Friar saw the conflict from a knoll, + And sang _Laus Deo_ and cheered on his men: + "Well thrown, Bautista--that's another soul; + After him, Gomez--try it once again; + This way, Felipe--there the heathen stole; + Bones of St. Francis!--surely that makes _ten_; + _Te deum laudamus_--but they're very wild; + _Non nobis dominus_--all right, my child!" + + When at that moment--as the story goes-- + A certain squaw, who had her foes eluded, + Ran past the Friar--just before his nose. + He stared a moment, and in silence brooded, + Then in his breast a pious frenzy rose + And every other prudent thought excluded; + He caught a lasso, and dashed in a canter + After that Occidental Atalanta. + + High o'er his head he swirled the dreadful noose, + But, as the practice was quite unfamiliar, + His first cast tore Felipe's captive loose + And almost choked Tiburcio Camilla, + And might have interfered with that brave youth's + Ability to gorge the tough _tortilla_; + But all things come by practice, and at last + His flying slip-knot caught the maiden fast. + + Then rose above the plain a mingled yell + Of rage and triumph--a demoniac whoop; + The Padre heard it like a passing knell, + And would have loosened his unchristian loop; + But the tough raw-hide held the captive well, + And held, alas! too well the captor-dupe; + For with one bound the savage fled amain, + Dragging horse, Friar, down the lonely plain. + + Down the _arroyo_, out across the mead, + By heath and hollow, sped the flying maid, + Dragging behind her still the panting steed + And helpless Friar, who in vain essayed + To cut the lasso or to check his speed. + He felt himself beyond all human aid, + And trusted to the saints--and, for that matter, + To some weak spot in Felipe's _riata_. + + Alas! the lasso had been duly blessed, + And, like baptism, held the flying wretch-- + A doctrine that the priest had oft expressed-- + Which, like the lasso, might be made to stretch + But would not break; so neither could divest + Themselves of it, but, like some awful _fetch_, + The holy Friar had to recognize + The image of his fate in heathen guise. + + He saw the glebe land guiltless of a furrow; + He saw the wild oats wrestle on the hill; + He saw the gopher standing in his burrow; + He saw the squirrel scampering at his will;-- + He saw all this, and felt no doubt how thorough + The contrast was to his condition; still + The squaw kept onward to the sea, till night + And the cold sea-fog hid them both from sight. + + The morning came above the serried coast, + Lighting the snow-peaks with its beacon fires, + Driving before it all the fleet-winged host + Of chattering birds above the Mission spires, + Filling the land with light and joy--but most + The savage woods with all their leafy lyres; + In pearly tints and opal flame and fire + The morning came, but not the holy Friar. + + Weeks passed away. In vain the Fathers sought + Some trace or token that might tell his story; + Some thought him dead, or, like Elijah, caught + Up to the heavens in a blaze of glory. + In this surmise some miracles were wrought + On his account, and souls in purgatory + Were thought to profit from his intercession; + In brief, his absence made a "deep impression." + + A twelvemonth passed; the welcome Spring once more + Made green the hills beside the white-faced Mission, + Spread her bright dais by the western shore, + And sat enthroned--a most resplendent vision. + The heathen converts thronged the chapel door + At morning mass, when, says the old tradition, + A frightful whoop throughout the church resounded, + And to their feet the congregation bounded. + + A tramp of hoofs upon the beaten course, + Then came a sight that made the bravest quail: + A phantom Friar on a spectre horse, + Dragged by a creature decked with horns and tail. + By the lone Mission, with the whirlwind's force, + They madly swept, and left a sulphurous trail-- + And that was all--enough to tell the story + And leave unblessed those souls in purgatory. + + And ever after, on that fatal day + That Friar Pedro rode abroad lassoing, + A ghostly couple came and went away + With savage whoop and heathenish hallooing, + Which brought discredit on San Luis Rey, + And proved the Mission's ruin and undoing; + For ere ten years had passed, the squaw and Friar + Performed to empty walls and fallen spire. + + The Mission is no more; upon its walls + The golden lizards slip, or breathless pause + Still as the sunshine brokenly that falls + Through crannied roof and spider-webs of gauze; + No more the bell its solemn warning calls-- + A holier silence thrills and overawes; + And the sharp lights and shadows of to-day + Outline the Mission of San Luis Rey. + + _Bret Harte._ + + + + +TAM O' SHANTER. + + + When chapman billies leave the street, + And drouthy neebors, neebors meet, + As market-days are wearing late, + An' folk begin to tak the gate; + While we sit bousing at the nappy, + An' getting fou and unco happy, + We thinkna on the lang Scots miles, + The mosses, waters, slaps, and stiles, + That lie between us and our hame, + Whare sits our sulky sullen dame, + Gathering her brows like gathering storm, + Nursing her wrath to keep it warm. + This truth fand honest Tam O' Shanter, + As he frae Ayr ae night did canter + (Auld Ayr, wham ne'er a town surpasses, + For honest men and bonnie lasses). + O Tam! hadst thou but been sae wise, + As ta'en thy ain wife Kate's advice! + She tauld thee weel thou wast a skellum, + A blethering, blustering, drunken blellum; + That frae November till October, + Ae market-day thou was nae sober; + That ilka melder, wi' the miller, + Thou sat as lang as thou had siller; + That every naig was ca'd a shoe on, + The smith and thee gat roaring fou on; + That at the Lord's house, even on Sunday, + Thou drank wi' Kirkton Jean till Monday. + She prophesied that, late or soon, + Thou would be found deep drowned in Doon; + Or catched wi' warlocks i' the mirk, + By Alloway's auld haunted kirk. + Ah, gentle dames! it gars me greet, + To think how mony counsels sweet, + How mony lengthened, sage advices, + The husband frae the wife despises! + But to our tale: Ae market-night, + Tam had got planted unco right; + Fast by an ingle, bleezing finely, + Wi' reaming swats, that drank divinely; + And at his elbow, Souter Johnny, + His ancient, trusty, drouthy crony; + Tam lo'ed him like a vera brither; + They had been fou for weeks thegither. + The night drave on wi' sangs and clatter; + And ay the ale was growing better: + The landlady and Tam grew gracious, + Wi' favors, secret, sweet, and precious: + The souter tauld his queerest stories; + The landlord's laugh was ready chorus: + The storm without might rair and rustle, + Tam didna mind the storm a whistle. + Care, mad to see a man sae happy, + E'en drowned himself amang the nappy! + As bees flee hame wi' lades o' treasure, + The minutes winged their way wi' pleasure: + Kings may be blessed, but Tam was glorious, + O'er a' the ills o' life victorious! + But pleasures are like poppies spread, + You seize the flower, its bloom is shed; + Or like the snow falls in the river, + A moment white, then melts forever; + Or like the borealis race, + That flit ere you can point their place; + Or like the rainbow's lovely form + Evanishing amid the storm. + Nae man can tether time or tide;-- + The hour approaches Tam maun ride; + That hour, o' night's black arch the key-stane, + That dreary hour he mounts his beast on; + And sic a night he taks the road in, + As ne'er poor sinner was abroad in. + The wind blew as 'twad blawn its last; + The rattling showers rose on the blast; + The speedy gleams the darkness swallowed; + Loud, deep, and lang the thunder bellowed: + That night, a child might understand, + The Deil had business on his hand. + Well mounted on his gray mare, Meg,-- + A better never lifted leg,-- + Tam skelpit on through dub and mire, + Despising wind and rain and fire; + Whiles holding fast his guid blue bonnet; + Whiles crooning o'er some auld Scots sonnet; + Whiles glowering round wi' prudent cares, + Lest bogles catch him unawares; + Kirk Alloway was drawing nigh, + Whare ghaists and houlets nightly cry. + By this time he was cross the ford, + Whare in the snaw the chapman smoored; + And past the birks and meikle-stane, + Whare drunken Charlie brak's neck-bane; + And through the whins, and by the cairn, + Whare hunters fand the murdered bairn: + And near the thorn aboon the well, + Whare Mungo's mither hanged hersel. + Before him Doon pours all his floods; + The doubling storm roars through the woods; + The lightnings flash from pole to pole; + Near and more near the thunders roll: + When, glimmering thro' the groaning trees, + Kirk Alloway seemed in a bleeze; + Through ilka bore the beams were glancing; + And loud resounded mirth and dancing. + Inspiring bold John Barleycorn! + What dangers thou canst make us scorn! + Wi' tippenny, we fear nae evil; + Wi' usquebae, we'll face the Devil! + The swats sae reamed in Tammie's noddle, + Fair play, he cared na deils a boddle, + But Maggie stood right sair astonished, + Till by the heel and hand admonished, + She ventured forward on the light; + And, wow! Tam saw an unco sight! + Warlocks and witches in a dance; + Nae cotillon brent new frae France, + But hornpipes, jigs, strathspeys, and reels, + Put life and mettle in their heels. + At winnock-bunker in the east, + There sat auld Nick, in shape o' beast; + A towzie tyke, black, grim, and large, + To gie them music was his charge: + He screwed the pipes and gart them skirl, + Till roof and rafters a' did dirl,-- + Coffins stood round, like open presses, + That shawed the dead in their last dresses; + And by some devilish cantrip sleight, + Each in its cauld hand held a light,-- + By which heroic Tam was able + To note upon the haly table, + A murderers's banes in gibbet airns; + Two span-lang, wee, unchristened bairns; + A thief, new cutted fra a rape, + Wi' his last gasp his gab did gape; + Five tomahawks, wi' bluid red rusted; + Five scymitars, wi' murder crusted; + A garter which a babe had strangled; + A knife a father's throat had mangled, + Whom his ain son o' life bereft-- + The gray hairs yet stack to the heft; + Three lawyers' tongues turned inside out, + Wi' lies seamed like a beggar's clout; + And priests' hearts, rotten, black as muck, + Lay stinking, vile, in every neuk: + Wi' mair o' horrible and awfu', + Which ev'n to name wad be unlawfu'. + As Tammie glowered, amazed, and curious, + The mirth and fun grew fast and furious; + The piper loud and louder blew; + The dancers quick and quicker flew; + They reeled, they set, they crossed, they cleckit, + Till ilka carlin swat and reekit, + And coost her duddies to the wark, + And linket at it in her sark. + Now Tam, O Tam! had they been queans + A' plump and strapping in their teens: + Their sarks, instead o' creeshie flannen, + Been snaw-white seventeen-hunder linen; + Thir breeks o' mine, my only pair, + That ance were plush, o' guid blue hair, + I wad hae gi'en them aff my hurdies, + For ae blink o' the bonnie burdies! + But withered beldams, auld and droll, + Rigwoodie hags wad spean a foal, + Lowping an' flinging on a crummock-- + I wonder did na turn thy stomach. + But Tam kenned what was what fu' brawlie. + There was ae winsome wench and walie, + That night inlisted in the core + (Lang after kenned on Carrick shore! + For monie a beast to dead she shot, + And perished monie a bonnie boat, + And shook baith meikle corn and bear + And kept the country-side in fear), + Her cutty-sark, o' Paisley harn, + That while a lassie she had worn, + In longitude tho' sorely scanty, + It was her best, and she was vauntie. + Ah! little kenned thy reverend grannie + That sark she coft for her wee Nannie, + Wi' twa pund Scots (twas a' her riches), + Wad ever graced a dance o' witches! + But here my Muse her wing maun cow'r; + Sic flights are far beyond her pow'r; + To sing how Nannie lap and flang, + (A souple jad she was and strang!) + And how Tam stood, like ane bewitched, + And thought his very een enriched. + Ev'n Satan glowered, and fidged fu' fain, + And hotch'd and blew wi' might and main; + Till first ae caper, syne anither, + Tam tint his reason a' thegither, + And roars out, "Weel done, Cutty-sark!" + And in an instant a' was dark; + And scarcely had he Maggie rallied, + When out the hellish legion sallied. + As bees bizz out wi' angry fyke, + When plundering herds assail their byke; + As open pussie's mortal foes, + When pop! she starts before their nose; + As eager runs the market-crowd, + When "Catch the thief!" resounds aloud; + So Maggie runs,--the witches follow, + Wi' monie an eldritch skreech and hollow. + Ah, Tam! ah, Tam! thou'lt get thy fairin'! + In hell they'll roast thee like a herrin! + In vain thy Kate awaits thy comin'-- + Kate soon will be a woefu' woman! + Now, do thy speedy utmost, Meg, + And win the key-stane of the brig; + There at them thou thy tail may toss,-- + A running stream they dare na cross. + But ere the key-stane she could make, + The fient a tail she had to shake; + For Nannie, far before the rest, + Hard upon noble Maggie prest, + And flew at Tam wi' furious ettle; + But little wist she Maggie's mettle-- + Ae spring brought off her master hale, + But left behind her ain gray tail: + The carlin claught her by the rump, + And left poor Maggie scarce a stump. + Now, wha this tale o' truth shall read, + Ilk man and mother's son take heed; + Whene'er to drink you are inclined, + Or cutty-sarks run in your mind, + Think, ye may buy the joys o'er dear, + Remember Tam o' Shanter's mare. + + _Robert Burns._ + + + + +THE WILD HUNTSMAN. + + + The Wildgrave winds his bugle horn, + To horse, to horse! halloo, halloo! + His fiery courser snuffs the morn, + And thronging serfs their lord pursue. + + The eager pack, from couples freed, + Dash through the brush, the brier, the brake; + While answering hound, and horn, and steed, + The mountain echoes startling wake. + + The beams of God's own hallowed day + Had painted yonder spire with gold, + And, calling sinful man to pray, + Loud, long, and deep the bell had tolled. + + But still the Wildgrave onward rides; + Halloo, halloo! and hark again! + When spurring from opposing sides, + Two Stranger Horsemen join the train. + + Who was each Stranger, left and right, + Well may I guess, but dare not tell; + The right-hand steed was silver white, + The left, the swarthy hue of hell. + + The right-hand Horseman young and fair, + His smile was like the morn of May; + The left, from eye of tawny glare, + Shot midnight lightning's lurid ray. + + He waved his huntsman's cap on high, + Cried, "Welcome, welcome, noble lord! + What sport can earth, or sea, or sky, + To match the princely chase, afford?" + + "Cease thy loud bugle's clanging knell," + Cried the fair youth, with silver voice; + "And for devotion's choral swell, + Exchange the rude unhallowed noise. + + "To-day, the ill-omened chase forbear, + Yon bell yet summons to the fane; + To-day the Warning Spirit hear, + To-morrow thou mayst mourn in vain."-- + + "Away, and sweep the glades along!" + The Sable Hunter hoarse replies; + "To muttering monks leave matin-song, + And bell, and books, and mysteries." + + The Wildgrave spurred his ardent steed, + And, launching forward with a bound, + "Who, for thy drowsy priestlike rede, + Would leave the jovial horn and hound?" + + "Hence, if our manly sport offend! + With pious fools go chant and pray: + Well hast thou spoke, my dark-browed friend; + Halloo, halloo! and, hark away!" + + The Wildgrave spurred his courser light, + O'er moss and moor, o'er holt and hill; + And on the left and on the right, + Each Stranger Horseman followed still. + + Up springs, from yonder tangled thorn, + A stag more white than mountain snow; + And louder rung the Wildgrave's horn, + "Hark forward, forward! holla, ho!" + + A heedless wretch has crossed the way; + He gasps, the thundering hoofs below;-- + But, live who can, or die who may, + Still, "Forward, forward!" on they go. + + See, where yon simple fences meet, + A field with autumn's blessings crowned; + See, prostrate at the Wildgrave's feet, + A husbandman, with toil embrowned; + + "O mercy, mercy, noble lord! + Spare the poor's pittance," was his cry, + "Earned by the sweat these brows have poured, + In scorching hour of fierce July." + + Earnest the right-hand Stranger pleads, + The left still cheering to the prey, + The impetuous Earl no warning heeds, + But furious holds the onward way. + + "Away, thou hound! so basely born, + Or dread the scourge's echoing blow!"-- + Then loudly rung his bugle-horn, + "Hark forward, forward, holla, ho!" + + So said, so done:--A single bound + Clears the poor laborer's humble pale; + Wild follows man, and horse, and hound, + Like dark December's stormy gale. + + And man and horse, and hound and horn, + Destructive sweep the field along; + While, joying o'er the wasted corn, + Fell Famine marks the maddening throng. + + Again uproused, the timorous prey + Scours moss and moor, and holt and hill; + Hard run, he feels his strength decay, + And trusts for life his simple skill. + + Too dangerous solitude appeared; + He seeks the shelter of the crowd; + Amid the flock's domestic herd + His harmless head he hopes to shroud. + + O'er moss and moor, and holt and hill, + His track the steady blood-hounds trace; + O'er moss and moor, unwearied still, + The furious Earl pursues the chase. + + Full lowly did the herdsman fall;-- + "O spare, thou noble Baron, spare + These herds, a widow's little all; + These flocks, an orphan's fleecy care!"-- + + Earnest the right-hand Stranger pleads, + The left still cheering to the prey; + The Earl nor prayer nor pity heeds, + But furious keeps the onward way. + + "Unmannered dog! To stop my sport + Vain were thy cant and beggar whine, + Though human spirits, of thy sort, + Were tenants of these carrion kine!"-- + + Again he winds his bugle-horn, + "Hark forward, forward, holla, ho!" + And through the herd, in ruthless scorn, + He cheers his furious hounds to go. + + In heaps the throttled victims fall; + Down sinks their mangled herdsman near; + The murderous cries the stag appall,-- + Again he starts, new-nerved by fear. + + With blood besmeared, and white with foam, + While big the tears of anguish pour, + He seeks, amid the forest's gloom, + The humble hermit's hallowed bower. + + But man and horse, and horn and hound, + Fast rattling on his traces go; + The sacred chapel rung around + With, "Hark away! and, holla, ho!" + + All mild, amid the route profane, + The holy hermit poured his prayer; + "Forbear with blood God's house to stain; + Revere his altar, and forbear!" + + "The meanest brute has rights to plead, + Which, wronged by cruelty, or pride, + Draw vengeance on the ruthless head:-- + Be warned at length, and turn aside." + + Still the Fair Horseman anxious pleads; + The Black, wild whooping, points the prey:-- + Alas! the Earl no warning heeds, + But frantic keeps the forward way. + + "Holy or not, or right or wrong, + Thy altar, and its rites, I spurn; + Not sainted martyrs' sacred song, + Not God himself, shall make me turn!" + + He spurs his horse, he winds his horn, + "Hark forward, forward, holla, ho!"-- + But off, on whirlwind's pinions borne, + The stag, the hut, the hermit, go. + + And horse and man, and horn and hound, + And clamor of the chase, was gone; + For hoofs, and howls, and bugle-sound, + A deadly silence reigned alone. + + Wild gazed the affrighted Earl around; + He strove in vain to wake his horn, + In vain to call: for not a sound + Could from his anxious lips be borne. + + He listens for his trusty hounds; + No distant baying reached his ears: + His courser rooted to the ground, + The quickening spur unmindful bears. + + Still dark and darker frown the shades, + Dark as the darkness of the grave; + And not a sound the still invades, + Save what a distant torrent gave. + + High o'er the sinner's humbled head + At length the solemn silence broke; + And, from a cloud of swarthy red, + The awful voice of thunder spoke. + + "Oppressor of creation fair! + Apostate Spirits' hardened tool! + Scorner of God! Scourge of the poor! + The measure of thy cup is full. + + "Be chased forever through the wood; + Forever roam the affrighted wild; + And let thy fate instruct the proud, + God's meanest creature is his child." + + 'Twas hushed:--One flash, of sombre glare, + With yellow tinged the forests brown; + Uprose the Wildgrave's bristling hair, + And horror chilled each nerve and bone. + + Cold poured the sweat in freezing rill; + A rising wind began to sing; + And louder, louder, louder still, + Brought storm and tempest on its wing. + + Earth heard the call;--her entrails rend; + From yawning rifts, with many a yell, + Mixed with sulphureous flames, ascend + The misbegotten dogs of hell. + + What ghastly Huntsman next arose, + Well may I guess, but dare not tell; + His eye like midnight lightning glows, + His steed the swarthy hue of hell. + + The Wildgrave flies o'er bush and thorn, + With many a shriek of helpless woe; + Behind him hound, and horse, and horn, + And, "Hark away, and holla, ho!" + + With wild despair's reverted eye, + Close, close behind, he marks the throng, + With bloody fangs and eager cry; + In frantic fear he scours along. + + Still, still shall last the dreadful chase, + Till time itself shall have an end; + By day, they scour earth's caverned space, + At midnight's witching hour, ascend. + + This is the horn, and hound, and horse, + That oft the lated peasant hears; + Appalled, he signs the frequent cross, + When the wild din invades his ears. + + The wakeful priest oft drops a tear + For human pride, for human woe, + When, at his midnight mass, he hears + The infernal cry of "Holla, ho!" + + _Bürger's Wilde Jäger. Tr. Walter Scott._ + + + + +LÜTZOW'S WILD CHASE. + + + What is it that beams in the bright sunshine, + And echoes yet nearer and nearer? + And see! how it spreads in a long dark line, + And hark! how its horns in the distance combine + To impress with affright the hearer! + And ask ye what means the daring race? + This is--Lützow's wild and desperate chase! + + See, they leave the dark wood in silence all, + And from hill to hill are seen flying; + In ambush they'll lie till the deep nightfall, + Then ye'll hear the hurrah! and the rifle ball! + And the French will be falling and dying! + And ask ye what means their daring race? + This is--Lützow's wild and desperate chase! + + Where the vine-boughs twine, the Rhine waves roar, + And the foe thinks its waters shall hide him; + But see, they fearless approach the shore, + And they leap in the stream, and swim proudly o'er, + And stand on the bank beside him! + And ask ye what means the daring race? + This is--Lützow's wild and desperate chase! + + Why roars in the valley the raging fight, + Where swords clash red and gory? + O fierce is the strife of that deadly fight, + For the spark of young Freedom is newly alight, + And it breaks into flames of glory! + And ask ye what means the daring race? + This is--Lützow's wild and desperate chase! + + See yon warrior who lies on a gory spot, + From life compelled to sever; + Yet he never is heard to lament his lot, + And his soul at its parting shall tremble not, + Since his country is saved forever! + And if ye will ask at the end of his race, + Still 'tis--Lützow's wild and desperate chase! + + The wild chase, and the German chase + Against tyranny and oppression! + Therefore weep not, loved friends, at this last embrace, + For freedom has dawned on our loved birth-place, + And our deaths shall insure its possession! + And 'twill ever be said from race to race, + This was--Lützow's wild and desperate chase! + + _Theodor Körner._ + + + + +THE ERL-KING. + +FROM THE GERMAN OF GOETHE. + + + O, who rides by night thro' the woodland so wild? + It is the fond father embracing his child; + And close the boy nestles within his loved arm, + To hold himself fast, and to keep himself warm. + + "O father, see yonder! see yonder!" he says; + "My boy, upon what dost thou fearfully gaze?"-- + "O, 'tis the Erl-King with his crown and his shroud"-- + "No, my son, it is but a dark wreath of the cloud." + +(THE ERL-KING SPEAKS.) + + "O come and go with me, thou loveliest child; + By many a gay sport shall thy time be beguiled; + My mother keeps for thee full many a fair toy, + And many a fine flower shall she pluck for my boy." + + "O father, my father, and did you not hear + The Erl-King whisper so loud in my ear?"-- + "Be still, my heart's darling--my child, be at ease; + It was but the wild blast as it sung thro' the trees." + +ERL-KING. + + "O wilt thou go with me, thou loveliest boy? + My daughter shall tend thee with care and with joy; + She shall bear thee so lightly thro' wet and thro' wild, + And press thee, and kiss thee, and sing to my child." + + "O father, my father, and saw you not plain, + The Erl-King's pale daughter glide past thro' the rain?"-- + "O yes, my loved treasure, I knew it full soon; + It was the gray willow that danced to the moon." + +ERL-KING. + + "O come and go with me, no longer delay, + Or else, silly child, I will drag thee away."-- + "O father! O father! now, now keep your hold, + The Erl-King has seized me, his grasp is so cold!"-- + + Sore trembled the father; he spurred thro' the wild, + Clasping close to his bosom his shuddering child; + He reaches his dwelling in doubt and in dread, + But, clasped to his bosom, the infant was _dead_! + + _Walter Scott._ + + + + +MAZEPPA'S RIDE. + + + "'Bring forth the horse!'--the horse was brought, + In truth, he was a noble steed, + A Tartar of the Ukraine breed, + Who looked as though the speed of thought + Were in his limbs: but he was wild, + Wild as the wild deer, and untaught, + With spur and bridle undefiled,-- + 'Twas but a day he had been caught; + And snorting, with erected mane, + And struggling fiercely, but in vain, + In the full foam of wrath and dread, + To me the desert-born was led; + They bound me on, that menial throng, + Upon his back with many a thong; + Then loosed him with a sudden lash,-- + Away!--away!--and on we dash! + Torrents less rapid and less rash. + Away!--away! My breath was gone,-- + I saw not where he hurried on: + 'Twas scarcely yet the break of day, + And on he foamed,--away!--away!-- + The last of human sounds which rose, + As I was darted from my foes, + Was the wild shout of savage laughter, + Which on the wind came roaring after + A moment from that rabble rout: + With sudden wrath I wrenched my head, + And snapped the cord, which to the mane + Had bound my neck in lieu of rein, + And writhing half my form about, + Howled back my curse; but midst the tread, + The thunder of my courser's speed, + Perchance they did not hear nor heed: + It vexes me,--for I would fain + Have paid their insult back again. + I paid it well in after days: + There is not of that castle gate, + Its drawbridge and portcullis' weight, + Stone, bar, moat, bridge, or barrier left; + Nor of its fields a blade of grass, + Save what grows on a ridge of wall, + Where stood the hearthstone of the hall; + And many a time ye there might pass, + Nor dream that e'er that fortress was: + I saw its turrets in a blaze, + Their crackling battlements all cleft, + And the hot lead pour down like rain + From off the scorched and blackening roof, + Whose thickness was not vengeance-proof. + They little thought that day of pain, + When launched, as on the lightning's flash, + They bade me to destruction dash, + That one day I should come again, + With twice five thousand horse, to thank + The count for his uncourteous ride. + They played me then a bitter prank, + When, with the wild horse for my guide, + They bound me to his foaming flank: + At length I played them one as frank,-- + For time at last sets all things even,-- + And if we do but watch the hour, + There never yet was human power + Which could evade, if unforgiven, + The patient search and vigil long + Of him who treasures up a wrong. + + "Away, away, my steed and I, + Upon the pinions of the wind, + All human dwellings left behind; + We sped like meteors through the sky, + When with its crackling sound the night + Is checkered with the northern light: + Town,--village,--none were on our track, + But a wild plain of far extent, + And bounded by a forest black: + And, save the scarce-seen battlement + On distant heights of some strong hold, + Against the Tartars built of old, + No trace of man. The year before + A Turkish army had marched o'er; + And where the Spahi's hoof hath trod, + The verdure flies the bloody sod: + The sky was dull, and dim, and gray, + And a low breeze crept moaning by,-- + I could have answered with a sigh,-- + But fast we fled, away, away,-- + And I could neither sigh nor pray; + And my cold sweat-drops fell like rain + Upon the courser's bristling mane: + But, snorting still with rage and fear, + He flew upon his far career: + At times I almost thought, indeed, + He must have slackened in his speed: + But no,--my bound and slender frame + Was nothing to his angry might, + And merely like a spur became: + Each motion which I made to free + My swoln limbs from their agony + Increased his fury and affright: + I tried my voice,--'twas faint and low, + But yet he swerved as from a blow; + And, starting to each accent, sprang + As from a sudden trumpet's clang: + Meantime my chords were wet with gore, + Which, oozing through my limbs, ran o'er; + And in my tongue the thirst became + A something fierier far than flame. + + "We neared the wild wood,--'twas so wide, + I saw no bounds on either side; + 'Twas studded with old sturdy trees, + That bent not to the roughest breeze + Which howls down from Siberia's waste, + And strips the forest in its haste,-- + But these were few, and far between, + Set thick with shrubs more young and green, + Luxuriant with their annual leaves, + Ere strown by those autumnal eves + That nip the forest's foliage dead, + Discolored with a lifeless red, + Which stands thereon like stiffened gore + Upon the slain when battle's o'er, + And some long winter's night hath shed + Its frost o'er every tombless head, + So cold and stark the raven's beak + May peck unpierced each frozen cheek: + 'Twas a wild waste of underwood, + And here and there a chestnut stood, + The strong oak, and the hardy pine; + But far apart,--and well it were, + Or else a different lot were mine,-- + The boughs gave way, and did not tear + My limbs; and I found strength to bear + My wounds, already scarred with cold,-- + My bonds forbade to loose my hold. + We rustled through the leaves like wind, + Left shrubs and trees and wolves behind; + By night I heard them on the track, + Their troop came hard upon our back, + With their long gallop, which can tire + The hound's deep hate, and hunter's fire: + Where'er we flew they followed on, + Nor left us with the morning sun; + Behind I saw them, scarce a rood, + At daybreak winding through the wood, + And through the night had heard their feet + Their stealing, rustling step repeat. + O, how I wished for spear or sword, + At least to die amidst the horde, + And perish--if it must be so-- + At bay, destroying many a foe. + When first my courser's race begun, + I wished the goal already won; + But now I doubted strength and speed. + Vain doubt! his swift and savage breed + Had nerved him like the mountain-roe; + Nor faster falls the blinding snow + Which whelms the peasant near the door + Whose threshold he shall cross no more, + Bewildered with the dazzling blast, + Than through the forest-paths he past,-- + Untired, untamed, and worse than wild; + All furious as a favored child + Balked of its wish; or, fiercer still, + A woman piqued, who has her will. + + "The wood was past; 'twas more than noon; + But chill the air, although in June; + Or it might be my veins ran cold,-- + Prolonged endurance tames the bold: + And I was then not what I seem, + But headlong as a wintry stream, + And wore my feelings out before + I well could count their causes o'er: + And what with fury, fear, and wrath, + The tortures which beset my path, + Cold, hunger, sorrow, shame, distress, + Thus bound in nature's nakedness; + Sprung from a race whose rising blood + When stirred beyond its calmer mood, + And trodden hard upon, is like + The rattlesnake's, in act to strike, + What marvel if this worn-out trunk + Beneath its woes a moment sunk? + The earth gave way, the skies rolled round, + I seemed to sink upon the ground; + But erred, for I was fastly bound. + My heart turned sick, my brain grew sore, + And throbbed awhile, then beat no more: + The skies spun like a mighty wheel; + I saw the trees like drunkards reel, + And a slight flash sprang o'er my eyes, + Which saw no farther: he who dies + Can die no more than then I died. + O'ertortured by that ghastly ride, + I felt the blackness come and go, + And strove to wake; but could not make + My senses climb up from below: + I felt as on a plank at sea, + When all the waves that dash o'er thee, + At the same time upheave and whelm, + And hurl thee towards a desert realm. + My undulating life was as + The fancied lights that flitting pass + Our shut eyes in deep midnight, when + Fever begins upon the brain; + But soon it passed, with little pain, + But a confusion worse than such: + I own that I should deem it much, + Dying, to feel the same again; + And yet I do suppose we must + Feel far more ere we turn to dust: + No matter; I have bared my brow + Full in Death's face--before--and now. + + "My thoughts came back; where was I? Cold, + And numb, and giddy: pulse by pulse + Life reassumed its lingering hold, + And throb by throb; till grown a pang + Which for a moment would convulse, + My blood reflowed, though thick and chill; + My ear with uncouth noises rang, + My heart began once more to thrill; + My sight returned, though dim, alas! + And thickened, as it were, with glass. + Methought the dash of waves was nigh; + There was a gleam too of the sky, + Studded with stars;--it is no dream: + The wild horse swims the wilder stream! + The bright broad river's gushing tide + Sweeps, winding onward, far and wide, + And we are half-way struggling o'er + To yon unknown and silent shore. + The waters broke my hollow trance. + And with a temporary strength + My stiffened limbs were rebaptized, + My courser's broad breast proudly braves, + And dashes off the ascending waves, + And onward we advance! + We reach the slippery shore at length, + A haven I but little prized, + For all behind was dark and drear, + And all before was night and fear. + How many hours of night or day + In those suspended pangs I lay, + I could not tell; I scarcely knew + If this were human breath I drew. + + "With glossy skin, and dripping mane, + And reeling limbs, and reeking flank, + The wild steed's sinewy nerves still strain + Up the repelling bank. + We gain the top: a boundless plain + Spreads through the shadow of the night, + And onward, onward, onward, seems + Like precipices in our dreams, + To stretch beyond the sight; + And here and there a speck of white, + Or scattered spot of dusky green, + In masses broke into the light, + As rose the moon upon my right. + But naught distinctly seen + In the dim waste, would indicate + The omen of a cottage gate; + No twinkling taper from afar + Stood like a hospitable star; + Not even an ignis-fatuus rose + To make him merry with my woes: + That very cheat had cheered me then! + Although detected, welcome still, + Reminding me, through every ill, + Of the abodes of men. + + "Onward we went,--but slack and slow; + His savage force at length o'erspent, + The drooping courser, faint and low, + All feebly foaming went. + A sickly infant had had power + To guide him forward in that hour; + But useless all to me. + His new-born tameness naught availed, + My limbs were bound; my force had failed, + Perchance, had they been free. + With feeble effort still I tried + To rend the bonds so starkly tied,-- + But still it was in vain; + My limbs were only wrung the more, + And soon the idle strife gave o'er, + Which but prolonged their pain: + The dizzy race seemed almost done, + Although no goal was nearly won: + Some streaks announced the coming sun.-- + How slow, alas! he came! + Methought that mist of dawning gray + Would never dapple into day; + How heavily it rolled away,-- + Before the eastern flame + Rose crimson, and deposed the stars, + And called the radiance from their cars, + And filled the earth, from his deep throne, + With lonely lustre, all his own. + + "Up rose the sun; the mists were curled + Back from the solitary world + Which lay around--behind--before: + What booted it to traverse o'er + Plain, forest, river? Man nor brute, + Nor dint of hoof, nor print of foot, + Lay in the wild luxuriant soil; + No sign of travel,--none of toil; + The very air was mute; + And not an insect's shrill small horn, + Nor matin bird's new voice was borne + From herb nor thicket. Many a werst, + Panting as if his heart would burst, + The weary brute still staggered on; + And still we were--or seemed--alone: + At length, while reeling on our way, + Methought I heard a courser neigh, + From out yon tuft of blackening firs. + Is it the wind those branches stirs? + No, no! from out the forest prance + A trampling troop; I see them come! + In one vast squadron they advance! + I strove to cry,--my lips were dumb. + The steeds rush on in plunging pride; + But where are they the reins to guide? + A thousand horse,--and none to ride! + With flowing tail, and flying main, + Wide nostrils,--never stretched by pain,-- + Mouths bloodless to the bit or rein, + And feet that iron never shod, + And flanks unscarred by spur or rod, + A thousand horse, the wild, the free, + Like waves that follow o'er the sea, + Came thickly thundering on, + As if our faint approach to meet; + The sight renerved my courser's feet, + A moment staggering, feebly fleet, + A moment, with a faint low neigh, + He answered, and then fell; + With gasps and glazing eyes he lay, + And reeking limbs immovable, + His first and last career is done! + On came the troop,--they saw him stoop, + They saw me strangely bound along + His back with many a bloody thong: + They stop--they start--they snuff the air, + Gallop a moment here and there, + Approach, retire, wheel round and round, + Then plunging back with sudden bound, + Headed by one black mighty steed, + Who seemed the patriarch of his breed, + Without a single speck or hair + Of white upon his shaggy hide; + They snort--they foam--neigh--swerve aside, + And backward to the forest fly, + By instinct from a human eye,-- + They left me there, to my despair, + Linked to the dead and stiffening wretch, + Whose lifeless limbs beneath me stretch, + Relieved from that unwonted weight, + From whence I could not extricate + Nor him nor me,--and there we lay, + The dying on the dead! + + _Byron._ + + + + +THE GIAOUR'S RIDE. + + + Who thundering comes on blackest steed, + With slackened bit and hoof of speed? + Beneath the clattering iron's sound + The caverned echoes wake around + In lash for lash, and bound for bound; + The foam that streaks the courser's side + Seems gathered from the ocean-tide: + Though weary waves are sunk to rest, + There's none within his rider's breast; + And though to-morrow's tempest lower, + 'Tis calmer than thy heart, young Giaour! + I know thee not, I loathe thy race, + But in thy lineaments I trace + What time shall strengthen, not efface: + Though young and pale, that sallow front + Is scathed by fiery passion's brunt; + Though bent on earth thine evil eye, + As meteor-like thou glidest by, + Right well I view and deem thee one + Whom Othman's sons should slay or shun. + + On--on he hastened, and he drew + My gaze of wonder as he flew: + Though like a demon of the night + He passed, and vanished from my sight, + His aspect and his air impressed + A troubled memory on my breast, + And long upon my startled ear + Rung his dark courser's hoofs of fear. + He spurs his steed; he nears the steep, + That, jutting, shadows o'er the deep; + He winds around; he hurries by; + The rock relieves him from mine eye; + For well I ween unwelcome he + Whose glance is fixed on those that flee; + And not a star but shines too bright + On him who takes such timeless flight. + He wound along; but ere he passed + One glance he snatched, as if his last, + A moment checked his wheeling steed, + A moment breathed him from his speed, + A moment on his stirrup stood-- + Why looks he o'er the olive wood? + The crescent glimmers on the hill, + The Mosque's high lamps are quivering still: + Though too remote for sound to wake + In echoes of the far tophaike, + The flashes of each joyous peal + Are seen to prove the Moslem's zeal, + To-night, set Rhamazani's sun; + To-night, the Bairam feast's begun; + To-night--but who and what art thou + Of foreign garb and fearful brow? + And what are these to thine, or thee, + That thou should'st either pause or flee? + + He stood--some dread was on his face, + Soon Hatred settled in its place: + It rose not with the reddening flush + Of transient Anger's hasty blush, + But pale as marble o'er the tomb, + Whose ghastly whiteness aids its gloom. + His brow was bent, his eye was glazed; + He raised his arm, and fiercely raised, + And sternly shook his hand on high, + As doubting to return or fly: + Impatient of his flight delayed, + Here loud his raven charger neighed-- + Down glanced that hand, and grasped his blade; + That sound had burst his waking dream, + As Slumber starts at owlet's scream. + The spur hath lanced his courser's sides; + Away, away, for life he rides: + Swift as the hurled on high jerreed + Springs to the touch his startled steed; + The rock is doubled, and the shore + Shakes with the clattering tramp no more; + The crag is won, no more is seen + His Christian crest and haughty mien. + 'Twas but an instant he restrained + That fiery barb so sternly reined; + 'Twas but a moment that he stood, + Then sped as if by death pursued: + But in that instant o'er his soul + Winters of Memory seemed to roll, + And gather in that drop of time + A life of pain, an age of crime. + O'er him who loves, or hates, or fears, + Such moment pours the grief of years: + What felt _he_ then, at once opprest + By all that most distracts the breast? + That pause, which pondered o'er his fate, + Oh, who its dreary length shall date! + Though in Time's record nearly nought, + It was Eternity to Thought! + For infinite as boundless space + The thought that Conscience must embrace, + Which in itself can comprehend + Woe without name, or hope, or end. + + The hour is past, the Giaour is gone; + And did he fly or fall alone? + Woe to that hour he came or went! + The curse of Hassan's sin was sent + To turn a palace to a tomb; + He came, he went, like the Simoom, + That harbinger of fate and gloom, + Beneath whose widely-wasting breath + The very cypress droops to death-- + Dark tree, still sad when others' grief is fled, + The only constant mourner o'er the dead! + + _Byron._ + + + + +THE NORSEMAN'S RIDE. + + + The frosty fires of Northern starlight + Gleamed on the glittering snow, + And through the forest's frozen branches + The shrieking winds did blow; + A floor of blue, translucent marble + Kept ocean's pulses still, + When, in the depth of dreary midnight, + Opened the burial hill. + + Then while a low and creeping shudder + Thrilled upward through the ground, + The Norseman came, as armed for battle, + In silence from his mound: + He, who was mourned in solemn sorrow + By many a swordsman bold, + And harps that wailed along the ocean, + Struck by the Skalds of old. + + Sudden, a swift and silver shadow + Rushed up from out the gloom,-- + A horse that stamped with hoof impatient, + Yet noiseless, on the tomb. + "Ha, Surtur! let me hear thy tramping, + Thou noblest Northern steed, + Whose neigh along the stormy headlands + Bade the bold Viking heed!" + + He mounted: like a north-light streaking + The sky with flaming bars, + They, on the winds so wildly shrieking, + Shot up before the stars. + "Is this thy mane, my fearless Surtur, + That streams against my breast? + Is this thy neck, that curve of moonlight, + Which Helva's hand caressed? + + "No misty breathing strains thy nostril, + Thine eye shines blue and cold, + Yet, mounting up our airy pathway, + I see thy hoofs of gold! + Not lighter o'er the springing rainbow + Walhalla's gods repair, + Than we, in sweeping journey over + The bending bridge of air. + + "Far, far around, star-gleams are sparkling + Amid the twilight space; + And Earth, that lay so cold and darkling, + Has veiled her dusky face. + Are those the Nornes that beckon onward + To seats at Odin's board, + Where nightly by the hands of heroes + The foaming mead is poured? + + "'Tis Skuld! her star-eye speaks the glory + That waits the warrior's soul, + When on its hinge of music opens + The gateway of the Pole,-- + When Odin's warder leads the hero + To banquets never done, + And Freya's eyes outshine in summer + The ever-risen sun. + + "On! on! the Northern lights are streaming + In brightness like the morn, + And pealing far amid the vastness, + I hear the Gjallarhorn: + The heart of starry space is throbbing + With songs of minstrels old, + And now, on high Walhalla's portal, + Gleam Surtur's hoofs of gold!" + + _Bayard Taylor._ + + + + +BOOT AND SADDLE. + + + "Boot, saddle, to horse, and away! + Rescue my Castle, before the hot day + Brightens to blue from its silvery gray, + (_Cho._) Boot, saddle, to horse, and away!" + + Ride past the suburbs, asleep as you'd say; + Many's the friend there will listen and pray + "God's luck to gallants that strike up the lay, + (_Cho._) Boot, saddle, to horse, and away!" + + Forty miles off, like a roebuck at bay, + Flouts Castle Brancepeth the Roundheads' array: + Who laughs, "Good fellows ere this, by my fay, + (_Cho._) Boot, saddle, to horse, and away!" + + Who? My wife Gertrude; that, honest and gay, + Laughs when you talk of surrendering, "Nay! + I've better counsellors; what counsel they? + (_Cho._) Boot, saddle, to horse, and away!" + + _Robert Browning._ + + + + +THE CAVALIER'S ESCAPE. + + + Trample! trample! went the roan, + Trap! trap! went the gray; + But pad! pad! pad! like a thing that was mad, + My chestnut broke away.-- + It was just five miles from Salisbury town, + And but one hour to day. + + Thud! thud! came on the heavy roan, + Rap! rap! the mettled gray; + But my chestnut mare was of blood so rare, + That she showed them all the way. + Spur on! spur on!--I doffed my hat, + And wished them all good day. + + They splashed through miry rut and pool,-- + Splintered through fence and rail; + But chestnut Kate switched over the gate,-- + I saw them droop and tail. + To Salisbury town--but a mile of down, + Once over this brook and rail. + + Trap! trap! I heard their echoing hoofs + Past the walls of mossy stone; + The roan flew on at a staggering pace, + But blood is better than bone. + I patted old Kate, and gave her the spur, + For I knew it was all my own. + + But trample! trample! came their steeds, + And I saw their wolfs' eyes burn; + I felt like a royal hart at bay, + And made me ready to turn. + I looked where highest grew the may, + And deepest arched the fern. + + I flew at the first knave's sallow throat; + One blow, and he was down. + The second rogue fired twice, and missed; + I sliced the villain's crown. + Clove through the rest, and flogged brave Kate, + Fast, fast to Salisbury town! + + Pad! pad! they came on the level sward, + Thud! thud! upon the sand; + With a gleam of swords, and a burning match, + And a shaking of flag and hand: + But one long bound, and I passed the gate, + Safe from the canting band. + + _Walter Thornbury._ + + + + +KING JAMES'S RIDE. + + + "Stand, Bayard, stand!"--the steed obeyed, + With arching neck and bending head, + And glancing eye and quivering ear + As if he loved his lord to hear. + No foot Fitz-James in stirrup staid, + No grasp upon the saddle laid, + But wreathed his left hand in the mane, + And lightly bounded from the plain, + Turned on the horse his armed heel, + And stirred his courage with the steel. + Bounded the fiery steed in air, + The rider sate erect and fair, + Then like a bolt from steel crossbow + Forth launched, along the plain they go. + They dashed that rapid torrent through, + And up Carhonie's hill they flew; + Still at the gallop pricked the Knight, + His merry-men followed as they might. + Along thy banks, swift Teith! they ride, + And in the race they mocked thy tide; + Torry and Lendrick now are past, + And Deanstown lies behind them cast; + They rise, the bannered towers of Doune, + They sink in distant woodland soon; + Blair-Drummond sees the hoof strike fire, + They sweep like breeze through Ochtertyre; + They mark just glance and disappear + The lofty brow of ancient Kier; + They bathe their courser's sweltering sides, + Dark Forth! amid thy sluggish tides, + And on the opposing shore take ground, + With plash, with scramble, and with bound. + Right-hand they leave thy cliffs, Craig-Forth! + And soon the bulwark of the North, + Grey Stirling, with her towers and town, + Upon their fleet career looked down. + + _Walter Scott._ + + + + +DELORAINE'S RIDE. + + + *....*....*....* + + The Ladye forgot her purpose high, + One moment, and no more; + One moment gazed with a mother's eye, + As she paused at the arched door: + Then from amid the armed train, + She called to her William of Deloraine. + + A stark moss-trooping Scott was he, + As e'er couched Border lance by knee; + Through Solway sands, through Tarras moss, + Blindfold, he knew the paths to cross; + By wily turns, by desperate bounds, + Had baffled Percy's best blood-hounds; + In Eske, or Liddel, fords were none, + But he would ride them, one by one; + Alike to him was time or tide, + December's snow, or July's pride; + Alike to him was tide or time, + Moonless midnight, or matin prime: + Steady of heart, and stout of hand, + As ever drove prey from Cumberland; + Five times outlawed had he been + By England's King, and Scotland's Queen. + + "Sir William of Deloraine, good at need, + Mount thee on the wightest steed; + Spare not to spur, nor stint to ride, + Until thou come to fair Tweedside; + And in Melrose's holy pile + Seek thou the Monk of St. Mary's aisle. + Greet the Father well from me; + Say that the fated hour is come, + And to-night he shall watch with thee, + To win the treasure of the tomb. + For this will be St. Michael's night, + And, though stars be dim, the moon is bright; + And the Cross, of bloody red, + Will point to the grave of the mighty dead. + + "What he gives thee, see thou keep; + Stay not thou for food or sleep: + Be it scroll, or be it book, + Into it, Knight, thou must not look; + If thou readest, thou art lorn! + Better hadst thou ne'er been born."-- + + "O swiftly can speed my dapple-grey steed, + Which drinks of the Teviot clear; + Ere break of day," the Warrior 'gan say, + "Again will I be here: + And safer by none may thy errand be done, + Than, noble dame, by me; + Letter nor line know I never a one, + Wer't my neck-verse at Hairibee." + + Soon in his saddle sate he fast, + And soon the steep descent he past, + Soon crossed the sounding barbican, + And soon the Teviot side he won. + Eastward the wooded path he rode, + Green hazels o'er his basnet nod; + He passed the Peel of Goldiland, + And crossed old Borthwick's roaring strand; + Dimly he viewed the Moat-hill's mound, + Where Druid shades still flitted round; + In Hawick twinkled many a light; + Behind him soon they set in night; + And soon he spurred his courser keen + Beneath the tower of Hazeldean. + + The clattering hoofs the watchmen mark;-- + "Stand, ho! thou courier of the dark."-- + "For Branksome, ho!" the knight rejoined, + And left the friendly tower behind. + He turned him now from Teviotside, + And, guided by the tinkling rill, + Northward the dark ascent did ride, + And gained the moor at Horsliehill; + Broad on the left before him lay, + For many a mile, the Roman way. + + A moment now he slacked his speed, + A moment breathed his panting steed; + Drew saddle-girth and corslet-band. + And loosened in the sheath his brand. + On Minto-crags the moonbeams glint, + Where Barnhill hewed his bed of flint; + Who flung his outlawed limbs to rest, + Where falcons hang their giddy nest, + Mid cliffs, from whence his eagle eye + For many a league his prey could spy; + Cliffs, doubling, on their echoes borne, + The terrors of the robber's horn? + Cliffs, which, for many a later year, + The warbling Doric reed shall hear, + When some sad swain shall teach the grove, + Ambition is no cure for love! + + Unchallenged, thence passed Deloraine, + To ancient Riddel's fair domain. + Where Aill, from mountains freed. + Down from the lakes did raving come; + Each wave was crested with tawny foam, + Like the mane of a chestnut steed. + In vain! no torrent, deep or broad, + Might bar the bold moss-trooper's road. + At the first plunge the horse sunk low, + And the water broke o'er the saddlebow; + Above the foaming tide, I ween, + Scarce half the charger's neck was seen; + For he was barded from counter to tail, + And the rider was armed complete in mail; + Never heavier man and horse + Stemmed a midnight torrent's force. + The warrior's very plume, I say + Was daggled by the dashing spray: + Yet, through good heart, and Our Ladye's grace, + At length he gained the landing place. + + Now Bowden Moor the march-man won, + And sternly shook his plumed head, + As glanced his eye o'er Halidon; + For on his soul the slaughter red + Of that unhallowed morn arose, + When first the Scott and Carr were foes; + When royal James beheld the fray, + Prize to the victor of the day; + When Home and Douglas, in the van, + Bore down Buccleuch's retiring clan, + Till gallant Cessford's heart-blood dear + Reeked on dark Elliot's Border spear. + + In bitter mood he spurred fast, + And soon the hated heath was past; + And far beneath, in lustre wan, + Old Melros' rose, and fair Tweed ran: + Like some tall rock with lichens gray, + Seemed dimly huge, the dark Abbaye. + When Hawick he passed, had curfew rung, + Now midnight lauds were in Melrose sung. + The sound, upon the fitful gale, + In solemn wise did rise and fail, + Like that wild harp, whose magic tone + Is wakened by the winds alone. + But when Melrose he reached, 'twas silence all; + He meetly stabled his steed in stall, + And sought the convent's lonely wall. + + _Sir Walter Scott._ + + + + +GODIVA. + + + _I waited for the train at Coventry; + I hung with grooms and porters on the bridge, + To watch the three tall spires; and there I shaped + The city's ancient legend into this_:-- + Not only we, the latest seed of Time, + New men, that in the flying of a wheel + Cry down the past, not only we, that prate + Of rights and wrongs, have loved the people well, + And loathed to see them overtaxed; but she + Did more, and underwent, and overcame, + The woman of a thousand summers back, + Godiva, wife to that grim Earl, who ruled + In Coventry: for when he laid a tax + Upon his town, and all the mothers brought + Their children, clamoring, "If we pay, we starve!" + She sought her lord, and found him, where he strode + About the hall, among his dogs, alone, + His beard a foot before him, and his hair + A yard behind. She told him of their tears, + And prayed him, "If they pay this tax, they starve." + Whereat he stared, replying, half-amazed, + "You would not let your little finger ache + For such as _these_?"--"But I would die," said she. + He laughed, and swore by Peter and by Paul: + Then filliped at the diamond in her ear; + "O ay, ay, ay, you talk!"--"Alas!" she said, + "But prove me what it is I would not do." + And from a heart as rough as Esau's hand, + He answered, "Ride you naked through the town, + And I repeal it;" and nodding, as in scorn, + He parted, with great strides among his dogs. + So left alone, the passions of her mind, + As winds from all the compass shift and blow, + Made war upon each other for an hour, + Till pity won. She sent a herald forth, + And bade him cry, with sound of trumpet, all + The hard condition; but that she would loose + The people: therefore, as they loved her well, + From then till noon no foot should pace the street, + No eye look down, she passing; but that all + Should keep within, door shut, and window barred. + Then fled she to her inmost bower, and there + Unclasped the wedded eagles of her belt, + The grim Earl's gift; but ever at a breath + She lingered, looking like a summer moon + Half-dipt in cloud: anon she shook her head, + And showered the rippled ringlets to her knee; + Unclad herself in haste; adown the stair + Stole on; and, like a creeping sunbeam, slid + From pillar unto pillar, until she reached + The gateway; there she found her palfrey trapt + In purple blazoned with armorial gold. + Then she rode forth, clothed on with chastity: + The deep air listened round her as she rode, + And all the low wind hardly breathed for fear. + The little wide-mouthed heads upon the spout + Had cunning eyes to see: the barking cur + Made her cheek flame: her palfrey's footfall shot + Light horrors through her pulses: the blind walls + Were full of chinks and holes; and overhead + Fantastic gables, crowding, stared: but she + Not less through all bore up, till, last, she saw + The white-flowered elder-thicket from the field + Gleam through the Gothic archways in the wall. + Then she rode back, clothed on with chastity: + And one low churl, compact of thankless earth, + The fatal byword of all years to come, + Boring a little auger-hole in fear, + Peeped--but his eyes, before they had their will, + Were shrivelled into darkness in his head, + And dropt before him. So the Powers, who wait + On noble deeds, cancelled a sense misused; + And she, that knew not, passed: and all at once, + With twelve great shocks of sound, the shameless noon + Was clashed and hammered from a hundred towers, + One after one: but even then she gained + Her bower; whence reissuing, robed and crowned, + To meet her lord, she took the tax away, + And built herself an everlasting name. + + _Alfred Tennyson._ + + + + +"HOW THEY BROUGHT THE GOOD NEWS FROM GHENT TO AIX." + + + I sprang to the stirrup, and Joris, and he; + I galloped, Dirck galloped, we galloped all three; + "Good speed!" cried the watch, as the gate-bolts undrew; + "Speed!" echoed the wall to us galloping through; + Behind shut the postern, the lights sank to rest, + And into the midnight we galloped abreast. + + Not a word to each other; we kept the great pace + Neck by neck, stride by stride, never changing our place; + I turned in my saddle and made its girths tight, + Rebuckled the check-strap, chained slacker the bit, + Then shortened each stirrup, and set the pique right, + Nor galloped less steadily Roland a whit. + + 'Twas moonset at starting; but while we drew near + Lokeren, the cocks crew and twilight dawned clear; + At Boom, a great yellow star came out to see; + At Düffeld, 'twas morning as plain as could be; + And from Mecheln church-steeple we heard the half-chime, + So Joris broke silence with, "Yet there is time!" + + At Aerschot, up leaped of a sudden the sun, + And against him the cattle stood black every one, + To stare through the mist at us galloping past, + And I saw my stout galloper Roland at last, + With resolute shoulders, each butting away + The haze, as some bluff river headland its spray. + + And his low head and crest, just one sharp ear bent back + For my voice, and the other pricked out on his track; + And one eye's black intelligence,--ever that glance + O'er its white edge at me, his own master, askance! + And the thick heavy spume-flakes which aye and anon + His fierce lips shook upwards in galloping on. + + By Hasselt, Dirck groaned; and cried Joris, "Stay spur! + Your Roos galloped bravely, the fault's not in her, + We'll remember at Aix,"--for one heard the quick wheeze + Of her chest, saw the stretched neck and staggering knees, + And sunk tail, and horrible heave of the flank, + As down on her haunches she shuddered and sank. + + So we were left galloping, Joris and I, + Past Looz and past Tongres, no cloud in the sky; + The broad sun above laughed a pitiless laugh, + 'Neath our feet broke the brittle bright stubble like chaff; + Till over by Dalhem a dome-spire sprang white, + And "Gallop," gasped Joris, for "Aix is in sight!" + + "How they'll greet us!"--and all in a moment his roan + Rolled neck and croup over, lay dead as a stone; + And there was my Roland to bear the whole weight + Of the news which alone could save Aix from her fate, + With his nostrils like pits full of blood to the brim, + And with circles of red for his eye-sockets' rim. + + Then I cast loose my buff-coat, each holster let fall, + Shook off both my jack-boots, let go belt and all, + Stood up in the stirrup, leaned, patted his ear, + Called my Roland his pet-name, my horse without peer; + Clapped my hands, laughed and sang, any noise, bad or good, + Till at length into Aix Roland galloped and stood. + + And all I remember is, friends flocking round + As I sat with his head 'twixt my knees on the ground, + And no voice but was praising this Roland of mine, + As I poured down his throat our last measure of wine, + Which (the burgesses voted by common consent) + Was no more than his due who brought good news from Ghent. + + _Robert Browning._ + + + + +THE LANDLORD'S TALE. + +PAUL REVERE'S RIDE. + + + Listen, my children, and you shall hear + Of the midnight ride of Paul Revere, + On the eighteenth of April, in Seventy-five; + Hardly a man is now alive + Who remembers that famous day and year. + + He said to his friend, "If the British march + By land or sea from the town to-night, + Hang a lantern aloft in the belfry arch + Of the North Church tower as a signal light,-- + One, if by land, and two, if by sea; + And I on the opposite shore will be, + Ready to ride and spread the alarm + Through every Middlesex village and farm, + For the country folk to be up and to arm." + + Then he said, "Good night!" and with muffled oar + Silently rowed to the Charlestown shore, + Just as the moon rose over the bay, + Where swinging wide at her moorings lay + The Somerset, British man-of-war; + A phantom ship, with each mast and spar + Across the moon like a prison bar, + And a huge black hulk, that was magnified + By its own reflection in the tide. + + Meanwhile, his friend, through alley and street, + Wanders and watches with eager ears, + Till in the silence around him he hears + The muster of men at the barrack door, + The sound of arms, and the tramp of feet, + And the measured tread of the grenadiers, + Marching down to their boats on the shore. + + Then he climbed the tower of the Old North Church, + By the wooden stairs, with stealthy tread, + To the belfry-chamber overhead, + And startled the pigeons from their perch + On the sombre rafters, that round him made + Masses and moving shapes of shade,-- + By the trembling ladder, steep and tall, + To the highest window in the wall, + Where he paused to listen and look down + A moment on the roofs of the town, + And the moonlight flowing over all. + + Beneath, in the churchyard, lay the dead, + In their night-encampment on the hill, + Wrapped in silence so deep and still + That he could hear, like a sentinel's tread, + The watchful night-wind, as it went + Creeping along from tent to tent, + And seeming to whisper, "All is well!" + A moment only he feels the spell + Of the place and hour, and the secret dread + Of the lonely belfry and the dead; + For suddenly all his thoughts are bent + On a shadowy something far away, + Where the river widens to meet the bay,-- + A line of black that bends and floats + On the rising tide, like a bridge of boats. + + Meanwhile, impatient to mount and ride, + Booted and spurred with a heavy stride + On the opposite shore walked Paul Revere. + Now he patted his horse's side, + Now gazed at the landscape far and near, + Then, impetuous, stamped the earth, + And turned and tightened his saddle-girth; + But mostly he watched with eager search + The belfry-tower of the Old North Church, + As it rose above the graves on the hill, + Lonely and spectral and sombre and still. + And lo! as he looks, on the belfry's height + A glimmer, and then a gleam of light! + He springs to the saddle, the bridle he turns, + But lingers and gazes, till full on his sight + A second lamp in the belfry burns! + + A hurry of hoofs in a village street, + A shape in the moonlight, a bulk in the dark, + And beneath, from the pebbles, in passing, a spark + Struck out by a steed flying fearless and fleet: + That was all! and yet, through the gloom and the light, + The fate of a nation was riding that night; + And the spark struck out by that steed, in his flight, + Kindled the land into flame with its heat. + He has left the village and mounted the steep, + And beneath him, tranquil and broad and deep, + Is the Mystic, meeting the ocean tides; + And under the alders, that skirt its edge, + Now soft on the sand, now loud on the ledge, + Is heard the tramp of his steed as he rides. + + It was twelve by the village clock + When he crossed the bridge into Medford town. + He heard the crowing of the cock, + And the barking of the farmer's dog, + And felt the damp of the river fog, + That rises after the sun goes down. + + It was one by the village clock, + When he galloped into Lexington. + He saw the gilded weathercock + Swim in the moonlight as he passed, + And the meeting-house windows, blank and bare, + Gaze at him with a spectral glare, + As if they already stood aghast + At the bloody work they would look upon. + + It was two by the village clock, + When he came to the bridge in Concord town. + He heard the bleating of the flock, + And the twitter of birds among the trees, + And felt the breath of the morning breeze + Blowing over the meadows brown. + And one was safe and asleep in his bed + Who at the bridge would be first to fall, + Who that day would be lying dead, + Pierced by a British musket-ball. + + You know the rest. In the books you have read, + How the British Regulars fired and fled,-- + How the farmers gave them ball for ball, + From behind each fence and farm-yard wall, + Chasing the red-coats down the lane, + Then crossing the fields to emerge again + Under the trees at the turn of the road, + And only pausing to fire and load. + + So through the night rode Paul Revere; + And so through the night went his cry of alarm + To every Middlesex village and farm,-- + A cry of defiance and not of fear, + A voice in the darkness a knock at the door, + And a word that shall echo forevermore! + For, borne on the night-wind of the Past, + Through all our history, to the last, + In the hour of darkness and peril and need, + The people will waken and listen to hear + The hurrying hoof-beats of that steed, + And the midnight message of Paul Revere. + + _H. W. Longfellow._ + + + + +SHERIDAN'S RIDE. + + + Up from the South at break of day, + Bringing to Winchester fresh dismay, + The affrighted air with a shudder bore, + Like a herald in haste, to the chieftain's door, + The terrible grumble, and rumble, and roar, + Telling the battle was on once more, + And Sheridan twenty miles away. + + And wider still those billows of war + Thundered along the horizon's bar; + And louder yet into Winchester rolled + The roar of that red sea uncontrolled, + Making the blood of the listener cold, + As he thought of the stake in that fiery fray, + And Sheridan twenty miles away. + + But there is a road from Winchester town, + A good broad highway leading down; + And there, through the flush of the morning light, + A steed as black as the steeds of night, + Was seen to pass, as with eagle flight, + As if he knew the terrible need; + He stretched away with his utmost speed; + Hills rose and fell; but his heart was gay, + With Sheridan fifteen miles away. + + Still sprung from those swift hoofs, thundering South, + The dust, like smoke from the cannon's mouth; + Or the trail of a comet, sweeping faster and faster, + Foreboding to traitors the doom of disaster. + The heart of the steed and the heart of the master + Were beating like prisoners assaulting their walls, + Impatient to be where the battle-field calls; + Every nerve of the charger was strained to full play, + With Sheridan only ten miles away. + + Under his spurning feet the road + Like an arrowy alpine river flowed, + And the landscape sped away behind + Like an ocean flying before the wind, + And the steed, like a bark fed with furnace fire, + Swept on, with his wild eye full of ire. + But lo! he is nearing his heart's desire; + He is snuffing the smoke of the roaring fray, + With Sheridan only five miles away. + + The first that the general saw were the groups + Of stragglers, and then the retreating troops, + What was done? what to do? a glance told him both, + Then striking his spurs, with a terrible oath, + He dashed down the line, mid a storm of huzzas, + And the wave of retreat checked its course there, because + The sight of the master compelled it to pause. + With foam and with dust the black charger was gray; + By the flash of his eye, and the red nostril's play, + He seemed to the whole great army to say, + "I have brought you Sheridan all the way + From Winchester down, to save the day!" + + Hurrah! hurrah for Sheridan! + Hurrah! hurrah for horse and man! + And when their statues are placed on high, + Under the dome of the Union sky, + The American soldiers' Temple of Fame; + There with the glorious general's name, + Be it said, in letters both bold and bright, + "Here is the steed that saved the day, + By carrying Sheridan into the fight, + From Winchester, twenty miles away!" + + _Thomas Buchanan Read._ + + + + +KEARNY AT SEVEN PINES. + + + So that soldierly legend is still on its journey,-- + That story of Kearny who knew not to yield! + 'Twas the day when with Jameson, fierce Berry, and Birney, + Against twenty thousand he rallied the field. + Where the red volleys poured, where the clamor rose highest, + Where the dead lay in clumps through the dwarf oak and pine; + Where the aim from the thicket was surest and nighest,-- + No charge like Phil Kearny's along the whole line. + + When the battle went ill, and the bravest were solemn, + Near the dark Seven Pines, where we still held our ground, + He rode down the length of the withering column, + And his heart at our war-cry leapt up with a bound; + He snuffed, like his charger, the wind of the powder,-- + His sword waved us on, and we answered the sign: + Loud our cheers as we rushed, but his laugh rang the louder, + "There's the devil's own fun, boys, along the whole line!" + + How he strode his brown steed! How we saw his blade brighten + In the one hand still left,--and the reins in his teeth! + He laughed like a boy when the holidays heighten, + But a soldier's glance shot from his visor beneath. + Up came the reserves to the mellay infernal, + Asking where to go in,--through the clearing or pine? + "Oh, anywhere! Forward! 'Tis all the same, Colonel: + You'll find lovely fighting along the whole line!" + + Oh, evil the black shroud of night at Chantilly, + That hid him from sight of his brave men and tried! + Foul, foul sped the bullet that clipped the white lily, + The flower of our knighthood, the whole army's pride! + Yet we dream that he still,--in that shadowy region, + Where the dead form their ranks at the wan drummer's sign,-- + Rides on, as of old, down the length of his legion, + And the word still is Forward! along the whole line. + + _Edmund Clarence Stedman._ + + + + +THE RIDE OF COLLINS GRAVES. + +AN INCIDENT OF THE FLOOD IN MASSACHUSETTS, ON MAY 16, 1874. + + + No song of a soldier riding down + To the raging fight from Winchester town; + No song of a time that shook the earth + With the nations' throe at a nation's birth; + But the song of a brave man, free from fear + As Sheridan's self, or Paul Revere; + Who risked what they risked, free from strife, + And its promise of glorious pay--his life! + + The peaceful valley has waked and stirred, + And the answering echoes of life are heard: + The dew still clings to the trees and grass, + And the early toilers smiling pass, + As they glance aside at the white-walled homes, + Or up the valley, where merrily comes + The brook that sparkles in diamond rills + As the sun comes over the Hampshire hills. + + What was it, that passed like an ominous breath-- + Like a shiver of fear, or a touch of death? + What was it? The valley is peaceful still, + And the leaves are afire on top of the hill. + It was not a sound--nor a thing of sense-- + But a pain, like the pang of the short suspense + That thrills the being of those who see + At their feet the gulf of Eternity! + + The air of the valley has felt the chill: + The workers pause at the door of the mill; + The housewife, keen to the shivering air, + Arrests her foot on the cottage stair, + Instinctive taught by the mother-love, + And thinks of the sleeping ones above. + Why start the listeners? Why does the course + Of the mill-stream widen? Is it a horse-- + Hark to the sound of his hoofs, they say-- + That gallops so wildly Williamsburg way! + + God! what was that, like a human shriek + From the winding valley? Will nobody speak? + Will nobody answer those women who cry + As the awful warnings thunder by? + + Whence come they? Listen! And now they hear + The sound of the galloping horse-hoofs near; + They watch the trend of the vale, and see + The rider who thunders so menacingly, + With waving arms and warning scream + To the home-filled banks of the valley stream. + He draws no rein, but he shakes the street + With a shout and the ring of the galloping feet; + And this the cry he flings to the wind: + "To the hills for your lives! The flood is behind!" + + He cries and is gone; but they know the worst-- + The breast of the Williamsburg dam has burst! + The basin that nourished their happy homes + Is changed to a demon--It comes! it comes! + + A monster in aspect, with shaggy front + Of shattered dwellings, to take the brunt + Of the homes they shatter--white-maned and hoarse, + The merciless Terror fills the course + Of the narrow valley, and rushing raves, + With Death on the first of its hissing waves, + Till cottage and street and crowded mill + Are crumbled and crushed. + + But onward still, + In front of the roaring flood is heard + The galloping horse and the warning word. + Thank God! the brave man's life is spared! + From Williamsburg town he nobly dared + To race with the flood and take the road + In front of the terrible swath it mowed. + For miles it thundered and crashed behind, + But he looked ahead with a steadfast mind; + "They must be warned!" was all he said, + As away on his terrible ride he sped. + + When heroes are called for, bring the crown + To this Yankee rider: send him down + On the stream of time with the Curtius old; + His deed as the Roman's was brave and bold, + And the tale can as noble a thrill awake, + For he offered his life for the people's sake. + + _John Boyle O'Reilly._ + + + + +A TALE OF PROVIDENCE. + + + The tall green tree its shadow cast + Upon Howe's army that southward passed + From Gordon's Ford to the Quaker town, + Intending in quarters to settle down + Till snows were gone, and spring again + Should easier make a new campaign. + + Beyond the fences that lined the way, + The fields of Captain Richardson lay; + His woodland and meadows reached far and wide, + From the hills behind to the Schuylkill's side, + Across the stream, in the mountain gorge, + He could see the smoke of the valley forge. + + The Captain had fought in the frontier war; + When the fight was done, bearing seam and scar, + He marched back home to tread once more + The same tame round he had trod before, + And turn his thoughts with sighs of regret + To his ploughshares, wishing them sword-blades yet. + + He put the meadow in corn that year, + And swore till his blacks were white with fear. + He plowed, and planted, and married a wife, + But life grew weary with inward strife. + His blood was hot and his throbbing brain + Beat with the surf of some far main. + + Should he sack a town, or rob the mail, + Or on the wide seas a pirate sail? + He pondered it over, concluding instead, + To buy three steeds in Arabia bred, + On Sopus, Fearnaught, or Scipio, + He felt his blood more evenly flow. + + To his daughter Tacey, the coming days + Brought health, and beauty, and graceful ways. + He taught her to ride his fleetest steed + At a five-barred fence, or a ditch at need, + And the Captain's horses, his hounds, and his child + Were famous from sea to forests wild. + + *....*....*....* + + Master and man from home were gone, + And Fearnaught held the stables alone, + And Mistress Tacey her spirit showed + The morning the British came down the road. + She hid the silver, and drove the cows + To the island behind the willow boughs. + + Was time too short? or did she forget + That Fearnaught stood in the stables yet? + Across the fields to the gate she ran, + And followed the path 'neath the grape-arbors' span; + On the doorstep she paused and turned to see + The head of the line beneath the green tree. + + The last straggler passed, the night came on, + And then 'twas discovered that Fearnaught was gone; + Sometime, somehow, from his stall he was led, + Where an old gray horse was left in his stead, + And Tacey must prove to her father that she + Had been prepared for the emergency. + + For the words he scattered on kind soil fell, + And Tacey had learned his maxim well + In the stories he read. She remembered the art + That concealed the fear in Esther's heart; + How the words of the woman Abigail + Appeased the king's wrath, the deed of Jael! + + How Judith went from the city's gate + Across the plain as the day grew late, + To the tent of the great Assyrian; + The leader exalted with horse and man, + And brought back his head, said Tacey: "Of course, + A more difficult feat than to bring back a horse." + + In the English camp the reveille drum + Told the sleeping troops that the dawn had come, + And the shadows abroad that with night were blent + At the drum's tap startled, crept under each tent + As Tacey stole from the sheltering wood + Across the wet grass where the horse pound stood. + + Hark! was it the twitter of frightened bird, + Or was it the challenge of sentry she heard? + She entered unseen, but her footsteps she stayed + When the old gray horse in the wood still, neighed, + Half hid in the mist a shape loomed tall, + A steed that answered her well-known call. + + With freedom beyond for the recompense + She sprang to his back, and leaped the fence; + Too late the alarm; but Tacey heard + As she sped away how the camp was stirred, + The stamping of horses, the shouts of men + And the bugle's impatient call again. + + Loudly and fast on the Ridge Road beat + The regular fall of Fearnaught's feet, + On his broad, bare back his rider's seat + Was as firm as the tread of the steed so fleet; + Small need of saddle, or bridle rein, + He answered as well her touch on his mane. + + On down the hill by the river shore, + Faster and faster she rode than before; + Her bonnet fell back, her head was bare, + And the river breeze that freed her hair + Dispersed the fog, and she heard the shout + Of the troopers behind when the sun came out. + + The wheel at Van Deering's had dripped nearly dry, + In Sabbath-like stillness the morning passed by; + Then the clatter of hoofs came down the hill, + And the white old miller ran out from the mill. + But he only saw through the dust of the road + The last red-coat that faintly showed. + + To Tacey the sky, and the trees, and the wind + Seemed all to rush toward her, and follow behind, + Her lips were set firm, and pale was her cheek + As she plunged down the hill and through the creek, + The tortoise shell comb that she lost that day + The Wissahickon carried away. + + On the other side up the stony hill + The feet of Fearnaught went faster still, + But somewhat backward the troopers fell, + For the hill, and the pace, began to tell + On their horses worn with a long campaign + O'er rugged mountains, and weary plain. + + The road was deserted, for when men fought + A secret path the traveler sought; + Two scared idlers in Levering's Inn + Fled to the woods at the coming din, + The watch dog ran to bark his delight, + But pursued and pursuers were out of sight. + + Surely the distance between them increased, + And the shouts of the troopers had long since ceased, + One after another pulled his rein + And rode with great oaths to the camp again. + Oft a look backward Tacey sent + To the fading red of the regiment. + + She heard the foremost horseman call; + She saw the horse stumble, the rider fall; + She patted her steed and checked his pace + And leisurely rode the rest of the race. + When the Seven-Stars' sign on the horizon showed + Behind not a trooper was on the road. + + In vain had they shouted who followed in chase, + In vain their wild ride; so ended the race. + Though fifty strong voices may clamor and call, + If she hear not the strongest, she hears not them all; + Though fifty fleet horses go galloping fast, + One swifter than all shall be furthest at last. + + Said the well-pleased Captain when he came home: + "The steed shall be thine and a new silver comb. + 'Twas a daring deed and bravely done." + As proud of the praise as the promise won, + The maiden stole from the house to feed + With a generous hand her gallant steed. + + Unavailing the storms of the century beat + With the roar of thunder, or winter's sleet, + The mansion still stands, and is heard as of yore + The wind in the trees on the island's shore; + But the restless river its shore line wears + And no longer the island its old name bears. + + And years that are gone in obscurity + Have enveloped the rider's memory, + But in Providence still abide her race, + Brave youths with her spirit, fair maids with her grace, + Undaunted they stand when fainter hearts flee, + Prepared whatsoever the emergency. + + _Isaac R. Pennypacker._ + + + + +KIT CARSON'S RIDE. + + + We lay low in the grass on the broad plain levels, + Old Revels and I, and my stolen brown bride; + And the heavens of blue and the harvest of brown + And beautiful clover were welded as one, + To the right and the left, in the light of the sun. + "Forty full miles if a foot to ride, + Forty full miles if a foot, and the devils + Of red Camanches are hot on the track + When once they strike it. Let the sun go down + Soon, very soon," muttered bearded old Revels + As he peered at the sun, lying low on his back, + Holding fast to his lasso. Then he jerked at his steed + And he sprang to his feet, and glanced swiftly around, + And then dropped, as if shot, with his ear to the ground; + Then again to his feet, and to me, to my bride, + While his eyes were like fire, his face like a shroud, + His form like a king, and his beard like a cloud, + And his voice loud and shrill, as if blown from a reed,-- + "Pull, pull in your lassos, and bridle to steed, + And speed you if ever for life you would speed, + And ride for your lives, for your lives you must ride! + For the plain is aflame, the prairie on fire, + And feet of wild horses hard flying before + I hear like a sea breaking high on the shore, + While the buffalo come like a surge of the sea, + Driven far by the flame, driving fast on us three + As a hurricane comes, crushing palms in his ire." + + We drew in the lassos, seized saddle and rein, + Threw them on, sinched them on, sinched them over again, + And again drew the girth, cast aside the macheers, + Cut away tapidaros, loosed the sash from its fold, + Cast aside the catenas red-spangled with gold, + And gold mounted Colt's, the companions of years, + Cast the silken serapes to the wind in a breath, + And so bared to the skin sprang all haste to the horse,-- + As bare as when born, as when new from the hand + Of God,--without word, or one word of command. + Turned head to the Brazos in a red race with death, + Turned head to the Brazos with a breath in the hair + Blowing hot from a king leaving death in his course; + Turned head to the Brazos with a sound in the air + Like the rush of an army, and a flash in the eye + Of a red wall of fire reaching up to the sky, + Stretching fierce in pursuit of a black rolling sea + Rushing fast upon us, as the wind sweeping free + And afar from the desert blew hollow and hoarse. + + Not a word, not a wail from a lip was let fall, + Not a kiss from my bride, not a look nor low call + Of love-note or courage; but on o'er the plain + So steady and still, leaning low to the mane, + With the heel to the flank and the hand to the rein, + Rode we on, rode we three, rode we nose and gray nose, + Reaching long, breathing loud, as a creviced wind blows: + Yet we broke not a whisper, we breathed not a prayer, + There was work to be done, there was death in the air, + And the chance was as one to a thousand for all. + + Gray nose to gray nose, and each steady mustang + Stretched neck and stretched nerve till the arid earth rang, + And the foam from the flank and the croup and the neck + Flew around like the spray on a storm-driven deck. + Twenty miles!... thirty miles!... a dim distant speck ... + Then a long reaching line, and the Brazos in sight, + And I rose in my seat with a shout of delight. + I stood in my stirrup and looked to my right-- + But Revels was gone; I glanced by my shoulder + And saw his horse stagger; I saw his head drooping + Hard down on his breast, and his naked breast stooping + Low down to the mane, as so swifter and bolder + Ran reaching out for us the red-footed fire. + To right and to left the black buffalo came, + A terrible surf on a red sea of flame + Rushing on in the rear, reaching high, reaching higher. + And he rode neck to neck to a buffalo bull, + The monarch of millions, with shaggy mane full + Of smoke and of dust, and it shook with desire + Of battle, with rage and with bellowings loud + And unearthly, and up through its lowering cloud + Came the flash of his eyes like a half-hidden fire, + While his keen crooked horns, through the storm of his mane, + Like black lances lifted and lifted again; + And I looked but this once, for the fire licked through, + And he fell and was lost, as we rode two and two. + + I looked to my left then,--and nose, neck, and shoulder + Sank slowly, sank surely, till back to my thighs; + And up through the black blowing veil of her hair + Did beam full in mine her two marvelous eyes, + With a longing and love, yet a look of despair + And of pity for me, as she felt the smoke fold her, + And flames reaching far for her glorious hair. + Her sinking steed faltered, his eager ears fell + To and fro and unsteady, and all the neck's swell + Did subside and recede, and the nerves fall as dead. + Then she saw sturdy Paché still lorded his head, + With a look of delight; for nor courage nor bribe, + Nor naught but my bride, could have brought him to me. + For he was her father's, and at South Santafee + Had once won a whole herd, sweeping everything down + In a race where the world came to run for the crown. + And so when I won the true heart of my bride,-- + My neighbor's and deadliest enemy's child, + And child of the kingly war-chief of his tribe,-- + She brought me this steed to the border the night + She met Revels and me in her perilous flight + From the lodge of the chief to the North Brazos side; + And said, so half guessing of ill as she smiled, + As if jesting, that I, and I only, should ride + The fleet-footed Paché, so if kin should pursue + I should surely escape without other ado + Than to ride, without blood, to the North Brazos side, + And await her,--and wait till the next hollow moon + Hung her horn in the palms, when surely and soon + And swift she would join me, and all would be well + Without bloodshed or word. And now as she fell + From the front, and went down in the ocean of fire, + The last that I saw was a look of delight + That I should escape--a love--a desire-- + Yet never a word, not one look of appeal, + Lest I should reach hand, should stay hand or stay heel + One instant for her in my terrible flight. + + Then the rushing of fire around me and under, + And the howling of beasts and a sound as of thunder,-- + Beasts burning and blind and forced onward and over, + As the passionate flame reached around them, and wove her + Red hands in their hair, and kissed hot till they died,-- + Till they died with a wild and a desolate moan, + As a sea heart-broken on the hard brown stone ... + And into the Brazos ... I rode all alone,-- + All alone, save only a horse long-limbed, + And blind and bare and burnt to the skin. + Then just as the terrible sea came in + And tumbled its thousands hot into the tide + Till the tide blocked up and the swift stream brimmed + In eddies, we struck on the opposite side. + + _Joaquin Miller._ + + + + +TAMING THE WILD HORSE. + + + Last night he trampled with a thousand steeds + The trembling desert. Now, he stands alone-- + His speed hath baffled theirs. His fellows lurk, + Behind, on heavy sands, with weary limbs + That cannot reach him. From the highest hill, + He gazes o'er the wild whose plains he spurned, + And his eye kindles, and his breast expands, + With an upheaving consciousness of might. + He stands an instant, then he breaks away, + As revelling in his freedom. What if art, + That strikes soul into marble, could but seize + That agony of action,--could impress + Its muscular fulness, with its winged haste, + Upon the resisting rock, while wonder stares, + And admiration worships? There,--away-- + As glorying in that mighty wilderness, + And conscious of the gazing skies o'erhead, + Quiver for flight, his sleek and slender limbs, + Elastic, springing into headlong force-- + While his smooth neck, curved loftily to arch, + Dignifies flight, and to his speed imparts + The majesty, not else its attribute. + And, circling, now he sweeps, the flowery plain, + As if 'twere his--imperious, gathering up + His limbs, unwearied by their sportive play, + Until he stands, an idol of the sight. + + He stands and trembles! The warm life is gone + That gave him action. Wherefore is it thus? + His eye hath lost its lustre, though it still + Sends forth a glance of consciousness and care, + To a deep agony of acuteness wrought, + And straining at a point--a narrow point-- + That rises, but a speck upon the verge + Of the horizon. Sure, the humblest life, + Hath, in God's providence, some gracious guides, + That warn it of its foe. The danger there, + His instinct teaches, and with growing dread, + No more solicitous of graceful flight, + He bounds across the plain--he speeds away, + Into the tameless wilderness afar, + To 'scape his bondage. Yet, in vain his flight-- + Vain his fleet limbs, his desperate aim, his leap + Through the close thicket, through the festering swamp, + And rushing waters. His proud neck must bend + Beneath a halter, and the iron parts + And tears his delicate mouth. The brave steed, + Late bounding in his freedom's consciousness, + The leader of the wild, unreached of all, + Wears gaudy trappings, and becomes a slave. + + He bears a master on his shrinking back, + He feels a rowel in his bleeding flanks, + And his arched neck, beneath the biting thong, + Burns, while he bounds away--all desperate-- + Across the desert, mad with the vain hope + To shake his burden off. He writhes, he turns + On his oppressor. He would rend the foe, + Who subtle, with less strength, had taken him thus, + At foul advantage--but he strives in vain. + A sudden pang--a newer form of pain, + Baffles, and bears him on--he feels his fate, + And with a shriek of agony, which tells, + Loudly, the terrors of his new estate, + He makes the desert--his own desert--ring + With the wild clamors of his new born grief. + One fruitless effort more--one desperate bound, + For the old freedom of his natural life, + And then he humbles to his cruel lot, + Submits, and finds his conqueror in man! + + _W. G. Simms._ + + + + +CHIQUITA. + + + Beautiful! Sir, you may say so. Thar isn't her match in the county. + Is thar, old gal,--Chiquita, my darling, my beauty? + Feel of that neck, sir,--thar's velvet! Whoa! Steady,--ah, + will you, you vixen! + Whoa! I say. Jack, trot her out; let the gentleman look at her paces. + + Morgan!--She ain't nothin' else, and I've got the papers to prove it. + Sired by Chippewa Chief, and twelve hundred dollars won't buy her. + Briggs of Tuolumne owned her. Did you know Briggs of Tuolumne?-- + Busted hisself in White Pine, and blew out his brains down in 'Frisco? + + Hedn't no savey--hed Briggs. Thar, Jack! that'll do,--quit that foolin'! + Nothin' to what she kin do, when she's got her work cut out before her. + Hosses is hosses, you know, and likewise, too, jockeys is jockeys; + And 'tain't ev'ry man as can ride as knows what a hoss has got in him. + + Know the old ford on the Fork, that nearly got Flanigan's leaders? + Nasty in daylight, you bet, and a mighty rough ford in low water! + Well, it ain't six weeks ago that me and the Jedge and his nevey + Struck for that ford in the night, in the rain, and the water all round us; + + Up to our flanks in the gulch, and Rattlesnake Creek just a bilin', + Not a plank left in the dam, and nary a bridge on the river. + I had the grey, and the Jedge had his roan, and his nevey, Chiquita; + And after us trundled the rocks jest loosed from the top of the cañon. + + Lickity, lickity, switch, we came to the ford, and Chiquita + Buckled right down to her work, and afore I could yell to her rider, + Took water jest at the ford, and there was the Jedge and me standing, + And twelve hundred dollars of hoss-flesh afloat and a driftin' to thunder! + + Would ye b'lieve it? that night that hoss, that ar' filly, Chiquita, + Walked herself into her stall, and stood there, all quiet and dripping: + Clean as a beaver or rat, with nary a buckle of harness, + Just as she swam the Fork,--that hoss, that ar' filly, Chiquita. + + That's what I call a hoss! and--What did you say!--Oh, the nevey? + Drownded, I reckon,--leastways, he never kem back to deny it. + Ye see the derned fool had no seat,--ye couldn't have made him a rider; + And then, ye know, boys will be boys, and hosses--well, hosses is hosses! + + _Bret Harte._ + + + + +BAY BILLY. + + + 'Twas the last fight at Fredericksburg,-- + Perhaps the day you reck, + Our boys, the Twenty-Second Maine, + Kept Early's men in check. + Just where Wade Hampton boomed away + The fight went neck and neck. + + All day the weaker wing we held, + And held it with a will. + Five several stubborn times we charged + The battery on the hill, + And five times beaten back, re-formed, + And kept our column still. + + At last from out the centre fight + Spurred up a General's Aid. + "That battery must silenced be!" + He cried, as past he sped. + Our Colonel simply touched his cap, + And then, with measured tread, + + To lead the crouching line once more + The grand old fellow came. + No wounded man but raised his head + And strove to gasp his name, + And those who could not speak nor stir, + "God blessed him" just the same. + + For he was all the world to us, + That hero gray and grim. + Right well he knew that fearful slope + We'd climb with none but him, + Though while his white head led the way + We'd charge hell's portals in. + + This time we were not half-way up, + When, midst the storm of shell, + Our leader, with his sword upraised, + Beneath our bayonets fell. + And, as we bore him back, the foe + Set up a joyous yell. + + Our hearts went with him. Back we swept, + And when the bugle said + "Up, charge, again!" no man was there + But hung his dogged head. + "We've no one left to lead us now," + The sullen soldiers said. + + Just then before the laggard line + The Colonel's horse we spied, + Bay Billy with his trappings on, + His nostrils swelling wide, + As though still on his gallant back + The master sat astride. + + Right royally he took the place + That was of old his wont, + And with a neigh that seemed to say, + Above the battle's brunt, + "How can the Twenty-second charge + If I am not in front?" + + Like statues rooted there we stood, + And gazed a little space, + Above that floating mane we missed + The dear familiar face, + But we saw Bay Billy's eye of fire, + And it gave us heart of grace. + + No bugle-call could rouse us all + As that brave sight had done. + Down all the battered line we felt + A lightning impulse run. + Up! up! the hill we followed Bill, + And we captured every gun! + + And when upon the conquered height + Died out the battle's hum. + Vainly mid living and the dead + We sought our leader dumb. + It seemed as if a spectre steed + To win that day had come. + + And then the dusk and dew of night + Fell softly o'er the plain, + As though o'er man's dread work of death + The angels wept again, + And drew night's curtain gently round + A thousand beds of pain. + + All night the surgeons' torches went, + The ghastly rows between.-- + All night with solemn step I paced + The torn and bloody green. + But who that fought in the big war + Such dread sights have not seen? + + At last the morning broke. The lark + Sang in the merry skies + As if to e'en the sleepers there + It bade awake, and rise! + Though naught but that last trump of all + Could ope their heavy eyes. + + And then once more with banners gay, + Stretched out the long Brigade. + Trimly upon the furrowed field + The troops stood on parade, + And bravely mid the ranks were closed + The gaps the fight had made. + + Not half the Twenty-second's men + Were in their place that morn, + And Corporal Dick, who yester-noon + Stood six brave fellows on, + Now touched my elbow in the ranks, + For all between were gone. + + Ah! who forgets that dreary hour + When, as with misty eyes, + To call the old familiar roll + The solemn Sergeant tries,-- + One feels that thumping of the heart + As no prompt voice replies. + + And as in faltering tone and slow + The last few names were said, + Across the field some missing horse + Toiled up with weary tread, + It caught the Sergeant's eye, and quick + Bay Billy's name he read. + + Yes! there the old bay hero stood, + All safe from battle's harms, + And ere an order could be heard, + Or the bugle's quick alarms, + Down all the front, from end to end, + The troops presented arms! + + Not all the shoulder-straps on earth + Could still our mighty cheer; + And ever from that famous day, + When rang the roll-call clear, + Bay Billy's name was read, and then + The whole line answered, "Here!" + + _Frank H. Gassaway._ + + + + +WIDDERIN'S RACE. + + + A horse amongst ten thousand! on the verge, + The extremest verge, of equine life he stands; + Yet mark his action, as those wild young colts + Freed from the stock-yard gallop whinnying up; + See how he trots towards them,--nose in air, + Tail arched, and his still sinewy legs out-thrown + In gallant grace before him! A brave beast + As ever spurned the moorland, ay, and more,-- + He bore me once,--such words but smite the truth + I' the outer ring, while vivid memory wakes, + Recalling now, the passion and the pain,-- + He bore me once from earthly Hell to Heaven! + + The sight of fine old Widderin (that's his name, + Caught from a peak, the topmost rugged peak + Of tall Mount Widderin, towering to the North + Most like a steed's head, with full nostrils blown, + And ears pricked up),--the sight of Widderin brings + That day of days before me, whose strange hours + Of fear and anguish, ere the sunset, changed + To hours of such content and full-veined joy + As Heaven can give our mortal lives but once. + + Well, here's the story: While yon bush-fires sweep + The distant ranges, and the river's voice + Pipes a thin treble through the heart of drouth, + While the red heaven like some hugh caldron's top + Seems with the heat a-simmering, better far + In place of riding tilt 'gainst such a sun, + Here in the safe veranda's flowery gloom, + To play the dwarfish Homer to a song, + Whereof myself am hero: + + Two decades + Have passed since that wild autumn-time when last + The convict hordes from near Van Diemen, freed + By force or fraud, swept, like a blood-red fire, + Inland from beach to mountain, bent on raid + And rapine. + + *....*....*....* + + So, in late autumn,--'twas a marvellous morn, + With breezes from the calm snow-river borne + That touched the air, and stirred it into thrills, + Mysterious and mesmeric, a bright mist + Lapping the landscape like a golden trance, + Swathing the hill-tops with fantastic veils, + And o'er the moorland-ocean quivering light + As gossamer threads drawn down the forest aisles + At dewy dawning,--on this marvellous morn, + I, with four comrades, in this selfsame spot, + Watched the fair scene, and drank the spicy airs, + That held a subtler spirit than our wine, + And talked and laughed, and mused in idleness,-- + Weaving vague fancies, as our pipe-wreaths curled + Fantastic in the sunlight! I, with head + Thrown back, and cushioned snugly, and with eyes + Intent on one grotesque and curious cloud, + Puffed upward, that now seemed to take the shape + Of a Dutch tulip, now a Turk's face topped + By folds on folds of turban limitless,-- + Heard suddenly, just as the clock chimed one, + To melt in musical echoes up the hills, + Quick footsteps on the gravelled path without,-- + Steps of the couriers of calamity,-- + So my heart told me,--ere with blanched regards, + Two stalwart herdsmen on our threshold paused, + Panting, with lips that writhed, and awful eyes;-- + A breath's space in each other's eyes we glared, + Then, swift as interchange of lightning thrusts + In deadly combat, question and reply + Clashed sharply, "What! the Rangers?" "Ay, by Heaven! + And loosed in force,--the hell-hounds!" "Whither bound?" + I stammered, hoarsely. "Bound," the elder said, + "Southward!--four stations had they sacked and burnt, + And now, drunk, furious"--But I stopped to hear + No more: with booming thunder in mine ears, + And blood-flushed eyes, I rushed to Widderin's side, + Drew tight the girths, upgathered curb and rein, + And sprang to horse ere yet our laggard friends-- + Now trooping from the green veranda's shade-- + Could dream of action! + + Love had winged my will, + For to the southward fair Garoopna held + My all of hope, life, passion; she whose hair + (Its tiniest strand of waving, witch-like gold) + Had caught my heart, entwined, and bound it fast, + As 'twere some sweet enchantment's heavenly net! + + I only gave a hand-wave in farewell, + Shot by, and o'er the endless moorland swept + (Endless it seemed, as those weird, measureless plains, + Which, in some nightmare vision, stretch and stretch + Towards infinity!) like some lone ship + O'er wastes of sailless waters: now, a pine, + The beacon pine gigantic, whose grim crown + Signals the far land-mariner from out + Gaunt boulders of the gray-backed Organ hill, + Rose on my sight, a mist-like, wavering orb, + The while, still onward, onward, onward still, + With motion winged, elastic, equable, + Brave Widderin cleaved the air-tides, tossed aside + The winds as waves, their swift, invisible breasts + Hissing with foam-like noise when pressed and pierced + By that keen head and fiery-crested form! + + The lonely shepherd guardian on the plains, + Watching his sheep through languid, half-shut eyes, + Looked up, and marvelled, as we passed him by, + Thinking, perchance, it was a glorious thing, + So dressed, so booted, so caparisoned, + To ride such bright blood-coursers unto death! + Two sun-blacked natives, slumbering in the grass, + Just rose betimes to 'scape the trampling hoofs, + And hurled hot curses at me as I sped; + While here and there the timid kangaroo + Blundered athwart the mole-hills, and in puffs + Of steamy dust-cloud vanished like a mote! + + Onward, still onward, onward, onward still! + And lo! thank Heaven, the mighty Organ hill, + That seemed a dim blue cloudlet at the start, + Hangs in aerial, fluted cliffs aloft,-- + And still as through the long, low glacis borne, + Beneath the gorge borne ever at wild speed, + I saw the mateless mountain eagle wheel + Beyond the stark height's topmost pinnacle; + I heard his shriek of rage and ravin die + Deep down the desolate dells, as far behind + I left the gorge, and far before me swept + Another plain, tree-bordered now, and bound + By the clear river gurgling o'er its bed. + + By this, my panting, but unconquered steed + Had thrown his small head backward, and his breath + Through the red nostrils burst in labored sighs; + I bent above his outstretched neck, I threw + My quivering arms about him, murmuring low, + "Good horse! brave heart! a little longer bear + The strain, the travail; and thenceforth for thee + Free pastures all thy days, till death shall come! + Ah, many and many a time, my noble bay, + Her lily hand hath wandered through thy mane, + Patted thy rainbow neck, and brought thee ears + Of daintiest corn from out the farmhouse loft,-- + Help, help to save her now!" + + I'll vow the brute + Heard me, and comprehended what he heard! + He shook his proud crest madly, and his eye + Turned for a moment sideways, flashed in mine + A lightning gleam, whose fiery language said, + "I know my lineage, will not shame my sire,-- + My sire, who rushed triumphant 'twixt the flags, + And frenzied thousands, when on Epsom downs + Arcturus won the Derby!--no, nor shame + My granddam, whose clean body, half enwrought + Of air, half fire, through swirls of desert sand + Bore Sheik Abdallah headlong on his prey!" + + At last came forest shadows, and the road + Winding through bush and bracken, and at last + The hoarse stream rumbling o'er its quartz-sown crags. + + "No, no! stanch Widderin! pause not now to drink; + An hour hence, and thy dainty nose shall dip + In richest wine, poured jubilantly forth + To quench thy thirst, my Beauty! but press on, + Nor heed these sparkling waters." God! my brain's + On fire once more! an instant tells me all; + All! life or death,--salvation or despair! + For yonder, o'er the wild grass-matted slope + The house stands, or it stood but yesterday. + + A Titan cry of inarticulate joy + I raised, as, calm and peaceful in the sun, + Shone the fair cottage, and the garden-close, + Wherein, white-robed, unconscious, sat my Love + Lilting a low song to the birds and flowers. + She heard the hoof-strokes, saw me, started up, + And with her blue eyes wider than their wont, + And rosy lips half tremulous, rushed to meet + And greet me swiftly. "Up, dear Love!" I cried, + "The Convicts, the Bush-rangers! let us fly!" + Ah, then and there you should have seen her, friend, + My noble, beauteous Helen! not a tear, + Nor sob, and scarce a transient pulse-quiver, + As, clasping hand in hand, her fairy foot + Lit like a small bird on my horseman's boot, + And up into the saddle, lithe and light, + Vaulting she perched, her bright curls round my face! + + We crossed the river, and, dismounting, led + O'er the steep slope of blended rock and turf + The wearied horse, and there behind a Tor + Of castellated bluestone, paused to sweep + With young keen eyes the broad plain stretched afar, + Serene and autumn-tinted at our feet: + "Either," said I, "these devils have gone east, + To meet with bloodhound Desborough in his rage + Between the granite passes of Luxorme, + Or else--dear Christ! my Helen, low! stoop low!" + (These words were hissed in horror, for just then, + 'Twixt the deep hollows of the river-vale, + The miscreants, with mixed shouts and curses, poured + Down through the flinty gorge tumultuously, + Seeming, we thought, in one fierce throng to charge + Our hiding-place.) I seized my Widderin's head, + Blindfolding him, for with a single neigh + Our fate were sealed o' the instant! As they rode, + Those wild, foul-languaged demons by our lair, + Scarce twelve yards off, my troubled steed shook wide + His streaming mane, stamped on the earth, and pawed + So loudly, that the sweat of agony rolled + Down my cold forehead; at which point I felt + My arm clutched, and a voice I did not know + Dropped the low murmur from pale, shuddering lips, + "O God! if in those brutal hands I fall, + Living, look not into your mother's face + Or any woman's more!" + + What time had passed + Above our bowed heads, we pent, pinioned there + By awe and nameless horror, who shall tell? + Minutes, perchance, by mortal measurement, + Eternity by heart-throbs!--when at length + We turned, and eyes of mutual wonder raised, + We gazed on alien faces, haggard, worn, + And strange of feature as the faces born + In fever and delirium! Were we saved? + We scarce could comprehend it, till from out + The neighboring oak-wood rode our friends at speed, + With clang of steel, and eyebrows bent in wrath. + But, warned betimes, the wily ruffians fled + Far up the forest-coverts, and beyond + The dazzling snow-line of the distant hills, + Their yells of fiendish laughter pealing faint + And fainter from the cloudland, and the mist + That closed about them like an ash-gray shroud: + Yet were these wretches marked for imminent death: + The next keen sunrise pierced the savage gorge, + To which we tracked them, where, mere beasts at bay, + Grimly they fought, and brute by brute they fell. + + _Paul Hamilton Hayne._ + + + + +THE DIVERTING HISTORY OF JOHN GILPIN. + +SHOWING HOW HE WENT FARTHER THAN HE INTENDED, AND CAME SAFE HOME AGAIN. + + + John Gilpin was a citizen + Of credit and renown, + A trainband captain eke was he + Of famous London town. + + John Gilpin's spouse said to her dear, + "Though wedded we have been + These twice ten tedious years, yet we + No holiday have seen. + + "To morrow is our wedding-day, + And we will then repair + Unto the Bell at Edmonton + All in a chaise and pair. + + "My sister, and my sister's child, + Myself, and children three, + Will fill the chaise; so you must ride + On horseback after we." + + He soon replied, "I do admire + Of womankind but one, + And you are she, my dearest dear, + Therefore it shall be done. + + "I am a linendraper bold, + As all the world doth know, + And my good friend the calender + Will lend his horse to go." + + Quoth Mrs. Gilpin, "That's well said; + And for that wine is dear, + We will be furnished with our own, + Which is both bright and clear." + + John Gilpin kissed his loving wife; + O'erjoyed was he to find, + That, though on pleasure she was bent, + She had a frugal mind. + + The morning came, the chaise was brought, + But yet was not allowed + To drive up to the door, lest all + Should say that she was proud. + + So three doors off the chaise was stayed, + Where they did all get in; + Six precious souls, and all agog + To dash through thick and thin. + + Smack went the whip, round went the wheels, + Were never folks so glad; + The stones did rattle underneath, + As if Cheapside were mad. + + John Gilpin at his horse's side + Seized fast the flowing mane, + And up he got, in haste to ride, + But soon came down again; + + For saddle-tree scarce reached had he, + His journey to begin, + When, turning round his head, he saw + Three customers come in. + + So down he came; for loss of time, + Although it grieved him sore, + Yet loss of pence, full well he knew, + Would trouble him much more. + + 'Twas long before the customers + Were suited to their mind, + When Betty screaming came down stairs, + "The wine is left behind!" + + "Good lack!" quoth he, "yet bring it me, + My leathern belt likewise, + In which I bear my trusty sword + When I do exercise." + + Now Mistress Gilpin (careful soul!) + Had two stone bottles found, + To hold the liquor that she loved, + And keep it safe and sound. + + Each bottle had a curling ear, + Through which the belt he drew, + And hung a bottle on each side, + To make his balance true. + + Then over all, that he might be + Equipped from top to toe, + His long-red cloak, well brushed and neat, + He manfully did throw. + + Now see him mounted once again + Upon his nimble steed, + Full slowly pacing o'er the stones, + With caution and good heed. + + But finding soon a smoother road + Beneath his well-shod feet, + The snorting beast began to trot, + Which galled him in his seat. + + "So, fair and softly," John he cried, + But John he cried in vain; + That trot became a gallop soon, + In spite of curb and rein. + + So stooping down, as needs he must + Who cannot sit upright, + He grasped the mane with both his hands, + And eke with all his might. + + His horse, who never in that sort + Had handled been before, + What thing upon his back had got + Did wonder more and more. + + Away went Gilpin, neck or naught; + Away went hat and wig; + He little dreamt, when he set out, + Of running such a rig. + + The wind did blow, the cloak did fly, + Like streamer long and gay, + Till, loop and button failing both, + At last it flew away. + + Then might all people well discern + The bottles he had slung; + A bottle swinging at each side, + As hath been said or sung. + + The dogs did bark, the children screamed, + Up flew the windows all; + And every soul cried out, "Well done!" + As loud as he could bawl. + + Away went Gilpin,--who but he? + His fame soon spread around, + "He carries weight! he rides a race! + 'Tis for a thousand pound!" + + And still as fast as he drew near, + 'Twas wonderful to view, + How in a trice the turnpike men + Their gates wide open threw. + + And now, as he went bowing down + His reeking head fell low, + The bottles twain behind his back + Were shattered at a blow. + + Down ran the wine into the road, + Most piteous to be seen, + Which made his horse's flanks to smoke + As they had basted been. + + But still he seemed to carry weight, + With leathern girdle braced; + For all might see the bottle necks + Still dangling at his waist. + + Thus all through merry Islington + These gambols did he play, + Until he came unto the Wash + Of Edmonton so gay; + + And there he threw the wash about + On both sides of the way, + Just like unto a trundling mop, + Or a wild goose at play. + + At Edmonton his loving wife + From the balcony spied + Her tender husband, wondering much + To see how he did ride. + + "Stop, stop, John Gilpin!--Here's the house," + They all at once did cry; + "The dinner waits, and we are tired." + Said Gilpin, "So am I!" + + But yet his horse was not a whit + Inclined to tarry there; + For why?--his owner had a house + Full ten miles off, at Ware. + + So like an arrow swift he flew, + Shot by an archer strong; + So did he fly,--which brings me to + The middle of my song. + + Away went Gilpin out of breath, + And sore against his will, + Till at his friend the calender's + His horse at last stood still. + + The calender, amazed to see + His neighbor in such trim, + Laid down his pipe, flew to the gate, + And thus accosted him: + + "What news? what news? your tidings tell; + Tell me you must and shall.-- + Say why bareheaded you are come, + Or why you come at all?" + + Now Gilpin had a pleasant wit, + And loved a timely joke; + And thus unto the calender + In merry guise he spoke: + + "I came because your horse would come; + And, if I well forbode, + My hat and wig will soon be here, + They are upon the road." + + The calender, right glad to find + His friend in merry pin, + Returned him not a single word, + But to the house went in; + + Whence straight he came with hat and wig; + A wig that flowed behind, + A hat not much the worse for wear, + Each comely in its kind. + + He held them up, and in his turn + Thus showed his ready wit, + "My head is twice as big as yours, + They therefore needs must fit. + + "But let me scrape the dirt away + That hangs upon your face; + And stop and eat, for well you may + Be in a hungry case." + + Said John, "It is my wedding-day, + And all the world would stare, + If wife should dine at Edmonton, + And I should dine at Ware." + + So, turning to his horse, he said, + "I am in haste to dine; + 'Twas for your pleasure you came here, + You shall go back for mine." + + Ah, luckless speech, and bootless boast! + For which he paid full dear; + For, while he spake, a braying ass + Did sing most loud and clear; + + Whereat his horse did snort, as he + Had heard a lion roar, + And galloped off with all his might, + As he had done before. + + Away went Gilpin, and away + Went Gilpin's hat and wig; + He lost them sooner than at first, + For why?--they were too big. + + Now Mistress Gilpin, when she saw + Her husband posting down + Into the country far away, + She pulled out half a crown; + + And thus unto the youth she said, + That drove them to the Bell, + "This shall be yours, when you bring back + My husband safe and well." + + The youth did ride, and soon did meet + John coming back amain; + Whom in a trice he tried to stop + By catching at his rein, + + But not performing what he meant, + And gladly would have done, + The frighted steed he frighted more, + And made him faster run. + + Away went Gilpin, and away + Went postboy at his heels, + The postboy's horse right glad to miss + The lumbering of the wheels. + + Six gentlemen upon the road, + Thus seeing Gilpin fly, + With postboy scampering in the rear, + They raised the hue and cry:-- + + "Stop thief! stop thief!--a highwayman!" + Not one of them was mute; + And all and each that passed that way + Did join in the pursuit. + + And now the turnpike-gates again + Flew open in short space; + The toll-men thinking, as before, + That Gilpin rode a race. + + And so he did, and won it too, + For he got first to town; + Nor stopped till where he had got up + He did again get down. + + Now let us sing, "Long live the king, + And Gilpin, long live he; + And when he next doth ride abroad, + May I be there to see!" + + _William Cowper._ + + + + +REFLECTIONS OF A PROUD PEDESTRIAN. + + + I saw the curl of his waving lash, + And the glance of his knowing eye, + And I knew that he thought he was cutting a dash, + As his steed went thundering by. + + And he may ride in the rattling gig, + Or flourish the Stanhope gay, + And dream that he looks exceeding big + To the people that walk in the way; + + But he shall think, when the night is still, + On the stable-boy's gathering numbers, + And the ghost of many a veteran bill + Shall hover around his slumbers; + + The ghastly dun shall worry his sleep, + And constables cluster around him, + And he shall creep from the wood-hole deep + Where their spectre eyes have found him! + + Ay! gather your reins, and crack your thong, + And bid your steed go faster; + He does not know, as he scrambles along, + That he has a fool for his master; + + And hurry away on your lonely ride, + Nor deign from the mire to save me; + I will paddle it stoutly at your side + With the tandem that nature gave me! + + _Oliver Wendell Holmes._ + + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of In the Saddle, by Various + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK IN THE SADDLE *** + +***** This file should be named 39236-8.txt or 39236-8.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + http://www.gutenberg.org/3/9/2/3/39236/ + +Produced by Julia Miller, Josephine Paolucci and the Online +Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net. 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You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org/license + + +Title: In the Saddle + A Collection of Poems on Horseback-Riding + +Author: Various + +Release Date: March 24, 2012 [EBook #39236] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1 + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK IN THE SADDLE *** + + + + +Produced by Julia Miller, Josephine Paolucci and the Online +Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net. (This +file was produced from images generously made available +by The Internet Archive/American Libraries.) + + + + + + +</pre> + + + + + + + +<h1><span class="smcap">In the Saddle</span></h1> + +<h2>A COLLECTION OF POEMS ON HORSEBACK-RIDING</h2> + +<h4>"<i>A good rider on a good horse is as much above himself and others as +the world can make him</i>"</h4> + +<h4>Lord Herbert of Cherbury</h4> + + +<p class="center"> +BOSTON +HOUGHTON, MIFFLIN AND COMPANY +New York: 11 East Seventeenth Street +The Riverside Press, Cambridge +1882 + + +Copyright, 1882, +<span class="smcap">By</span> HOUGHTON, MIFFLIN & CO. + +<i>All rights reserved.</i> + +<i>The Riverside Press, Cambridge:</i> +Electrotyped and Printed by H. O. Houghton & Co. +</p><hr class="chap" /><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_iii" id="Page_iii">[Pg iii]</a></span></p> + + + + +<h2><a name="CONTENTS" id="CONTENTS">CONTENTS.</a></h2> + +<p> +<span class="tocnum">Page</span> +<br /><br /> +<span class="smcap">Description of a Horse.</span> <i>Venus and Adonis</i> <span class="tocnum"><a href='#Page_1'>1</a></span> +<br /><br /> +<span class="smcap">A Day's Ride: A Life's Analogy.</span> <i>The Spectator</i> <span class="tocnum"><a href='#Page_2'>2</a></span> +<br /><br /> +<span class="smcap">On Horseback.</span> <i>E. Paxton Hood</i> <span class="tocnum"><a href='#Page_3'>3</a></span> +<br /><br /> +<span class="smcap">The Horseback Ride.</span> <i>Sara Jane Lippincott</i> (<i>Grace Greenwood</i>) <span class="tocnum"><a href='#Page_4'>4</a></span> +<br /><br /> +<span class="smcap">An Evening Ride.</span> <i>Owen Innsly</i> <span class="tocnum"><a href='#Page_7'>7</a></span> +<br /><br /> +<span class="smcap">The Queen's Ride.</span> <i>T. B. Aldrich</i> <span class="tocnum"><a href='#Page_8'>8</a></span> +<br /><br /> +<span class="smcap">The Last Ride together.</span> <i>Robert Browning</i> <span class="tocnum"><a href='#Page_9'>9</a></span> +<br /><br /> +<span class="smcap">Riding together.</span> <i>William Morris</i> <span class="tocnum"><a href='#Page_13'>13</a></span> +<br /><br /> +<span class="smcap">Sir Launcelot and Queen Guinevere.</span> <i>Alfred Tennyson</i> <span class="tocnum"><a href='#Page_15'>15</a></span> +<br /><br /> +<span class="smcap">The King of Denmark's Ride.</span> <i>Hon. Caroline Norton</i> <span class="tocnum"><a href='#Page_17'>17</a></span> +<br /><br /> +<span class="smcap">Rhyme of the Duchess May.</span> <i>Elizabeth Barrett Browning</i> <span class="tocnum"><a href='#Page_19'>19</a></span> +<br /><br /> +<span class="smcap">Irmingard's Escape.</span> <i>Henry Wadsworth Longfellow</i> <span class="tocnum"><a href='#Page_37'>37</a></span> +<br /><br /> +<span class="smcap">William and Helen.</span> <i>Bürger's "Leonore." Translated by Sir Walter Scott</i> <span class="tocnum"><a href='#Page_42'>42</a></span> +<br /><br /> +<span class="smcap">The Greeting on Kynast.</span> <i>Rückert. Translated by C. T. Brooks</i> <span class="tocnum"><a href='#Page_52'>52</a></span> +<br /><br /> +<span class="smcap">Harras, the Bold Leaper.</span> <i>Karl Theodor Körner. Translated by G. F. Richardson</i> <span class="tocnum"><a href='#Page_57'>57</a></span> +<br /><br /> +<span class="smcap">The Knight's Leap.</span> <i>Charles Kingsley</i> <span class="tocnum"><a href='#Page_60'>60</a></span> +<br /><br /> +<span class="smcap">The Leap of Roushan Beg.</span> <i>Henry Wadsworth Longfellow</i> <span class="tocnum"><a href='#Page_61'>61</a></span> +<br /><br /> +<span class="smcap">Annan Water</span> <span class="tocnum"><a href='#Page_64'>64</a></span> +<br /><br /> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_iv" id="Page_iv">[Pg iv]</a></span><span class="smcap">Thomas the Rhymer</span> <span class="tocnum"><a href='#Page_66'>66</a></span> +<br /><br /> +<span class="smcap">The Greek Gnome.</span> <i>Robert Buchanan</i> <span class="tocnum"><a href='#Page_70'>70</a></span> +<br /><br /> +<span class="smcap">Friar Pedro's Ride.</span> <i>Bret Harte</i> <span class="tocnum"><a href='#Page_73'>73</a></span> +<br /><br /> +<span class="smcap">Tam O'Shanter.</span> <i>Robert Burns</i> <span class="tocnum"><a href='#Page_79'>79</a></span> +<br /><br /> +<span class="smcap">The Wild Huntsman.</span> <i>Bürger's Wilde Jäger. Tr. by Walter Scott</i> <span class="tocnum"><a href='#Page_86'>86</a></span> +<br /><br /> +<span class="smcap">Lützow's Wild Chase.</span> <i>Theodor Körner</i> <span class="tocnum"><a href='#Page_94'>94</a></span> +<br /><br /> +<span class="smcap">The Erl-King.</span> <i>Walter Scott</i> <span class="tocnum"><a href='#Page_96'>96</a></span> +<br /><br /> +<span class="smcap">Mazeppa's Ride.</span> <i>Byron</i> <span class="tocnum"><a href='#Page_98'>98</a></span> +<br /><br /> +<span class="smcap">The Giaour's Ride.</span> <i>Byron</i> <span class="tocnum"><a href='#Page_110'>110</a></span> +<br /><br /> +<span class="smcap">The Norseman's Ride.</span> <i>Bayard Taylor</i> <span class="tocnum"><a href='#Page_113'>113</a></span> +<br /><br /> +<span class="smcap">Boot and Saddle.</span> <i>Robert Browning</i> <span class="tocnum"><a href='#Page_116'>116</a></span> +<br /><br /> +<span class="smcap">The Cavalier's Escape.</span> <i>Walter Thornbury</i> <span class="tocnum"><a href='#Page_116'>116</a></span> +<br /><br /> +<span class="smcap">King James's Ride.</span> <i>Walter Scott</i> <span class="tocnum"><a href='#Page_118'>118</a></span> +<br /><br /> +<span class="smcap">Deloraine's Ride.</span> <i>Walter Scott</i> <span class="tocnum"><a href='#Page_119'>119</a></span> +<br /><br /> +<span class="smcap">Godiva.</span> <i>Alfred Tennyson</i> <span class="tocnum"><a href='#Page_124'>124</a></span> +<br /><br /> +<span class="smcap">How they brought the Good News from Ghent to Aix.</span> <i>Robert Browning</i> <span class="tocnum"><a href='#Page_127'>127</a></span> +<br /><br /> +<span class="smcap">The Landlord's Tale.</span> <i>H. W. Longfellow</i> <span class="tocnum"><a href='#Page_130'>130</a></span> +<br /><br /> +<span class="smcap">Sheridan's Ride.</span> <i>Thomas Buchanan Read</i> <span class="tocnum"><a href='#Page_135'>135</a></span> +<br /><br /> +<span class="smcap">Kearny at Seven Pines.</span> <i>Edmund Clarence Stedman</i> <span class="tocnum"><a href='#Page_138'>138</a></span> +<br /><br /> +<span class="smcap">The Ride of Collins Graves.</span> <i>John Boyle O'Reilly</i> <span class="tocnum"><a href='#Page_140'>140</a></span> +<br /><br /> +<span class="smcap">A Tale of Providence.</span> <i>Isaac R. Pennybacker</i> <span class="tocnum"><a href='#Page_143'>143</a></span> +<br /><br /> +<span class="smcap">Kit Carson's Ride.</span> <i>Joaquin Miller</i> <span class="tocnum"><a href='#Page_149'>149</a></span> +<br /><br /> +<span class="smcap">Taming the Wild Horse.</span> <i>W. G. Simms</i> <span class="tocnum"><a href='#Page_155'>155</a></span> +<br /><br /> +<span class="smcap">Chiquita.</span> <i>Bret Harte</i> <span class="tocnum"><a href='#Page_157'>157</a></span> +<br /><br /> +<span class="smcap">Bay Billy.</span> <i>Frank H. Gassaway</i> <span class="tocnum"><a href='#Page_160'>160</a></span> +<br /><br /> +<span class="smcap">Widderin's Race.</span> <i>Paul Hamilton Hayne</i> <span class="tocnum"><a href='#Page_164'>164</a></span> +<br /><br /> +<span class="smcap">The Diverting History of John Gilpin.</span> <i>William Cowper</i> <span class="tocnum"><a href='#Page_174'>174</a></span> +<br /><br /> +<span class="smcap">Reflections of a Proud Pedestrian.</span> <i>Oliver Wendell Holmes</i> <span class="tocnum"><a href='#Page_184'>184</a></span> +</p> + +<hr class="chap" /><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_1" id="Page_1">[Pg 1]</a></span></p> + + +<h2>IN THE SADDLE.</h2> + + +<h2>DESCRIPTION OF A HORSE.</h2> + + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Look, when a painter would surpass the life,</span> +<span class="i2">In limning out a well-proportioned steed,</span> +<span class="i0">His art with nature's workmanship at strife,</span> +<span class="i2">As if the dead the living should exceed;</span> +<span class="i0">So did this horse excel a common one,</span> +<span class="i0">In shape, in courage, color, pace, and bone.</span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Round-hoofed, short-jointed, fetlocks shag and long,</span> +<span class="i2">Broad breast, full eye, small head, and nostril wide,</span> +<span class="i0">High crest, short ears, straight legs, and passing strong,</span> +<span class="i2">Thin mane, thick tail, broad buttock, tender hide:</span> +<span class="i0">Look, what a horse should have, he did not lack,</span> +<span class="i0">Save a proud rider on so proud a back.</span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i10"><i>Venus and Adonis.</i></span> +</div></div> + +<hr class="chap" /> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_2" id="Page_2">[Pg 2]</a></span></p> + +<h2>A DAY'S RIDE: A LIFE'S ANALOGY.</h2> + + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">'Mid tangled forest and o'er grass plains wide,</span> +<span class="i2">By many a devious path and bridle-way,</span> +<span class="i2">Through the short brightness of an Indian day,</span> +<span class="i0">In middle winter 'twas my lot to ride,</span> +<span class="i0">Skirting the round-topped, pine-clad mountain side,</span> +<span class="i2">While far away upon the steely blue</span> +<span class="i2">Horizon, half concealèd, half in view,</span> +<span class="i0">Himalay's peaks upreared their snow-crowned pride,</span> +<span class="i0">In utter purity and vast repose.</span> +<span class="i2">I, ere the first faint flush of morning glowed</span> +<span class="i2">Within her eastern chamber, took the road,</span> +<span class="i2">And, slowly riding between day and night,</span> +<span class="i2">I marked how, through the wan, imperfect light,</span> +<span class="i0">Ghost-like and gray loomed the eternal snows.</span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">So near they seemed, each crack and crevice small</span> +<span class="i2">Like bas-relief work showed, while in the light</span> +<span class="i2">Of ruddy morn, gray changed through pink to white.</span> +<span class="i0">But soon the sun, up-climbing, flooded all</span> +<span class="i0">The heavens, and then a thin and misty pall</span> +<span class="i2">Of exhalations rose, and pale of hue</span> +<span class="i2">And fainter ever those far summits grew,</span><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_3" id="Page_3">[Pg 3]</a></span> +<span class="i0">Until the day waned low, and shadows tall</span> +<span class="i0">Sloped eastward. Then once more, in radiance clear,</span> +<span class="i2">Of setting sunlight, beautiful as brief,</span> +<span class="i2">Each peak and crag stood out in bold relief,</span> +<span class="i2">Till, slowly, pink faded to ghostly gray.</span> +<span class="i2">So through life's morning, noontide, evening, may</span> +<span class="i0">Ideal hopes dawn, fade, and reappear.</span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i10"><i>The Spectator.</i></span> +</div></div> + + +<hr class="chap" /> + +<h2>ON HORSEBACK.</h2> + + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Hurrah! for a ride in the morning gray,</span> +<span class="i4">On the back of a bounding steed.</span> +<span class="i0">What pleasure to list how the wild winds play;</span> +<span class="i0">Hark! Hark! to their music,—away! away!</span> +<span class="i4">Gallop away with speed.</span> +<span class="i0">'Neath the leaf and the cloud in spring-time's pride</span> +<span class="i0">There is health in a morning's joyous ride.</span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">And hurrah! for a ride in the sultry noon,</span> +<span class="i4">When the summer has mounted high,</span> +<span class="i0">'Neath the shady wood in the glowing June,</span> +<span class="i0">When the rivulet chanteth its lullaby tune</span> +<span class="i4">To the breeze as it wanders by,</span> +<span class="i0">Quietly down by the brooklet's side;—</span> +<span class="i0">Sweet is the summer's joyous ride.</span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">And do you not love at evening's hour,</span><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_4" id="Page_4">[Pg 4]</a></span> +<span class="i4">By the light of the sinking sun,</span> +<span class="i0">To wend your way o'er the widening moor,</span> +<span class="i0">Where the silvery mists their mystery pour,</span> +<span class="i4">While the stars come one by one?</span> +<span class="i0">Over the heath by the mountain's side,</span> +<span class="i0">Pensive and sweet is the evening's ride.</span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">I tell thee, O stranger, that unto me</span> +<span class="i4">The plunge of a fiery steed</span> +<span class="i0">Is a noble thought,—to the brave and free</span> +<span class="i0">It is music, and breath, and majesty,—</span> +<span class="i4">'Tis the life of a noble deed;</span> +<span class="i0">And the heart and the mind are in spirit allied</span> +<span class="i0">In the charm of a morning's glorious ride.</span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Then hurrah! for the ring of the bridle rein,—</span> +<span class="i4">Away, brave horse, away!</span> +<span class="i0">The preacher or poet may chant their strain,</span> +<span class="i0">The bookman his wine of the past may drain,—</span> +<span class="i4">We bide not with them to-day;</span> +<span class="i0">And yet it is true, we may look with pride</span> +<span class="i0">On the mental spoils of a morning's ride.</span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i10"><i>E. Paxton Hood.</i></span> +</div></div> + + +<hr class="chap" /> + +<h2>THE HORSEBACK RIDE.</h2> + + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">When troubled in spirit, when weary of life,</span> +<span class="i0">When I faint 'neath its burdens, and shrink from its strife,</span> +<span class="i0">When its fruits, turned to ashes, are mocking my taste,</span><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_5" id="Page_5">[Pg 5]</a></span> +<span class="i0">And its fairest scene seems but a desolate waste,</span> +<span class="i0">Then come ye not near me, my sad heart to cheer</span> +<span class="i0">With friendship's soft accents or sympathy's tear.</span> +<span class="i0">No pity I ask, and no counsel I need,</span> +<span class="i0">But bring me, oh, bring me my gallant young steed,</span> +<span class="i0">With his high archèd neck, and his nostril spread wide,</span> +<span class="i0">His eye full of fire, and his step full of pride!</span> +<span class="i0">As I spring to his back, as I seize the strong rein,</span> +<span class="i0">The strength to my spirit returneth again!</span> +<span class="i0">The bonds are all broken that fettered my mind,</span> +<span class="i0">And my cares borne away on the wings of the wind;</span> +<span class="i0">My pride lifts its head, for a season bowed down,</span> +<span class="i0">And the queen in my nature now puts on her crown!</span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Now we're off—like the winds to the plains whence they came;</span> +<span class="i0">And the rapture of motion is thrilling my frame!</span> +<span class="i0">On, on speeds my courser, scarce printing the sod,</span> +<span class="i0">Scarce crushing a daisy to mark where he trod!</span> +<span class="i0">On, on like a deer, when the hound's early bay</span> +<span class="i0">Awakes the wild echoes, away, and away!</span> +<span class="i0">Still faster, still farther, he leaps at my cheer,</span> +<span class="i0">Till the rush of the startled air whirs in my ear!</span> +<span class="i0">Now 'long a clear rivulet lieth his track,—</span> +<span class="i0">See his glancing hoofs tossing the white pebbles back!</span> +<span class="i0">Now a glen dark as midnight—what matter?—we'll down</span><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_6" id="Page_6">[Pg 6]</a></span> +<span class="i0">Though shadows are round us, and rocks o'er us frown;</span> +<span class="i0">The thick branches shake as we're hurrying through,</span> +<span class="i0">And deck us with spangles of silvery dew!</span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">What a wild thought of triumph, that this girlish hand</span> +<span class="i0">Such a steed in the might of his strength may command!</span> +<span class="i0">What a glorious creature! Ah! glance at him now,</span> +<span class="i0">As I check him a while on this green hillock's brow;</span> +<span class="i0">How he tosses his mane, with a shrill joyous neigh,</span> +<span class="i0">And paws the firm earth in his proud, stately play!</span> +<span class="i0">Hurrah! off again, dashing on as in ire,</span> +<span class="i0">Till the long, flinty pathway is flashing with fire!</span> +<span class="i0">Ho! a ditch!—Shall we pause? No; the bold leap we dare,</span> +<span class="i0">Like a swift-wingèd arrow we rush through the air!</span> +<span class="i0">Oh, not all the pleasures that poets may praise,</span> +<span class="i0">Not the 'wildering waltz in the ball-room's blaze,</span> +<span class="i0">Nor the chivalrous joust, nor the daring race,</span> +<span class="i0">Nor the swift regatta, nor merry chase,</span> +<span class="i0">Nor the sail, high heaving waters o'er,</span> +<span class="i0">Nor the rural dance on the moonlight shore,</span> +<span class="i0">Can the wild and thrilling joy exceed</span> +<span class="i0">Of a fearless leap on a fiery steed!</span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i10"><i>Sara Jane Lippincott</i> (<i>Grace Greenwood</i>).</span> +</div></div> + + +<hr class="chap" /><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_7" id="Page_7">[Pg 7]</a></span></p> + +<h2>AN EVENING RIDE.</h2> + +<h3>FROM GLASHÜTTE TO MÜGELN IN SAXONY.</h3> + + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">We ride and ride. High on the hills</span> +<span class="i2">The fir-trees stretch into the sky;</span> +<span class="i0">The birches, which the deep calm stills,</span> +<span class="i2">Quiver again as we speed by.</span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Beside the road a shallow stream</span> +<span class="i2">Goes leaping o'er its rocky bed:</span> +<span class="i0">Here lie the corn-fields with a gleam</span> +<span class="i2">Of daisies white and poppies red.</span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">A faint star trembles in the west;</span> +<span class="i2">A fire-fly sparkles, fluttering bright</span> +<span class="i0">Against the mountain's sombre breast;</span> +<span class="i2">And yonder shines a village light.</span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Oh! could I creep into thine arms</span> +<span class="i2">Beloved! and upon thy face</span> +<span class="i0">Read the arrest of dire alarms</span> +<span class="i2">That press me close; from thy embrace</span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">View the sweet earth as on we ride.</span> +<span class="i2">Alas! how vain our longings are!</span> +<span class="i0">Already night is spreading wide</span> +<span class="i2">Her sable wing, and thou art far.</span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i10"><i>Owen Innsly.</i></span> +</div></div> + + + +<hr class="chap" /><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_8" id="Page_8">[Pg 8]</a></span></p> +<h2>THE QUEEN'S RIDE.</h2> + +<h3>AN INVITATION.</h3> + + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">'Tis that fair time of year,</span> +<span class="i6">Lady mine,</span> +<span class="i0">When stately Guinevere,</span> +<span class="i0">In her sea-green robe and hood,</span> +<span class="i0">Went a-riding through the wood,</span> +<span class="i6">Lady mine.</span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">And as the Queen did ride,</span> +<span class="i6">Lady mine,</span> +<span class="i0">Sir Launcelot at her side</span> +<span class="i0">Laughed and chatted, bending over,</span> +<span class="i0">Half her friend and all her lover,</span> +<span class="i6">Lady mine.</span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">And as they rode along,</span> +<span class="i6">Lady mine,</span> +<span class="i0">The throstle gave them song,</span> +<span class="i0">And the buds peeped through the grass</span> +<span class="i0">To see youth and beauty pass,</span> +<span class="i6">Lady mine.</span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">And on, through deathless time,</span> +<span class="i6">Lady mine,</span> +<span class="i0">These lovers in their prime,</span> +<span class="i0">(Two fairy ghosts together!)</span> +<span class="i0">Ride, with sea-green robe, and feather!</span><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_9" id="Page_9">[Pg 9]</a></span> +<span class="i6">Lady mine.</span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">And so we two will ride,</span> +<span class="i6">Lady mine,</span> +<span class="i0">At your pleasure, side by side,</span> +<span class="i0">Laugh and chat; I bending over,</span> +<span class="i0">Half your friend and all your lover!</span> +<span class="i6">Lady mine.</span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">But if you like not this,</span> +<span class="i6">Lady mine,</span> +<span class="i0">And take my love amiss,</span> +<span class="i0">Then I'll ride unto the end,</span> +<span class="i0">Half your lover, all your friend!</span> +<span class="i6">Lady mine.</span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">So, come which way you will,</span> +<span class="i6">Lady mine,</span> +<span class="i0">Vale, upland, plain, and hill</span> +<span class="i0">Wait your coming. For one day</span> +<span class="i0">Loose the bridle, and away!</span> +<span class="i6">Lady mine.</span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i10"><i>T. B. Aldrich.</i></span> +</div></div> + + + +<hr class="chap" /> +<h2>THE LAST RIDE TOGETHER.</h2> + + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">I said—Then, dearest, since 'tis so,</span> +<span class="i0">Since now at length my fate I know,</span> +<span class="i0">Since nothing all my love avails,</span> +<span class="i0">Since all my life seemed meant for, fails,</span> +<span class="i2">Since this was written and needs must be—</span> +<span class="i0">My whole heart rises up to bless</span><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_10" id="Page_10">[Pg 10]</a></span> +<span class="i0">Your name in pride and thankfulness!</span> +<span class="i0">Take back the hope you gave,—I claim</span> +<span class="i0">Only a memory of the same,</span> +<span class="i0">—And this beside, if you will not blame,</span> +<span class="i2">Your leave for one more last ride with me.</span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">My mistress bent that brow of hers,</span> +<span class="i0">Those deep dark eyes where pride demurs</span> +<span class="i0">When pity would be softening through,</span> +<span class="i0">Fixed me a breathing-while or two</span> +<span class="i2">With life or death in the balance—Right!</span> +<span class="i0">The blood replenished me again:</span> +<span class="i0">My last thought was at least not vain.</span> +<span class="i0">I and my mistress, side by side</span> +<span class="i0">Shall be together, breathe and ride,</span> +<span class="i0">So one day more am I deified.</span> +<span class="i2">Who knows but the world may end to-night?</span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Hush! if you saw some western cloud</span> +<span class="i0">All billowy-bosomed, over-bowed</span> +<span class="i0">By many benedictions—sun's</span> +<span class="i0">And moon's and evening-star's at once—</span> +<span class="i2">And so, you, looking and loving best,</span> +<span class="i0">Conscious grew, your passion drew</span> +<span class="i0">Cloud, sunset, moonrise, star-shine too</span> +<span class="i0">Down on you, near and yet more near,</span> +<span class="i0">Till flesh must fade for heaven was here!—</span> +<span class="i0">Thus leant she and lingered—joy and fear!</span> +<span class="i2">Thus lay she a moment on my breast.</span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Then we began to ride. My soul</span><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_11" id="Page_11">[Pg 11]</a></span> +<span class="i0">Smoothed itself out, a long-cramped scroll</span> +<span class="i0">Freshening and fluttering in the wind.</span> +<span class="i0">Past hopes already lay behind.</span> +<span class="i2">What need to strive with a life awry?</span> +<span class="i0">Had I said that, had I done this,</span> +<span class="i0">So might I gain, so might I miss.</span> +<span class="i0">Might she have loved me? just as well</span> +<span class="i0">She might have hated,—who can tell?</span> +<span class="i0">Where had I been now if the worst befell?</span> +<span class="i2">And here we are riding, she and I.</span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Fail I alone, in words and deeds?</span> +<span class="i0">Why, all men strive and who succeeds?</span> +<span class="i0">We rode; it seemed my spirit flew,</span> +<span class="i0">Saw other regions, cities new,</span> +<span class="i2">As the world rushed by on either side.</span> +<span class="i0">I thought, All labor, yet no less</span> +<span class="i0">Bear up beneath their unsuccess.</span> +<span class="i0">Look at the end of work, contrast</span> +<span class="i0">The petty Done the Undone vast,</span> +<span class="i0">This present of theirs with the hopeful past!</span> +<span class="i2">I hoped she would love me. Here we ride.</span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">What hand and brain went ever paired?</span> +<span class="i0">What heart alike conceived and dared?</span> +<span class="i0">What act proved all its thought had been?</span> +<span class="i0">What will but felt the fleshly screen?</span> +<span class="i2">We ride and I see her bosom heave.</span> +<span class="i0">There's many a crown for who can reach</span> +<span class="i0">Ten lines, a statesman's life in each!</span> +<span class="i0">The flag stuck on a heap of bones,</span> +<span class="i0">A soldier's doing! what atones?</span> +<span class="i0">They scratch his name on the Abbey-stones.</span><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_12" id="Page_12">[Pg 12]</a></span> +<span class="i2">My riding is better, by their leave.</span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">What does it all mean, poet? well,</span> +<span class="i0">Your brain's beat into rhythm—you tell</span> +<span class="i0">What we felt only; you expressed</span> +<span class="i0">You hold things beautiful the best,</span> +<span class="i2">And pace them in rhyme so, side by side.</span> +<span class="i0">'Tis something, nay 'tis much—but then,</span> +<span class="i0">Have you yourself what's best for men?</span> +<span class="i0">Are you—poor, sick, old ere your time—</span> +<span class="i0">Nearer one whit your own sublime</span> +<span class="i0">Than we who never have turned a rhyme?</span> +<span class="i2">Sing, riding's a joy! For me, I ride.</span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">And you, great sculptor—so you gave</span> +<span class="i0">A score of years to art, her slave,</span> +<span class="i0">And that's your Venus—whence we turn</span> +<span class="i0">To yonder girl that fords the burn!</span> +<span class="i2">You acquiesce and shall I repine?</span> +<span class="i0">What, man of music, you grown gray</span> +<span class="i0">With notes and nothing else to say,</span> +<span class="i0">Is this your sole praise from a friend,</span> +<span class="i0">"Greatly his opera's strains intend,</span> +<span class="i0">But in music we know how fashions end!"</span> +<span class="i2">I gave my youth—but we ride, in fine.</span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Who knows what's fit for us? Had fate</span> +<span class="i0">Proposed bliss here should sublimate</span> +<span class="i0">My being; had I signed the bond—</span> +<span class="i0">Still one must lead some life beyond,</span> +<span class="i2">—Have a bliss to die with, dim-descried.</span> +<span class="i0">This foot once planted on the goal,</span> +<span class="i0">This glory-garland round my soul,</span><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_13" id="Page_13">[Pg 13]</a></span> +<span class="i0">Could I descry such? Try and test!</span> +<span class="i0">I sink back shuddering from the quest—</span> +<span class="i0">Earth being so good, would heaven seem best?</span> +<span class="i2">Now, heaven and she are beyond this ride.</span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">And yet—she has not spoke so long!</span> +<span class="i0">What if heaven be, that, fair and strong</span> +<span class="i0">At life's best, with our eyes upturned</span> +<span class="i0">Whither life's flower if first discerned,</span> +<span class="i2">We, fixed so, ever should so abide?</span> +<span class="i0">What if we still ride on, we two,</span> +<span class="i0">With life forever old yet new,</span> +<span class="i0">Changed not in kind but in degree,</span> +<span class="i0">The instant made eternity,—</span> +<span class="i0">And heaven just prove that I and she</span> +<span class="i2">Ride, ride together, forever ride?</span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i10"><i>Robert Browning.</i></span> +</div></div> + + + +<hr class="chap" /> +<h2>RIDING TOGETHER.</h2> + + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">For many, many days together</span> +<span class="i2">The wind blew steady from the east;</span> +<span class="i0">For many days hot grew the weather,</span> +<span class="i2">About the time of our Lady's Feast.</span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">For many days we rode together,</span> +<span class="i2">Yet met we neither friend nor foe;</span> +<span class="i0">Hotter and clearer grew the weather,</span> +<span class="i2">Steadily did the east-wind blow.</span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">We saw the trees in the hot, bright weather,</span><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_14" id="Page_14">[Pg 14]</a></span> +<span class="i2">Clear-cut, with shadows very black,</span> +<span class="i0">As freely we rode on together</span> +<span class="i2">With helms unlaced and bridles slack.</span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">And often as we rode together,</span> +<span class="i2">We, looking down the green-banked stream,</span> +<span class="i0">Saw flowers in the sunny weather,</span> +<span class="i2">And saw the bubble-making bream.</span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">And in the night lay down together,</span> +<span class="i2">And hung above our heads the rood,</span> +<span class="i0">Or watched night-long in the dewy weather,</span> +<span class="i2">The while the moon did watch the wood.</span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Our spears stood bright and thick together,</span> +<span class="i2">Straight out the banners streamed behind,</span> +<span class="i0">As we galloped on in the sunny weather,</span> +<span class="i2">With faces turned towards the wind.</span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Down sank our threescore spears together,</span> +<span class="i2">As thick we saw the pagans ride;</span> +<span class="i0">His eager face in the clear fresh weather</span> +<span class="i2">Shone out that last time by my side.</span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Up the sweep of the bridge we dashed together,</span> +<span class="i2">It rocked to the crash of the meeting spears;</span> +<span class="i0">Down rained the buds of the dear spring weather,</span> +<span class="i2">The elm-tree flowers fell like tears.</span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">There, as we rolled and writhed together,</span> +<span class="i2">I threw my arms above my head,</span> +<span class="i0">For close by my side, in the lovely weather,</span><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_15" id="Page_15">[Pg 15]</a></span> +<span class="i2">I saw him reel and fall back dead.</span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">I and the slayer met together,</span> +<span class="i2">He waited the death-stroke there in his place,</span> +<span class="i0">With thoughts of death, in the lovely weather</span> +<span class="i2">Gapingly mazed at my maddened face.</span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Madly I fought as we fought together;</span> +<span class="i2">In vain: the little Christian band</span> +<span class="i0">The pagans drowned, as in stormy weather</span> +<span class="i2">The river drowns low-lying land.</span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">They bound my blood-stained hands together,</span> +<span class="i2">They bound his corpse to nod by my side:</span> +<span class="i0">Then on we rode, in the bright March weather,</span> +<span class="i2">With clash of cymbals did we ride.</span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">We ride no more, no more together;</span> +<span class="i2">My prison-bars are thick and strong,</span> +<span class="i0">I take no heed of any weather,</span> +<span class="i2">The sweet Saints grant I live not long.</span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i10"><i>William Morris.</i></span> +</div></div> + + + +<hr class="chap" /> +<h2>SIR LAUNCELOT AND QUEEN GUINEVERE.</h2> + +<h3>A FRAGMENT.</h3> + + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Like souls that balance joy and pain,</span> +<span class="i0">With tears and smiles from heaven again</span> +<span class="i0">The maiden Spring upon the plain</span> +<span class="i0">Came in a sunlit fall of rain.</span><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_16" id="Page_16">[Pg 16]</a></span> +<span class="i6">In crystal vapor everywhere</span> +<span class="i0">Blue isles of heaven laughed between,</span> +<span class="i0">And far, in forest-deeps unseen,</span> +<span class="i0">The topmost elm-tree gathered green</span> +<span class="i4">From draughts of balmy air.</span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Sometimes the linnet piped his song:</span> +<span class="i0">Sometimes the throstle whistled strong:</span> +<span class="i0">Sometimes the sparhawk, wheeled along,</span> +<span class="i0">Hushed all the groves from fear of wrong:</span> +<span class="i6">By grassy capes with fuller sound</span> +<span class="i0">In curves the yellowing river ran,</span> +<span class="i0">And drooping chestnut-buds began</span> +<span class="i0">To spread into the perfect fan,</span> +<span class="i4">Above the teeming ground.</span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Then, in the boyhood of the year,</span> +<span class="i0">Sir Launcelot and Queen Guinevere</span> +<span class="i0">Rode through the coverts of the deer,</span> +<span class="i0">With blissful treble ringing clear.</span> +<span class="i6">She seemed a part of joyous Spring:</span> +<span class="i0">A gown of grass-green silk she wore,</span> +<span class="i0">Buckled with golden clasps before;</span> +<span class="i0">A light-green tuft of plumes she bore</span> +<span class="i4">Closed in a golden ring.</span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Now on some twisted ivy-net,</span> +<span class="i0">Now by some tinkling rivulet,</span> +<span class="i0">In mosses mixt with violet</span> +<span class="i0">Her cream-white mule his pastern set:</span> +<span class="i6">And fleeter now she skimmed the plains</span> +<span class="i0">Than she whose elfin prancer springs</span><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_17" id="Page_17">[Pg 17]</a></span> +<span class="i0">By night to eery warblings,</span> +<span class="i0">When all the glimmering moorland rings</span> +<span class="i4">With jingling bridle-reins.</span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">As she fled fast through sun and shade,</span> +<span class="i0">The happy winds upon her played,</span> +<span class="i0">Blowing the ringlet from the braid:</span> +<span class="i0">She looked so lovely, as she swayed</span> +<span class="i6">The rein with dainty finger-tips,</span> +<span class="i0">A man had given all other bliss,</span> +<span class="i0">And all his worldly worth for this,</span> +<span class="i0">To waste his whole heart in one kiss</span> +<span class="i4">Upon her perfect lips.</span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i10"><i>Alfred Tennyson.</i></span> +</div></div> + + + +<hr class="chap" /> +<h2>THE KING OF DENMARK'S RIDE.</h2> + + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Word was brought to the Danish king,</span> +<span class="i4">Hurry!</span> +<span class="i0">That the love of his heart lay suffering,</span> +<span class="i0">And pined for the comfort his voice would bring;</span> +<span class="i2">O, ride as though you were flying!</span> +<span class="i0">Better he loves each golden curl</span> +<span class="i0">On the brow of that Scandinavian girl</span> +<span class="i0">Than his rich crown jewels of ruby and pearl;</span> +<span class="i2">And his rose of the isles is dying!</span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Thirty nobles saddled with speed;</span> +<span class="i4">Hurry!</span> +<span class="i0">Each one mounting a gallant steed</span> +<span class="i0">Which he kept for battle and days of need;</span><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_18" id="Page_18">[Pg 18]</a></span> +<span class="i2">O, ride as though you were flying!</span> +<span class="i0">Spurs were struck in the foaming flank;</span> +<span class="i0">Worn-out chargers staggered and sank;</span> +<span class="i0">Bridles were slackened, and girths were burst;</span> +<span class="i0">But ride as they would, the king rode first,</span> +<span class="i2">For his rose of the isles lay dying!</span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">His nobles are beaten, one by one;</span> +<span class="i4">Hurry!</span> +<span class="i0">They have fainted, and faltered, and homeward gone;</span> +<span class="i0">His little fair page now follows alone,</span> +<span class="i2">For strength and for courage trying!</span> +<span class="i0">The king looked back at that faithful child;</span> +<span class="i0">Wan was the face that answering smiled;</span> +<span class="i0">They passed the drawbridge with clattering din,</span> +<span class="i0">Then he dropped; and only the king rode in</span> +<span class="i2">Where his rose of the isles lay dying!</span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">The king blew a blast on his bugle-horn;</span> +<span class="i4">Silence!</span> +<span class="i0">No answer came; but faint and forlorn</span> +<span class="i0">An echo returned on the cold gray morn,</span> +<span class="i2">Like the breath of a spirit sighing.</span> +<span class="i0">The castle portal stood grimly wide;</span> +<span class="i0">None welcomed the king from that weary ride;</span> +<span class="i0">For dead, in the light of the dawning day,</span> +<span class="i0">The pale sweet form of the welcomer lay,</span> +<span class="i2">Who had yearned for his voice while dying!</span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">The panting steed, with a drooping crest,</span> +<span class="i4">Stood weary.</span> +<span class="i0">The king returned from her chamber of rest,</span><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_19" id="Page_19">[Pg 19]</a></span> +<span class="i0">The thick sobs choking in his breast;</span> +<span class="i2">And, that dumb companion eying,</span> +<span class="i0">The tears gushed forth which he strove to check;</span> +<span class="i0">He bowed his head on his charger's neck;</span> +<span class="i0">"O steed, that every nerve didst strain,</span> +<span class="i0">Dear steed, our ride hath been in vain</span> +<span class="i2">To the halls where my love lay dying!"</span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i10"><i>Hon. Caroline Norton.</i></span> +</div></div> + + + +<hr class="chap" /> +<h2>RHYME OF THE DUCHESS MAY.</h2> + + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Broad the forests stood (I read) on the hills of Linteged—</span> +<span class="i18"><i>Toll slowly.</i></span> +<span class="i0">And three hundred years had stood mute adown each hoary wood,</span> +<span class="i8">Like a full heart having prayed.</span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">And the little birds sang east, and the little birds sang west,—</span> +<span class="i18"><i>Toll slowly.</i></span> +<span class="i0">And but little thought was theirs of the silent antique years,</span> +<span class="i8">In the building of their nest.</span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Down the sun dropt large and red, on the towers of Linteged,—</span> +<span class="i18"><i>Toll slowly.</i></span> +<span class="i0">Lance and spear upon the height, bristling strange in fiery light,</span><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_20" id="Page_20">[Pg 20]</a></span> +<span class="i8">While the castle stood in shade.</span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">There, the castle stood up black, with the red sun at its back,—</span> +<span class="i18"><i>Toll slowly.</i></span> +<span class="i0">Like a sullen smouldering pyre, with a top that flickers fire,</span> +<span class="i8">When the wind is on its track.</span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">And five hundred archers tall did besiege the castle wall,—</span> +<span class="i18"><i>Toll slowly.</i></span> +<span class="i0">And the castle seethed in blood, fourteen days and nights had stood,</span> +<span class="i8">And to-night, was near its fall.</span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Yet thereunto, blind to doom, three months since, a bride did come,—</span> +<span class="i18"><i>Toll slowly.</i></span> +<span class="i0">One who proudly trod the floors, and softly whispered in the doors,</span> +<span class="i8">"May good angels bless our home."</span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Oh, a bride of queenly eyes, with a front of constancies,—</span> +<span class="i18"><i>Toll slowly.</i></span> +<span class="i0">Oh, a bride of cordial mouth,—where the untired smile of youth</span> +<span class="i8">Did light outward its own sighs.</span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">'Twas a Duke's fair orphan-girl, and her uncle's ward, the Earl,</span><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_21" id="Page_21">[Pg 21]</a></span> +<span class="i18"><i>Toll slowly.</i></span> +<span class="i0">Who betrothed her, twelve years old, for the sake of dowry gold,</span> +<span class="i8">To his son Lord Leigh, the churl.</span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">But what time she had made good all her years of womanhood,</span> +<span class="i18"><i>Toll slowly.</i></span> +<span class="i0">Unto both those Lords of Leigh, spake she out right sovranly,</span> +<span class="i8">"My will runneth as my blood.</span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"And while this same blood makes red this same right hand's veins," she said,—</span> +<span class="i18"><i>Toll slowly.</i></span> +<span class="i0">"'Tis my will as lady free, not to wed a Lord of Leigh,</span> +<span class="i8">But Sir Guy of Linteged."</span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">The old Earl he smiled smooth, then he sighed for willful youth,—</span> +<span class="i18"><i>Toll slowly.</i></span> +<span class="i0">"Good my niece, that hand withal looketh somewhat soft and small</span> +<span class="i8">For so large a will, in sooth."</span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">She, too, smiled by that same sign,—but her smile was cold and fine,—</span> +<span class="i18"><i>Toll slowly.</i></span> +<span class="i0">"Little hand clasps muckle gold, or it were not worth the hold</span><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_22" id="Page_22">[Pg 22]</a></span> +<span class="i8">Of thy son, good uncle mine!"</span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Then the young lord jerked his breath, and sware thickly in his teeth,—</span> +<span class="i18"><i>Toll slowly.</i></span> +<span class="i0">"He would wed his own betrothed, an she loved him an she loathed,</span> +<span class="i8">Let the life come or the death."</span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Up she rose with scornful eyes, as her father's child might rise,—</span> +<span class="i18"><i>Toll slowly.</i></span> +<span class="i0">"Thy hound's blood, my Lord of Leigh, stains thy knightly heel," quoth she,</span> +<span class="i8">"And he moans not where he lies.</span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"But a woman's will dies hard, in the hall or on the sward!"—</span> +<span class="i18"><i>Toll slowly.</i></span> +<span class="i0">"By that grave, my lords, which made me orphaned girl and dowered lady,</span> +<span class="i8">I deny you wife and ward."</span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Unto each she bowed her head, and swept past with lofty tread.</span> +<span class="i18"><i>Toll slowly.</i></span> +<span class="i0">Ere the midnight-bell had ceased, in the chapel had the priest</span> +<span class="i8">Blessed her, bride of Linteged.</span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Fast and fain the bridal train along the night-storm rode amain:—</span><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_23" id="Page_23">[Pg 23]</a></span> +<span class="i18"><i>Toll slowly.</i></span> +<span class="i0">Hard the steeds of lord and serf struck their hoofs out on the turf,</span> +<span class="i8">In the pauses of the rain.</span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Fast and fain the kinsmen's train along the storm pursued amain—</span> +<span class="i18"><i>Toll slowly.</i></span> +<span class="i0">Steed on steed-track, dashing off—thickening, doubling, hoof on hoof,</span> +<span class="i8">In the pauses of the rain.</span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">And the bridegroom led the flight on his red-roan steed of might,—</span> +<span class="i18"><i>Toll slowly.</i></span> +<span class="i0">And the bride lay on his arm, still, as if she feared no harm,</span> +<span class="i8">Smiling out into the night.</span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"Dost thou fear?" he said at last;—"Nay!" she answered him in haste,—</span> +<span class="i18"><i>Toll slowly.</i></span> +<span class="i0">"Not such death as we could find—only life with one behind—</span> +<span class="i8">Ride on fast as fear—ride fast!"</span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Up the mountain wheeled the steed—girth to ground, and fetlocks spread,—</span> +<span class="i18"><i>Toll slowly.</i></span> +<span class="i0">Headlong bounds, and rocking flanks,—down he staggered—down the banks,</span><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_24" id="Page_24">[Pg 24]</a></span> +<span class="i8">To the towers of Linteged.</span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">High and low the serfs looked out, red the flambeaus tossed about,—</span> +<span class="i18"><i>Toll slowly.</i></span> +<span class="i0">In the courtyard rose the cry—"Live the Duchess and Sir Guy!"</span> +<span class="i8">But she never heard them shout.</span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">On the steed she dropt her cheek, kissed his mane and kissed his neck,—</span> +<span class="i18"><i>Toll slowly.</i></span> +<span class="i0">"I had happier died by thee, than lived on a Lady Leigh,"</span> +<span class="i8">Were the first words she did speak.</span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">But a three months' joyaunce lay 'twixt that moment and to-day,—</span> +<span class="i18"><i>Toll slowly.</i></span> +<span class="i0">When five hundred archers tall stand beside the castle wall,</span> +<span class="i8">To recapture Duchess May.</span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">And the castle standeth black, with the red sun at its back,—</span> +<span class="i18"><i>Toll slowly.</i></span> +<span class="i0">And a fortnight's siege is done—and, except the Duchess, none</span> +<span class="i8">Can misdoubt the coming wrack.</span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">*....*....*....*</span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Oh, the little birds sang east, and the little birds sang west,—</span><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_25" id="Page_25">[Pg 25]</a></span> +<span class="i18"><i>Toll slowly.</i></span> +<span class="i0">On the tower the castle's lord leant in silence on his sword,</span> +<span class="i8">With an anguish in his breast.</span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">With a spirit-laden weight, did he lean down passionate.—</span> +<span class="i18"><i>Toll slowly.</i></span> +<span class="i0">They have almost sapped the wall,—they will enter therewithal,</span> +<span class="i8">With no knocking at the gate.</span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Then the sword he leant upon, shivered—snapped upon the stone,—</span> +<span class="i18"><i>Toll slowly.</i></span> +<span class="i0">"Sword," he thought, with inward laugh, "ill thou servest for a staff</span> +<span class="i8">When thy nobler use is done!</span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"Sword, thy nobler use is done!—tower is lost, and shame begun"—</span> +<span class="i18"><i>Toll slowly.</i></span> +<span class="i0">"If we met them in the breach, hilt to hilt or speech to speech,</span> +<span class="i8">We should die there, each for one.</span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"If we met them at the wall, we should singly, vainly fall,"—</span> +<span class="i18"><i>Toll slowly.</i></span> +<span class="i0">"But if <i>I</i> die here alone,—then I die, who am but one,</span><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_26" id="Page_26">[Pg 26]</a></span> +<span class="i8">And die nobly for them all.</span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"Five true friends lie for my sake,—in the moat and in the brake,"—</span> +<span class="i18"><i>Toll slowly.</i></span> +<span class="i0">"Thirteen warriors lie at rest, with a black wound in the breast,</span> +<span class="i8">And not one of these will wake.</span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"And no more of this shall be!—heart-blood weighs too heavily,"—</span> +<span class="i18"><i>Toll slowly.</i></span> +<span class="i0">"And I could not sleep in grave, with the faithful and the brave</span> +<span class="i8">Heaped around and over me.</span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"Since young Clare a mother hath, and young Ralph a plighted faith,"—</span> +<span class="i18"><i>Toll slowly.</i></span> +<span class="i0">"Since my pale young sister's cheeks blush like rose when Ronald speaks,</span> +<span class="i8">Albeit never a word she saith—</span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"These shall never die for me—life-blood falls too heavily."—</span> +<span class="i18"><i>Toll slowly.</i></span> +<span class="i0">"And if <i>I</i> die here apart,—o'er my dead and silent heart</span> +<span class="i8">They shall pass out safe and free.</span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"When the foe hath heard it said—'Death holds Guy of Linteged,'"—</span><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_27" id="Page_27">[Pg 27]</a></span> +<span class="i18"><i>Toll slowly.</i></span> +<span class="i0">"That new corse new peace shall bring, and a blessed, blessed thing</span> +<span class="i8">Shall the stone be at its head.</span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"Then my friends shall pass out free, and shall bear my memory,"—</span> +<span class="i18"><i>Toll slowly.</i></span> +<span class="i0">"Then my foes shall sleek their pride, soothing fair my widowed bride</span> +<span class="i8">Whose sole sin was love of me.</span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"With their words all smooth and sweet, they will front her and entreat,"—</span> +<span class="i18"><i>Toll slowly.</i></span> +<span class="i0">"And their purple pall will spread underneath her fainting head</span> +<span class="i8">While her tears drop over it.</span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"She will weep her woman's tears, she will pray her woman's prayers,"—</span> +<span class="i18"><i>Toll slowly.</i></span> +<span class="i0">"But her heart is young in pain, and her hopes will spring again</span> +<span class="i8">By the suntime of her years.</span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"Ah, sweet May—ah, sweetest grief!—once I vowed thee my belief,"—</span> +<span class="i18"><i>Toll slowly.</i></span> +<span class="i0">"That thy name expressed thy sweetness,—May of poets, in completeness!</span><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_28" id="Page_28">[Pg 28]</a></span> +<span class="i8">Now my May-day seemeth brief."</span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">All these silent thoughts did swim o'er his eyes grown strange and dim,—</span> +<span class="i18"><i>Toll slowly.</i></span> +<span class="i0">Till his true men in the place wished they stood there face to face</span> +<span class="i8">With the foe instead of him.</span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"One last oath, my friends that wear faithful hearts to do and dare!"</span> +<span class="i18"><i>Toll slowly.</i></span> +<span class="i0">"Tower must fall, and bride be lost!—swear me service worth the cost!"</span> +<span class="i8">—Bold they stood around to swear.</span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"Each man clasp my hand and swear, by the deed we failed in there,"—</span> +<span class="i18"><i>Toll slowly.</i></span> +<span class="i0">"Not for vengeance, not for right, will ye strike one blow to-night!"—</span> +<span class="i8">Pale they stood around—to swear.</span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"One last boon, young Ralph and Clare! faithful hearts to do and dare!"—</span> +<span class="i18"><i>Toll slowly.</i></span> +<span class="i0">"Bring that steed up from his stall, which she kissed before you all,—</span> +<span class="i8">Guide him up the turret-stair.</span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"Ye shall harness him aright, and lead upward to this height!"—</span><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_29" id="Page_29">[Pg 29]</a></span> +<span class="i18"><i>Toll slowly.</i></span> +<span class="i0">"Once in love and twice in war, hath he borne me strong and far,</span> +<span class="i8">He shall bear me far to-night."</span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Then his men looked to and fro, when they heard him speaking so.—</span> +<span class="i18"><i>Toll slowly.</i></span> +<span class="i0">—"'Las! the noble heart," they thought,—"he in sooth is grief-distraught.</span> +<span class="i8">Would, we stood here with the foe!"</span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">But a fire flashed from his eye, 'twixt their thought and their reply,—</span> +<span class="i18"><i>Toll slowly.</i></span> +<span class="i0">"Have ye so much time to waste? We who ride here, must ride fast,</span> +<span class="i8">As we wish our foes to fly."</span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">They have fetched the steed with care, in the harness he did wear,—</span> +<span class="i18"><i>Toll slowly.</i></span> +<span class="i0">Past the court and through the doors, across the rushes of the floors,</span> +<span class="i8">But they goad him up the stair.</span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Then from out her bower chambère, did the Duchess May repair.—</span> +<span class="i18"><i>Toll slowly.</i></span> +<span class="i0">"Tell me now what is your need," said the lady, "of this steed,</span><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_30" id="Page_30">[Pg 30]</a></span> +<span class="i8">That ye goad him up the stair?"</span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Calm she stood; unbodkined through, fell her dark hair to her shoe,—</span> +<span class="i18"><i>Toll slowly.</i></span> +<span class="i0">And the smile upon her face, ere she left the tiring-glass,</span> +<span class="i8">Had not time enough to go.</span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"Get thee back, sweet Duchess May! hope is gone like yesterday,"—</span> +<span class="i18"><i>Toll slowly.</i></span> +<span class="i0">"One half-hour completes the breach; and thy lord grows wild of speech,—</span> +<span class="i8">Get thee in, sweet lady, and pray.</span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"In the east tower, high'st of all,—loud he cries for steed from stall."—</span> +<span class="i18"><i>Toll slowly.</i></span> +<span class="i0">"He would ride as far," quoth he, "as for love and victory,</span> +<span class="i8">Though he rides the castle-wall.</span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"And we fetch the steed from stall, up where never a hoof did fall."—</span> +<span class="i18"><i>Toll slowly.</i></span> +<span class="i0">"Wifely prayer meets deathly need! may the sweet Heavens hear thee plead</span> +<span class="i8">If he rides the castle-wall."</span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Low she dropt her head, and lower, till her hair coiled on the floor,—</span><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_31" id="Page_31">[Pg 31]</a></span> +<span class="i18"><i>Toll slowly.</i></span> +<span class="i0">And tear after tear you heard, fall distinct as any word</span> +<span class="i8">Which you might be listening for.</span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"Get thee in, thou soft ladye!—here, is never a place for thee!"—</span> +<span class="i18"><i>Toll slowly.</i></span> +<span class="i0">"Braid thine hair and clasp thy gown, that thy beauty in its moan</span> +<span class="i8">May find grace with Leigh of Leigh."</span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">She stood up in bitter case, with a pale yet steady face,</span> +<span class="i18"><i>Toll slowly.</i></span> +<span class="i0">Like a statue thunderstruck, which, though quivering, seems to look</span> +<span class="i8">Right against the thunder-place.</span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">And her foot trod in, with pride, her own tears i' the stone beside,—</span> +<span class="i18"><i>Toll slowly.</i></span> +<span class="i0">"Go to, faithful friends, go to!—Judge no more what ladies do,—</span> +<span class="i8">No, nor how their lords may ride!"</span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Then the good steed's rein she took, and his neck did kiss and stroke:—</span> +<span class="i18"><i>Toll slowly.</i></span> +<span class="i0">Soft he neighed to answer her, and then followed up the stair,</span><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_32" id="Page_32">[Pg 32]</a></span> +<span class="i8">For the love of her sweet look.</span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Oh, and steeply, steeply wound up the narrow stair around,—</span> +<span class="i18"><i>Toll slowly.</i></span> +<span class="i0">Oh, and closely, closely speeding, step by step beside her treading,—</span> +<span class="i8">Did he follow, meek as hound.</span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">On the east tower, high'st of all,—there, where never a hoof did fall,—</span> +<span class="i18"><i>Toll slowly.</i></span> +<span class="i0">Out they swept, a vision steady,—noble steed and lovely lady,</span> +<span class="i8">Calm as if in bower or stall.</span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Down she knelt at her lord's knee, and she looked up silently,—</span> +<span class="i18"><i>Toll slowly.</i></span> +<span class="i0">And he kissed her twice and thrice, for that look within her eyes</span> +<span class="i8">Which he could not bear to see.</span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Quoth he, "Get thee from this strife,—and the sweet saints bless thy life!"—</span> +<span class="i18"><i>Toll slowly.</i></span> +<span class="i0">"In this hour, I stand in need of my noble red-roan steed—</span> +<span class="i8">But no more of my noble wife."</span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Quoth she, "Meekly have I done all thy biddings under sun:"—</span><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_33" id="Page_33">[Pg 33]</a></span> +<span class="i18"><i>Toll slowly.</i></span> +<span class="i0">"But by all my womanhood, which is proved so true and good,</span> +<span class="i8">I will never do this one.</span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"Now by womanhood's degree, and by wifehood's verity,"—</span> +<span class="i18"><i>Toll slowly.</i></span> +<span class="i0">"In this hour if thou hast need of thy noble red-roan steed,</span> +<span class="i8">Thou hast also need of <i>me</i>.</span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"By this golden ring ye see on this lifted hand pardiè,"—</span> +<span class="i18"><i>Toll slowly.</i></span> +<span class="i0">"If, this hour, on castle-wall, can be room for steed from stall,</span> +<span class="i8">Shall be also room for <i>me</i>.</span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"So the sweet saints with me be" (did she utter solemnly),—</span> +<span class="i18"><i>Toll slowly.</i></span> +<span class="i0">"If a man, this eventide, on this castle wall will ride,</span> +<span class="i8">He shall ride the same with <i>me</i>."</span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Oh, he sprang up in the selle, and he laughed out bitter-well,—</span> +<span class="i18"><i>Toll slowly.</i></span> +<span class="i0">"Wouldst thou ride among the leaves, as we used on other eves,</span><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_34" id="Page_34">[Pg 34]</a></span> +<span class="i8">To hear chime a vesper-bell?"</span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">She clang closer to his knee—"Ay, beneath the cypress-tree!"—</span> +<span class="i18"><i>Toll slowly.</i></span> +<span class="i0">"Mock me not, for otherwhere than along the greenwood fair,</span> +<span class="i8">Have I ridden fast with thee!</span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"Fast I rode with new-made vows, from my angry kinsman's house!"</span> +<span class="i18"><i>Toll slowly.</i></span> +<span class="i0">"What! and would you men should reck that I dared more for love's sake</span> +<span class="i8">As a bride than as a spouse?</span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"What, and would you it should fall, as a proverb, before all,"—</span> +<span class="i18"><i>Toll slowly.</i></span> +<span class="i0">"That a bride may keep your side while through castle-gate you ride,</span> +<span class="i8">Yet eschew the castle-wall?"</span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Ho! the breach yawns into ruin, and roars up against her suing,—</span> +<span class="i18"><i>Toll slowly.</i></span> +<span class="i0">With the inarticulate din, and the dreadful falling in—</span> +<span class="i8">Shrieks of doing and undoing!</span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Twice he wrung her hands in twain, but the small hands closed again,—</span><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_35" id="Page_35">[Pg 35]</a></span> +<span class="i18"><i>Toll slowly.</i></span> +<span class="i0">Back he reined the steed—back, back! but she trailed along his track</span> +<span class="i8">With a frantic clasp and strain.</span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Evermore the foemen pour through the crash of window and door,—</span> +<span class="i18"><i>Toll slowly.</i></span> +<span class="i0">And the shouts of Leigh and Leigh, and the shrieks of "kill!" and "flee!"</span> +<span class="i8">Strike up clear amid the roar.</span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Thrice he wrung her hands in twain,—but they closed and clung again,—</span> +<span class="i18"><i>Toll slowly.</i></span> +<span class="i0">Wild she clung, as one, withstood, clasps a Christ upon the rood,</span> +<span class="i8">In a spasm of deathly pain.</span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">She clung wild and she clung mute,—with her shuddering lips half-shut,—</span> +<span class="i18"><i>Toll slowly.</i></span> +<span class="i0">Her head fallen as half in swound,—hair and knee swept on the ground,—</span> +<span class="i8">She clung wild to stirrup and foot.</span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Back he reined his steed back-thrown on the slippery coping-stone,—</span> +<span class="i18"><i>Toll slowly.</i></span> +<span class="i0">Back the iron hoofs did grind on the battlement behind,</span><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_36" id="Page_36">[Pg 36]</a></span> +<span class="i8">Whence a hundred feet went down.</span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">And his heel did press and goad on the quivering flank bestrode,</span> +<span class="i18"><i>Toll slowly.</i></span> +<span class="i0">"Friends, and brothers! save my wife!—Pardon, sweet, in change for life,—</span> +<span class="i8">But I ride alone to God."</span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Straight as if the Holy name had upbreathed her like a flame,—</span> +<span class="i18"><i>Toll slowly.</i></span> +<span class="i0">She upsprang, she rose upright,—in his selle she sate in sight,</span> +<span class="i8">By her love she overcame.</span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">And her head was on his breast, where she smiled as one at rest,—</span> +<span class="i18"><i>Toll slowly.</i></span> +<span class="i0">"Ring," she cried, "O vesper-bell, in the beechwood's old chapelle!</span> +<span class="i8">But the passing-bell rings best."</span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">They have caught out at the rein, which Sir Guy threw loose—in vain,—</span> +<span class="i18"><i>Toll slowly.</i></span> +<span class="i0">For the horse in stark despair, with his front hoofs poised in air,</span> +<span class="i8">On the last verge rears amain.</span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Now he hangs, the rocks between—and his nostrils curdle in,—</span><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_37" id="Page_37">[Pg 37]</a></span> +<span class="i18"><i>Toll slowly.</i></span> +<span class="i0">Now he shivers head and hoof—and the flakes of foam fall off;</span> +<span class="i8">And his face grows fierce and thin!</span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">And a look of human woe from his staring eyes did go,—</span> +<span class="i18"><i>Toll slowly</i>.</span> +<span class="i0">And a sharp cry uttered he, in a foretold agony</span> +<span class="i8">Of the headlong death below,——</span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">And, "Ring, ring, thou passing-bell," still she cried, "i' the old chapelle!"—</span> +<span class="i18"><i>Toll slowly</i>.</span> +<span class="i0">Then back-toppling, crashing back,—a dead weight flung out to wrack,</span> +<span class="i8">Horse and riders overfell.</span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i10"><i>Elizabeth Barrett Browning.</i></span> +</div></div> + + + +<hr class="chap" /> +<h2>IRMINGARD'S ESCAPE.</h2> + + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">I am the Lady Irmingard,</span> +<span class="i0">Born of a noble race and name!</span> +<span class="i0">Many a wandering Suabian bard,</span> +<span class="i0">Whose life was dreary and bleak and hard,</span> +<span class="i0">Has found through me the way to fame.</span> +<span class="i0">Brief and bright were those days, and the night</span> +<span class="i0">Which followed was full of a lurid light.</span> +<span class="i0">Love, that of every woman's heart</span> +<span class="i0">Will have the whole, and not a part,</span> +<span class="i0">That is to her, in Nature's plan,</span><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_38" id="Page_38">[Pg 38]</a></span> +<span class="i0">More than ambition is to man,</span> +<span class="i0">Her light, her life, her very breath,</span> +<span class="i0">With no alternative but death,</span> +<span class="i0">Found me a maiden soft and young,</span> +<span class="i0">Just from the convent's cloistered school,</span> +<span class="i0">And seated on my lowly stool,</span> +<span class="i0">Attentive while the minstrels sung.</span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Gallant, graceful, gentle, tall,</span> +<span class="i0">Fairest, noblest, best of all,</span> +<span class="i0">Was Walter of the Vogelweid;</span> +<span class="i0">And, whatsoever may betide,</span> +<span class="i0">Still I think of him with pride!</span> +<span class="i0">His song was of the summer-time,</span> +<span class="i0">The very birds sang in his rhyme;</span> +<span class="i0">The sunshine, the delicious air,</span> +<span class="i0">The fragrance of the flowers, were there;</span> +<span class="i0">And I grew restless as I heard,</span> +<span class="i0">Restless and buoyant as a bird,</span> +<span class="i0">Down soft, aerial currents sailing,</span> +<span class="i0">O'er blossomed orchards, and fields in bloom,</span> +<span class="i0">And through the momentary gloom</span> +<span class="i0">Of shadows o'er the landscape trailing,</span> +<span class="i0">Yielding and borne I knew not where,</span> +<span class="i0">But feeling resistance unavailing.</span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">And thus, unnoticed and apart,</span> +<span class="i0">And more by accident than choice,</span> +<span class="i0">I listened to that single voice</span> +<span class="i0">Until the chambers of my heart</span> +<span class="i0">Were filled with it by night and day.</span> +<span class="i0">One night—it was a night in May,—</span><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_39" id="Page_39">[Pg 39]</a></span> +<span class="i0">Within the garden, unawares,</span> +<span class="i0">Under the blossoms in the gloom,</span> +<span class="i0">I heard it utter my own name</span> +<span class="i0">With protestations and wild prayers;</span> +<span class="i0">And it rang through me, and became</span> +<span class="i0">Like the archangel's trump of doom,</span> +<span class="i0">Which the soul hears, and must obey;</span> +<span class="i0">And mine arose as from a tomb.</span> +<span class="i0">My former life now seemed to me</span> +<span class="i0">Such as hereafter death may be,</span> +<span class="i0">When in the great Eternity</span> +<span class="i0">We shall awake and find it day.</span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">It was a dream, and would not stay;</span> +<span class="i0">A dream, that in a single night</span> +<span class="i0">Faded and vanished out of sight.</span> +<span class="i0">My father's anger followed fast</span> +<span class="i0">This passion, as a freshening blast</span> +<span class="i0">Seeks out and fans the fire, whose rage</span> +<span class="i0">It may increase, but not assuage.</span> +<span class="i0">And he exclaimed: "No wandering bard</span> +<span class="i0">Shall win thy hand, O Irmingard!</span> +<span class="i0">For which Prince Henry of Hoheneck</span> +<span class="i0">By messenger and letter sues."</span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Gently, but firmly, I replied:</span> +<span class="i0">"Henry of Hoheneck I discard!</span> +<span class="i0">Never the hand of Irmingard</span> +<span class="i0">Shall lie in his as the hand of a bride!"</span> +<span class="i0">This said I, Walter, for thy sake;</span> +<span class="i0">This said I, for I could not choose.</span> +<span class="i0">After a pause, my father spake</span><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_40" id="Page_40">[Pg 40]</a></span> +<span class="i0">In that cold and deliberate tone</span> +<span class="i0">Which turns the hearer into stone,</span> +<span class="i0">And seems itself the act to be</span> +<span class="i0">That follows with such dread certainty;</span> +<span class="i0">"This, or the cloister and the veil!"</span> +<span class="i0">No other words than these he said,</span> +<span class="i0">But they were like a funeral wail;</span> +<span class="i0">My life was ended, my heart was dead.</span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">That night from the castle-gate went down,</span> +<span class="i0">With silent, slow, and stealthy pace,</span> +<span class="i0">Two shadows, mounted on shadowy steeds,</span> +<span class="i0">Taking the narrow path that leads</span> +<span class="i0">Into the forest dense and brown.</span> +<span class="i0">In the leafy darkness of the place,</span> +<span class="i0">One could not distinguish form nor face,</span> +<span class="i0">Only a bulk without a shape,</span> +<span class="i0">A darker shadow in the shade;</span> +<span class="i0">One scarce could say it moved or stayed.</span> +<span class="i0">Thus it was we made our escape!</span> +<span class="i0">A foaming brook, with many a bound,</span> +<span class="i0">Followed us like a playful hound;</span> +<span class="i0">Then leaped before us, and in the hollow</span> +<span class="i0">Paused, and waited for us to follow,</span> +<span class="i0">And seemed impatient, and afraid</span> +<span class="i0">That our tardy flight should be betrayed</span> +<span class="i0">By the sound our horses' hoof-beats made.</span> +<span class="i0">And when we reached the plain below,</span> +<span class="i0">We paused a moment and drew rein</span> +<span class="i0">To look back at the castle again;</span> +<span class="i0">And we saw the windows all aglow</span> +<span class="i0">With lights, that were passing to and fro;</span><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_41" id="Page_41">[Pg 41]</a></span> +<span class="i0">Our hearts with terror ceased to beat;</span> +<span class="i0">The brook crept silent to our feet;</span> +<span class="i0">We knew what most we feared to know.</span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Then suddenly horns began to blow;</span> +<span class="i0">And we heard a shout, and a heavy tramp,</span> +<span class="i0">And our horses snorted in the damp</span> +<span class="i0">Night-air of the meadows green and wide,</span> +<span class="i0">And in a moment, side by side,</span> +<span class="i0">So close, they must have seemed but one,</span> +<span class="i0">The shadows across the moonlight run,</span> +<span class="i0">And another came, and swept behind,</span> +<span class="i0">Like the shadow of clouds before the wind!</span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">How I remember that breathless flight</span> +<span class="i0">Across the moors, in the summer night!</span> +<span class="i0">How under our feet the long, white road</span> +<span class="i0">Backward like a river flowed,</span> +<span class="i0">Sweeping with it fences and hedges,</span> +<span class="i0">Whilst farther away, and overhead,</span> +<span class="i0">Paler than I, with fear and dread,</span> +<span class="i0">The moon fled with us, as we fled</span> +<span class="i0">Along the forest's jagged edges!</span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">All this I can remember well;</span> +<span class="i0">But of what afterwards befell</span> +<span class="i0">I nothing further can recall</span> +<span class="i0">Than a blind, desperate, headlong fall;</span> +<span class="i0">The rest is a blank and darkness all.</span> +<span class="i0">When I awoke out of this swoon,</span> +<span class="i0">The sun was shining, not the moon,</span> +<span class="i0">Making a cross upon the wall</span><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_42" id="Page_42">[Pg 42]</a></span> +<span class="i0">With the bars of my windows narrow and tall;</span> +<span class="i0">And I prayed to it, as I had been wont to pray,</span> +<span class="i0">From early childhood, day by day,</span> +<span class="i0">Each morning, as in bed I lay!</span> +<span class="i0">I was lying again in my own room!</span> +<span class="i0">And I thanked God, in my fever and pain,</span> +<span class="i0">That those shadows on the midnight plain</span> +<span class="i0">Were gone, and could not come again!</span> +<span class="i0">I struggled no longer with my doom!</span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i10"><i>Henry Wadsworth Longfellow.</i></span> +</div></div> + + +<hr class="chap" /> + +<h2>WILLIAM AND HELEN.</h2> + + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">From heavy dreams fair Helen rose,</span> +<span class="i2">And eyed the dawning red:</span> +<span class="i0">"Alas, my love, thou tarriest long!</span> +<span class="i2">O art thou false or dead?"—</span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">With gallant Fred'rick's princely power</span> +<span class="i2">He sought the bold Crusade;</span> +<span class="i0">But not a word from Judah's wars</span> +<span class="i2">Told Helen how he sped.</span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">With Paynim and with Saracen</span> +<span class="i2">At length a truce was made,</span> +<span class="i0">And every knight returned to dry</span> +<span class="i2">The tears his love had shed.</span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Our gallant host was homeward bound</span> +<span class="i2">With many a song of joy;</span> +<span class="i0">Green waved the laurel in each plume,</span><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_43" id="Page_43">[Pg 43]</a></span> +<span class="i2">The badge of victory.</span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">And old and young, and sire and son,</span> +<span class="i2">To meet them crowd the way,</span> +<span class="i0">With shouts and mirth and melody,</span> +<span class="i2">The debt of love to pay.</span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Full many a maid her true-love met,</span> +<span class="i2">And sobbed in his embrace,</span> +<span class="i0">And fluttering joy in tears and smiles</span> +<span class="i2">Arrayed full many a face.</span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Nor joy nor smile for Helen sad;</span> +<span class="i2">She sought the host in vain;</span> +<span class="i0">For none could tell her William's fate,</span> +<span class="i2">If faithless, or if slain.</span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">The martial band is past and gone;</span> +<span class="i2">She rends her raven hair,</span> +<span class="i0">And in distraction's bitter mood</span> +<span class="i2">She weeps with wild despair.</span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"O rise, my child," her mother said,</span> +<span class="i2">"Nor sorrow thus in vain;</span> +<span class="i0">A perjured lover's fleeting heart</span> +<span class="i2">No tears recall again."—</span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"O mother, what is gone, is gone,</span> +<span class="i2">What's lost forever lorn;</span> +<span class="i0">Death, death alone can comfort me;</span> +<span class="i2">O had I ne'er been born!</span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"O break, my heart,—O break at once!</span><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_44" id="Page_44">[Pg 44]</a></span> +<span class="i2">Drink my life-blood, Despair!</span> +<span class="i0">No joy remains on earth for me,</span> +<span class="i2">For me in heaven no share."—</span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"O enter not in judgment, Lord!"</span> +<span class="i2">The pious mother prays;</span> +<span class="i0">"Impute not guilt to thy frail child!</span> +<span class="i2">She knows not what she says.</span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"O say thy pater noster, child!</span> +<span class="i2">O turn to God and grace!</span> +<span class="i0">His will, that turned thy bliss to bale,</span> +<span class="i2">Can change thy bale to bliss."—</span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"O mother, mother, what is bliss?</span> +<span class="i2">O mother, what is bale?</span> +<span class="i0">My William's love was heaven on earth,</span> +<span class="i2">Without it earth is hell.</span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"Why should I pray to ruthless Heaven,</span> +<span class="i2">Since my loved William's slain?</span> +<span class="i0">I only prayed for William's sake,</span> +<span class="i2">And all my prayers were vain."—</span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"O take the sacrament, my child,</span> +<span class="i2">And check these tears that flow;</span> +<span class="i0">By resignation's humble prayer,</span> +<span class="i2">O hallowed be thy woe!"—</span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"No sacrament can quench this fire,</span> +<span class="i2">Or slake this scorching pain;</span> +<span class="i0">No sacrament can bid the dead</span><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_45" id="Page_45">[Pg 45]</a></span> +<span class="i2">Arise and live again.</span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"O break, my heart,—O break at once!</span> +<span class="i2">Be thou my god, Despair!</span> +<span class="i0">Heaven's heaviest blow has fallen on me,</span> +<span class="i2">And vain each fruitless prayer."—</span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"O enter not in judgment, Lord,</span> +<span class="i2">With thy frail child of clay!</span> +<span class="i0">She knows not what her tongue has spoke;</span> +<span class="i2">Impute it not, I pray!</span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"Forbear, my child, this desperate woe,</span> +<span class="i2">And turn to God and grace;</span> +<span class="i0">Well can devotion's heavenly glow</span> +<span class="i2">Convert thy bale to bliss."—</span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"O mother, mother, what is bliss?</span> +<span class="i2">O mother, what is bale?</span> +<span class="i0">Without my William what were heaven,</span> +<span class="i2">Or with him what were hell?"—</span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Wild she arraigns the eternal doom,</span> +<span class="i2">Upbraids each sacred power,</span> +<span class="i0">Till, spent, she sought her silent room,</span> +<span class="i2">All in the lonely tower.</span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">She beat her breast, she wrung her hands,</span> +<span class="i2">Till sun and day were o'er,</span> +<span class="i0">And through the glimmering lattice shone</span> +<span class="i2">The twinkling of the star.</span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Then, crash! the heavy drawbridge fell</span><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_46" id="Page_46">[Pg 46]</a></span> +<span class="i2">That o'er the moat was hung;</span> +<span class="i0">And, clatter! clatter! on its boards</span> +<span class="i2">The hoof of courser rung.</span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">The clank of echoing steel was heard</span> +<span class="i2">As off the rider bounded;</span> +<span class="i0">And slowly on the winding stair</span> +<span class="i2">A heavy footstep sounded.</span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">And hark! and hark! a knock—Tap! tap!</span> +<span class="i2">A rustling stifled noise;—</span> +<span class="i0">Door-latch and tinkling staples ring;—</span> +<span class="i2">At length a whispering voice.</span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"Awake, awake, arise, my love!</span> +<span class="i2">How, Helen, dost thou fare?</span> +<span class="i0">Wakest thou, or sleepest? laughest thou, or weepest?</span> +<span class="i2">Hast thought on me, my fair?"—</span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"My love! my love!—so late by night!—</span> +<span class="i2">I waked, I wept for thee:</span> +<span class="i0">Much have I borne since dawn of morn;</span> +<span class="i2">Where, William, couldst thou be!"—</span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"We saddle late—from Hungary</span> +<span class="i2">I rode since darkness fell;</span> +<span class="i0">And to its bourne we both return</span> +<span class="i2">Before the matin-bell."—</span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"O rest this night within my arms,</span> +<span class="i2">And warm thee in their fold!</span> +<span class="i0">Chill howls through hawthorn bush the wind:—</span><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_47" id="Page_47">[Pg 47]</a></span> +<span class="i2">My love is deadly cold."—</span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"Let the wind howl through hawthorn bush!</span> +<span class="i2">This night we must away;</span> +<span class="i0">The steed is wight, the spur is bright;</span> +<span class="i2">I cannot stay till day.</span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"Busk, busk, and boune!<a name="FNanchor_1_1" id="FNanchor_1_1"></a><a href="#Footnote_1_1" class="fnanchor">[1]</a> Thou mount'st behind</span> +<span class="i2">Upon my black barb steed:</span> +<span class="i0">O'er stock and stile, a hundred miles,</span> +<span class="i2">We haste to bridal bed."—</span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"To-night—to-night a hundred miles!—</span> +<span class="i2">O dearest William, stay!</span> +<span class="i0">The bell strikes twelve—dark, dismal hour?</span> +<span class="i2">O wait, my love, till day!"—</span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"Look here, look here—the moon shines clear—</span> +<span class="i2">Full fast I ween we ride;</span> +<span class="i0">Mount and away! for ere the day</span> +<span class="i2">We reach our bridal bed.</span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"The black barb snorts, the bridle rings;</span> +<span class="i2">Haste, busk, and boune, and seat thee!</span> +<span class="i0">The feast is made, the chamber spread,</span> +<span class="i2">The bridal guests await thee."—</span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Strong love prevailed: she busks, she bounes,</span> +<span class="i2">She mounts the barb behind,</span> +<span class="i0">And round her darling William's waist</span> +<span class="i2">Her lily arms she twines.</span> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_48" id="Page_48">[Pg 48]</a></span></div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">And, hurry! hurry! off they rode,</span> +<span class="i2">As fast as fast might be;</span> +<span class="i0">Spurned from the courser's thundering heels</span> +<span class="i2">The flashing pebbles flee.</span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">And on the right, and on the left,</span> +<span class="i2">Ere they could snatch a view,</span> +<span class="i0">Fast, fast each mountain, mead, and plain,</span> +<span class="i2">And cot, and castle, flew.</span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"Sit fast—dost fear?—The moon shines clear—</span> +<span class="i2">Fleet goes my barb—keep hold!</span> +<span class="i0">Fearest thou?"—"O no!" she faintly said;</span> +<span class="i2">"But why so stern and cold?</span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"What yonder rings? what yonder sings?</span> +<span class="i2">Why shrieks the owlet gray?"—</span> +<span class="i0">"'Tis death-bells' clang, 'tis funeral song,</span> +<span class="i2">The body to the clay.</span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"With song and clang, at morrow's dawn.</span> +<span class="i2">Ye may inter the dead:</span> +<span class="i0">To-night I ride, with my young bride,</span> +<span class="i2">To deck our bridal bed.</span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"Come with thy choir, thou coffined guest,</span> +<span class="i2">To swell our nuptial song!</span> +<span class="i0">Come, priest, to bless our marriage feast!</span> +<span class="i2">Come all, come all along!"—</span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Ceased clang and song; down sunk the bier;</span><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_49" id="Page_49">[Pg 49]</a></span> +<span class="i2">The shrouded corpse arose:</span> +<span class="i0">And, hurry, hurry! all the train</span> +<span class="i2">The thundering steed pursues.</span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">And, forward! forward! on they go;</span> +<span class="i2">High snorts the straining steed;</span> +<span class="i0">Thick pants the rider's laboring breath,</span> +<span class="i2">As headlong on they speed.</span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"O William, why this savage haste?</span> +<span class="i2">And where thy bridal bed?"—</span> +<span class="i0">"'Tis distant far, low, damp, and chill,</span> +<span class="i2">And narrow, trustless maid."—</span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"No room for me?"—"Enough for both;—</span> +<span class="i2">Speed, speed, my barb, thy course!"</span> +<span class="i0">O'er thundering bridge, through boiling surge,</span> +<span class="i2">He drove the furious horse.</span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Tramp! tramp! along the land they rode,</span> +<span class="i2">Splash! splash! along the sea;</span> +<span class="i0">The scourge is wight, the spur is bright,</span> +<span class="i2">The flashing pebbles flee.</span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Fled past on right and left how fast</span> +<span class="i2">Each forest, grove, and bower!</span> +<span class="i0">On right and left fled past how fast</span> +<span class="i2">Each city, town, and tower!</span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"Dost fear? dost fear? The moon shines clear,</span> +<span class="i2">Dost fear to ride with me?—</span> +<span class="i0">Hurrah! hurrah! the dead can ride!"</span><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_50" id="Page_50">[Pg 50]</a></span> +<span class="i2">"O William, let them be!—</span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"See there, see there! What yonder swings</span> +<span class="i2">And creaks 'mid whistling rain?"—</span> +<span class="i0">"Gibbet and steel, th' accursed wheel;</span> +<span class="i2">A murderer in his chain.—</span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"Hollo! thou felon, follow here:</span> +<span class="i2">To bridal bed we ride;</span> +<span class="i0">And thou shalt prance a fetter dance</span> +<span class="i2">Before me and my bride."—</span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">And, hurry! hurry! clash, clash, clash!</span> +<span class="i2">The wasted form descends;</span> +<span class="i0">And fleet as wind through hazel bush</span> +<span class="i2">The wild career attends.</span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Tramp! tramp! along the land they rode,</span> +<span class="i2">Splash! splash! along the sea;</span> +<span class="i0">The scourge is red, the spur drops blood,</span> +<span class="i2">The flashing pebbles flee.</span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">How fled what moonshine faintly showed!</span> +<span class="i2">How fled what darkness hid!</span> +<span class="i0">How fled the earth beneath their feet,</span> +<span class="i2">The heaven above their head!</span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"Dost fear? dost fear? The moon shines clear.</span> +<span class="i2">And well the dead can ride;</span> +<span class="i0">Does faithful Helen fear for them?"—</span> +<span class="i2">"O leave in peace the dead!"—</span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"Barb! Barb! methinks I hear the cock;</span><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_51" id="Page_51">[Pg 51]</a></span> +<span class="i2">The sand will soon be run:</span> +<span class="i0">Barb! Barb! I smell the morning air;</span> +<span class="i2">The race is well-nigh done."—</span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Tramp! tramp! along the land they rode;</span> +<span class="i2">Splash! splash! along the sea;</span> +<span class="i0">The scourge is red, the spur drops blood,</span> +<span class="i2">The flashing pebbles flee.</span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"Hurrah! hurrah! well ride the dead;</span> +<span class="i2">The bride, the bride is come;</span> +<span class="i0">And soon we reach the bridal bed,</span> +<span class="i2">For, Helen, here's my home."—</span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Reluctant on its rusty hinge</span> +<span class="i2">Revolved an iron door,</span> +<span class="i0">And by the pale moon's setting beam</span> +<span class="i2">Were seen a church and tower.</span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">With many a shriek and cry whiz round</span> +<span class="i2">The birds of midnight, scared;</span> +<span class="i0">And rustling like autumnal leaves</span> +<span class="i2">Unhallowed ghosts were heard.</span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">O'er many a tomb and tombstone pale</span> +<span class="i2">He spurred the fiery horse,</span> +<span class="i0">Till sudden at an open grave</span> +<span class="i2">He checked the wondrous course.</span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">The falling gauntlet quits the rein,</span> +<span class="i2">Down drops the casque of steel,</span> +<span class="i0">The cuirass leaves his shrinking side,</span><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_52" id="Page_52">[Pg 52]</a></span> +<span class="i2">The spur his gory heel.</span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">The eyes desert the naked skull,</span> +<span class="i2">The mouldering flesh the bone,</span> +<span class="i0">Till Helen's lily arms entwine</span> +<span class="i2">A ghastly skeleton.</span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">The furious barb snorts fire and foam,</span> +<span class="i2">And, with a fearful bound,</span> +<span class="i0">Dissolves at once in empty air,</span> +<span class="i2">And leaves her on the ground.</span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Half seen by fits, by fits half heard,</span> +<span class="i2">Pale spectres flit along,</span> +<span class="i0">Wheel round the maid in dismal dance,</span> +<span class="i2">And howl the funeral song:</span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"E'en when the heart's with anguish cleft,</span> +<span class="i2">Revere the doom of Heaven.</span> +<span class="i0">Her soul is from her body reft;</span> +<span class="i2">Her spirit be forgiven!"</span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i10"><i>Bürger's "Leonore"—Translated by Sir Walter Scott.</i></span> +</div></div> + +<div class="footnotes"><h3>FOOTNOTES:</h3> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_1_1" id="Footnote_1_1"></a><a href="#FNanchor_1_1"><span class="label">[1]</span></a> <i>Busk</i>—to dress. <i>Boune</i>—to prepare one's self for a +journey.</p></div></div> + + +<hr class="chap" /> + +<h2>THE GREETING ON KYNAST.</h2> + + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">She said: This narrow chamber is not for me the place,</span> +<span class="i4">Said the lady Kunigunde of Kynast!</span> +<span class="i0">'Tis pleasanter on horseback, I'll hie me to the chase,</span> +<span class="i4">Said the lady Kunigunde!</span><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_53" id="Page_53">[Pg 53]</a></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">She said: The knight who weds me, I do require of him,</span> +<span class="i4">Said the lady Kunigunde of Kynast!</span> +<span class="i0">To gallop round the Kynast and break not neck nor limb.</span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">A noble knight came forward and galloped round the wall;</span> +<span class="i4">The lady Kunigunde of Kynast,</span> +<span class="i0">The lady, without lifting a finger, saw him fall.</span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">And yet another galloped around the battlement;</span> +<span class="i4">The lady Kunigunde,</span> +<span class="i0">The lady saw him tumble, yet did she not relent.</span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">And rider after rider spurred round his snorting horse;</span> +<span class="i4">The lady Kunigunde</span> +<span class="i0">Saw him vanish o'er the rampart, and never felt remorse.</span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Long time the folly lasted, then came no rider more;</span> +<span class="i4">The lady Kunigunde,</span> +<span class="i0">They would not ride to win her, the trial was too sore.</span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">She stood upon her towers, she looked upon the land,</span> +<span class="i4">The lady Kunigunde of Kynast:</span><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_54" id="Page_54">[Pg 54]</a></span> +<span class="i0">I'm all alone at home here, will no one seek my hand?</span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Is there none will ride to win me, to win me for his bride,</span> +<span class="i4">The lady Kunigunde of Kynast?</span> +<span class="i0">O fie, the paltry rider who dreads the bridal ride!</span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Then out and spake from Thüringen the Landgrave Adelbert:</span> +<span class="i4">The lady Kunigunde of Kynast!</span> +<span class="i0">Well may the haughty damsel her worthiness assert.</span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">He trains his horse to gallop on narrow walls of stone;</span> +<span class="i3">The lady Kunigunde of Kynast!</span> +<span class="i0">The lady shall not see us break neck or limb or bone.</span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">See here, O noble lady, I'm he that dares the ride!</span> +<span class="i4">The lady Kunigunde,</span> +<span class="i0">She looks in thoughtful silence, to see him sit in pride.</span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">She saw him now make ready, then trembled she and sighed,</span> +<span class="i4">The lady Kunigunde:</span> +<span class="i0">Woe's me that I so fearful have made the bridal ride!</span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Then rode he round the Kynast; her face she turned away,</span><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_55" id="Page_55">[Pg 55]</a></span> +<span class="i4">The lady Kunigunde:</span> +<span class="i0">Woe 's me, the knight is riding down to his grave to-day!</span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">He rides around the Kynast, right round the narrow wall;</span> +<span class="i4">The lady Kunigunde!</span> +<span class="i0">She cannot stir for terror her lily hand at all.</span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">He rides around the Kynast, clear round the battlement;</span> +<span class="i4">The lady Kunigunde!</span> +<span class="i0">As if a breath might kill him, she held her breath suspent.</span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">He rode around the Kynast and straight to her rode he;</span> +<span class="i4">Said the lady Kunigunde of Kynast:</span> +<span class="i0">Thanks be to God in heaven, who gave thy life to thee!</span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Thanks be to God that into thy grave thou didst not ride!</span> +<span class="i4">Said the lady Kunigunde:</span> +<span class="i0">Come down from off thy horse now, O knight, unto thy bride!</span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Then spake the noble rider, and greeted, as he sate,</span> +<span class="i4">The lady Kunigunde:</span><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_56" id="Page_56">[Pg 56]</a></span> +<span class="i0">O trust a knight for horsemanship! well have I taught thee that.</span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Now wait till comes another who can the same thing do,</span> +<span class="i4">O lady Kunigunde of Kynast!</span> +<span class="i0">I've wife and child already, can be no spouse for you.</span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">He gave his steed the spur, now; rode back the way he came;</span> +<span class="i4">The lady Kunigunde!</span> +<span class="i0">The lady saw him vanish, she swooned with scorn and shame.</span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">And she remains a virgin, her pride had such a fall,</span> +<span class="i4">The lady Kunigunde!</span> +<span class="i0">Changed to a wooden image she stands in sight of all.</span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">An image, like a hedgehog, with spines for hair, is now</span> +<span class="i4">The lady Kunigunde of Kynast!</span> +<span class="i0">The stranger has to kiss it, who climbs the Kynast's brow.</span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">We bring it him to kiss it: and if it shocks his pride,</span> +<span class="i4">The lady Kunigunde of Kynast!</span> +<span class="i0">He must pay down his forfeit, who will not kiss the bride,</span> +<span class="i4">The lady Kunigunde!</span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i10"><i>Rückert. Tr. C. T. Brooks.</i></span> +</div></div> + + + +<hr class="chap" /><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_57" id="Page_57">[Pg 57]</a></span></p> +<h2>HARRAS, THE BOLD LEAPER.</h2> + + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">The world yet waited in shadowy light</span> +<span class="i2">The dawn of the rising day;</span> +<span class="i0">And scarcely yet had waked the night</span> +<span class="i2">From the slumber in which it lay.</span> +<span class="i0">But, hark! along the forest way</span> +<span class="i2">Unwonted echoes rung,</span> +<span class="i0">And all accoutred for the fray</span> +<span class="i2">A band of warriors sprung!</span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">And forth they rushed along the plain,</span> +<span class="i2">In thunder, to the fight;</span> +<span class="i0">And foremost of that martial train</span> +<span class="i2">Was Harras, the gallant knight.</span> +<span class="i0">They ride upon their secret way,</span> +<span class="i2">O'er forest and vale and down,</span> +<span class="i0">To reach their foe while yet 'tis day,</span> +<span class="i2">And storm his castled town.</span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">So sally they forth from the forest gloom;</span> +<span class="i2">But as they leave its shade</span> +<span class="i0">They rush, alas! to meet their doom,</span> +<span class="i2">And their progress is betrayed:</span> +<span class="i0">For suddenly bursts upon their rear</span> +<span class="i2">The foe, with twice their force;</span> +<span class="i0">Then out at once rush shield and spear,</span> +<span class="i2">And the charger flies on his course.</span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">And the wood in unwonted echoes rang</span><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_58" id="Page_58">[Pg 58]</a></span> +<span class="i2">With the sounds of that deadly fray,</span> +<span class="i0">And the sabre's clash and the helmet's clang</span> +<span class="i2">Is mixed with the courser's neigh.</span> +<span class="i0">A thousand wounds have dyed the field</span> +<span class="i2">Unheeded in the strife;</span> +<span class="i0">But not a man will ask to yield,</span> +<span class="i2">For freedom is dearer than life!</span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">But their stronger foes must win the day,</span> +<span class="i2">And the knights begin to fail;</span> +<span class="i0">For the sword hath swept their best array,</span> +<span class="i2">And superior powers prevail.</span> +<span class="i0">Unconquered alone, to a rocky height</span> +<span class="i2">Bold Harras fought his way;</span> +<span class="i0">And his brave steed carried him through the fight,</span> +<span class="i2">And bore him safe away.</span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">And he left the rein to that trusty steed,</span> +<span class="i2">And rode from the fatal fray;</span> +<span class="i0">But he gave to his erring path no heed,</span> +<span class="i2">And he missed the well-known way.</span> +<span class="i0">And when he heard the foemen near,</span> +<span class="i2">He sprang from the forest gloom;</span> +<span class="i0">But as soon as he reached the daylight clear,</span> +<span class="i2">He saw at once his doom!</span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">He had reached a frightful precipice,</span> +<span class="i2">Where he heard the deep waves roll;</span> +<span class="i0">For he stood on Zschopauthal's dread abyss,</span> +<span class="i2">And horror chilled his soul!</span> +<span class="i0">For on yonder bank he could espy</span> +<span class="i2">The remnant of his band;</span> +<span class="i0">And his heart impatient panted high,</span><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_59" id="Page_59">[Pg 59]</a></span> +<span class="i2">As they waved the friendly hand.</span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">And he longed, as he looked o'er that dreadful steep,</span> +<span class="i2">For wings to aid his flight;</span> +<span class="i0">For that cliff is full fifty fathoms deep,</span> +<span class="i2">And his horse drew back with fright.</span> +<span class="i0">And he saw, as he looked behind and below,</span> +<span class="i2">On either side his grave:</span> +<span class="i0">Behind him, from the coming foe;</span> +<span class="i2">Before him, in the wave!</span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">And he chooses 'twixt death from the foemen's hand,</span> +<span class="i2">Or death where the deep waves roll;</span> +<span class="i0">Then he boldly rides up to that rocky strand,</span> +<span class="i2">And commends to the Lord his soul!</span> +<span class="i0">And as nearer he hears the foemen ride,</span> +<span class="i2">He seeks the utmost steep;</span> +<span class="i0">And he plunges his spurs in his courser's side,</span> +<span class="i2">And dares the dreadful leap!</span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">And swiftly he sank through the yielding air,</span> +<span class="i2">And into the flood he fell;</span> +<span class="i0">His steed is dashed to atoms there,</span> +<span class="i2">But the knight lives safe and well!</span> +<span class="i0">And mid the plaudits of his band,</span> +<span class="i2">He stemmed the parting wave,</span> +<span class="i0">And soon in safety reached the land,</span> +<span class="i2">For Heaven will never forsake the brave!</span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i10"><i>Karl Theodor Körner. Tr. G. F. Richardson.</i></span> +</div></div> + + + +<hr class="chap" /><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_60" id="Page_60">[Pg 60]</a></span></p> +<h2>THE KNIGHT'S LEAP.</h2> + + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"So the foeman has fired the gate, men of mine,</span> +<span class="i2">And the water is spent and done;</span> +<span class="i0">Then bring me a cup of the red Ahr-wine;</span> +<span class="i2">I never shall drink but this one.</span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"And fetch me my harness, and saddle my horse,</span> +<span class="i2">And lead him me round to the door:</span> +<span class="i0">He must take such a leap to-night perforce</span> +<span class="i2">As horse never took before.</span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"I have lived by the saddle for years two score,</span> +<span class="i2">And if I must die on tree,</span> +<span class="i0">The old saddle-tree, which has borne me of yore,</span> +<span class="i2">Is the properest timber for me.</span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"I have lived my life, I have fought my fight,</span> +<span class="i2">I have drunk my share of wine;</span> +<span class="i0">From Trier to Cöln there was never a knight</span> +<span class="i2">Led a merrier life than mine.</span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"So now to show bishop and burgher and priest</span> +<span class="i2">How the Altenahr hawk can die,</span> +<span class="i0">If they smoke the old falcon out of his nest,</span> +<span class="i2">He must take to his wings and fly."</span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">He harnessed himself by the clear moonshine,</span> +<span class="i2">And he mounted his horse at the door,</span> +<span class="i0">And he drained such a cup of the red Ahr-wine</span><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_61" id="Page_61">[Pg 61]</a></span> +<span class="i2">As never man drained before.</span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">He spurred the old horse, and he held him tight,</span> +<span class="i2">And he leapt him out over the wall;</span> +<span class="i0">Out over the cliff, out into the night,</span> +<span class="i2">Three hundred feet of fall.</span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">They found him next morning below in the glen,</span> +<span class="i2">And never a bone in him whole;</span> +<span class="i0">But Heaven may yet have more mercy than men</span> +<span class="i2">On such a bold rider's soul.</span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i10"><i>Charles Kingsley.</i></span> +</div></div> + + +<hr class="chap" /> + +<h2>THE LEAP OF ROUSHAN BEG.</h2> + + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Mounted on Kyrat strong and fleet,</span> +<span class="i0">His chestnut steed with four white feet,</span> +<span class="i2">Roushan Beg, called Kurroglou,</span> +<span class="i0">Son of the road and bandit chief,</span> +<span class="i0">Seeking refuge and relief,</span> +<span class="i2">Up the mountain pathway flew.</span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Such was Kyrat's wondrous speed,</span> +<span class="i0">Never yet could any steed</span> +<span class="i2">Reach the dust-cloud in his course.</span> +<span class="i0">More than maiden, more than wife,</span> +<span class="i0">More than gold and next to life</span> +<span class="i2">Roushan the Robber loved his horse.</span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">In the land that lies beyond</span> +<span class="i0">Erzeroum and Trebizond,</span> +<span class="i2">Garden-girt his fortress stood;</span><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_62" id="Page_62">[Pg 62]</a></span> +<span class="i0">Plundered khan, or caravan</span> +<span class="i0">Journeying north from Koordistan,</span> +<span class="i2">Gave him wealth and wine and food.</span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Seven hundred and fourscore</span> +<span class="i0">Men at arms his livery wore,</span> +<span class="i2">Did his bidding night and day.</span> +<span class="i0">Now, through regions all unknown,</span> +<span class="i0">He was wandering, lost, alone,</span> +<span class="i2">Seeking without guide his way.</span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Suddenly the pathway ends,</span> +<span class="i0">Sheer the precipice descends,</span> +<span class="i2">Loud the torrent roars unseen;</span> +<span class="i0">Thirty feet from side to side</span> +<span class="i0">Yawns the chasm; on air must ride</span> +<span class="i2">He who crosses this ravine.</span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Following close in his pursuit,</span> +<span class="i0">At the precipice's foot,</span> +<span class="i2">Reyhan the Arab of Orfah</span> +<span class="i0">Halted with his hundred men,</span> +<span class="i0">Shouting upward from the glen,</span> +<span class="i2">"La Illáh illa Alláh!"</span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Gently Roushan Beg caressed</span> +<span class="i0">Kyrat's forehead, neck, and breast;</span> +<span class="i2">Kissed him upon both his eyes;</span> +<span class="i0">Sang to him in his wild way,</span> +<span class="i0">As upon the topmost spray</span> +<span class="i2">Sings a bird before it flies.</span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"O my Kyrat, O my steed,</span><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_63" id="Page_63">[Pg 63]</a></span> +<span class="i0">Round and slender as a reed,</span> +<span class="i2">Carry me this peril through!</span> +<span class="i0">Satin housings shall be thine.</span> +<span class="i0">Shoes of gold, O Kyrat mine,</span> +<span class="i2">O thou soul of Kurroglou!</span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"Soft thy skin as silken skein,</span> +<span class="i0">Soft as woman's hair thy mane,</span> +<span class="i2">Tender are thine eyes and true;</span> +<span class="i0">All thy hoofs like ivory shine,</span> +<span class="i0">Polished bright; O, life of mine,</span> +<span class="i2">Leap, and rescue Kurroglou!"</span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Kyrat, then, the strong and fleet,</span> +<span class="i0">Drew together his four white feet,</span> +<span class="i2">Paused a moment on the verge,</span> +<span class="i0">Measured with his eye the space,</span> +<span class="i0">And into the air's embrace</span> +<span class="i2">Leaped as leaps the ocean surge.</span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">As the ocean surge o'er sand</span> +<span class="i0">Bears a swimmer safe to land,</span> +<span class="i2">Kyrat safe his rider bore;</span> +<span class="i0">Rattling down the deep abyss</span> +<span class="i0">Fragments of the precipice</span> +<span class="i2">Rolled like pebbles on a shore.</span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Roushan's tasselled cap of red</span> +<span class="i0">Trembled not upon his head,</span> +<span class="i2">Careless sat he and upright;</span> +<span class="i0">Neither hand nor bridle shook,</span> +<span class="i0">Nor his head he turned to look,</span><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_64" id="Page_64">[Pg 64]</a></span> +<span class="i2">As he galloped out of sight.</span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Flash of harness in the air,</span> +<span class="i0">Seen a moment like the glare</span> +<span class="i2">Of a sword drawn from its sheath;</span> +<span class="i0">Thus the phantom horseman passed,</span> +<span class="i0">And the shadow that he cast</span> +<span class="i2">Leaped the cataract underneath.</span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Reyhan the Arab held his breath</span> +<span class="i0">While this vision of life and death</span> +<span class="i2">Passed above him. "Allahu!"</span> +<span class="i0">Cried he. "In all Koordistan</span> +<span class="i0">Lives there not so brave a man</span> +<span class="i2">As this Robber Kurroglou!"</span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i10"><i>H. W. Longfellow.</i></span> +</div></div> + + + +<hr class="chap" /> +<h2>ANNAN WATER.</h2> + + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"Annan water's wading deep,</span> +<span class="i2">And my love Annie's wondrous bonny;</span> +<span class="i0">And I am laith she suld weet her feet,</span> +<span class="i2">Because I love her best of ony.</span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"Gar saddle me the bonny black,</span> +<span class="i2">Gar saddle sune, and make him ready;</span> +<span class="i0">For I will down the Gatehope-Slack,</span> +<span class="i2">And all to see my bonny ladye."—</span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">He has loupen on the bonny black,</span> +<span class="i2">He stirr'd him wi' the spur right sairly;</span> +<span class="i0">But, or he wan the Gatehope-Slack,</span><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_65" id="Page_65">[Pg 65]</a></span> +<span class="i2">I think the steed was wae and weary.</span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">He has loupen on the bonny grey,</span> +<span class="i2">He rade the right gate and the ready;</span> +<span class="i0">I trow he would neither stint nor stay,</span> +<span class="i2">For he was seeking his bonny ladye.</span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">O he has ridden o'er field and fell,</span> +<span class="i2">Through muir and moss, and mony a mire:</span> +<span class="i0">His spurs o' steel were sair to bide,</span> +<span class="i2">And fra her fore-feet flew the fire.</span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"Now, bonny grey, now play your part!</span> +<span class="i2">Gin ye be the steed that wins my deary,</span> +<span class="i0">Wi' corn and hay ye'se be fed for aye,</span> +<span class="i2">And never spur sall make you wearie."—</span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">The grey was a mare, and a right good mare;</span> +<span class="i2">But when she wan the Annan water,</span> +<span class="i0">She couldna hae ridden a furlong mair,</span> +<span class="i2">Had a thousand merks been wadded at her.</span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"O boatman, boatman, put off your boat!</span> +<span class="i2">Put off your boat for gowden money!</span> +<span class="i0">I cross the drumly stream the night,</span> +<span class="i2">Or never mair I see my honey."—</span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"O I was sworn sae late yestreen,</span> +<span class="i2">And not by ae aith, but by many;</span> +<span class="i0">And for a' the gowd in fair Scotland,</span> +<span class="i2">I dare na take ye through to Annie."</span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">The side was stey, and the bottom deep,</span><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_66" id="Page_66">[Pg 66]</a></span> +<span class="i2">Frae bank to brae the water pouring;</span> +<span class="i0">And the bonny grey mare did sweat for fear,</span> +<span class="i2">For she heard the water-kelpy roaring.</span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">O he has pou'd aff his dapperpy coat,</span> +<span class="i2">The silver buttons glanced bonny;</span> +<span class="i0">The waistcoat bursted aff his breast,</span> +<span class="i2">He was sae full of melancholy.</span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">He has ta'en the ford at that stream tail;</span> +<span class="i2">I wot he swam both strong and steady;</span> +<span class="i0">But the stream was broad, and his strength did fail,</span> +<span class="i2">And he never saw his bonny ladye!</span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"O wae betide the frush saugh wand!</span> +<span class="i2">And wae betide the bush of brier!</span> +<span class="i0">It brake into my true love's hand,</span> +<span class="i2">When his strength did fail, and his limbs did tire.</span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"And wae betide ye, Annan Water,</span> +<span class="i2">This night that ye are a drumlie river!</span> +<span class="i0">For over thee I'll build a bridge,</span> +<span class="i2">That ye never more true love may sever."</span> +</div></div> + + +<hr class="chap" /> + +<h2>THOMAS THE RHYMER.</h2> + + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">True Thomas lay on Huntlie bank;<a name="FNanchor_2_2" id="FNanchor_2_2"></a><a href="#Footnote_2_2" class="fnanchor">[2]</a></span><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_67" id="Page_67">[Pg 67]</a></span> +<span class="i0">A ferlie<a name="FNanchor_3_3" id="FNanchor_3_3"></a><a href="#Footnote_3_3" class="fnanchor">[3]</a> he spied wi' his ee;</span> +<span class="i0">And there he saw a ladye bright,</span> +<span class="i2">Come riding down by the Eildon Tree.</span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Her shirt was o' the grass-green silk,</span> +<span class="i2">Her mantle o' the velvet fyne;</span> +<span class="i0">At ilka<a name="FNanchor_4_4" id="FNanchor_4_4"></a><a href="#Footnote_4_4" class="fnanchor">[4]</a> tett of her horse's mane,</span> +<span class="i2">Hung fifty siller bells and nine.</span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">True Thomas, he pulled aff his cap,</span> +<span class="i2">And louted<a name="FNanchor_5_5" id="FNanchor_5_5"></a><a href="#Footnote_5_5" class="fnanchor">[5]</a> low down to his knee,</span> +<span class="i0">"All hail, thou mighty Queen of Heaven!</span> +<span class="i2">For thy peer on earth I never did see."</span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"O no, O no, Thomas," she said,</span> +<span class="i2">"That name does not belang to me;</span> +<span class="i0">I am but the Queen of fair Elfland,</span> +<span class="i2">That am hither come to visit thee.</span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"Harp and carp, Thomas," she said;</span> +<span class="i2">"Harp and carp along wi' me;</span> +<span class="i0">And if ye dare to kiss my lips,</span> +<span class="i2">Sure of your bodie I will be."</span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"Betide me weal, betide me woe,</span> +<span class="i2">That weird<a name="FNanchor_6_6" id="FNanchor_6_6"></a><a href="#Footnote_6_6" class="fnanchor">[6]</a> shall never daunton me."—</span> +<span class="i0">Syne he has kiss'd her rosy lips,</span> +<span class="i2">All underneath the Eildon Tree.</span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"Now, ye maun go wi' me," she said;</span><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_68" id="Page_68">[Pg 68]</a></span> +<span class="i2">"True Thomas, ye maun go wi' me;</span> +<span class="i0">And ye maun serve me seven years,</span> +<span class="i2">Thro' weal or woe as may chance to be."</span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">She mounted on her milk-white steed;</span> +<span class="i2">She's ta'en true Thomas up behind:</span> +<span class="i0">And aye, whene'er her bridle rung,</span> +<span class="i2">The steed flew swifter than the wind.</span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">O they rade on, and farther on;</span> +<span class="i2">The steed gaed swifter than the wind;</span> +<span class="i0">Until they reached a desert wide,</span> +<span class="i2">And living land was left behind.</span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"Light down, light down, now, true Thomas,</span> +<span class="i2">And lean your head upon my knee;</span> +<span class="i0">Abide and rest a little space,</span> +<span class="i2">And I will show you ferlies<a name="FNanchor_7_7" id="FNanchor_7_7"></a><a href="#Footnote_7_7" class="fnanchor">[7]</a> three.</span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"O see ye not yon narrow road,</span> +<span class="i2">So thick beset with thorns and briers?</span> +<span class="i0">That is the path of righteousness,</span> +<span class="i2">Though after it but few inquires.</span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"And see ye not that braid braid road,</span> +<span class="i2">That lies across that lily leven?</span> +<span class="i0">That is the path of wickedness,</span> +<span class="i2">Though some call it the road to heaven.</span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"And see not ye that bonny road,</span> +<span class="i2">That winds about the fernie brae?</span> +<span class="i0">That is the road to fair Elfland,</span> +<span class="i2">Where thou and I this night maun gae.</span> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_69" id="Page_69">[Pg 69]</a></span></div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"But, Thomas, ye maun hold your tongue,</span> +<span class="i2">Whatever ye may hear or see;</span> +<span class="i0">For, if ye speak word in Elfyn land,</span> +<span class="i2">Ye'll ne'er get back to your ain countrie."</span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">O they rade on, and farther on,</span> +<span class="i2">And they waded through rivers aboon the knee,</span> +<span class="i0">And they saw neither sun nor moon,</span> +<span class="i2">But they heard the roaring of the sea.</span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">It was mirk mirk night, and there was nae stern light,</span> +<span class="i2">And they waded through red blude to the knee,</span> +<span class="i0">For a' the blude that's shed on earth</span> +<span class="i2">Rins through the springs o' that countrie.</span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Syne they came on to a garden green,</span> +<span class="i2">And she pu'd an apple frae a tree—</span> +<span class="i0">"Take this for thy wages, true Thomas;</span> +<span class="i2">It will give thee the tongue that can never lie."</span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"My tongue is mine ain," true Thomas said;</span> +<span class="i2">"A gudely gift ye wad gie to me!</span> +<span class="i0">I neither dought to buy nor sell,</span> +<span class="i2">At fair or tryst where I may be.</span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"I dought neither speak to prince or peer,</span> +<span class="i2">Nor ask of grace from fair ladye."</span> +<span class="i0">"Now hold thy peace!" the lady said,</span><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_70" id="Page_70">[Pg 70]</a></span> +<span class="i2">"For as I say, so must it be."</span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">He has gotten a coat of the even cloth,</span> +<span class="i2">And a pair of shoes of velvet green;</span> +<span class="i0">And till seven years were gane and past,</span> +<span class="i2">True Thomas on earth was never seen.</span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i10"><i>Walter Scott.</i></span> +</div></div> + +<div class="footnotes"><h3>FOOTNOTES:</h3> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_2_2" id="Footnote_2_2"></a><a href="#FNanchor_2_2"><span class="label">[2]</span></a> A spot afterwards included in the domain of Abbotsford.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_3_3" id="Footnote_3_3"></a><a href="#FNanchor_3_3"><span class="label">[3]</span></a> Wonder.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_4_4" id="Footnote_4_4"></a><a href="#FNanchor_4_4"><span class="label">[4]</span></a> Each.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_5_5" id="Footnote_5_5"></a><a href="#FNanchor_5_5"><span class="label">[5]</span></a> Bowed.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_6_6" id="Footnote_6_6"></a><a href="#FNanchor_6_6"><span class="label">[6]</span></a> Destiny shall not alarm me.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_7_7" id="Footnote_7_7"></a><a href="#FNanchor_7_7"><span class="label">[7]</span></a> Wonders.</p></div> +</div> + +<hr class="chap" /> + +<h2>THE GREEN GNOME.</h2> + +<h3>A MELODY.</h3> + + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Ring, sing! ring, sing! pleasant Sabbath bells!</span> +<span class="i0">Chime, rhyme! chime, rhyme! through dales and dells!</span> +<span class="i0">Rhyme, ring! chime, sing! pleasant Sabbath bells!</span> +<span class="i0">Chime, sing! rhyme, ring! over fields and fells!</span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">And I galloped and I galloped on my palfrey white as milk,</span> +<span class="i0">My robe was of the sea-green woof, my serk was of the silk;</span> +<span class="i0">My hair was golden-yellow, and it floated to my shoe;</span> +<span class="i0">My eyes were like two harebells bathed in little drops of dew;</span> +<span class="i0">My palfrey, never stopping, made a music sweetly blent</span> +<span class="i0">With the leaves of autumn dropping all around me as I went;</span> +<span class="i0">And I heard the bells, grown fainter, far behind me peal and play,</span><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_71" id="Page_71">[Pg 71]</a></span> +<span class="i0">Fainter, fainter, fainter, till they seemed to die away;</span> +<span class="i0">And beside a silver runnel, on a little heap of sand,</span> +<span class="i0">I saw the green gnome sitting, with his cheek upon his hand.</span> +<span class="i0">Then he started up to see me, and he ran with a cry and bound,</span> +<span class="i0">And drew me from my palfrey white and set me on the ground.</span> +<span class="i0">O crimson, crimson were his locks, his face was green to see,</span> +<span class="i0">But he cried, "O light-haired lassie, you are bound to marry me!"</span> +<span class="i0">He clasped me round the middle small, he kissed me on the cheek,</span> +<span class="i0">He kissed me once, he kissed me twice, I could not stir or speak;</span> +<span class="i0">He kissed me twice, he kissed me thrice; but when he kissed again,</span> +<span class="i0">I called aloud upon the name of Him who died for men.</span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Sing, sing! ring, ring! pleasant Sabbath bells!</span> +<span class="i0">Chime, rhyme! chime, rhyme! through dales and dells!</span> +<span class="i0">Rhyme, ring! chime, sing! pleasant Sabbath bells!</span> +<span class="i0">Chime, sing! rhyme, ring! over fields and fells!</span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">O faintly, faintly, faintly, calling men and maids to pray,</span><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_72" id="Page_72">[Pg 72]</a></span> +<span class="i0">So faintly, faintly, faintly rang the bells far away;</span> +<span class="i0">And as I named the Blessed Name, as in our need we can,</span> +<span class="i0">The ugly green gnome became a tall and comely man:</span> +<span class="i0">His hands were white, his beard was gold, his eyes were black as sloes,</span> +<span class="i0">His tunic was of scarlet woof, and silken were his hose;</span> +<span class="i0">A pensive light from faëryland still lingered on his cheek,</span> +<span class="i0">His voice was like the running brook when he began to speak:</span> +<span class="i0">"O, you have cast away the charm my step-dame put on me,</span> +<span class="i0">Seven years have I dwelt in Faëryland, and you have set me free.</span> +<span class="i0">O, I will mount thy palfrey white, and ride to kirk with thee,</span> +<span class="i0">And, by those dewy little eyes, we twain will wedded be!"</span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Back we galloped, never stopping, he before and I behind,</span> +<span class="i0">And the autumn leaves were dropping, red and yellow in the wind;</span> +<span class="i0">And the sun was shining clearer, and my heart was high and proud,</span> +<span class="i0">As nearer, nearer, nearer rang the kirk bells sweet and loud,</span> +<span class="i0">And we saw the kirk, before us, as we trotted down the fells,</span><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_73" id="Page_73">[Pg 73]</a></span> +<span class="i0">And nearer, clearer, o'er us, rang the welcome of the bells.</span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Ring, sing! ring, sing! pleasant Sabbath bells!</span> +<span class="i0">Chime, rhyme! chime, rhyme! through dales and dells!</span> +<span class="i0">Rhyme, ring! chime, sing! pleasant Sabbath bells!</span> +<span class="i0">Chime, sing! rhyme, ring! over fields and fells!</span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i10"><i>Robert Buchanan.</i></span> +</div></div> + + + +<hr class="chap" /> +<h2>FRIAR PEDRO'S RIDE.</h2> + + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">It was the morning season of the year;</span> +<span class="i2">It was the morning era of the land;</span> +<span class="i0">The watercourses rang full loud and clear;</span> +<span class="i2">Portala's cross stood where Portala's hand</span> +<span class="i0">Had planted it when Faith was taught by Fear,</span> +<span class="i2">When monks and missions held the sole command</span> +<span class="i0">Of all that shore beside the peaceful sea,</span> +<span class="i0">Where spring-tides beat their long-drawn réveille.</span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Out of the Mission of San Luis Rey,</span> +<span class="i2">All in that brisk, tumultuous spring weather,</span> +<span class="i0">Rode Friar Pedro, in a pious way,</span> +<span class="i2">With six dragoons in cuirasses of leather,</span> +<span class="i0">Each armed alike for either prayer or fray,</span> +<span class="i2">Handcuffs and missals they had slung together;</span> +<span class="i0">And as in aid the gospel truth to scatter</span> +<span class="i0">Each swung a lasso—<i>alias</i> a "riata."</span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">In sooth, that year the harvest had been slack,</span><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_74" id="Page_74">[Pg 74]</a></span> +<span class="i2">The crop of converts scarce worth computation;</span> +<span class="i0">Some souls were lost, whose owners had turned back</span> +<span class="i2">To save their bodies frequent flagellation;</span> +<span class="i0">And some preferred the songs of birds, alack!</span> +<span class="i2">To Latin matins and their soul's salvation,</span> +<span class="i0">And thought their own wild whoopings were less dreary</span> +<span class="i0">Than Father Pedro's droning <i>miserere</i>.</span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">To bring them back to matins and to prime,</span> +<span class="i2">To pious works and secular submission,</span> +<span class="i0">To prove to them that liberty was crime,—</span> +<span class="i2">This was, in fact, the Padre's present mission;</span> +<span class="i0">To get new souls perchance at the same time,</span> +<span class="i2">And bring them to a "sense of their condition"—</span> +<span class="i0">That easy phrase, which, in the past and present,</span> +<span class="i0">Means making that condition most unpleasant.</span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">He saw the glebe land guiltless of a furrow;</span> +<span class="i2">He saw the wild oats wrestle on the hill;</span> +<span class="i0">He saw the gopher working in his burrow;</span> +<span class="i2">He saw the squirrel scampering at his will;—</span> +<span class="i0">He saw all this and felt no doubt a thorough</span> +<span class="i2">And deep conviction of God's goodness; still</span> +<span class="i0">He failed to see that in His glory He</span> +<span class="i0">Yet left the humblest of His creatures free.</span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">He saw the flapping crow, whose frequent note</span> +<span class="i2">Voiced the monotony of land and sky,</span> +<span class="i0">Mocking with graceless wing and rusty coat</span><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_75" id="Page_75">[Pg 75]</a></span> +<span class="i2">His priestly presence as he trotted by.</span> +<span class="i0">He would have cursed the bird by bell and rote,</span> +<span class="i2">But other game just then was in his eye—</span> +<span class="i0">A savage camp, whose occupants preferred</span> +<span class="i0">Their heathen darkness to the living Word.</span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">He rang his bell, and at the martial sound</span> +<span class="i2">Twelve silver spurs their jingling rowels clashed;</span> +<span class="i0">Six horses sprang across the level ground</span> +<span class="i2">As six dragoons in open order dashed;</span> +<span class="i0">Above their heads the lassos circled round,</span> +<span class="i2">In every eye a pious fervor flashed;</span> +<span class="i0">They charged the camp, and in one moment more</span> +<span class="i0">They lassoed six and reconverted four.</span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">The Friar saw the conflict from a knoll,</span> +<span class="i2">And sang <i>Laus Deo</i> and cheered on his men:</span> +<span class="i0">"Well thrown, Bautista—that's another soul;</span> +<span class="i2">After him, Gomez—try it once again;</span> +<span class="i0">This way, Felipe—there the heathen stole;</span> +<span class="i2">Bones of St. Francis!—surely that makes <i>ten</i>;</span> +<span class="i0"><i>Te deum laudamus</i>—but they're very wild;</span> +<span class="i0"><i>Non nobis dominus</i>—all right, my child!"</span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">When at that moment—as the story goes—</span> +<span class="i2">A certain squaw, who had her foes eluded,</span> +<span class="i0">Ran past the Friar—just before his nose.</span> +<span class="i2">He stared a moment, and in silence brooded,</span> +<span class="i0">Then in his breast a pious frenzy rose</span> +<span class="i2">And every other prudent thought excluded;</span> +<span class="i0">He caught a lasso, and dashed in a canter</span><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_76" id="Page_76">[Pg 76]</a></span> +<span class="i0">After that Occidental Atalanta.</span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">High o'er his head he swirled the dreadful noose,</span> +<span class="i2">But, as the practice was quite unfamiliar,</span> +<span class="i0">His first cast tore Felipe's captive loose</span> +<span class="i2">And almost choked Tiburcio Camilla,</span> +<span class="i0">And might have interfered with that brave youth's</span> +<span class="i2">Ability to gorge the tough <i>tortilla</i>;</span> +<span class="i0">But all things come by practice, and at last</span> +<span class="i0">His flying slip-knot caught the maiden fast.</span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Then rose above the plain a mingled yell</span> +<span class="i2">Of rage and triumph—a demoniac whoop;</span> +<span class="i0">The Padre heard it like a passing knell,</span> +<span class="i2">And would have loosened his unchristian loop;</span> +<span class="i0">But the tough raw-hide held the captive well,</span> +<span class="i2">And held, alas! too well the captor-dupe;</span> +<span class="i0">For with one bound the savage fled amain,</span> +<span class="i0">Dragging horse, Friar, down the lonely plain.</span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Down the <i>arroyo</i>, out across the mead,</span> +<span class="i2">By heath and hollow, sped the flying maid,</span> +<span class="i0">Dragging behind her still the panting steed</span> +<span class="i2">And helpless Friar, who in vain essayed</span> +<span class="i0">To cut the lasso or to check his speed.</span> +<span class="i2">He felt himself beyond all human aid,</span> +<span class="i0">And trusted to the saints—and, for that matter,</span> +<span class="i0">To some weak spot in Felipe's <i>riata</i>.</span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Alas! the lasso had been duly blessed,</span> +<span class="i2">And, like baptism, held the flying wretch—</span> +<span class="i0">A doctrine that the priest had oft expressed—</span><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_77" id="Page_77">[Pg 77]</a></span> +<span class="i2">Which, like the lasso, might be made to stretch</span> +<span class="i0">But would not break; so neither could divest</span> +<span class="i2">Themselves of it, but, like some awful <i>fetch</i>,</span> +<span class="i0">The holy Friar had to recognize</span> +<span class="i0">The image of his fate in heathen guise.</span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">He saw the glebe land guiltless of a furrow;</span> +<span class="i2">He saw the wild oats wrestle on the hill;</span> +<span class="i0">He saw the gopher standing in his burrow;</span> +<span class="i2">He saw the squirrel scampering at his will;—</span> +<span class="i0">He saw all this, and felt no doubt how thorough</span> +<span class="i2">The contrast was to his condition; still</span> +<span class="i0">The squaw kept onward to the sea, till night</span> +<span class="i0">And the cold sea-fog hid them both from sight.</span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">The morning came above the serried coast,</span> +<span class="i2">Lighting the snow-peaks with its beacon fires,</span> +<span class="i0">Driving before it all the fleet-winged host</span> +<span class="i2">Of chattering birds above the Mission spires,</span> +<span class="i0">Filling the land with light and joy—but most</span> +<span class="i2">The savage woods with all their leafy lyres;</span> +<span class="i0">In pearly tints and opal flame and fire</span> +<span class="i0">The morning came, but not the holy Friar.</span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Weeks passed away. In vain the Fathers sought</span> +<span class="i2">Some trace or token that might tell his story;</span> +<span class="i0">Some thought him dead, or, like Elijah, caught</span> +<span class="i2">Up to the heavens in a blaze of glory.</span> +<span class="i0">In this surmise some miracles were wrought</span> +<span class="i2">On his account, and souls in purgatory</span> +<span class="i0">Were thought to profit from his intercession;</span><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_78" id="Page_78">[Pg 78]</a></span> +<span class="i0">In brief, his absence made a "deep impression."</span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">A twelvemonth passed; the welcome Spring once more</span> +<span class="i2">Made green the hills beside the white-faced Mission,</span> +<span class="i0">Spread her bright dais by the western shore,</span> +<span class="i2">And sat enthroned—a most resplendent vision.</span> +<span class="i0">The heathen converts thronged the chapel door</span> +<span class="i2">At morning mass, when, says the old tradition,</span> +<span class="i0">A frightful whoop throughout the church resounded,</span> +<span class="i0">And to their feet the congregation bounded.</span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">A tramp of hoofs upon the beaten course,</span> +<span class="i2">Then came a sight that made the bravest quail:</span> +<span class="i0">A phantom Friar on a spectre horse,</span> +<span class="i2">Dragged by a creature decked with horns and tail.</span> +<span class="i0">By the lone Mission, with the whirlwind's force,</span> +<span class="i2">They madly swept, and left a sulphurous trail—</span> +<span class="i0">And that was all—enough to tell the story</span> +<span class="i0">And leave unblessed those souls in purgatory.</span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">And ever after, on that fatal day</span> +<span class="i2">That Friar Pedro rode abroad lassoing,</span> +<span class="i0">A ghostly couple came and went away</span> +<span class="i2">With savage whoop and heathenish hallooing,</span> +<span class="i0">Which brought discredit on San Luis Rey,</span> +<span class="i2">And proved the Mission's ruin and undoing;</span> +<span class="i0">For ere ten years had passed, the squaw and Friar</span><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_79" id="Page_79">[Pg 79]</a></span> +<span class="i0">Performed to empty walls and fallen spire.</span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">The Mission is no more; upon its walls</span> +<span class="i2">The golden lizards slip, or breathless pause</span> +<span class="i0">Still as the sunshine brokenly that falls</span> +<span class="i2">Through crannied roof and spider-webs of gauze;</span> +<span class="i0">No more the bell its solemn warning calls—</span> +<span class="i2">A holier silence thrills and overawes;</span> +<span class="i0">And the sharp lights and shadows of to-day</span> +<span class="i0">Outline the Mission of San Luis Rey.</span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i10"><i>Bret Harte.</i></span> +</div></div> + + + +<hr class="chap" /> +<h2>TAM O' SHANTER.</h2> + + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">When chapman billies leave the street,</span> +<span class="i0">And drouthy neebors, neebors meet,</span> +<span class="i0">As market-days are wearing late,</span> +<span class="i0">An' folk begin to tak the gate;</span> +<span class="i0">While we sit bousing at the nappy,</span> +<span class="i0">An' getting fou and unco happy,</span> +<span class="i0">We thinkna on the lang Scots miles,</span> +<span class="i0">The mosses, waters, slaps, and stiles,</span> +<span class="i0">That lie between us and our hame,</span> +<span class="i0">Whare sits our sulky sullen dame,</span> +<span class="i0">Gathering her brows like gathering storm,</span> +<span class="i0">Nursing her wrath to keep it warm.</span> +<span class="i2">This truth fand honest Tam O' Shanter,</span> +<span class="i0">As he frae Ayr ae night did canter</span> +<span class="i0">(Auld Ayr, wham ne'er a town surpasses,</span> +<span class="i0">For honest men and bonnie lasses).</span> +<span class="i2">O Tam! hadst thou but been sae wise,</span><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_80" id="Page_80">[Pg 80]</a></span> +<span class="i0">As ta'en thy ain wife Kate's advice!</span> +<span class="i0">She tauld thee weel thou wast a skellum,</span> +<span class="i0">A blethering, blustering, drunken blellum;</span> +<span class="i0">That frae November till October,</span> +<span class="i0">Ae market-day thou was nae sober;</span> +<span class="i0">That ilka melder, wi' the miller,</span> +<span class="i0">Thou sat as lang as thou had siller;</span> +<span class="i0">That every naig was ca'd a shoe on,</span> +<span class="i0">The smith and thee gat roaring fou on;</span> +<span class="i0">That at the Lord's house, even on Sunday,</span> +<span class="i0">Thou drank wi' Kirkton Jean till Monday.</span> +<span class="i0">She prophesied that, late or soon,</span> +<span class="i0">Thou would be found deep drowned in Doon;</span> +<span class="i0">Or catched wi' warlocks i' the mirk,</span> +<span class="i0">By Alloway's auld haunted kirk.</span> +<span class="i2">Ah, gentle dames! it gars me greet,</span> +<span class="i0">To think how mony counsels sweet,</span> +<span class="i0">How mony lengthened, sage advices,</span> +<span class="i0">The husband frae the wife despises!</span> +<span class="i2">But to our tale: Ae market-night,</span> +<span class="i0">Tam had got planted unco right;</span> +<span class="i0">Fast by an ingle, bleezing finely,</span> +<span class="i0">Wi' reaming swats, that drank divinely;</span> +<span class="i0">And at his elbow, Souter Johnny,</span> +<span class="i0">His ancient, trusty, drouthy crony;</span> +<span class="i0">Tam lo'ed him like a vera brither;</span> +<span class="i0">They had been fou for weeks thegither.</span> +<span class="i0">The night drave on wi' sangs and clatter;</span> +<span class="i0">And ay the ale was growing better:</span> +<span class="i0">The landlady and Tam grew gracious,</span> +<span class="i0">Wi' favors, secret, sweet, and precious:</span> +<span class="i0">The souter tauld his queerest stories;</span><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_81" id="Page_81">[Pg 81]</a></span> +<span class="i0">The landlord's laugh was ready chorus:</span> +<span class="i0">The storm without might rair and rustle,</span> +<span class="i0">Tam didna mind the storm a whistle.</span> +<span class="i2">Care, mad to see a man sae happy,</span> +<span class="i0">E'en drowned himself amang the nappy!</span> +<span class="i0">As bees flee hame wi' lades o' treasure,</span> +<span class="i0">The minutes winged their way wi' pleasure:</span> +<span class="i0">Kings may be blessed, but Tam was glorious,</span> +<span class="i0">O'er a' the ills o' life victorious!</span> +<span class="i2">But pleasures are like poppies spread,</span> +<span class="i0">You seize the flower, its bloom is shed;</span> +<span class="i0">Or like the snow falls in the river,</span> +<span class="i0">A moment white, then melts forever;</span> +<span class="i0">Or like the borealis race,</span> +<span class="i0">That flit ere you can point their place;</span> +<span class="i0">Or like the rainbow's lovely form</span> +<span class="i0">Evanishing amid the storm.</span> +<span class="i0">Nae man can tether time or tide;—</span> +<span class="i0">The hour approaches Tam maun ride;</span> +<span class="i0">That hour, o' night's black arch the key-stane,</span> +<span class="i0">That dreary hour he mounts his beast on;</span> +<span class="i0">And sic a night he taks the road in,</span> +<span class="i0">As ne'er poor sinner was abroad in.</span> +<span class="i2">The wind blew as 'twad blawn its last;</span> +<span class="i0">The rattling showers rose on the blast;</span> +<span class="i0">The speedy gleams the darkness swallowed;</span> +<span class="i0">Loud, deep, and lang the thunder bellowed:</span> +<span class="i0">That night, a child might understand,</span> +<span class="i0">The Deil had business on his hand.</span> +<span class="i2">Well mounted on his gray mare, Meg,—</span> +<span class="i0">A better never lifted leg,—</span> +<span class="i0">Tam skelpit on through dub and mire,</span><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_82" id="Page_82">[Pg 82]</a></span> +<span class="i0">Despising wind and rain and fire;</span> +<span class="i0">Whiles holding fast his guid blue bonnet;</span> +<span class="i0">Whiles crooning o'er some auld Scots sonnet;</span> +<span class="i0">Whiles glowering round wi' prudent cares,</span> +<span class="i0">Lest bogles catch him unawares;</span> +<span class="i0">Kirk Alloway was drawing nigh,</span> +<span class="i0">Whare ghaists and houlets nightly cry.</span> +<span class="i2">By this time he was cross the ford,</span> +<span class="i0">Whare in the snaw the chapman smoored;</span> +<span class="i0">And past the birks and meikle-stane,</span> +<span class="i0">Whare drunken Charlie brak's neck-bane;</span> +<span class="i0">And through the whins, and by the cairn,</span> +<span class="i0">Whare hunters fand the murdered bairn:</span> +<span class="i0">And near the thorn aboon the well,</span> +<span class="i0">Whare Mungo's mither hanged hersel.</span> +<span class="i0">Before him Doon pours all his floods;</span> +<span class="i0">The doubling storm roars through the woods;</span> +<span class="i0">The lightnings flash from pole to pole;</span> +<span class="i0">Near and more near the thunders roll:</span> +<span class="i0">When, glimmering thro' the groaning trees,</span> +<span class="i0">Kirk Alloway seemed in a bleeze;</span> +<span class="i0">Through ilka bore the beams were glancing;</span> +<span class="i0">And loud resounded mirth and dancing.</span> +<span class="i2">Inspiring bold John Barleycorn!</span> +<span class="i0">What dangers thou canst make us scorn!</span> +<span class="i0">Wi' tippenny, we fear nae evil;</span> +<span class="i0">Wi' usquebae, we'll face the Devil!</span> +<span class="i0">The swats sae reamed in Tammie's noddle,</span> +<span class="i0">Fair play, he cared na deils a boddle,</span> +<span class="i0">But Maggie stood right sair astonished,</span> +<span class="i0">Till by the heel and hand admonished,</span> +<span class="i0">She ventured forward on the light;</span><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_83" id="Page_83">[Pg 83]</a></span> +<span class="i0">And, wow! Tam saw an unco sight!</span> +<span class="i0">Warlocks and witches in a dance;</span> +<span class="i0">Nae cotillon brent new frae France,</span> +<span class="i0">But hornpipes, jigs, strathspeys, and reels,</span> +<span class="i0">Put life and mettle in their heels.</span> +<span class="i0">At winnock-bunker in the east,</span> +<span class="i0">There sat auld Nick, in shape o' beast;</span> +<span class="i0">A towzie tyke, black, grim, and large,</span> +<span class="i0">To gie them music was his charge:</span> +<span class="i0">He screwed the pipes and gart them skirl,</span> +<span class="i0">Till roof and rafters a' did dirl,—</span> +<span class="i0">Coffins stood round, like open presses,</span> +<span class="i0">That shawed the dead in their last dresses;</span> +<span class="i0">And by some devilish cantrip sleight,</span> +<span class="i0">Each in its cauld hand held a light,—</span> +<span class="i0">By which heroic Tam was able</span> +<span class="i0">To note upon the haly table,</span> +<span class="i0">A murderers's banes in gibbet airns;</span> +<span class="i0">Two span-lang, wee, unchristened bairns;</span> +<span class="i0">A thief, new cutted fra a rape,</span> +<span class="i0">Wi' his last gasp his gab did gape;</span> +<span class="i0">Five tomahawks, wi' bluid red rusted;</span> +<span class="i0">Five scymitars, wi' murder crusted;</span> +<span class="i0">A garter which a babe had strangled;</span> +<span class="i0">A knife a father's throat had mangled,</span> +<span class="i0">Whom his ain son o' life bereft—</span> +<span class="i0">The gray hairs yet stack to the heft;</span> +<span class="i0">Three lawyers' tongues turned inside out,</span> +<span class="i0">Wi' lies seamed like a beggar's clout;</span> +<span class="i0">And priests' hearts, rotten, black as muck,</span> +<span class="i0">Lay stinking, vile, in every neuk:</span> +<span class="i0">Wi' mair o' horrible and awfu',</span><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_84" id="Page_84">[Pg 84]</a></span> +<span class="i0">Which ev'n to name wad be unlawfu'.</span> +<span class="i2">As Tammie glowered, amazed, and curious,</span> +<span class="i0">The mirth and fun grew fast and furious;</span> +<span class="i0">The piper loud and louder blew;</span> +<span class="i0">The dancers quick and quicker flew;</span> +<span class="i0">They reeled, they set, they crossed, they cleckit,</span> +<span class="i0">Till ilka carlin swat and reekit,</span> +<span class="i0">And coost her duddies to the wark,</span> +<span class="i0">And linket at it in her sark.</span> +<span class="i2">Now Tam, O Tam! had they been queans</span> +<span class="i0">A' plump and strapping in their teens:</span> +<span class="i0">Their sarks, instead o' creeshie flannen,</span> +<span class="i0">Been snaw-white seventeen-hunder linen;</span> +<span class="i0">Thir breeks o' mine, my only pair,</span> +<span class="i0">That ance were plush, o' guid blue hair,</span> +<span class="i0">I wad hae gi'en them aff my hurdies,</span> +<span class="i0">For ae blink o' the bonnie burdies!</span> +<span class="i2">But withered beldams, auld and droll,</span> +<span class="i0">Rigwoodie hags wad spean a foal,</span> +<span class="i0">Lowping an' flinging on a crummock—</span> +<span class="i0">I wonder did na turn thy stomach.</span> +<span class="i2">But Tam kenned what was what fu' brawlie.</span> +<span class="i0">There was ae winsome wench and walie,</span> +<span class="i0">That night inlisted in the core</span> +<span class="i0">(Lang after kenned on Carrick shore!</span> +<span class="i0">For monie a beast to dead she shot,</span> +<span class="i0">And perished monie a bonnie boat,</span> +<span class="i0">And shook baith meikle corn and bear</span> +<span class="i0">And kept the country-side in fear),</span> +<span class="i0">Her cutty-sark, o' Paisley harn,</span> +<span class="i0">That while a lassie she had worn,</span> +<span class="i0">In longitude tho' sorely scanty,</span><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_85" id="Page_85">[Pg 85]</a></span> +<span class="i0">It was her best, and she was vauntie.</span> +<span class="i0">Ah! little kenned thy reverend grannie</span> +<span class="i0">That sark she coft for her wee Nannie,</span> +<span class="i0">Wi' twa pund Scots (twas a' her riches),</span> +<span class="i0">Wad ever graced a dance o' witches!</span> +<span class="i2">But here my Muse her wing maun cow'r;</span> +<span class="i0">Sic flights are far beyond her pow'r;</span> +<span class="i0">To sing how Nannie lap and flang,</span> +<span class="i0">(A souple jad she was and strang!)</span> +<span class="i0">And how Tam stood, like ane bewitched,</span> +<span class="i0">And thought his very een enriched.</span> +<span class="i0">Ev'n Satan glowered, and fidged fu' fain,</span> +<span class="i0">And hotch'd and blew wi' might and main;</span> +<span class="i0">Till first ae caper, syne anither,</span> +<span class="i0">Tam tint his reason a' thegither,</span> +<span class="i0">And roars out, "Weel done, Cutty-sark!"</span> +<span class="i0">And in an instant a' was dark;</span> +<span class="i0">And scarcely had he Maggie rallied,</span> +<span class="i0">When out the hellish legion sallied.</span> +<span class="i2">As bees bizz out wi' angry fyke,</span> +<span class="i0">When plundering herds assail their byke;</span> +<span class="i0">As open pussie's mortal foes,</span> +<span class="i0">When pop! she starts before their nose;</span> +<span class="i0">As eager runs the market-crowd,</span> +<span class="i0">When "Catch the thief!" resounds aloud;</span> +<span class="i0">So Maggie runs,—the witches follow,</span> +<span class="i0">Wi' monie an eldritch skreech and hollow.</span> +<span class="i2">Ah, Tam! ah, Tam! thou'lt get thy fairin'!</span> +<span class="i0">In hell they'll roast thee like a herrin!</span> +<span class="i0">In vain thy Kate awaits thy comin'—</span> +<span class="i0">Kate soon will be a woefu' woman!</span> +<span class="i0">Now, do thy speedy utmost, Meg,</span><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_86" id="Page_86">[Pg 86]</a></span> +<span class="i0">And win the key-stane of the brig;</span> +<span class="i0">There at them thou thy tail may toss,—</span> +<span class="i0">A running stream they dare na cross.</span> +<span class="i0">But ere the key-stane she could make,</span> +<span class="i0">The fient a tail she had to shake;</span> +<span class="i0">For Nannie, far before the rest,</span> +<span class="i0">Hard upon noble Maggie prest,</span> +<span class="i0">And flew at Tam wi' furious ettle;</span> +<span class="i0">But little wist she Maggie's mettle—</span> +<span class="i0">Ae spring brought off her master hale,</span> +<span class="i0">But left behind her ain gray tail:</span> +<span class="i0">The carlin claught her by the rump,</span> +<span class="i0">And left poor Maggie scarce a stump.</span> +<span class="i0">Now, wha this tale o' truth shall read,</span> +<span class="i0">Ilk man and mother's son take heed;</span> +<span class="i0">Whene'er to drink you are inclined,</span> +<span class="i0">Or cutty-sarks run in your mind,</span> +<span class="i0">Think, ye may buy the joys o'er dear,</span> +<span class="i0">Remember Tam o' Shanter's mare.</span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i10"><i>Robert Burns.</i></span> +</div></div> + + +<hr class="chap" /> + +<h2>THE WILD HUNTSMAN.</h2> + + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">The Wildgrave winds his bugle horn,</span> +<span class="i2">To horse, to horse! halloo, halloo!</span> +<span class="i0">His fiery courser snuffs the morn,</span> +<span class="i2">And thronging serfs their lord pursue.</span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">The eager pack, from couples freed,</span> +<span class="i2">Dash through the brush, the brier, the brake;</span> +<span class="i0">While answering hound, and horn, and steed,</span><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_87" id="Page_87">[Pg 87]</a></span> +<span class="i2">The mountain echoes startling wake.</span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">The beams of God's own hallowed day</span> +<span class="i2">Had painted yonder spire with gold,</span> +<span class="i0">And, calling sinful man to pray,</span> +<span class="i2">Loud, long, and deep the bell had tolled.</span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">But still the Wildgrave onward rides;</span> +<span class="i2">Halloo, halloo! and hark again!</span> +<span class="i0">When spurring from opposing sides,</span> +<span class="i2">Two Stranger Horsemen join the train.</span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Who was each Stranger, left and right,</span> +<span class="i2">Well may I guess, but dare not tell;</span> +<span class="i0">The right-hand steed was silver white,</span> +<span class="i2">The left, the swarthy hue of hell.</span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">The right-hand Horseman young and fair,</span> +<span class="i2">His smile was like the morn of May;</span> +<span class="i0">The left, from eye of tawny glare,</span> +<span class="i2">Shot midnight lightning's lurid ray.</span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">He waved his huntsman's cap on high,</span> +<span class="i2">Cried, "Welcome, welcome, noble lord!</span> +<span class="i0">What sport can earth, or sea, or sky,</span> +<span class="i2">To match the princely chase, afford?"</span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"Cease thy loud bugle's clanging knell,"</span> +<span class="i2">Cried the fair youth, with silver voice;</span> +<span class="i0">"And for devotion's choral swell,</span> +<span class="i2">Exchange the rude unhallowed noise.</span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"To-day, the ill-omened chase forbear,</span><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_88" id="Page_88">[Pg 88]</a></span> +<span class="i2">Yon bell yet summons to the fane;</span> +<span class="i0">To-day the Warning Spirit hear,</span> +<span class="i2">To-morrow thou mayst mourn in vain."—</span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"Away, and sweep the glades along!"</span> +<span class="i2">The Sable Hunter hoarse replies;</span> +<span class="i0">"To muttering monks leave matin-song,</span> +<span class="i2">And bell, and books, and mysteries."</span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">The Wildgrave spurred his ardent steed,</span> +<span class="i2">And, launching forward with a bound,</span> +<span class="i0">"Who, for thy drowsy priestlike rede,</span> +<span class="i2">Would leave the jovial horn and hound?"</span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"Hence, if our manly sport offend!</span> +<span class="i2">With pious fools go chant and pray:</span> +<span class="i0">Well hast thou spoke, my dark-browed friend;</span> +<span class="i2">Halloo, halloo! and, hark away!"</span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">The Wildgrave spurred his courser light,</span> +<span class="i2">O'er moss and moor, o'er holt and hill;</span> +<span class="i0">And on the left and on the right,</span> +<span class="i2">Each Stranger Horseman followed still.</span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Up springs, from yonder tangled thorn,</span> +<span class="i2">A stag more white than mountain snow;</span> +<span class="i0">And louder rung the Wildgrave's horn,</span> +<span class="i2">"Hark forward, forward! holla, ho!"</span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">A heedless wretch has crossed the way;</span> +<span class="i2">He gasps, the thundering hoofs below;—</span> +<span class="i0">But, live who can, or die who may,</span><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_89" id="Page_89">[Pg 89]</a></span> +<span class="i2">Still, "Forward, forward!" on they go.</span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">See, where yon simple fences meet,</span> +<span class="i2">A field with autumn's blessings crowned;</span> +<span class="i0">See, prostrate at the Wildgrave's feet,</span> +<span class="i2">A husbandman, with toil embrowned;</span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"O mercy, mercy, noble lord!</span> +<span class="i2">Spare the poor's pittance," was his cry,</span> +<span class="i0">"Earned by the sweat these brows have poured,</span> +<span class="i2">In scorching hour of fierce July."</span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Earnest the right-hand Stranger pleads,</span> +<span class="i2">The left still cheering to the prey,</span> +<span class="i0">The impetuous Earl no warning heeds,</span> +<span class="i2">But furious holds the onward way.</span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"Away, thou hound! so basely born,</span> +<span class="i2">Or dread the scourge's echoing blow!"—</span> +<span class="i0">Then loudly rung his bugle-horn,</span> +<span class="i2">"Hark forward, forward, holla, ho!"</span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">So said, so done:—A single bound</span> +<span class="i2">Clears the poor laborer's humble pale;</span> +<span class="i0">Wild follows man, and horse, and hound,</span> +<span class="i2">Like dark December's stormy gale.</span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">And man and horse, and hound and horn,</span> +<span class="i2">Destructive sweep the field along;</span> +<span class="i0">While, joying o'er the wasted corn,</span> +<span class="i2">Fell Famine marks the maddening throng.</span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Again uproused, the timorous prey</span><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_90" id="Page_90">[Pg 90]</a></span> +<span class="i2">Scours moss and moor, and holt and hill;</span> +<span class="i0">Hard run, he feels his strength decay,</span> +<span class="i2">And trusts for life his simple skill.</span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Too dangerous solitude appeared;</span> +<span class="i2">He seeks the shelter of the crowd;</span> +<span class="i0">Amid the flock's domestic herd</span> +<span class="i2">His harmless head he hopes to shroud.</span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">O'er moss and moor, and holt and hill,</span> +<span class="i2">His track the steady blood-hounds trace;</span> +<span class="i0">O'er moss and moor, unwearied still,</span> +<span class="i2">The furious Earl pursues the chase.</span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Full lowly did the herdsman fall;—</span> +<span class="i2">"O spare, thou noble Baron, spare</span> +<span class="i0">These herds, a widow's little all;</span> +<span class="i2">These flocks, an orphan's fleecy care!"—</span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Earnest the right-hand Stranger pleads,</span> +<span class="i2">The left still cheering to the prey;</span> +<span class="i0">The Earl nor prayer nor pity heeds,</span> +<span class="i2">But furious keeps the onward way.</span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"Unmannered dog! To stop my sport</span> +<span class="i2">Vain were thy cant and beggar whine,</span> +<span class="i0">Though human spirits, of thy sort,</span> +<span class="i2">Were tenants of these carrion kine!"—</span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Again he winds his bugle-horn,</span> +<span class="i2">"Hark forward, forward, holla, ho!"</span> +<span class="i0">And through the herd, in ruthless scorn,</span><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_91" id="Page_91">[Pg 91]</a></span> +<span class="i2">He cheers his furious hounds to go.</span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">In heaps the throttled victims fall;</span> +<span class="i2">Down sinks their mangled herdsman near;</span> +<span class="i0">The murderous cries the stag appall,—</span> +<span class="i2">Again he starts, new-nerved by fear.</span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">With blood besmeared, and white with foam,</span> +<span class="i2">While big the tears of anguish pour,</span> +<span class="i0">He seeks, amid the forest's gloom,</span> +<span class="i2">The humble hermit's hallowed bower.</span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">But man and horse, and horn and hound,</span> +<span class="i2">Fast rattling on his traces go;</span> +<span class="i0">The sacred chapel rung around</span> +<span class="i2">With, "Hark away! and, holla, ho!"</span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">All mild, amid the route profane,</span> +<span class="i2">The holy hermit poured his prayer;</span> +<span class="i0">"Forbear with blood God's house to stain;</span> +<span class="i2">Revere his altar, and forbear!"</span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"The meanest brute has rights to plead,</span> +<span class="i2">Which, wronged by cruelty, or pride,</span> +<span class="i0">Draw vengeance on the ruthless head:—</span> +<span class="i2">Be warned at length, and turn aside."</span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Still the Fair Horseman anxious pleads;</span> +<span class="i2">The Black, wild whooping, points the prey:—</span> +<span class="i0">Alas! the Earl no warning heeds,</span> +<span class="i2">But frantic keeps the forward way.</span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"Holy or not, or right or wrong,</span><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_92" id="Page_92">[Pg 92]</a></span> +<span class="i2">Thy altar, and its rites, I spurn;</span> +<span class="i0">Not sainted martyrs' sacred song,</span> +<span class="i2">Not God himself, shall make me turn!"</span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">He spurs his horse, he winds his horn,</span> +<span class="i2">"Hark forward, forward, holla, ho!"—</span> +<span class="i0">But off, on whirlwind's pinions borne,</span> +<span class="i2">The stag, the hut, the hermit, go.</span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">And horse and man, and horn and hound,</span> +<span class="i2">And clamor of the chase, was gone;</span> +<span class="i0">For hoofs, and howls, and bugle-sound,</span> +<span class="i2">A deadly silence reigned alone.</span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Wild gazed the affrighted Earl around;</span> +<span class="i2">He strove in vain to wake his horn,</span> +<span class="i0">In vain to call: for not a sound</span> +<span class="i2">Could from his anxious lips be borne.</span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">He listens for his trusty hounds;</span> +<span class="i2">No distant baying reached his ears:</span> +<span class="i0">His courser rooted to the ground,</span> +<span class="i2">The quickening spur unmindful bears.</span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Still dark and darker frown the shades,</span> +<span class="i2">Dark as the darkness of the grave;</span> +<span class="i0">And not a sound the still invades,</span> +<span class="i2">Save what a distant torrent gave.</span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">High o'er the sinner's humbled head</span> +<span class="i2">At length the solemn silence broke;</span> +<span class="i0">And, from a cloud of swarthy red,</span><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_93" id="Page_93">[Pg 93]</a></span> +<span class="i2">The awful voice of thunder spoke.</span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"Oppressor of creation fair!</span> +<span class="i2">Apostate Spirits' hardened tool!</span> +<span class="i0">Scorner of God! Scourge of the poor!</span> +<span class="i2">The measure of thy cup is full.</span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"Be chased forever through the wood;</span> +<span class="i2">Forever roam the affrighted wild;</span> +<span class="i0">And let thy fate instruct the proud,</span> +<span class="i2">God's meanest creature is his child."</span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">'Twas hushed:—One flash, of sombre glare,</span> +<span class="i2">With yellow tinged the forests brown;</span> +<span class="i0">Uprose the Wildgrave's bristling hair,</span> +<span class="i2">And horror chilled each nerve and bone.</span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Cold poured the sweat in freezing rill;</span> +<span class="i2">A rising wind began to sing;</span> +<span class="i0">And louder, louder, louder still,</span> +<span class="i2">Brought storm and tempest on its wing.</span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Earth heard the call;—her entrails rend;</span> +<span class="i2">From yawning rifts, with many a yell,</span> +<span class="i0">Mixed with sulphureous flames, ascend</span> +<span class="i2">The misbegotten dogs of hell.</span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">What ghastly Huntsman next arose,</span> +<span class="i2">Well may I guess, but dare not tell;</span> +<span class="i0">His eye like midnight lightning glows,</span> +<span class="i2">His steed the swarthy hue of hell.</span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">The Wildgrave flies o'er bush and thorn,</span><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_94" id="Page_94">[Pg 94]</a></span> +<span class="i2">With many a shriek of helpless woe;</span> +<span class="i0">Behind him hound, and horse, and horn,</span> +<span class="i2">And, "Hark away, and holla, ho!"</span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">With wild despair's reverted eye,</span> +<span class="i2">Close, close behind, he marks the throng,</span> +<span class="i0">With bloody fangs and eager cry;</span> +<span class="i2">In frantic fear he scours along.</span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Still, still shall last the dreadful chase,</span> +<span class="i2">Till time itself shall have an end;</span> +<span class="i0">By day, they scour earth's caverned space,</span> +<span class="i2">At midnight's witching hour, ascend.</span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">This is the horn, and hound, and horse,</span> +<span class="i2">That oft the lated peasant hears;</span> +<span class="i0">Appalled, he signs the frequent cross,</span> +<span class="i2">When the wild din invades his ears.</span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">The wakeful priest oft drops a tear</span> +<span class="i2">For human pride, for human woe,</span> +<span class="i0">When, at his midnight mass, he hears</span> +<span class="i2">The infernal cry of "Holla, ho!"</span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i10"><i>Bürger's Wilde Jäger. Tr. Walter Scott.</i></span> +</div></div> + + + +<hr class="chap" /> +<h2>LÜTZOW'S WILD CHASE.</h2> + + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">What is it that beams in the bright sunshine,</span> +<span class="i2">And echoes yet nearer and nearer?</span> +<span class="i0">And see! how it spreads in a long dark line,</span> +<span class="i0">And hark! how its horns in the distance combine</span><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_95" id="Page_95">[Pg 95]</a></span> +<span class="i2">To impress with affright the hearer!</span> +<span class="i0">And ask ye what means the daring race?</span> +<span class="i0">This is—Lützow's wild and desperate chase!</span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">See, they leave the dark wood in silence all,</span> +<span class="i2">And from hill to hill are seen flying;</span> +<span class="i0">In ambush they'll lie till the deep nightfall,</span> +<span class="i0">Then ye'll hear the hurrah! and the rifle ball!</span> +<span class="i2">And the French will be falling and dying!</span> +<span class="i0">And ask ye what means their daring race?</span> +<span class="i0">This is—Lützow's wild and desperate chase!</span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Where the vine-boughs twine, the Rhine waves roar,</span> +<span class="i2">And the foe thinks its waters shall hide him;</span> +<span class="i0">But see, they fearless approach the shore,</span> +<span class="i0">And they leap in the stream, and swim proudly o'er,</span> +<span class="i2">And stand on the bank beside him!</span> +<span class="i0">And ask ye what means the daring race?</span> +<span class="i0">This is—Lützow's wild and desperate chase!</span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Why roars in the valley the raging fight,</span> +<span class="i2">Where swords clash red and gory?</span> +<span class="i0">O fierce is the strife of that deadly fight,</span> +<span class="i0">For the spark of young Freedom is newly alight,</span> +<span class="i2">And it breaks into flames of glory!</span> +<span class="i0">And ask ye what means the daring race?</span> +<span class="i0">This is—Lützow's wild and desperate chase!</span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">See yon warrior who lies on a gory spot,</span> +<span class="i2">From life compelled to sever;</span><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_96" id="Page_96">[Pg 96]</a></span> +<span class="i0">Yet he never is heard to lament his lot,</span> +<span class="i0">And his soul at its parting shall tremble not,</span> +<span class="i2">Since his country is saved forever!</span> +<span class="i0">And if ye will ask at the end of his race,</span> +<span class="i0">Still 'tis—Lützow's wild and desperate chase!</span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">The wild chase, and the German chase</span> +<span class="i2">Against tyranny and oppression!</span> +<span class="i0">Therefore weep not, loved friends, at this last embrace,</span> +<span class="i0">For freedom has dawned on our loved birth-place,</span> +<span class="i2">And our deaths shall insure its possession!</span> +<span class="i0">And 'twill ever be said from race to race,</span> +<span class="i0">This was—Lützow's wild and desperate chase!</span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i10"><i>Theodor Körner.</i></span> +</div></div> + + +<hr class="chap" /> + +<h2>THE ERL-KING.</h2> + +<h3>FROM THE GERMAN OF GOETHE.</h3> + + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">O, who rides by night thro' the woodland so wild?</span> +<span class="i0">It is the fond father embracing his child;</span> +<span class="i0">And close the boy nestles within his loved arm,</span> +<span class="i0">To hold himself fast, and to keep himself warm.</span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"O father, see yonder! see yonder!" he says;</span> +<span class="i0">"My boy, upon what dost thou fearfully gaze?"—</span> +<span class="i0">"O, 'tis the Erl-King with his crown and his shroud"—</span> +<span class="i0">"No, my son, it is but a dark wreath of the cloud."</span> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_97" id="Page_97">[Pg 97]</a></span></div></div> + +<h4>(THE ERL-KING SPEAKS.)</h4> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"O come and go with me, thou loveliest child;</span> +<span class="i0">By many a gay sport shall thy time be beguiled;</span> +<span class="i0">My mother keeps for thee full many a fair toy,</span> +<span class="i0">And many a fine flower shall she pluck for my boy."</span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"O father, my father, and did you not hear</span> +<span class="i0">The Erl-King whisper so loud in my ear?"—</span> +<span class="i0">"Be still, my heart's darling—my child, be at ease;</span> +<span class="i0">It was but the wild blast as it sung thro' the trees."</span> +</div></div> + +<h4>ERL-KING.</h4> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"O wilt thou go with me, thou loveliest boy?</span> +<span class="i0">My daughter shall tend thee with care and with joy;</span> +<span class="i0">She shall bear thee so lightly thro' wet and thro' wild,</span> +<span class="i0">And press thee, and kiss thee, and sing to my child."</span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"O father, my father, and saw you not plain,</span> +<span class="i0">The Erl-King's pale daughter glide past thro' the rain?"—</span> +<span class="i0">"O yes, my loved treasure, I knew it full soon;</span> +<span class="i0">It was the gray willow that danced to the moon."</span> +</div></div> + +<h4>ERL-KING.</h4> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"O come and go with me, no longer delay,</span> +<span class="i0">Or else, silly child, I will drag thee away."—</span> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_98" id="Page_98">[Pg 98]</a></span><span class="i0">"O father! O father! now, now keep your hold,</span> +<span class="i0">The Erl-King has seized me, his grasp is so cold!"—</span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Sore trembled the father; he spurred thro' the wild,</span> +<span class="i0">Clasping close to his bosom his shuddering child;</span> +<span class="i0">He reaches his dwelling in doubt and in dread,</span> +<span class="i0">But, clasped to his bosom, the infant was <i>dead</i>!</span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i10"><i>Walter Scott.</i></span> +</div></div> + + + +<hr class="chap" /> +<h2>MAZEPPA'S RIDE.</h2> + + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"'Bring forth the horse!'—the horse was brought,</span> +<span class="i2">In truth, he was a noble steed,</span> +<span class="i2">A Tartar of the Ukraine breed,</span> +<span class="i0">Who looked as though the speed of thought</span> +<span class="i0">Were in his limbs: but he was wild,</span> +<span class="i2">Wild as the wild deer, and untaught,</span> +<span class="i0">With spur and bridle undefiled,—</span> +<span class="i2">'Twas but a day he had been caught;</span> +<span class="i0">And snorting, with erected mane,</span> +<span class="i0">And struggling fiercely, but in vain,</span> +<span class="i0">In the full foam of wrath and dread,</span> +<span class="i0">To me the desert-born was led;</span> +<span class="i0">They bound me on, that menial throng,</span> +<span class="i0">Upon his back with many a thong;</span> +<span class="i0">Then loosed him with a sudden lash,—</span> +<span class="i0">Away!—away!—and on we dash!</span><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_99" id="Page_99">[Pg 99]</a></span> +<span class="i0">Torrents less rapid and less rash.</span> +<span class="i0">Away!—away! My breath was gone,—</span> +<span class="i0">I saw not where he hurried on:</span> +<span class="i0">'Twas scarcely yet the break of day,</span> +<span class="i0">And on he foamed,—away!—away!—</span> +<span class="i0">The last of human sounds which rose,</span> +<span class="i0">As I was darted from my foes,</span> +<span class="i0">Was the wild shout of savage laughter,</span> +<span class="i0">Which on the wind came roaring after</span> +<span class="i0">A moment from that rabble rout:</span> +<span class="i0">With sudden wrath I wrenched my head,</span> +<span class="i2">And snapped the cord, which to the mane</span> +<span class="i2">Had bound my neck in lieu of rein,</span> +<span class="i0">And writhing half my form about,</span> +<span class="i0">Howled back my curse; but midst the tread,</span> +<span class="i0">The thunder of my courser's speed,</span> +<span class="i0">Perchance they did not hear nor heed:</span> +<span class="i0">It vexes me,—for I would fain</span> +<span class="i0">Have paid their insult back again.</span> +<span class="i0">I paid it well in after days:</span> +<span class="i0">There is not of that castle gate,</span> +<span class="i0">Its drawbridge and portcullis' weight,</span> +<span class="i0">Stone, bar, moat, bridge, or barrier left;</span> +<span class="i0">Nor of its fields a blade of grass,</span> +<span class="i2">Save what grows on a ridge of wall,</span> +<span class="i2">Where stood the hearthstone of the hall;</span> +<span class="i0">And many a time ye there might pass,</span> +<span class="i0">Nor dream that e'er that fortress was:</span> +<span class="i0">I saw its turrets in a blaze,</span> +<span class="i0">Their crackling battlements all cleft,</span> +<span class="i2">And the hot lead pour down like rain</span> +<span class="i0">From off the scorched and blackening roof,</span><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_100" id="Page_100">[Pg 100]</a></span> +<span class="i0">Whose thickness was not vengeance-proof.</span> +<span class="i2">They little thought that day of pain,</span> +<span class="i0">When launched, as on the lightning's flash,</span> +<span class="i0">They bade me to destruction dash,</span> +<span class="i2">That one day I should come again,</span> +<span class="i0">With twice five thousand horse, to thank</span> +<span class="i2">The count for his uncourteous ride.</span> +<span class="i0">They played me then a bitter prank,</span> +<span class="i2">When, with the wild horse for my guide,</span> +<span class="i0">They bound me to his foaming flank:</span> +<span class="i0">At length I played them one as frank,—</span> +<span class="i0">For time at last sets all things even,—</span> +<span class="i2">And if we do but watch the hour,</span> +<span class="i2">There never yet was human power</span> +<span class="i0">Which could evade, if unforgiven,</span> +<span class="i0">The patient search and vigil long</span> +<span class="i0">Of him who treasures up a wrong.</span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"Away, away, my steed and I,</span> +<span class="i2">Upon the pinions of the wind,</span> +<span class="i2">All human dwellings left behind;</span> +<span class="i0">We sped like meteors through the sky,</span> +<span class="i0">When with its crackling sound the night</span> +<span class="i0">Is checkered with the northern light:</span> +<span class="i0">Town,—village,—none were on our track,</span> +<span class="i2">But a wild plain of far extent,</span> +<span class="i0">And bounded by a forest black:</span> +<span class="i2">And, save the scarce-seen battlement</span> +<span class="i0">On distant heights of some strong hold,</span> +<span class="i0">Against the Tartars built of old,</span> +<span class="i0">No trace of man. The year before</span> +<span class="i0">A Turkish army had marched o'er;</span><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_101" id="Page_101">[Pg 101]</a></span> +<span class="i0">And where the Spahi's hoof hath trod,</span> +<span class="i0">The verdure flies the bloody sod:</span> +<span class="i0">The sky was dull, and dim, and gray,</span> +<span class="i2">And a low breeze crept moaning by,—</span> +<span class="i2">I could have answered with a sigh,—</span> +<span class="i0">But fast we fled, away, away,—</span> +<span class="i0">And I could neither sigh nor pray;</span> +<span class="i0">And my cold sweat-drops fell like rain</span> +<span class="i0">Upon the courser's bristling mane:</span> +<span class="i0">But, snorting still with rage and fear,</span> +<span class="i0">He flew upon his far career:</span> +<span class="i0">At times I almost thought, indeed,</span> +<span class="i0">He must have slackened in his speed:</span> +<span class="i0">But no,—my bound and slender frame</span> +<span class="i2">Was nothing to his angry might,</span> +<span class="i0">And merely like a spur became:</span> +<span class="i0">Each motion which I made to free</span> +<span class="i0">My swoln limbs from their agony</span> +<span class="i2">Increased his fury and affright:</span> +<span class="i0">I tried my voice,—'twas faint and low,</span> +<span class="i0">But yet he swerved as from a blow;</span> +<span class="i0">And, starting to each accent, sprang</span> +<span class="i0">As from a sudden trumpet's clang:</span> +<span class="i0">Meantime my chords were wet with gore,</span> +<span class="i0">Which, oozing through my limbs, ran o'er;</span> +<span class="i0">And in my tongue the thirst became</span> +<span class="i0">A something fierier far than flame.</span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"We neared the wild wood,—'twas so wide,</span> +<span class="i0">I saw no bounds on either side;</span> +<span class="i0">'Twas studded with old sturdy trees,</span> +<span class="i0">That bent not to the roughest breeze</span><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_102" id="Page_102">[Pg 102]</a></span> +<span class="i0">Which howls down from Siberia's waste,</span> +<span class="i0">And strips the forest in its haste,—</span> +<span class="i0">But these were few, and far between,</span> +<span class="i0">Set thick with shrubs more young and green,</span> +<span class="i0">Luxuriant with their annual leaves,</span> +<span class="i0">Ere strown by those autumnal eves</span> +<span class="i0">That nip the forest's foliage dead,</span> +<span class="i0">Discolored with a lifeless red,</span> +<span class="i0">Which stands thereon like stiffened gore</span> +<span class="i0">Upon the slain when battle's o'er,</span> +<span class="i0">And some long winter's night hath shed</span> +<span class="i0">Its frost o'er every tombless head,</span> +<span class="i0">So cold and stark the raven's beak</span> +<span class="i0">May peck unpierced each frozen cheek:</span> +<span class="i0">'Twas a wild waste of underwood,</span> +<span class="i0">And here and there a chestnut stood,</span> +<span class="i0">The strong oak, and the hardy pine;</span> +<span class="i2">But far apart,—and well it were,</span> +<span class="i0">Or else a different lot were mine,—</span> +<span class="i2">The boughs gave way, and did not tear</span> +<span class="i2">My limbs; and I found strength to bear</span> +<span class="i0">My wounds, already scarred with cold,—</span> +<span class="i0">My bonds forbade to loose my hold.</span> +<span class="i0">We rustled through the leaves like wind,</span> +<span class="i0">Left shrubs and trees and wolves behind;</span> +<span class="i0">By night I heard them on the track,</span> +<span class="i0">Their troop came hard upon our back,</span> +<span class="i0">With their long gallop, which can tire</span> +<span class="i0">The hound's deep hate, and hunter's fire:</span> +<span class="i0">Where'er we flew they followed on,</span> +<span class="i0">Nor left us with the morning sun;</span> +<span class="i0">Behind I saw them, scarce a rood,</span><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_103" id="Page_103">[Pg 103]</a></span> +<span class="i0">At daybreak winding through the wood,</span> +<span class="i0">And through the night had heard their feet</span> +<span class="i0">Their stealing, rustling step repeat.</span> +<span class="i0">O, how I wished for spear or sword,</span> +<span class="i0">At least to die amidst the horde,</span> +<span class="i0">And perish—if it must be so—</span> +<span class="i0">At bay, destroying many a foe.</span> +<span class="i0">When first my courser's race begun,</span> +<span class="i0">I wished the goal already won;</span> +<span class="i0">But now I doubted strength and speed.</span> +<span class="i0">Vain doubt! his swift and savage breed</span> +<span class="i0">Had nerved him like the mountain-roe;</span> +<span class="i0">Nor faster falls the blinding snow</span> +<span class="i0">Which whelms the peasant near the door</span> +<span class="i0">Whose threshold he shall cross no more,</span> +<span class="i0">Bewildered with the dazzling blast,</span> +<span class="i0">Than through the forest-paths he past,—</span> +<span class="i0">Untired, untamed, and worse than wild;</span> +<span class="i0">All furious as a favored child</span> +<span class="i0">Balked of its wish; or, fiercer still,</span> +<span class="i0">A woman piqued, who has her will.</span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"The wood was past; 'twas more than noon;</span> +<span class="i0">But chill the air, although in June;</span> +<span class="i0">Or it might be my veins ran cold,—</span> +<span class="i0">Prolonged endurance tames the bold:</span> +<span class="i0">And I was then not what I seem,</span> +<span class="i0">But headlong as a wintry stream,</span> +<span class="i0">And wore my feelings out before</span> +<span class="i0">I well could count their causes o'er:</span> +<span class="i0">And what with fury, fear, and wrath,</span> +<span class="i0">The tortures which beset my path,</span><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_104" id="Page_104">[Pg 104]</a></span> +<span class="i0">Cold, hunger, sorrow, shame, distress,</span> +<span class="i0">Thus bound in nature's nakedness;</span> +<span class="i0">Sprung from a race whose rising blood</span> +<span class="i0">When stirred beyond its calmer mood,</span> +<span class="i0">And trodden hard upon, is like</span> +<span class="i0">The rattlesnake's, in act to strike,</span> +<span class="i0">What marvel if this worn-out trunk</span> +<span class="i0">Beneath its woes a moment sunk?</span> +<span class="i0">The earth gave way, the skies rolled round,</span> +<span class="i0">I seemed to sink upon the ground;</span> +<span class="i0">But erred, for I was fastly bound.</span> +<span class="i0">My heart turned sick, my brain grew sore,</span> +<span class="i0">And throbbed awhile, then beat no more:</span> +<span class="i0">The skies spun like a mighty wheel;</span> +<span class="i0">I saw the trees like drunkards reel,</span> +<span class="i0">And a slight flash sprang o'er my eyes,</span> +<span class="i0">Which saw no farther: he who dies</span> +<span class="i0">Can die no more than then I died.</span> +<span class="i0">O'ertortured by that ghastly ride,</span> +<span class="i0">I felt the blackness come and go,</span> +<span class="i2">And strove to wake; but could not make</span> +<span class="i0">My senses climb up from below:</span> +<span class="i0">I felt as on a plank at sea,</span> +<span class="i0">When all the waves that dash o'er thee,</span> +<span class="i0">At the same time upheave and whelm,</span> +<span class="i0">And hurl thee towards a desert realm.</span> +<span class="i0">My undulating life was as</span> +<span class="i0">The fancied lights that flitting pass</span> +<span class="i0">Our shut eyes in deep midnight, when</span> +<span class="i0">Fever begins upon the brain;</span> +<span class="i0">But soon it passed, with little pain,</span> +<span class="i2">But a confusion worse than such:</span><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_105" id="Page_105">[Pg 105]</a></span> +<span class="i2">I own that I should deem it much,</span> +<span class="i0">Dying, to feel the same again;</span> +<span class="i0">And yet I do suppose we must</span> +<span class="i0">Feel far more ere we turn to dust:</span> +<span class="i0">No matter; I have bared my brow</span> +<span class="i0">Full in Death's face—before—and now.</span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"My thoughts came back; where was I? Cold,</span> +<span class="i2">And numb, and giddy: pulse by pulse</span> +<span class="i0">Life reassumed its lingering hold,</span> +<span class="i0">And throb by throb; till grown a pang</span> +<span class="i2">Which for a moment would convulse,</span> +<span class="i2">My blood reflowed, though thick and chill;</span> +<span class="i0">My ear with uncouth noises rang,</span> +<span class="i2">My heart began once more to thrill;</span> +<span class="i0">My sight returned, though dim, alas!</span> +<span class="i0">And thickened, as it were, with glass.</span> +<span class="i0">Methought the dash of waves was nigh;</span> +<span class="i0">There was a gleam too of the sky,</span> +<span class="i0">Studded with stars;—it is no dream:</span> +<span class="i0">The wild horse swims the wilder stream!</span> +<span class="i0">The bright broad river's gushing tide</span> +<span class="i0">Sweeps, winding onward, far and wide,</span> +<span class="i0">And we are half-way struggling o'er</span> +<span class="i0">To yon unknown and silent shore.</span> +<span class="i0">The waters broke my hollow trance.</span> +<span class="i0">And with a temporary strength</span> +<span class="i2">My stiffened limbs were rebaptized,</span> +<span class="i0">My courser's broad breast proudly braves,</span> +<span class="i0">And dashes off the ascending waves,</span> +<span class="i0">And onward we advance!</span> +<span class="i0">We reach the slippery shore at length,</span><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_106" id="Page_106">[Pg 106]</a></span> +<span class="i2">A haven I but little prized,</span> +<span class="i0">For all behind was dark and drear,</span> +<span class="i0">And all before was night and fear.</span> +<span class="i0">How many hours of night or day</span> +<span class="i0">In those suspended pangs I lay,</span> +<span class="i0">I could not tell; I scarcely knew</span> +<span class="i0">If this were human breath I drew.</span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"With glossy skin, and dripping mane,</span> +<span class="i2">And reeling limbs, and reeking flank,</span> +<span class="i0">The wild steed's sinewy nerves still strain</span> +<span class="i2">Up the repelling bank.</span> +<span class="i0">We gain the top: a boundless plain</span> +<span class="i0">Spreads through the shadow of the night,</span> +<span class="i2">And onward, onward, onward, seems</span> +<span class="i2">Like precipices in our dreams,</span> +<span class="i0">To stretch beyond the sight;</span> +<span class="i0">And here and there a speck of white,</span> +<span class="i2">Or scattered spot of dusky green,</span> +<span class="i0">In masses broke into the light,</span> +<span class="i0">As rose the moon upon my right.</span> +<span class="i2">But naught distinctly seen</span> +<span class="i0">In the dim waste, would indicate</span> +<span class="i0">The omen of a cottage gate;</span> +<span class="i0">No twinkling taper from afar</span> +<span class="i0">Stood like a hospitable star;</span> +<span class="i0">Not even an ignis-fatuus rose</span> +<span class="i0">To make him merry with my woes:</span> +<span class="i2">That very cheat had cheered me then!</span> +<span class="i0">Although detected, welcome still,</span> +<span class="i0">Reminding me, through every ill,</span><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_107" id="Page_107">[Pg 107]</a></span> +<span class="i2">Of the abodes of men.</span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"Onward we went,—but slack and slow;</span> +<span class="i2">His savage force at length o'erspent,</span> +<span class="i0">The drooping courser, faint and low,</span> +<span class="i2">All feebly foaming went.</span> +<span class="i0">A sickly infant had had power</span> +<span class="i0">To guide him forward in that hour;</span> +<span class="i2">But useless all to me.</span> +<span class="i0">His new-born tameness naught availed,</span> +<span class="i0">My limbs were bound; my force had failed,</span> +<span class="i2">Perchance, had they been free.</span> +<span class="i0">With feeble effort still I tried</span> +<span class="i0">To rend the bonds so starkly tied,—</span> +<span class="i2">But still it was in vain;</span> +<span class="i0">My limbs were only wrung the more,</span> +<span class="i0">And soon the idle strife gave o'er,</span> +<span class="i2">Which but prolonged their pain:</span> +<span class="i0">The dizzy race seemed almost done,</span> +<span class="i0">Although no goal was nearly won:</span> +<span class="i0">Some streaks announced the coming sun.—</span> +<span class="i2">How slow, alas! he came!</span> +<span class="i0">Methought that mist of dawning gray</span> +<span class="i0">Would never dapple into day;</span> +<span class="i0">How heavily it rolled away,—</span> +<span class="i2">Before the eastern flame</span> +<span class="i0">Rose crimson, and deposed the stars,</span> +<span class="i0">And called the radiance from their cars,</span> +<span class="i0">And filled the earth, from his deep throne,</span> +<span class="i0">With lonely lustre, all his own.</span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"Up rose the sun; the mists were curled</span> +<span class="i0">Back from the solitary world</span><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_108" id="Page_108">[Pg 108]</a></span> +<span class="i0">Which lay around—behind—before:</span> +<span class="i0">What booted it to traverse o'er</span> +<span class="i0">Plain, forest, river? Man nor brute,</span> +<span class="i0">Nor dint of hoof, nor print of foot,</span> +<span class="i0">Lay in the wild luxuriant soil;</span> +<span class="i0">No sign of travel,—none of toil;</span> +<span class="i0">The very air was mute;</span> +<span class="i0">And not an insect's shrill small horn,</span> +<span class="i0">Nor matin bird's new voice was borne</span> +<span class="i0">From herb nor thicket. Many a werst,</span> +<span class="i0">Panting as if his heart would burst,</span> +<span class="i0">The weary brute still staggered on;</span> +<span class="i0">And still we were—or seemed—alone:</span> +<span class="i0">At length, while reeling on our way,</span> +<span class="i0">Methought I heard a courser neigh,</span> +<span class="i0">From out yon tuft of blackening firs.</span> +<span class="i0">Is it the wind those branches stirs?</span> +<span class="i0">No, no! from out the forest prance</span> +<span class="i2">A trampling troop; I see them come!</span> +<span class="i0">In one vast squadron they advance!</span> +<span class="i2">I strove to cry,—my lips were dumb.</span> +<span class="i0">The steeds rush on in plunging pride;</span> +<span class="i0">But where are they the reins to guide?</span> +<span class="i0">A thousand horse,—and none to ride!</span> +<span class="i0">With flowing tail, and flying main,</span> +<span class="i0">Wide nostrils,—never stretched by pain,—</span> +<span class="i0">Mouths bloodless to the bit or rein,</span> +<span class="i0">And feet that iron never shod,</span> +<span class="i0">And flanks unscarred by spur or rod,</span> +<span class="i0">A thousand horse, the wild, the free,</span> +<span class="i0">Like waves that follow o'er the sea,</span> +<span class="i2">Came thickly thundering on,</span><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_109" id="Page_109">[Pg 109]</a></span> +<span class="i0">As if our faint approach to meet;</span> +<span class="i0">The sight renerved my courser's feet,</span> +<span class="i0">A moment staggering, feebly fleet,</span> +<span class="i0">A moment, with a faint low neigh,</span> +<span class="i2">He answered, and then fell;</span> +<span class="i0">With gasps and glazing eyes he lay,</span> +<span class="i2">And reeking limbs immovable,</span> +<span class="i4">His first and last career is done!</span> +<span class="i0">On came the troop,—they saw him stoop,</span> +<span class="i2">They saw me strangely bound along</span> +<span class="i2">His back with many a bloody thong:</span> +<span class="i0">They stop—they start—they snuff the air,</span> +<span class="i0">Gallop a moment here and there,</span> +<span class="i0">Approach, retire, wheel round and round,</span> +<span class="i0">Then plunging back with sudden bound,</span> +<span class="i0">Headed by one black mighty steed,</span> +<span class="i0">Who seemed the patriarch of his breed,</span> +<span class="i2">Without a single speck or hair</span> +<span class="i0">Of white upon his shaggy hide;</span> +<span class="i0">They snort—they foam—neigh—swerve aside,</span> +<span class="i0">And backward to the forest fly,</span> +<span class="i0">By instinct from a human eye,—</span> +<span class="i2">They left me there, to my despair,</span> +<span class="i0">Linked to the dead and stiffening wretch,</span> +<span class="i0">Whose lifeless limbs beneath me stretch,</span> +<span class="i0">Relieved from that unwonted weight,</span> +<span class="i0">From whence I could not extricate</span> +<span class="i0">Nor him nor me,—and there we lay,</span> +<span class="i2">The dying on the dead!</span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i10"><i>Byron.</i></span> +</div></div> + + + +<hr class="chap" /><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_110" id="Page_110">[Pg 110]</a></span></p> +<h2>THE GIAOUR'S RIDE.</h2> + + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2">Who thundering comes on blackest steed,</span> +<span class="i0">With slackened bit and hoof of speed?</span> +<span class="i0">Beneath the clattering iron's sound</span> +<span class="i0">The caverned echoes wake around</span> +<span class="i0">In lash for lash, and bound for bound;</span> +<span class="i0">The foam that streaks the courser's side</span> +<span class="i0">Seems gathered from the ocean-tide:</span> +<span class="i0">Though weary waves are sunk to rest,</span> +<span class="i0">There's none within his rider's breast;</span> +<span class="i0">And though to-morrow's tempest lower,</span> +<span class="i0">'Tis calmer than thy heart, young Giaour!</span> +<span class="i0">I know thee not, I loathe thy race,</span> +<span class="i0">But in thy lineaments I trace</span> +<span class="i0">What time shall strengthen, not efface:</span> +<span class="i0">Though young and pale, that sallow front</span> +<span class="i0">Is scathed by fiery passion's brunt;</span> +<span class="i0">Though bent on earth thine evil eye,</span> +<span class="i0">As meteor-like thou glidest by,</span> +<span class="i0">Right well I view and deem thee one</span> +<span class="i0">Whom Othman's sons should slay or shun.</span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2">On—on he hastened, and he drew</span> +<span class="i0">My gaze of wonder as he flew:</span> +<span class="i0">Though like a demon of the night</span> +<span class="i0">He passed, and vanished from my sight,</span> +<span class="i0">His aspect and his air impressed</span> +<span class="i0">A troubled memory on my breast,</span> +<span class="i0">And long upon my startled ear</span><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_111" id="Page_111">[Pg 111]</a></span> +<span class="i0">Rung his dark courser's hoofs of fear.</span> +<span class="i0">He spurs his steed; he nears the steep,</span> +<span class="i0">That, jutting, shadows o'er the deep;</span> +<span class="i0">He winds around; he hurries by;</span> +<span class="i0">The rock relieves him from mine eye;</span> +<span class="i0">For well I ween unwelcome he</span> +<span class="i0">Whose glance is fixed on those that flee;</span> +<span class="i0">And not a star but shines too bright</span> +<span class="i0">On him who takes such timeless flight.</span> +<span class="i0">He wound along; but ere he passed</span> +<span class="i0">One glance he snatched, as if his last,</span> +<span class="i0">A moment checked his wheeling steed,</span> +<span class="i0">A moment breathed him from his speed,</span> +<span class="i0">A moment on his stirrup stood—</span> +<span class="i0">Why looks he o'er the olive wood?</span> +<span class="i0">The crescent glimmers on the hill,</span> +<span class="i0">The Mosque's high lamps are quivering still:</span> +<span class="i0">Though too remote for sound to wake</span> +<span class="i0">In echoes of the far tophaike,</span> +<span class="i0">The flashes of each joyous peal</span> +<span class="i0">Are seen to prove the Moslem's zeal,</span> +<span class="i0">To-night, set Rhamazani's sun;</span> +<span class="i0">To-night, the Bairam feast's begun;</span> +<span class="i0">To-night—but who and what art thou</span> +<span class="i0">Of foreign garb and fearful brow?</span> +<span class="i0">And what are these to thine, or thee,</span> +<span class="i0">That thou should'st either pause or flee?</span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2">He stood—some dread was on his face,</span> +<span class="i0">Soon Hatred settled in its place:</span> +<span class="i0">It rose not with the reddening flush</span> +<span class="i0">Of transient Anger's hasty blush,</span><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_112" id="Page_112">[Pg 112]</a></span> +<span class="i0">But pale as marble o'er the tomb,</span> +<span class="i0">Whose ghastly whiteness aids its gloom.</span> +<span class="i0">His brow was bent, his eye was glazed;</span> +<span class="i0">He raised his arm, and fiercely raised,</span> +<span class="i0">And sternly shook his hand on high,</span> +<span class="i0">As doubting to return or fly:</span> +<span class="i0">Impatient of his flight delayed,</span> +<span class="i0">Here loud his raven charger neighed—</span> +<span class="i0">Down glanced that hand, and grasped his blade;</span> +<span class="i0">That sound had burst his waking dream,</span> +<span class="i0">As Slumber starts at owlet's scream.</span> +<span class="i0">The spur hath lanced his courser's sides;</span> +<span class="i0">Away, away, for life he rides:</span> +<span class="i0">Swift as the hurled on high jerreed</span> +<span class="i0">Springs to the touch his startled steed;</span> +<span class="i0">The rock is doubled, and the shore</span> +<span class="i0">Shakes with the clattering tramp no more;</span> +<span class="i0">The crag is won, no more is seen</span> +<span class="i0">His Christian crest and haughty mien.</span> +<span class="i0">'Twas but an instant he restrained</span> +<span class="i0">That fiery barb so sternly reined;</span> +<span class="i0">'Twas but a moment that he stood,</span> +<span class="i0">Then sped as if by death pursued:</span> +<span class="i0">But in that instant o'er his soul</span> +<span class="i0">Winters of Memory seemed to roll,</span> +<span class="i0">And gather in that drop of time</span> +<span class="i0">A life of pain, an age of crime.</span> +<span class="i0">O'er him who loves, or hates, or fears,</span> +<span class="i0">Such moment pours the grief of years:</span> +<span class="i0">What felt <i>he</i> then, at once opprest</span> +<span class="i0">By all that most distracts the breast?</span> +<span class="i0">That pause, which pondered o'er his fate,</span><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_113" id="Page_113">[Pg 113]</a></span> +<span class="i0">Oh, who its dreary length shall date!</span> +<span class="i0">Though in Time's record nearly nought,</span> +<span class="i0">It was Eternity to Thought!</span> +<span class="i0">For infinite as boundless space</span> +<span class="i0">The thought that Conscience must embrace,</span> +<span class="i0">Which in itself can comprehend</span> +<span class="i0">Woe without name, or hope, or end.</span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2">The hour is past, the Giaour is gone;</span> +<span class="i0">And did he fly or fall alone?</span> +<span class="i0">Woe to that hour he came or went!</span> +<span class="i0">The curse of Hassan's sin was sent</span> +<span class="i0">To turn a palace to a tomb;</span> +<span class="i0">He came, he went, like the Simoom,</span> +<span class="i0">That harbinger of fate and gloom,</span> +<span class="i0">Beneath whose widely-wasting breath</span> +<span class="i0">The very cypress droops to death—</span> +<span class="i0">Dark tree, still sad when others' grief is fled,</span> +<span class="i0">The only constant mourner o'er the dead!</span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i10"><i>Byron.</i></span> +</div></div> + + +<hr class="chap" /> + +<h2>THE NORSEMAN'S RIDE.</h2> + + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">The frosty fires of Northern starlight</span> +<span class="i2">Gleamed on the glittering snow,</span> +<span class="i0">And through the forest's frozen branches</span> +<span class="i2">The shrieking winds did blow;</span> +<span class="i0">A floor of blue, translucent marble</span> +<span class="i2">Kept ocean's pulses still,</span> +<span class="i0">When, in the depth of dreary midnight,</span><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_114" id="Page_114">[Pg 114]</a></span> +<span class="i2">Opened the burial hill.</span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Then while a low and creeping shudder</span> +<span class="i2">Thrilled upward through the ground,</span> +<span class="i0">The Norseman came, as armed for battle,</span> +<span class="i2">In silence from his mound:</span> +<span class="i0">He, who was mourned in solemn sorrow</span> +<span class="i2">By many a swordsman bold,</span> +<span class="i0">And harps that wailed along the ocean,</span> +<span class="i2">Struck by the Skalds of old.</span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Sudden, a swift and silver shadow</span> +<span class="i2">Rushed up from out the gloom,—</span> +<span class="i0">A horse that stamped with hoof impatient,</span> +<span class="i2">Yet noiseless, on the tomb.</span> +<span class="i0">"Ha, Surtur! let me hear thy tramping,</span> +<span class="i2">Thou noblest Northern steed,</span> +<span class="i0">Whose neigh along the stormy headlands</span> +<span class="i2">Bade the bold Viking heed!"</span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">He mounted: like a north-light streaking</span> +<span class="i2">The sky with flaming bars,</span> +<span class="i0">They, on the winds so wildly shrieking,</span> +<span class="i2">Shot up before the stars.</span> +<span class="i0">"Is this thy mane, my fearless Surtur,</span> +<span class="i2">That streams against my breast?</span> +<span class="i0">Is this thy neck, that curve of moonlight,</span> +<span class="i2">Which Helva's hand caressed?</span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"No misty breathing strains thy nostril,</span> +<span class="i2">Thine eye shines blue and cold,</span> +<span class="i0">Yet, mounting up our airy pathway,</span><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_115" id="Page_115">[Pg 115]</a></span> +<span class="i2">I see thy hoofs of gold!</span> +<span class="i0">Not lighter o'er the springing rainbow</span> +<span class="i2">Walhalla's gods repair,</span> +<span class="i0">Than we, in sweeping journey over</span> +<span class="i2">The bending bridge of air.</span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"Far, far around, star-gleams are sparkling</span> +<span class="i2">Amid the twilight space;</span> +<span class="i0">And Earth, that lay so cold and darkling,</span> +<span class="i2">Has veiled her dusky face.</span> +<span class="i0">Are those the Nornes that beckon onward</span> +<span class="i2">To seats at Odin's board,</span> +<span class="i0">Where nightly by the hands of heroes</span> +<span class="i2">The foaming mead is poured?</span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"'Tis Skuld! her star-eye speaks the glory</span> +<span class="i2">That waits the warrior's soul,</span> +<span class="i0">When on its hinge of music opens</span> +<span class="i2">The gateway of the Pole,—</span> +<span class="i0">When Odin's warder leads the hero</span> +<span class="i2">To banquets never done,</span> +<span class="i0">And Freya's eyes outshine in summer</span> +<span class="i2">The ever-risen sun.</span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"On! on! the Northern lights are streaming</span> +<span class="i2">In brightness like the morn,</span> +<span class="i0">And pealing far amid the vastness,</span> +<span class="i2">I hear the Gjallarhorn:</span> +<span class="i0">The heart of starry space is throbbing</span> +<span class="i2">With songs of minstrels old,</span> +<span class="i0">And now, on high Walhalla's portal,</span> +<span class="i2">Gleam Surtur's hoofs of gold!"</span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i10"><i>Bayard Taylor.</i></span> +</div></div> + + + +<hr class="chap" /><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_116" id="Page_116">[Pg 116]</a></span></p> +<h2>BOOT AND SADDLE.</h2> + + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"Boot, saddle, to horse, and away!</span> +<span class="i0">Rescue my Castle, before the hot day</span> +<span class="i0">Brightens to blue from its silvery gray,</span> +<span class="i4">(<i>Cho.</i>) Boot, saddle, to horse, and away!"</span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Ride past the suburbs, asleep as you'd say;</span> +<span class="i0">Many's the friend there will listen and pray</span> +<span class="i0">"God's luck to gallants that strike up the lay,</span> +<span class="i4">(<i>Cho.</i>) Boot, saddle, to horse, and away!"</span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Forty miles off, like a roebuck at bay,</span> +<span class="i0">Flouts Castle Brancepeth the Roundheads' array:</span> +<span class="i0">Who laughs, "Good fellows ere this, by my fay,</span> +<span class="i4">(<i>Cho.</i>) Boot, saddle, to horse, and away!"</span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Who? My wife Gertrude; that, honest and gay,</span> +<span class="i0">Laughs when you talk of surrendering, "Nay!</span> +<span class="i0">I've better counsellors; what counsel they?</span> +<span class="i4">(<i>Cho.</i>) Boot, saddle, to horse, and away!"</span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i10"><i>Robert Browning.</i></span> +</div></div> + + + +<hr class="chap" /> +<h2>THE CAVALIER'S ESCAPE.</h2> + + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i4">Trample! trample! went the roan,</span> +<span class="i6">Trap! trap! went the gray;</span> +<span class="i0">But pad! pad! pad! like a thing that was mad,</span> +<span class="i6">My chestnut broke away.—</span> +<span class="i4">It was just five miles from Salisbury town,</span><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_117" id="Page_117">[Pg 117]</a></span> +<span class="i6">And but one hour to day.</span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i4">Thud! thud! came on the heavy roan,</span> +<span class="i6">Rap! rap! the mettled gray;</span> +<span class="i0">But my chestnut mare was of blood so rare,</span> +<span class="i6">That she showed them all the way.</span> +<span class="i4">Spur on! spur on!—I doffed my hat,</span> +<span class="i6">And wished them all good day.</span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i4">They splashed through miry rut and pool,—</span> +<span class="i6">Splintered through fence and rail;</span> +<span class="i0">But chestnut Kate switched over the gate,—</span> +<span class="i6">I saw them droop and tail.</span> +<span class="i4">To Salisbury town—but a mile of down,</span> +<span class="i6">Once over this brook and rail.</span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i4">Trap! trap! I heard their echoing hoofs</span> +<span class="i6">Past the walls of mossy stone;</span> +<span class="i0">The roan flew on at a staggering pace,</span> +<span class="i6">But blood is better than bone.</span> +<span class="i4">I patted old Kate, and gave her the spur,</span> +<span class="i6">For I knew it was all my own.</span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i4">But trample! trample! came their steeds,</span> +<span class="i6">And I saw their wolfs' eyes burn;</span> +<span class="i0">I felt like a royal hart at bay,</span> +<span class="i6">And made me ready to turn.</span> +<span class="i4">I looked where highest grew the may,</span> +<span class="i6">And deepest arched the fern.</span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i4">I flew at the first knave's sallow throat;</span> +<span class="i6">One blow, and he was down.</span> +<span class="i0">The second rogue fired twice, and missed;</span><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_118" id="Page_118">[Pg 118]</a></span> +<span class="i6">I sliced the villain's crown.</span> +<span class="i4">Clove through the rest, and flogged brave Kate,</span> +<span class="i6">Fast, fast to Salisbury town!</span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i4">Pad! pad! they came on the level sward,</span> +<span class="i6">Thud! thud! upon the sand;</span> +<span class="i0">With a gleam of swords, and a burning match,</span> +<span class="i6">And a shaking of flag and hand:</span> +<span class="i4">But one long bound, and I passed the gate,</span> +<span class="i6">Safe from the canting band.</span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i10"><i>Walter Thornbury.</i></span> +</div></div> + + +<hr class="chap" /> + +<h2>KING JAMES'S RIDE.</h2> + + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"Stand, Bayard, stand!"—the steed obeyed,</span> +<span class="i0">With arching neck and bending head,</span> +<span class="i0">And glancing eye and quivering ear</span> +<span class="i0">As if he loved his lord to hear.</span> +<span class="i0">No foot Fitz-James in stirrup staid,</span> +<span class="i0">No grasp upon the saddle laid,</span> +<span class="i0">But wreathed his left hand in the mane,</span> +<span class="i0">And lightly bounded from the plain,</span> +<span class="i0">Turned on the horse his armed heel,</span> +<span class="i0">And stirred his courage with the steel.</span> +<span class="i0">Bounded the fiery steed in air,</span> +<span class="i0">The rider sate erect and fair,</span> +<span class="i0">Then like a bolt from steel crossbow</span> +<span class="i0">Forth launched, along the plain they go.</span> +<span class="i0">They dashed that rapid torrent through,</span> +<span class="i0">And up Carhonie's hill they flew;</span> +<span class="i0">Still at the gallop pricked the Knight,</span><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_119" id="Page_119">[Pg 119]</a></span> +<span class="i0">His merry-men followed as they might.</span> +<span class="i0">Along thy banks, swift Teith! they ride,</span> +<span class="i0">And in the race they mocked thy tide;</span> +<span class="i0">Torry and Lendrick now are past,</span> +<span class="i0">And Deanstown lies behind them cast;</span> +<span class="i0">They rise, the bannered towers of Doune,</span> +<span class="i0">They sink in distant woodland soon;</span> +<span class="i0">Blair-Drummond sees the hoof strike fire,</span> +<span class="i0">They sweep like breeze through Ochtertyre;</span> +<span class="i0">They mark just glance and disappear</span> +<span class="i0">The lofty brow of ancient Kier;</span> +<span class="i0">They bathe their courser's sweltering sides,</span> +<span class="i0">Dark Forth! amid thy sluggish tides,</span> +<span class="i0">And on the opposing shore take ground,</span> +<span class="i0">With plash, with scramble, and with bound.</span> +<span class="i0">Right-hand they leave thy cliffs, Craig-Forth!</span> +<span class="i0">And soon the bulwark of the North,</span> +<span class="i0">Grey Stirling, with her towers and town,</span> +<span class="i0">Upon their fleet career looked down.</span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i10"><i>Walter Scott.</i></span> +</div></div> + + + +<hr class="chap" /> +<h2>DELORAINE'S RIDE.</h2> + + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i10">*....*....*....*</span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">The Ladye forgot her purpose high,</span> +<span class="i2">One moment, and no more;</span> +<span class="i0">One moment gazed with a mother's eye,</span> +<span class="i2">As she paused at the arched door:</span> +<span class="i0">Then from amid the armed train,</span> +<span class="i0">She called to her William of Deloraine.</span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">A stark moss-trooping Scott was he,</span><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_120" id="Page_120">[Pg 120]</a></span> +<span class="i0">As e'er couched Border lance by knee;</span> +<span class="i0">Through Solway sands, through Tarras moss,</span> +<span class="i0">Blindfold, he knew the paths to cross;</span> +<span class="i0">By wily turns, by desperate bounds,</span> +<span class="i0">Had baffled Percy's best blood-hounds;</span> +<span class="i0">In Eske, or Liddel, fords were none,</span> +<span class="i0">But he would ride them, one by one;</span> +<span class="i0">Alike to him was time or tide,</span> +<span class="i0">December's snow, or July's pride;</span> +<span class="i0">Alike to him was tide or time,</span> +<span class="i0">Moonless midnight, or matin prime:</span> +<span class="i0">Steady of heart, and stout of hand,</span> +<span class="i0">As ever drove prey from Cumberland;</span> +<span class="i0">Five times outlawed had he been</span> +<span class="i0">By England's King, and Scotland's Queen.</span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"Sir William of Deloraine, good at need,</span> +<span class="i0">Mount thee on the wightest steed;</span> +<span class="i0">Spare not to spur, nor stint to ride,</span> +<span class="i0">Until thou come to fair Tweedside;</span> +<span class="i0">And in Melrose's holy pile</span> +<span class="i0">Seek thou the Monk of St. Mary's aisle.</span> +<span class="i2">Greet the Father well from me;</span> +<span class="i4">Say that the fated hour is come,</span> +<span class="i2">And to-night he shall watch with thee,</span> +<span class="i4">To win the treasure of the tomb.</span> +<span class="i0">For this will be St. Michael's night,</span> +<span class="i0">And, though stars be dim, the moon is bright;</span> +<span class="i0">And the Cross, of bloody red,</span> +<span class="i0">Will point to the grave of the mighty dead.</span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2">"What he gives thee, see thou keep;</span><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_121" id="Page_121">[Pg 121]</a></span> +<span class="i4">Stay not thou for food or sleep:</span> +<span class="i2">Be it scroll, or be it book,</span> +<span class="i2">Into it, Knight, thou must not look;</span> +<span class="i2">If thou readest, thou art lorn!</span> +<span class="i2">Better hadst thou ne'er been born."—</span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"O swiftly can speed my dapple-grey steed,</span> +<span class="i2">Which drinks of the Teviot clear;</span> +<span class="i0">Ere break of day," the Warrior 'gan say,</span> +<span class="i2">"Again will I be here:</span> +<span class="i0">And safer by none may thy errand be done,</span> +<span class="i2">Than, noble dame, by me;</span> +<span class="i0">Letter nor line know I never a one,</span> +<span class="i2">Wer't my neck-verse at Hairibee."</span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Soon in his saddle sate he fast,</span> +<span class="i0">And soon the steep descent he past,</span> +<span class="i0">Soon crossed the sounding barbican,</span> +<span class="i0">And soon the Teviot side he won.</span> +<span class="i0">Eastward the wooded path he rode,</span> +<span class="i0">Green hazels o'er his basnet nod;</span> +<span class="i0">He passed the Peel of Goldiland,</span> +<span class="i0">And crossed old Borthwick's roaring strand;</span> +<span class="i0">Dimly he viewed the Moat-hill's mound,</span> +<span class="i0">Where Druid shades still flitted round;</span> +<span class="i0">In Hawick twinkled many a light;</span> +<span class="i0">Behind him soon they set in night;</span> +<span class="i0">And soon he spurred his courser keen</span> +<span class="i0">Beneath the tower of Hazeldean.</span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">The clattering hoofs the watchmen mark;—</span> +<span class="i0">"Stand, ho! thou courier of the dark."—</span> +<span class="i0">"For Branksome, ho!" the knight rejoined,</span><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_122" id="Page_122">[Pg 122]</a></span> +<span class="i0">And left the friendly tower behind.</span> +<span class="i0">He turned him now from Teviotside,</span> +<span class="i2">And, guided by the tinkling rill,</span> +<span class="i0">Northward the dark ascent did ride,</span> +<span class="i2">And gained the moor at Horsliehill;</span> +<span class="i0">Broad on the left before him lay,</span> +<span class="i0">For many a mile, the Roman way.</span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">A moment now he slacked his speed,</span> +<span class="i0">A moment breathed his panting steed;</span> +<span class="i0">Drew saddle-girth and corslet-band.</span> +<span class="i0">And loosened in the sheath his brand.</span> +<span class="i0">On Minto-crags the moonbeams glint,</span> +<span class="i0">Where Barnhill hewed his bed of flint;</span> +<span class="i0">Who flung his outlawed limbs to rest,</span> +<span class="i0">Where falcons hang their giddy nest,</span> +<span class="i0">Mid cliffs, from whence his eagle eye</span> +<span class="i0">For many a league his prey could spy;</span> +<span class="i0">Cliffs, doubling, on their echoes borne,</span> +<span class="i0">The terrors of the robber's horn?</span> +<span class="i0">Cliffs, which, for many a later year,</span> +<span class="i0">The warbling Doric reed shall hear,</span> +<span class="i0">When some sad swain shall teach the grove,</span> +<span class="i0">Ambition is no cure for love!</span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Unchallenged, thence passed Deloraine,</span> +<span class="i0">To ancient Riddel's fair domain.</span> +<span class="i2">Where Aill, from mountains freed.</span> +<span class="i0">Down from the lakes did raving come;</span> +<span class="i0">Each wave was crested with tawny foam,</span> +<span class="i2">Like the mane of a chestnut steed.</span> +<span class="i0">In vain! no torrent, deep or broad,</span><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_123" id="Page_123">[Pg 123]</a></span> +<span class="i0">Might bar the bold moss-trooper's road.</span> +<span class="i0">At the first plunge the horse sunk low,</span> +<span class="i0">And the water broke o'er the saddlebow;</span> +<span class="i0">Above the foaming tide, I ween,</span> +<span class="i0">Scarce half the charger's neck was seen;</span> +<span class="i0">For he was barded from counter to tail,</span> +<span class="i0">And the rider was armed complete in mail;</span> +<span class="i0">Never heavier man and horse</span> +<span class="i0">Stemmed a midnight torrent's force.</span> +<span class="i0">The warrior's very plume, I say</span> +<span class="i0">Was daggled by the dashing spray:</span> +<span class="i0">Yet, through good heart, and Our Ladye's grace,</span> +<span class="i0">At length he gained the landing place.</span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Now Bowden Moor the march-man won,</span> +<span class="i2">And sternly shook his plumed head,</span> +<span class="i0">As glanced his eye o'er Halidon;</span> +<span class="i2">For on his soul the slaughter red</span> +<span class="i0">Of that unhallowed morn arose,</span> +<span class="i0">When first the Scott and Carr were foes;</span> +<span class="i0">When royal James beheld the fray,</span> +<span class="i0">Prize to the victor of the day;</span> +<span class="i0">When Home and Douglas, in the van,</span> +<span class="i0">Bore down Buccleuch's retiring clan,</span> +<span class="i0">Till gallant Cessford's heart-blood dear</span> +<span class="i0">Reeked on dark Elliot's Border spear.</span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">In bitter mood he spurred fast,</span> +<span class="i0">And soon the hated heath was past;</span> +<span class="i0">And far beneath, in lustre wan,</span> +<span class="i0">Old Melros' rose, and fair Tweed ran:</span> +<span class="i0">Like some tall rock with lichens gray,</span><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_124" id="Page_124">[Pg 124]</a></span> +<span class="i0">Seemed dimly huge, the dark Abbaye.</span> +<span class="i0">When Hawick he passed, had curfew rung,</span> +<span class="i0">Now midnight lauds were in Melrose sung.</span> +<span class="i0">The sound, upon the fitful gale,</span> +<span class="i0">In solemn wise did rise and fail,</span> +<span class="i0">Like that wild harp, whose magic tone</span> +<span class="i0">Is wakened by the winds alone.</span> +<span class="i0">But when Melrose he reached, 'twas silence all;</span> +<span class="i0">He meetly stabled his steed in stall,</span> +<span class="i0">And sought the convent's lonely wall.</span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i10"><i>Sir Walter Scott.</i></span> +</div></div> + + +<hr class="chap" /> + +<h2>GODIVA.</h2> + + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><i>I waited for the train at Coventry;</i></span> +<span class="i0"><i>I hung with grooms and porters on the bridge,</i></span> +<span class="i0"><i>To watch the three tall spires; and there I shaped</i></span> +<span class="i0"><i>The city's ancient legend into this:—</i></span> +<span class="i2">Not only we, the latest seed of Time,</span> +<span class="i0">New men, that in the flying of a wheel</span> +<span class="i0">Cry down the past, not only we, that prate</span> +<span class="i0">Of rights and wrongs, have loved the people well,</span> +<span class="i0">And loathed to see them overtaxed; but she</span> +<span class="i0">Did more, and underwent, and overcame,</span> +<span class="i0">The woman of a thousand summers back,</span> +<span class="i0">Godiva, wife to that grim Earl, who ruled</span> +<span class="i0">In Coventry: for when he laid a tax</span> +<span class="i0">Upon his town, and all the mothers brought</span><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_125" id="Page_125">[Pg 125]</a></span> +<span class="i0">Their children, clamoring, "If we pay, we starve!"</span> +<span class="i0">She sought her lord, and found him, where he strode</span> +<span class="i0">About the hall, among his dogs, alone,</span> +<span class="i0">His beard a foot before him, and his hair</span> +<span class="i0">A yard behind. She told him of their tears,</span> +<span class="i0">And prayed him, "If they pay this tax, they starve."</span> +<span class="i0">Whereat he stared, replying, half-amazed,</span> +<span class="i0">"You would not let your little finger ache</span> +<span class="i0">For such as <i>these</i>?"—"But I would die," said she.</span> +<span class="i0">He laughed, and swore by Peter and by Paul:</span> +<span class="i0">Then filliped at the diamond in her ear;</span> +<span class="i0">"O ay, ay, ay, you talk!"—"Alas!" she said,</span> +<span class="i0">"But prove me what it is I would not do."</span> +<span class="i0">And from a heart as rough as Esau's hand,</span> +<span class="i0">He answered, "Ride you naked through the town,</span> +<span class="i0">And I repeal it;" and nodding, as in scorn,</span> +<span class="i0">He parted, with great strides among his dogs.</span> +<span class="i2">So left alone, the passions of her mind,</span> +<span class="i0">As winds from all the compass shift and blow,</span> +<span class="i0">Made war upon each other for an hour,</span> +<span class="i0">Till pity won. She sent a herald forth,</span> +<span class="i0">And bade him cry, with sound of trumpet, all</span> +<span class="i0">The hard condition; but that she would loose</span> +<span class="i0">The people: therefore, as they loved her well,</span> +<span class="i0">From then till noon no foot should pace the street,</span> +<span class="i0">No eye look down, she passing; but that all</span> +<span class="i0">Should keep within, door shut, and window barred.</span> +<span class="i2">Then fled she to her inmost bower, and there</span> +<span class="i0">Unclasped the wedded eagles of her belt,</span><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_126" id="Page_126">[Pg 126]</a></span> +<span class="i0">The grim Earl's gift; but ever at a breath</span> +<span class="i0">She lingered, looking like a summer moon</span> +<span class="i0">Half-dipt in cloud: anon she shook her head,</span> +<span class="i0">And showered the rippled ringlets to her knee;</span> +<span class="i0">Unclad herself in haste; adown the stair</span> +<span class="i0">Stole on; and, like a creeping sunbeam, slid</span> +<span class="i0">From pillar unto pillar, until she reached</span> +<span class="i0">The gateway; there she found her palfrey trapt</span> +<span class="i0">In purple blazoned with armorial gold.</span> +<span class="i2">Then she rode forth, clothed on with chastity:</span> +<span class="i0">The deep air listened round her as she rode,</span> +<span class="i0">And all the low wind hardly breathed for fear.</span> +<span class="i0">The little wide-mouthed heads upon the spout</span> +<span class="i0">Had cunning eyes to see: the barking cur</span> +<span class="i0">Made her cheek flame: her palfrey's footfall shot</span> +<span class="i0">Light horrors through her pulses: the blind walls</span> +<span class="i0">Were full of chinks and holes; and overhead</span> +<span class="i0">Fantastic gables, crowding, stared: but she</span> +<span class="i0">Not less through all bore up, till, last, she saw</span> +<span class="i0">The white-flowered elder-thicket from the field</span> +<span class="i0">Gleam through the Gothic archways in the wall.</span> +<span class="i2">Then she rode back, clothed on with chastity:</span> +<span class="i0">And one low churl, compact of thankless earth,</span> +<span class="i0">The fatal byword of all years to come,</span> +<span class="i0">Boring a little auger-hole in fear,</span> +<span class="i0">Peeped—but his eyes, before they had their will,</span> +<span class="i0">Were shrivelled into darkness in his head,</span> +<span class="i0">And dropt before him. So the Powers, who wait</span> +<span class="i0">On noble deeds, cancelled a sense misused;</span> +<span class="i0">And she, that knew not, passed: and all at once,</span> +<span class="i0">With twelve great shocks of sound, the shameless noon</span><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_127" id="Page_127">[Pg 127]</a></span> +<span class="i0">Was clashed and hammered from a hundred towers,</span> +<span class="i0">One after one: but even then she gained</span> +<span class="i0">Her bower; whence reissuing, robed and crowned,</span> +<span class="i0">To meet her lord, she took the tax away,</span> +<span class="i0">And built herself an everlasting name.</span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i10"><i>Alfred Tennyson.</i></span> +</div></div> + + +<hr class="chap" /> + +<h2>"HOW THEY BROUGHT THE GOOD NEWS FROM GHENT TO AIX."</h2> + + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">I sprang to the stirrup, and Joris, and he;</span> +<span class="i0">I galloped, Dirck galloped, we galloped all three;</span> +<span class="i0">"Good speed!" cried the watch, as the gate-bolts undrew;</span> +<span class="i0">"Speed!" echoed the wall to us galloping through;</span> +<span class="i0">Behind shut the postern, the lights sank to rest,</span> +<span class="i0">And into the midnight we galloped abreast.</span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Not a word to each other; we kept the great pace</span> +<span class="i0">Neck by neck, stride by stride, never changing our place;</span> +<span class="i0">I turned in my saddle and made its girths tight,</span> +<span class="i2">Rebuckled the check-strap, chained slacker the bit,</span> +<span class="i0">Then shortened each stirrup, and set the pique right,</span> +<span class="i2">Nor galloped less steadily Roland a whit.</span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">'Twas moonset at starting; but while we drew near</span><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_128" id="Page_128">[Pg 128]</a></span> +<span class="i0">Lokeren, the cocks crew and twilight dawned clear;</span> +<span class="i0">At Boom, a great yellow star came out to see;</span> +<span class="i0">At Düffeld, 'twas morning as plain as could be;</span> +<span class="i0">And from Mecheln church-steeple we heard the half-chime,</span> +<span class="i0">So Joris broke silence with, "Yet there is time!"</span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">At Aerschot, up leaped of a sudden the sun,</span> +<span class="i0">And against him the cattle stood black every one,</span> +<span class="i0">To stare through the mist at us galloping past,</span> +<span class="i0">And I saw my stout galloper Roland at last,</span> +<span class="i0">With resolute shoulders, each butting away</span> +<span class="i0">The haze, as some bluff river headland its spray.</span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">And his low head and crest, just one sharp ear bent back</span> +<span class="i0">For my voice, and the other pricked out on his track;</span> +<span class="i0">And one eye's black intelligence,—ever that glance</span> +<span class="i0">O'er its white edge at me, his own master, askance!</span> +<span class="i0">And the thick heavy spume-flakes which aye and anon</span> +<span class="i0">His fierce lips shook upwards in galloping on.</span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">By Hasselt, Dirck groaned; and cried Joris, "Stay spur!</span> +<span class="i0">Your Roos galloped bravely, the fault's not in her,</span> +<span class="i0">We'll remember at Aix,"—for one heard the quick wheeze</span><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_129" id="Page_129">[Pg 129]</a></span> +<span class="i0">Of her chest, saw the stretched neck and staggering knees,</span> +<span class="i0">And sunk tail, and horrible heave of the flank,</span> +<span class="i0">As down on her haunches she shuddered and sank.</span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">So we were left galloping, Joris and I,</span> +<span class="i0">Past Looz and past Tongres, no cloud in the sky;</span> +<span class="i0">The broad sun above laughed a pitiless laugh,</span> +<span class="i0">'Neath our feet broke the brittle bright stubble like chaff;</span> +<span class="i0">Till over by Dalhem a dome-spire sprang white,</span> +<span class="i0">And "Gallop," gasped Joris, for "Aix is in sight!"</span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"How they'll greet us!"—and all in a moment his roan</span> +<span class="i0">Rolled neck and croup over, lay dead as a stone;</span> +<span class="i0">And there was my Roland to bear the whole weight</span> +<span class="i0">Of the news which alone could save Aix from her fate,</span> +<span class="i0">With his nostrils like pits full of blood to the brim,</span> +<span class="i0">And with circles of red for his eye-sockets' rim.</span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Then I cast loose my buff-coat, each holster let fall,</span> +<span class="i0">Shook off both my jack-boots, let go belt and all,</span> +<span class="i0">Stood up in the stirrup, leaned, patted his ear,</span><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_130" id="Page_130">[Pg 130]</a></span> +<span class="i0">Called my Roland his pet-name, my horse without peer;</span> +<span class="i0">Clapped my hands, laughed and sang, any noise, bad or good,</span> +<span class="i0">Till at length into Aix Roland galloped and stood.</span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">And all I remember is, friends flocking round</span> +<span class="i0">As I sat with his head 'twixt my knees on the ground,</span> +<span class="i0">And no voice but was praising this Roland of mine,</span> +<span class="i0">As I poured down his throat our last measure of wine,</span> +<span class="i0">Which (the burgesses voted by common consent)</span> +<span class="i0">Was no more than his due who brought good news from Ghent.</span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i10"><i>Robert Browning.</i></span> +</div></div> + + + +<hr class="chap" /> +<h2>THE LANDLORD'S TALE.</h2> + +<h3>PAUL REVERE'S RIDE.</h3> + + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Listen, my children, and you shall hear</span> +<span class="i0">Of the midnight ride of Paul Revere,</span> +<span class="i0">On the eighteenth of April, in Seventy-five;</span> +<span class="i0">Hardly a man is now alive</span> +<span class="i0">Who remembers that famous day and year.</span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">He said to his friend, "If the British march</span> +<span class="i0">By land or sea from the town to-night,</span> +<span class="i0">Hang a lantern aloft in the belfry arch</span> +<span class="i0">Of the North Church tower as a signal light,—</span><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_131" id="Page_131">[Pg 131]</a></span> +<span class="i0">One, if by land, and two, if by sea;</span> +<span class="i0">And I on the opposite shore will be,</span> +<span class="i0">Ready to ride and spread the alarm</span> +<span class="i0">Through every Middlesex village and farm,</span> +<span class="i0">For the country folk to be up and to arm."</span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Then he said, "Good night!" and with muffled oar</span> +<span class="i0">Silently rowed to the Charlestown shore,</span> +<span class="i0">Just as the moon rose over the bay,</span> +<span class="i0">Where swinging wide at her moorings lay</span> +<span class="i0">The Somerset, British man-of-war;</span> +<span class="i0">A phantom ship, with each mast and spar</span> +<span class="i0">Across the moon like a prison bar,</span> +<span class="i0">And a huge black hulk, that was magnified</span> +<span class="i0">By its own reflection in the tide.</span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Meanwhile, his friend, through alley and street,</span> +<span class="i0">Wanders and watches with eager ears,</span> +<span class="i0">Till in the silence around him he hears</span> +<span class="i0">The muster of men at the barrack door,</span> +<span class="i0">The sound of arms, and the tramp of feet,</span> +<span class="i0">And the measured tread of the grenadiers,</span> +<span class="i0">Marching down to their boats on the shore.</span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Then he climbed the tower of the Old North Church,</span> +<span class="i0">By the wooden stairs, with stealthy tread,</span> +<span class="i0">To the belfry-chamber overhead,</span> +<span class="i0">And startled the pigeons from their perch</span> +<span class="i0">On the sombre rafters, that round him made</span> +<span class="i0">Masses and moving shapes of shade,—</span><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_132" id="Page_132">[Pg 132]</a></span> +<span class="i0">By the trembling ladder, steep and tall,</span> +<span class="i0">To the highest window in the wall,</span> +<span class="i0">Where he paused to listen and look down</span> +<span class="i0">A moment on the roofs of the town,</span> +<span class="i0">And the moonlight flowing over all.</span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Beneath, in the churchyard, lay the dead,</span> +<span class="i0">In their night-encampment on the hill,</span> +<span class="i0">Wrapped in silence so deep and still</span> +<span class="i0">That he could hear, like a sentinel's tread,</span> +<span class="i0">The watchful night-wind, as it went</span> +<span class="i0">Creeping along from tent to tent,</span> +<span class="i0">And seeming to whisper, "All is well!"</span> +<span class="i0">A moment only he feels the spell</span> +<span class="i0">Of the place and hour, and the secret dread</span> +<span class="i0">Of the lonely belfry and the dead;</span> +<span class="i0">For suddenly all his thoughts are bent</span> +<span class="i0">On a shadowy something far away,</span> +<span class="i0">Where the river widens to meet the bay,—</span> +<span class="i0">A line of black that bends and floats</span> +<span class="i0">On the rising tide, like a bridge of boats.</span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Meanwhile, impatient to mount and ride,</span> +<span class="i0">Booted and spurred with a heavy stride</span> +<span class="i0">On the opposite shore walked Paul Revere.</span> +<span class="i0">Now he patted his horse's side,</span> +<span class="i0">Now gazed at the landscape far and near,</span> +<span class="i0">Then, impetuous, stamped the earth,</span> +<span class="i0">And turned and tightened his saddle-girth;</span> +<span class="i0">But mostly he watched with eager search</span> +<span class="i0">The belfry-tower of the Old North Church,</span> +<span class="i0">As it rose above the graves on the hill,</span><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_133" id="Page_133">[Pg 133]</a></span> +<span class="i0">Lonely and spectral and sombre and still.</span> +<span class="i0">And lo! as he looks, on the belfry's height</span> +<span class="i0">A glimmer, and then a gleam of light!</span> +<span class="i0">He springs to the saddle, the bridle he turns,</span> +<span class="i0">But lingers and gazes, till full on his sight</span> +<span class="i0">A second lamp in the belfry burns!</span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">A hurry of hoofs in a village street,</span> +<span class="i0">A shape in the moonlight, a bulk in the dark,</span> +<span class="i0">And beneath, from the pebbles, in passing, a spark</span> +<span class="i0">Struck out by a steed flying fearless and fleet:</span> +<span class="i0">That was all! and yet, through the gloom and the light,</span> +<span class="i0">The fate of a nation was riding that night;</span> +<span class="i0">And the spark struck out by that steed, in his flight,</span> +<span class="i0">Kindled the land into flame with its heat.</span> +<span class="i0">He has left the village and mounted the steep,</span> +<span class="i0">And beneath him, tranquil and broad and deep,</span> +<span class="i0">Is the Mystic, meeting the ocean tides;</span> +<span class="i0">And under the alders, that skirt its edge,</span> +<span class="i0">Now soft on the sand, now loud on the ledge,</span> +<span class="i0">Is heard the tramp of his steed as he rides.</span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">It was twelve by the village clock</span> +<span class="i0">When he crossed the bridge into Medford town.</span> +<span class="i0">He heard the crowing of the cock,</span> +<span class="i0">And the barking of the farmer's dog,</span> +<span class="i0">And felt the damp of the river fog,</span> +<span class="i0">That rises after the sun goes down.</span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">It was one by the village clock,</span><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_134" id="Page_134">[Pg 134]</a></span> +<span class="i0">When he galloped into Lexington.</span> +<span class="i0">He saw the gilded weathercock</span> +<span class="i0">Swim in the moonlight as he passed,</span> +<span class="i0">And the meeting-house windows, blank and bare,</span> +<span class="i0">Gaze at him with a spectral glare,</span> +<span class="i0">As if they already stood aghast</span> +<span class="i0">At the bloody work they would look upon.</span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">It was two by the village clock,</span> +<span class="i0">When he came to the bridge in Concord town.</span> +<span class="i0">He heard the bleating of the flock,</span> +<span class="i0">And the twitter of birds among the trees,</span> +<span class="i0">And felt the breath of the morning breeze</span> +<span class="i0">Blowing over the meadows brown.</span> +<span class="i0">And one was safe and asleep in his bed</span> +<span class="i0">Who at the bridge would be first to fall,</span> +<span class="i0">Who that day would be lying dead,</span> +<span class="i0">Pierced by a British musket-ball.</span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">You know the rest. In the books you have read,</span> +<span class="i0">How the British Regulars fired and fled,—</span> +<span class="i0">How the farmers gave them ball for ball,</span> +<span class="i0">From behind each fence and farm-yard wall,</span> +<span class="i0">Chasing the red-coats down the lane,</span> +<span class="i0">Then crossing the fields to emerge again</span> +<span class="i0">Under the trees at the turn of the road,</span> +<span class="i0">And only pausing to fire and load.</span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">So through the night rode Paul Revere;</span> +<span class="i0">And so through the night went his cry of alarm</span> +<span class="i0">To every Middlesex village and farm,—</span> +<span class="i0">A cry of defiance and not of fear,</span><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_135" id="Page_135">[Pg 135]</a></span> +<span class="i0">A voice in the darkness a knock at the door,</span> +<span class="i0">And a word that shall echo forevermore!</span> +<span class="i0">For, borne on the night-wind of the Past,</span> +<span class="i0">Through all our history, to the last,</span> +<span class="i0">In the hour of darkness and peril and need,</span> +<span class="i0">The people will waken and listen to hear</span> +<span class="i0">The hurrying hoof-beats of that steed,</span> +<span class="i0">And the midnight message of Paul Revere.</span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i10"><i>H. W. Longfellow.</i></span> +</div></div> + + + +<hr class="chap" /> +<h2>SHERIDAN'S RIDE.</h2> + + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Up from the South at break of day,</span> +<span class="i0">Bringing to Winchester fresh dismay,</span> +<span class="i0">The affrighted air with a shudder bore,</span> +<span class="i0">Like a herald in haste, to the chieftain's door,</span> +<span class="i0">The terrible grumble, and rumble, and roar,</span> +<span class="i0">Telling the battle was on once more,</span> +<span class="i0">And Sheridan twenty miles away.</span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">And wider still those billows of war</span> +<span class="i0">Thundered along the horizon's bar;</span> +<span class="i0">And louder yet into Winchester rolled</span> +<span class="i0">The roar of that red sea uncontrolled,</span> +<span class="i0">Making the blood of the listener cold,</span> +<span class="i0">As he thought of the stake in that fiery fray,</span> +<span class="i0">And Sheridan twenty miles away.</span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">But there is a road from Winchester town,</span> +<span class="i0">A good broad highway leading down;</span> +<span class="i0">And there, through the flush of the morning light,</span><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_136" id="Page_136">[Pg 136]</a></span> +<span class="i0">A steed as black as the steeds of night,</span> +<span class="i0">Was seen to pass, as with eagle flight,</span> +<span class="i0">As if he knew the terrible need;</span> +<span class="i0">He stretched away with his utmost speed;</span> +<span class="i0">Hills rose and fell; but his heart was gay,</span> +<span class="i0">With Sheridan fifteen miles away.</span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Still sprung from those swift hoofs, thundering South,</span> +<span class="i0">The dust, like smoke from the cannon's mouth;</span> +<span class="i0">Or the trail of a comet, sweeping faster and faster,</span> +<span class="i0">Foreboding to traitors the doom of disaster.</span> +<span class="i0">The heart of the steed and the heart of the master</span> +<span class="i0">Were beating like prisoners assaulting their walls,</span> +<span class="i0">Impatient to be where the battle-field calls;</span> +<span class="i0">Every nerve of the charger was strained to full play,</span> +<span class="i0">With Sheridan only ten miles away.</span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Under his spurning feet the road</span> +<span class="i0">Like an arrowy alpine river flowed,</span> +<span class="i0">And the landscape sped away behind</span> +<span class="i0">Like an ocean flying before the wind,</span> +<span class="i0">And the steed, like a bark fed with furnace fire,</span> +<span class="i0">Swept on, with his wild eye full of ire.</span> +<span class="i0">But lo! he is nearing his heart's desire;</span> +<span class="i0">He is snuffing the smoke of the roaring fray,</span> +<span class="i0">With Sheridan only five miles away.</span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">The first that the general saw were the groups</span><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_137" id="Page_137">[Pg 137]</a></span> +<span class="i0">Of stragglers, and then the retreating troops,</span> +<span class="i0">What was done? what to do? a glance told him both,</span> +<span class="i0">Then striking his spurs, with a terrible oath,</span> +<span class="i0">He dashed down the line, mid a storm of huzzas,</span> +<span class="i0">And the wave of retreat checked its course there, because</span> +<span class="i0">The sight of the master compelled it to pause.</span> +<span class="i0">With foam and with dust the black charger was gray;</span> +<span class="i0">By the flash of his eye, and the red nostril's play,</span> +<span class="i0">He seemed to the whole great army to say,</span> +<span class="i0">"I have brought you Sheridan all the way</span> +<span class="i0">From Winchester down, to save the day!"</span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Hurrah! hurrah for Sheridan!</span> +<span class="i0">Hurrah! hurrah for horse and man!</span> +<span class="i0">And when their statues are placed on high,</span> +<span class="i0">Under the dome of the Union sky,</span> +<span class="i0">The American soldiers' Temple of Fame;</span> +<span class="i0">There with the glorious general's name,</span> +<span class="i0">Be it said, in letters both bold and bright,</span> +<span class="i0">"Here is the steed that saved the day,</span> +<span class="i0">By carrying Sheridan into the fight,</span> +<span class="i0">From Winchester, twenty miles away!"</span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i10"><i>Thomas Buchanan Read.</i></span> +</div></div> + + +<hr class="chap" /><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_138" id="Page_138">[Pg 138]</a></span></p> + +<h2>KEARNY AT SEVEN PINES.</h2> + + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">So that soldierly legend is still on its journey,—</span> +<span class="i2">That story of Kearny who knew not to yield!</span> +<span class="i0">'Twas the day when with Jameson, fierce Berry, and Birney,</span> +<span class="i2">Against twenty thousand he rallied the field.</span> +<span class="i0">Where the red volleys poured, where the clamor rose highest,</span> +<span class="i2">Where the dead lay in clumps through the dwarf oak and pine;</span> +<span class="i0">Where the aim from the thicket was surest and nighest,—</span> +<span class="i2">No charge like Phil Kearny's along the whole line.</span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">When the battle went ill, and the bravest were solemn,</span> +<span class="i2">Near the dark Seven Pines, where we still held our ground,</span> +<span class="i0">He rode down the length of the withering column,</span> +<span class="i2">And his heart at our war-cry leapt up with a bound;</span> +<span class="i0">He snuffed, like his charger, the wind of the powder,—</span> +<span class="i2">His sword waved us on, and we answered the sign:</span> +<span class="i0">Loud our cheers as we rushed, but his laugh rang the louder,</span><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_139" id="Page_139">[Pg 139]</a></span> +<span class="i2">"There's the devil's own fun, boys, along the whole line!"</span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">How he strode his brown steed! How we saw his blade brighten</span> +<span class="i2">In the one hand still left,—and the reins in his teeth!</span> +<span class="i0">He laughed like a boy when the holidays heighten,</span> +<span class="i2">But a soldier's glance shot from his visor beneath.</span> +<span class="i0">Up came the reserves to the mellay infernal,</span> +<span class="i2">Asking where to go in,—through the clearing or pine?</span> +<span class="i0">"Oh, anywhere! Forward! 'Tis all the same, Colonel:</span> +<span class="i2">You'll find lovely fighting along the whole line!"</span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Oh, evil the black shroud of night at Chantilly,</span> +<span class="i2">That hid him from sight of his brave men and tried!</span> +<span class="i0">Foul, foul sped the bullet that clipped the white lily,</span> +<span class="i2">The flower of our knighthood, the whole army's pride!</span> +<span class="i0">Yet we dream that he still,—in that shadowy region,</span> +<span class="i2">Where the dead form their ranks at the wan drummer's sign,—</span> +<span class="i0">Rides on, as of old, down the length of his legion,</span> +<span class="i2">And the word still is Forward! along the whole line.</span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i10"><i>Edmund Clarence Stedman.</i></span> +</div></div> + + + +<hr class="chap" /><h2><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_140" id="Page_140">[Pg 140]</a></span></h2> +<h2>THE RIDE OF COLLINS GRAVES.</h2> + +<h3>AN INCIDENT OF THE FLOOD IN MASSACHUSETTS, ON MAY 16, 1874.</h3> + + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">No song of a soldier riding down</span> +<span class="i0">To the raging fight from Winchester town;</span> +<span class="i0">No song of a time that shook the earth</span> +<span class="i0">With the nations' throe at a nation's birth;</span> +<span class="i0">But the song of a brave man, free from fear</span> +<span class="i0">As Sheridan's self, or Paul Revere;</span> +<span class="i0">Who risked what they risked, free from strife,</span> +<span class="i0">And its promise of glorious pay—his life!</span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">The peaceful valley has waked and stirred,</span> +<span class="i0">And the answering echoes of life are heard:</span> +<span class="i0">The dew still clings to the trees and grass,</span> +<span class="i0">And the early toilers smiling pass,</span> +<span class="i0">As they glance aside at the white-walled homes,</span> +<span class="i0">Or up the valley, where merrily comes</span> +<span class="i0">The brook that sparkles in diamond rills</span> +<span class="i0">As the sun comes over the Hampshire hills.</span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">What was it, that passed like an ominous breath—</span> +<span class="i0">Like a shiver of fear, or a touch of death?</span> +<span class="i0">What was it? The valley is peaceful still,</span> +<span class="i0">And the leaves are afire on top of the hill.</span> +<span class="i0">It was not a sound—nor a thing of sense—</span> +<span class="i0">But a pain, like the pang of the short suspense</span> +<span class="i0">That thrills the being of those who see</span><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_141" id="Page_141">[Pg 141]</a></span> +<span class="i0">At their feet the gulf of Eternity!</span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">The air of the valley has felt the chill:</span> +<span class="i0">The workers pause at the door of the mill;</span> +<span class="i0">The housewife, keen to the shivering air,</span> +<span class="i0">Arrests her foot on the cottage stair,</span> +<span class="i0">Instinctive taught by the mother-love,</span> +<span class="i0">And thinks of the sleeping ones above.</span> +<span class="i0">Why start the listeners? Why does the course</span> +<span class="i0">Of the mill-stream widen? Is it a horse—</span> +<span class="i0">Hark to the sound of his hoofs, they say—</span> +<span class="i0">That gallops so wildly Williamsburg way!</span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">God! what was that, like a human shriek</span> +<span class="i0">From the winding valley? Will nobody speak?</span> +<span class="i0">Will nobody answer those women who cry</span> +<span class="i0">As the awful warnings thunder by?</span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Whence come they? Listen! And now they hear</span> +<span class="i0">The sound of the galloping horse-hoofs near;</span> +<span class="i0">They watch the trend of the vale, and see</span> +<span class="i0">The rider who thunders so menacingly,</span> +<span class="i0">With waving arms and warning scream</span> +<span class="i0">To the home-filled banks of the valley stream.</span> +<span class="i0">He draws no rein, but he shakes the street</span> +<span class="i0">With a shout and the ring of the galloping feet;</span> +<span class="i0">And this the cry he flings to the wind:</span> +<span class="i0">"To the hills for your lives! The flood is behind!"</span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">He cries and is gone; but they know the worst—</span> +<span class="i0">The breast of the Williamsburg dam has burst!</span> +<span class="i0">The basin that nourished their happy homes</span><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_142" id="Page_142">[Pg 142]</a></span> +<span class="i0">Is changed to a demon—It comes! it comes!</span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">A monster in aspect, with shaggy front</span> +<span class="i0">Of shattered dwellings, to take the brunt</span> +<span class="i0">Of the homes they shatter—white-maned and hoarse,</span> +<span class="i0">The merciless Terror fills the course</span> +<span class="i0">Of the narrow valley, and rushing raves,</span> +<span class="i0">With Death on the first of its hissing waves,</span> +<span class="i0">Till cottage and street and crowded mill</span> +<span class="i0">Are crumbled and crushed.</span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i24">But onward still,</span> +<span class="i0">In front of the roaring flood is heard</span> +<span class="i0">The galloping horse and the warning word.</span> +<span class="i0">Thank God! the brave man's life is spared!</span> +<span class="i0">From Williamsburg town he nobly dared</span> +<span class="i0">To race with the flood and take the road</span> +<span class="i0">In front of the terrible swath it mowed.</span> +<span class="i0">For miles it thundered and crashed behind,</span> +<span class="i0">But he looked ahead with a steadfast mind;</span> +<span class="i0">"They must be warned!" was all he said,</span> +<span class="i0">As away on his terrible ride he sped.</span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">When heroes are called for, bring the crown</span> +<span class="i0">To this Yankee rider: send him down</span> +<span class="i0">On the stream of time with the Curtius old;</span> +<span class="i0">His deed as the Roman's was brave and bold,</span> +<span class="i0">And the tale can as noble a thrill awake,</span> +<span class="i0">For he offered his life for the people's sake.</span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i10"><i>John Boyle O'Reilly.</i></span> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_143" id="Page_143">[Pg 143]</a></span></div></div> + + +<hr class="chap" /> + +<h2>A TALE OF PROVIDENCE.</h2> + + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">The tall green tree its shadow cast</span> +<span class="i0">Upon Howe's army that southward passed</span> +<span class="i0">From Gordon's Ford to the Quaker town,</span> +<span class="i0">Intending in quarters to settle down</span> +<span class="i0">Till snows were gone, and spring again</span> +<span class="i0">Should easier make a new campaign.</span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Beyond the fences that lined the way,</span> +<span class="i0">The fields of Captain Richardson lay;</span> +<span class="i0">His woodland and meadows reached far and wide,</span> +<span class="i0">From the hills behind to the Schuylkill's side,</span> +<span class="i0">Across the stream, in the mountain gorge,</span> +<span class="i0">He could see the smoke of the valley forge.</span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">The Captain had fought in the frontier war;</span> +<span class="i0">When the fight was done, bearing seam and scar,</span> +<span class="i0">He marched back home to tread once more</span> +<span class="i0">The same tame round he had trod before,</span> +<span class="i0">And turn his thoughts with sighs of regret</span> +<span class="i0">To his ploughshares, wishing them sword-blades yet.</span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">He put the meadow in corn that year,</span> +<span class="i0">And swore till his blacks were white with fear.</span> +<span class="i0">He plowed, and planted, and married a wife,</span> +<span class="i0">But life grew weary with inward strife.</span> +<span class="i0">His blood was hot and his throbbing brain</span><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_144" id="Page_144">[Pg 144]</a></span> +<span class="i0">Beat with the surf of some far main.</span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Should he sack a town, or rob the mail,</span> +<span class="i0">Or on the wide seas a pirate sail?</span> +<span class="i0">He pondered it over, concluding instead,</span> +<span class="i0">To buy three steeds in Arabia bred,</span> +<span class="i0">On Sopus, Fearnaught, or Scipio,</span> +<span class="i0">He felt his blood more evenly flow.</span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">To his daughter Tacey, the coming days</span> +<span class="i0">Brought health, and beauty, and graceful ways.</span> +<span class="i0">He taught her to ride his fleetest steed</span> +<span class="i0">At a five-barred fence, or a ditch at need,</span> +<span class="i0">And the Captain's horses, his hounds, and his child</span> +<span class="i0">Were famous from sea to forests wild.</span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">*....*....*....*</span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Master and man from home were gone,</span> +<span class="i0">And Fearnaught held the stables alone,</span> +<span class="i0">And Mistress Tacey her spirit showed</span> +<span class="i0">The morning the British came down the road.</span> +<span class="i0">She hid the silver, and drove the cows</span> +<span class="i0">To the island behind the willow boughs.</span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Was time too short? or did she forget</span> +<span class="i0">That Fearnaught stood in the stables yet?</span> +<span class="i0">Across the fields to the gate she ran,</span> +<span class="i0">And followed the path 'neath the grape-arbors' span;</span> +<span class="i0">On the doorstep she paused and turned to see</span> +<span class="i0">The head of the line beneath the green tree.</span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">The last straggler passed, the night came on,</span><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_145" id="Page_145">[Pg 145]</a></span> +<span class="i0">And then 'twas discovered that Fearnaught was gone;</span> +<span class="i0">Sometime, somehow, from his stall he was led,</span> +<span class="i0">Where an old gray horse was left in his stead,</span> +<span class="i0">And Tacey must prove to her father that she</span> +<span class="i0">Had been prepared for the emergency.</span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">For the words he scattered on kind soil fell,</span> +<span class="i0">And Tacey had learned his maxim well</span> +<span class="i0">In the stories he read. She remembered the art</span> +<span class="i0">That concealed the fear in Esther's heart;</span> +<span class="i0">How the words of the woman Abigail</span> +<span class="i0">Appeased the king's wrath, the deed of Jael!</span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">How Judith went from the city's gate</span> +<span class="i0">Across the plain as the day grew late,</span> +<span class="i0">To the tent of the great Assyrian;</span> +<span class="i0">The leader exalted with horse and man,</span> +<span class="i0">And brought back his head, said Tacey: "Of course,</span> +<span class="i0">A more difficult feat than to bring back a horse."</span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">In the English camp the reveille drum</span> +<span class="i0">Told the sleeping troops that the dawn had come,</span> +<span class="i0">And the shadows abroad that with night were blent</span> +<span class="i0">At the drum's tap startled, crept under each tent</span> +<span class="i0">As Tacey stole from the sheltering wood</span> +<span class="i0">Across the wet grass where the horse pound stood.</span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Hark! was it the twitter of frightened bird,</span><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_146" id="Page_146">[Pg 146]</a></span> +<span class="i0">Or was it the challenge of sentry she heard?</span> +<span class="i0">She entered unseen, but her footsteps she stayed</span> +<span class="i0">When the old gray horse in the wood still, neighed,</span> +<span class="i0">Half hid in the mist a shape loomed tall,</span> +<span class="i0">A steed that answered her well-known call.</span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">With freedom beyond for the recompense</span> +<span class="i0">She sprang to his back, and leaped the fence;</span> +<span class="i0">Too late the alarm; but Tacey heard</span> +<span class="i0">As she sped away how the camp was stirred,</span> +<span class="i0">The stamping of horses, the shouts of men</span> +<span class="i0">And the bugle's impatient call again.</span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Loudly and fast on the Ridge Road beat</span> +<span class="i0">The regular fall of Fearnaught's feet,</span> +<span class="i0">On his broad, bare back his rider's seat</span> +<span class="i0">Was as firm as the tread of the steed so fleet;</span> +<span class="i0">Small need of saddle, or bridle rein,</span> +<span class="i0">He answered as well her touch on his mane.</span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">On down the hill by the river shore,</span> +<span class="i0">Faster and faster she rode than before;</span> +<span class="i0">Her bonnet fell back, her head was bare,</span> +<span class="i0">And the river breeze that freed her hair</span> +<span class="i0">Dispersed the fog, and she heard the shout</span> +<span class="i0">Of the troopers behind when the sun came out.</span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">The wheel at Van Deering's had dripped nearly dry,</span> +<span class="i0">In Sabbath-like stillness the morning passed by;</span> +<span class="i0">Then the clatter of hoofs came down the hill,</span><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_147" id="Page_147">[Pg 147]</a></span> +<span class="i0">And the white old miller ran out from the mill.</span> +<span class="i0">But he only saw through the dust of the road</span> +<span class="i0">The last red-coat that faintly showed.</span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">To Tacey the sky, and the trees, and the wind</span> +<span class="i0">Seemed all to rush toward her, and follow behind,</span> +<span class="i0">Her lips were set firm, and pale was her cheek</span> +<span class="i0">As she plunged down the hill and through the creek,</span> +<span class="i0">The tortoise shell comb that she lost that day</span> +<span class="i0">The Wissahickon carried away.</span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">On the other side up the stony hill</span> +<span class="i0">The feet of Fearnaught went faster still,</span> +<span class="i0">But somewhat backward the troopers fell,</span> +<span class="i0">For the hill, and the pace, began to tell</span> +<span class="i0">On their horses worn with a long campaign</span> +<span class="i0">O'er rugged mountains, and weary plain.</span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">The road was deserted, for when men fought</span> +<span class="i0">A secret path the traveler sought;</span> +<span class="i0">Two scared idlers in Levering's Inn</span> +<span class="i0">Fled to the woods at the coming din,</span> +<span class="i0">The watch dog ran to bark his delight,</span> +<span class="i0">But pursued and pursuers were out of sight.</span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Surely the distance between them increased,</span> +<span class="i0">And the shouts of the troopers had long since ceased,</span> +<span class="i0">One after another pulled his rein</span> +<span class="i0">And rode with great oaths to the camp again.</span> +<span class="i0">Oft a look backward Tacey sent</span><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_148" id="Page_148">[Pg 148]</a></span> +<span class="i0">To the fading red of the regiment.</span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">She heard the foremost horseman call;</span> +<span class="i0">She saw the horse stumble, the rider fall;</span> +<span class="i0">She patted her steed and checked his pace</span> +<span class="i0">And leisurely rode the rest of the race.</span> +<span class="i0">When the Seven-Stars' sign on the horizon showed</span> +<span class="i0">Behind not a trooper was on the road.</span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">In vain had they shouted who followed in chase,</span> +<span class="i0">In vain their wild ride; so ended the race.</span> +<span class="i0">Though fifty strong voices may clamor and call,</span> +<span class="i0">If she hear not the strongest, she hears not them all;</span> +<span class="i0">Though fifty fleet horses go galloping fast,</span> +<span class="i0">One swifter than all shall be furthest at last.</span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Said the well-pleased Captain when he came home:</span> +<span class="i0">"The steed shall be thine and a new silver comb.</span> +<span class="i0">'Twas a daring deed and bravely done."</span> +<span class="i0">As proud of the praise as the promise won,</span> +<span class="i0">The maiden stole from the house to feed</span> +<span class="i0">With a generous hand her gallant steed.</span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Unavailing the storms of the century beat</span> +<span class="i0">With the roar of thunder, or winter's sleet,</span> +<span class="i0">The mansion still stands, and is heard as of yore</span> +<span class="i0">The wind in the trees on the island's shore;</span> +<span class="i0">But the restless river its shore line wears</span> +<span class="i0">And no longer the island its old name bears.</span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">And years that are gone in obscurity</span><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_149" id="Page_149">[Pg 149]</a></span> +<span class="i0">Have enveloped the rider's memory,</span> +<span class="i0">But in Providence still abide her race,</span> +<span class="i0">Brave youths with her spirit, fair maids with her grace,</span> +<span class="i0">Undaunted they stand when fainter hearts flee,</span> +<span class="i0">Prepared whatsoever the emergency.</span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i10"><i>Isaac R. Pennypacker.</i></span> +</div></div> + + +<hr class="chap" /> + +<h2>KIT CARSON'S RIDE.</h2> + + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">We lay low in the grass on the broad plain levels,</span> +<span class="i0">Old Revels and I, and my stolen brown bride;</span> +<span class="i0">And the heavens of blue and the harvest of brown</span> +<span class="i0">And beautiful clover were welded as one,</span> +<span class="i0">To the right and the left, in the light of the sun.</span> +<span class="i0">"Forty full miles if a foot to ride,</span> +<span class="i0">Forty full miles if a foot, and the devils</span> +<span class="i0">Of red Camanches are hot on the track</span> +<span class="i0">When once they strike it. Let the sun go down</span> +<span class="i0">Soon, very soon," muttered bearded old Revels</span> +<span class="i0">As he peered at the sun, lying low on his back,</span> +<span class="i0">Holding fast to his lasso. Then he jerked at his steed</span> +<span class="i0">And he sprang to his feet, and glanced swiftly around,</span> +<span class="i0">And then dropped, as if shot, with his ear to the ground;</span> +<span class="i0">Then again to his feet, and to me, to my bride,</span> +<span class="i0">While his eyes were like fire, his face like a shroud,</span> +<span class="i0">His form like a king, and his beard like a cloud,</span><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_150" id="Page_150">[Pg 150]</a></span> +<span class="i0">And his voice loud and shrill, as if blown from a reed,—</span> +<span class="i0">"Pull, pull in your lassos, and bridle to steed,</span> +<span class="i0">And speed you if ever for life you would speed,</span> +<span class="i0">And ride for your lives, for your lives you must ride!</span> +<span class="i0">For the plain is aflame, the prairie on fire,</span> +<span class="i0">And feet of wild horses hard flying before</span> +<span class="i0">I hear like a sea breaking high on the shore,</span> +<span class="i0">While the buffalo come like a surge of the sea,</span> +<span class="i0">Driven far by the flame, driving fast on us three</span> +<span class="i0">As a hurricane comes, crushing palms in his ire."</span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2">We drew in the lassos, seized saddle and rein,</span> +<span class="i0">Threw them on, sinched them on, sinched them over again,</span> +<span class="i0">And again drew the girth, cast aside the macheers,</span> +<span class="i0">Cut away tapidaros, loosed the sash from its fold,</span> +<span class="i0">Cast aside the catenas red-spangled with gold,</span> +<span class="i0">And gold mounted Colt's, the companions of years,</span> +<span class="i0">Cast the silken serapes to the wind in a breath,</span> +<span class="i0">And so bared to the skin sprang all haste to the horse,—</span> +<span class="i0">As bare as when born, as when new from the hand</span> +<span class="i0">Of God,—without word, or one word of command.</span> +<span class="i0">Turned head to the Brazos in a red race with death,</span> +<span class="i0">Turned head to the Brazos with a breath in the hair</span><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_151" id="Page_151">[Pg 151]</a></span> +<span class="i0">Blowing hot from a king leaving death in his course;</span> +<span class="i0">Turned head to the Brazos with a sound in the air</span> +<span class="i0">Like the rush of an army, and a flash in the eye</span> +<span class="i0">Of a red wall of fire reaching up to the sky,</span> +<span class="i0">Stretching fierce in pursuit of a black rolling sea</span> +<span class="i0">Rushing fast upon us, as the wind sweeping free</span> +<span class="i0">And afar from the desert blew hollow and hoarse.</span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2">Not a word, not a wail from a lip was let fall,</span> +<span class="i0">Not a kiss from my bride, not a look nor low call</span> +<span class="i0">Of love-note or courage; but on o'er the plain</span> +<span class="i0">So steady and still, leaning low to the mane,</span> +<span class="i0">With the heel to the flank and the hand to the rein,</span> +<span class="i0">Rode we on, rode we three, rode we nose and gray nose,</span> +<span class="i0">Reaching long, breathing loud, as a creviced wind blows:</span> +<span class="i0">Yet we broke not a whisper, we breathed not a prayer,</span> +<span class="i0">There was work to be done, there was death in the air,</span> +<span class="i0">And the chance was as one to a thousand for all.</span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2">Gray nose to gray nose, and each steady mustang</span> +<span class="i0">Stretched neck and stretched nerve till the arid earth rang,</span> +<span class="i0">And the foam from the flank and the croup and the neck</span><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_152" id="Page_152">[Pg 152]</a></span> +<span class="i0">Flew around like the spray on a storm-driven deck.</span> +<span class="i0">Twenty miles!... thirty miles!... a dim distant speck ...</span> +<span class="i0">Then a long reaching line, and the Brazos in sight,</span> +<span class="i0">And I rose in my seat with a shout of delight.</span> +<span class="i0">I stood in my stirrup and looked to my right—</span> +<span class="i0">But Revels was gone; I glanced by my shoulder</span> +<span class="i0">And saw his horse stagger; I saw his head drooping</span> +<span class="i0">Hard down on his breast, and his naked breast stooping</span> +<span class="i0">Low down to the mane, as so swifter and bolder</span> +<span class="i0">Ran reaching out for us the red-footed fire.</span> +<span class="i0">To right and to left the black buffalo came,</span> +<span class="i0">A terrible surf on a red sea of flame</span> +<span class="i0">Rushing on in the rear, reaching high, reaching higher.</span> +<span class="i0">And he rode neck to neck to a buffalo bull,</span> +<span class="i0">The monarch of millions, with shaggy mane full</span> +<span class="i0">Of smoke and of dust, and it shook with desire</span> +<span class="i0">Of battle, with rage and with bellowings loud</span> +<span class="i0">And unearthly, and up through its lowering cloud</span> +<span class="i0">Came the flash of his eyes like a half-hidden fire,</span> +<span class="i0">While his keen crooked horns, through the storm of his mane,</span> +<span class="i0">Like black lances lifted and lifted again;</span> +<span class="i0">And I looked but this once, for the fire licked through,</span><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_153" id="Page_153">[Pg 153]</a></span> +<span class="i0">And he fell and was lost, as we rode two and two.</span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2">I looked to my left then,—and nose, neck, and shoulder</span> +<span class="i0">Sank slowly, sank surely, till back to my thighs;</span> +<span class="i0">And up through the black blowing veil of her hair</span> +<span class="i0">Did beam full in mine her two marvelous eyes,</span> +<span class="i0">With a longing and love, yet a look of despair</span> +<span class="i0">And of pity for me, as she felt the smoke fold her,</span> +<span class="i0">And flames reaching far for her glorious hair.</span> +<span class="i0">Her sinking steed faltered, his eager ears fell</span> +<span class="i0">To and fro and unsteady, and all the neck's swell</span> +<span class="i0">Did subside and recede, and the nerves fall as dead.</span> +<span class="i0">Then she saw sturdy Paché still lorded his head,</span> +<span class="i0">With a look of delight; for nor courage nor bribe,</span> +<span class="i0">Nor naught but my bride, could have brought him to me.</span> +<span class="i0">For he was her father's, and at South Santafee</span> +<span class="i0">Had once won a whole herd, sweeping everything down</span> +<span class="i0">In a race where the world came to run for the crown.</span> +<span class="i0">And so when I won the true heart of my bride,—</span> +<span class="i0">My neighbor's and deadliest enemy's child,</span> +<span class="i0">And child of the kingly war-chief of his tribe,—</span> +<span class="i0">She brought me this steed to the border the night</span> +<span class="i0">She met Revels and me in her perilous flight</span> +<span class="i0">From the lodge of the chief to the North Brazos side;</span> +<span class="i0">And said, so half guessing of ill as she smiled,</span> +<span class="i0">As if jesting, that I, and I only, should ride</span><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_154" id="Page_154">[Pg 154]</a></span> +<span class="i0">The fleet-footed Paché, so if kin should pursue</span> +<span class="i0">I should surely escape without other ado</span> +<span class="i0">Than to ride, without blood, to the North Brazos side,</span> +<span class="i0">And await her,—and wait till the next hollow moon</span> +<span class="i0">Hung her horn in the palms, when surely and soon</span> +<span class="i0">And swift she would join me, and all would be well</span> +<span class="i0">Without bloodshed or word. And now as she fell</span> +<span class="i0">From the front, and went down in the ocean of fire,</span> +<span class="i0">The last that I saw was a look of delight</span> +<span class="i0">That I should escape—a love—a desire—</span> +<span class="i0">Yet never a word, not one look of appeal,</span> +<span class="i0">Lest I should reach hand, should stay hand or stay heel</span> +<span class="i0">One instant for her in my terrible flight.</span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2">Then the rushing of fire around me and under,</span> +<span class="i0">And the howling of beasts and a sound as of thunder,—</span> +<span class="i0">Beasts burning and blind and forced onward and over,</span> +<span class="i0">As the passionate flame reached around them, and wove her</span> +<span class="i0">Red hands in their hair, and kissed hot till they died,—</span> +<span class="i0">Till they died with a wild and a desolate moan,</span> +<span class="i0">As a sea heart-broken on the hard brown stone ...</span> +<span class="i0">And into the Brazos ... I rode all alone,—</span><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_155" id="Page_155">[Pg 155]</a></span> +<span class="i0">All alone, save only a horse long-limbed,</span> +<span class="i0">And blind and bare and burnt to the skin.</span> +<span class="i0">Then just as the terrible sea came in</span> +<span class="i0">And tumbled its thousands hot into the tide</span> +<span class="i0">Till the tide blocked up and the swift stream brimmed</span> +<span class="i0">In eddies, we struck on the opposite side.</span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i10"><i>Joaquin Miller.</i></span> +</div></div> + + +<hr class="chap" /> + +<h2>TAMING THE WILD HORSE.</h2> + + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Last night he trampled with a thousand steeds</span> +<span class="i0">The trembling desert. Now, he stands alone—</span> +<span class="i0">His speed hath baffled theirs. His fellows lurk,</span> +<span class="i0">Behind, on heavy sands, with weary limbs</span> +<span class="i0">That cannot reach him. From the highest hill,</span> +<span class="i0">He gazes o'er the wild whose plains he spurned,</span> +<span class="i0">And his eye kindles, and his breast expands,</span> +<span class="i0">With an upheaving consciousness of might.</span> +<span class="i0">He stands an instant, then he breaks away,</span> +<span class="i0">As revelling in his freedom. What if art,</span> +<span class="i0">That strikes soul into marble, could but seize</span> +<span class="i0">That agony of action,—could impress</span> +<span class="i0">Its muscular fulness, with its winged haste,</span> +<span class="i0">Upon the resisting rock, while wonder stares,</span> +<span class="i0">And admiration worships? There,—away—</span> +<span class="i0">As glorying in that mighty wilderness,</span> +<span class="i0">And conscious of the gazing skies o'erhead,</span> +<span class="i0">Quiver for flight, his sleek and slender limbs,</span> +<span class="i0">Elastic, springing into headlong force—</span><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_156" id="Page_156">[Pg 156]</a></span> +<span class="i0">While his smooth neck, curved loftily to arch,</span> +<span class="i0">Dignifies flight, and to his speed imparts</span> +<span class="i0">The majesty, not else its attribute.</span> +<span class="i0">And, circling, now he sweeps, the flowery plain,</span> +<span class="i0">As if 'twere his—imperious, gathering up</span> +<span class="i0">His limbs, unwearied by their sportive play,</span> +<span class="i0">Until he stands, an idol of the sight.</span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2">He stands and trembles! The warm life is gone</span> +<span class="i0">That gave him action. Wherefore is it thus?</span> +<span class="i0">His eye hath lost its lustre, though it still</span> +<span class="i0">Sends forth a glance of consciousness and care,</span> +<span class="i0">To a deep agony of acuteness wrought,</span> +<span class="i0">And straining at a point—a narrow point—</span> +<span class="i0">That rises, but a speck upon the verge</span> +<span class="i0">Of the horizon. Sure, the humblest life,</span> +<span class="i0">Hath, in God's providence, some gracious guides,</span> +<span class="i0">That warn it of its foe. The danger there,</span> +<span class="i0">His instinct teaches, and with growing dread,</span> +<span class="i0">No more solicitous of graceful flight,</span> +<span class="i0">He bounds across the plain—he speeds away,</span> +<span class="i0">Into the tameless wilderness afar,</span> +<span class="i0">To 'scape his bondage. Yet, in vain his flight—</span> +<span class="i0">Vain his fleet limbs, his desperate aim, his leap</span> +<span class="i0">Through the close thicket, through the festering swamp,</span> +<span class="i0">And rushing waters. His proud neck must bend</span> +<span class="i0">Beneath a halter, and the iron parts</span> +<span class="i0">And tears his delicate mouth. The brave steed,</span> +<span class="i0">Late bounding in his freedom's consciousness,</span> +<span class="i0">The leader of the wild, unreached of all,</span><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_157" id="Page_157">[Pg 157]</a></span> +<span class="i0">Wears gaudy trappings, and becomes a slave.</span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2">He bears a master on his shrinking back,</span> +<span class="i0">He feels a rowel in his bleeding flanks,</span> +<span class="i0">And his arched neck, beneath the biting thong,</span> +<span class="i0">Burns, while he bounds away—all desperate—</span> +<span class="i0">Across the desert, mad with the vain hope</span> +<span class="i0">To shake his burden off. He writhes, he turns</span> +<span class="i0">On his oppressor. He would rend the foe,</span> +<span class="i0">Who subtle, with less strength, had taken him thus,</span> +<span class="i0">At foul advantage—but he strives in vain.</span> +<span class="i0">A sudden pang—a newer form of pain,</span> +<span class="i0">Baffles, and bears him on—he feels his fate,</span> +<span class="i0">And with a shriek of agony, which tells,</span> +<span class="i0">Loudly, the terrors of his new estate,</span> +<span class="i0">He makes the desert—his own desert—ring</span> +<span class="i0">With the wild clamors of his new born grief.</span> +<span class="i0">One fruitless effort more—one desperate bound,</span> +<span class="i0">For the old freedom of his natural life,</span> +<span class="i0">And then he humbles to his cruel lot,</span> +<span class="i0">Submits, and finds his conqueror in man!</span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i10"><i>W. G. Simms.</i></span> +</div></div> + + +<hr class="chap" /> + +<h2>CHIQUITA.</h2> + + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Beautiful! Sir, you may say so. Thar isn't her match in the county.</span> +<span class="i0">Is thar, old gal,—Chiquita, my darling, my beauty?</span> +<span class="i0">Feel of that neck, sir,—thar's velvet! Whoa! Steady,—ah,</span> +<span class="i4">will you, you vixen!</span><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_158" id="Page_158">[Pg 158]</a></span> +<span class="i0">Whoa! I say. Jack, trot her out; let the gentleman look at her paces.</span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Morgan!—She ain't nothin' else, and I've got the papers to prove it.</span> +<span class="i0">Sired by Chippewa Chief, and twelve hundred dollars won't buy her.</span> +<span class="i0">Briggs of Tuolumne owned her. Did you know Briggs of Tuolumne?—</span> +<span class="i0">Busted hisself in White Pine, and blew out his brains down in 'Frisco?</span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Hedn't no savey—hed Briggs. Thar, Jack! that'll do,—quit that foolin'!</span> +<span class="i0">Nothin' to what she kin do, when she's got her work cut out before her.</span> +<span class="i0">Hosses is hosses, you know, and likewise, too, jockeys is jockeys;</span> +<span class="i0">And 'tain't ev'ry man as can ride as knows what a hoss has got in him.</span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Know the old ford on the Fork, that nearly got Flanigan's leaders?</span> +<span class="i0">Nasty in daylight, you bet, and a mighty rough ford in low water!</span> +<span class="i0">Well, it ain't six weeks ago that me and the Jedge and his nevey</span> +<span class="i0">Struck for that ford in the night, in the rain, and the water all round us;</span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Up to our flanks in the gulch, and Rattlesnake Creek just a bilin',</span><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_159" id="Page_159">[Pg 159]</a></span> +<span class="i0">Not a plank left in the dam, and nary a bridge on the river.</span> +<span class="i0">I had the grey, and the Jedge had his roan, and his nevey, Chiquita;</span> +<span class="i0">And after us trundled the rocks jest loosed from the top of the cañon.</span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Lickity, lickity, switch, we came to the ford, and Chiquita</span> +<span class="i0">Buckled right down to her work, and afore I could yell to her rider,</span> +<span class="i0">Took water jest at the ford, and there was the Jedge and me standing,</span> +<span class="i0">And twelve hundred dollars of hoss-flesh afloat and a driftin' to thunder!</span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Would ye b'lieve it? that night that hoss, that ar' filly, Chiquita,</span> +<span class="i0">Walked herself into her stall, and stood there, all quiet and dripping:</span> +<span class="i0">Clean as a beaver or rat, with nary a buckle of harness,</span> +<span class="i0">Just as she swam the Fork,—that hoss, that ar' filly, Chiquita.</span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">That's what I call a hoss! and—What did you say!—Oh, the nevey?</span> +<span class="i0">Drownded, I reckon,—leastways, he never kem back to deny it.</span> +<span class="i0">Ye see the derned fool had no seat,—ye couldn't have made him a rider;</span> +<span class="i0">And then, ye know, boys will be boys, and hosses—well, hosses is hosses!</span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i10"><i>Bret Harte.</i></span> +</div></div> + + +<hr class="chap" /><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_160" id="Page_160">[Pg 160]</a></span></p> + +<h2>BAY BILLY.</h2> + + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">'Twas the last fight at Fredericksburg,—</span> +<span class="i4">Perhaps the day you reck,</span> +<span class="i0">Our boys, the Twenty-Second Maine,</span> +<span class="i4">Kept Early's men in check.</span> +<span class="i0">Just where Wade Hampton boomed away</span> +<span class="i4">The fight went neck and neck.</span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">All day the weaker wing we held,</span> +<span class="i4">And held it with a will.</span> +<span class="i0">Five several stubborn times we charged</span> +<span class="i4">The battery on the hill,</span> +<span class="i0">And five times beaten back, re-formed,</span> +<span class="i4">And kept our column still.</span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">At last from out the centre fight</span> +<span class="i4">Spurred up a General's Aid.</span> +<span class="i0">"That battery must silenced be!"</span> +<span class="i4">He cried, as past he sped.</span> +<span class="i0">Our Colonel simply touched his cap,</span> +<span class="i4">And then, with measured tread,</span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">To lead the crouching line once more</span> +<span class="i4">The grand old fellow came.</span> +<span class="i0">No wounded man but raised his head</span> +<span class="i4">And strove to gasp his name,</span> +<span class="i0">And those who could not speak nor stir,</span> +<span class="i4">"God blessed him" just the same.</span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">For he was all the world to us,</span><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_161" id="Page_161">[Pg 161]</a></span> +<span class="i4">That hero gray and grim.</span> +<span class="i0">Right well he knew that fearful slope</span> +<span class="i4">We'd climb with none but him,</span> +<span class="i0">Though while his white head led the way</span> +<span class="i4">We'd charge hell's portals in.</span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">This time we were not half-way up,</span> +<span class="i4">When, midst the storm of shell,</span> +<span class="i0">Our leader, with his sword upraised,</span> +<span class="i4">Beneath our bayonets fell.</span> +<span class="i0">And, as we bore him back, the foe</span> +<span class="i4">Set up a joyous yell.</span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Our hearts went with him. Back we swept,</span> +<span class="i4">And when the bugle said</span> +<span class="i0">"Up, charge, again!" no man was there</span> +<span class="i4">But hung his dogged head.</span> +<span class="i0">"We've no one left to lead us now,"</span> +<span class="i4">The sullen soldiers said.</span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Just then before the laggard line</span> +<span class="i4">The Colonel's horse we spied,</span> +<span class="i0">Bay Billy with his trappings on,</span> +<span class="i4">His nostrils swelling wide,</span> +<span class="i0">As though still on his gallant back</span> +<span class="i4">The master sat astride.</span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Right royally he took the place</span> +<span class="i4">That was of old his wont,</span> +<span class="i0">And with a neigh that seemed to say,</span> +<span class="i4">Above the battle's brunt,</span> +<span class="i0">"How can the Twenty-second charge</span><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_162" id="Page_162">[Pg 162]</a></span> +<span class="i2">If I am not in front?"</span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Like statues rooted there we stood,</span> +<span class="i4">And gazed a little space,</span> +<span class="i0">Above that floating mane we missed</span> +<span class="i4">The dear familiar face,</span> +<span class="i0">But we saw Bay Billy's eye of fire,</span> +<span class="i4">And it gave us heart of grace.</span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">No bugle-call could rouse us all</span> +<span class="i4">As that brave sight had done.</span> +<span class="i0">Down all the battered line we felt</span> +<span class="i4">A lightning impulse run.</span> +<span class="i0">Up! up! the hill we followed Bill,</span> +<span class="i4">And we captured every gun!</span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">And when upon the conquered height</span> +<span class="i4">Died out the battle's hum.</span> +<span class="i0">Vainly mid living and the dead</span> +<span class="i4">We sought our leader dumb.</span> +<span class="i0">It seemed as if a spectre steed</span> +<span class="i4">To win that day had come.</span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">And then the dusk and dew of night</span> +<span class="i4">Fell softly o'er the plain,</span> +<span class="i0">As though o'er man's dread work of death</span> +<span class="i4">The angels wept again,</span> +<span class="i0">And drew night's curtain gently round</span> +<span class="i4">A thousand beds of pain.</span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">All night the surgeons' torches went,</span> +<span class="i4">The ghastly rows between.—</span> +<span class="i0">All night with solemn step I paced</span><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_163" id="Page_163">[Pg 163]</a></span> +<span class="i4">The torn and bloody green.</span> +<span class="i0">But who that fought in the big war</span> +<span class="i4">Such dread sights have not seen?</span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">At last the morning broke. The lark</span> +<span class="i4">Sang in the merry skies</span> +<span class="i0">As if to e'en the sleepers there</span> +<span class="i4">It bade awake, and rise!</span> +<span class="i0">Though naught but that last trump of all</span> +<span class="i4">Could ope their heavy eyes.</span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">And then once more with banners gay,</span> +<span class="i4">Stretched out the long Brigade.</span> +<span class="i0">Trimly upon the furrowed field</span> +<span class="i4">The troops stood on parade,</span> +<span class="i0">And bravely mid the ranks were closed</span> +<span class="i4">The gaps the fight had made.</span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Not half the Twenty-second's men</span> +<span class="i4">Were in their place that morn,</span> +<span class="i0">And Corporal Dick, who yester-noon</span> +<span class="i4">Stood six brave fellows on,</span> +<span class="i0">Now touched my elbow in the ranks,</span> +<span class="i4">For all between were gone.</span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Ah! who forgets that dreary hour</span> +<span class="i4">When, as with misty eyes,</span> +<span class="i0">To call the old familiar roll</span> +<span class="i4">The solemn Sergeant tries,—</span> +<span class="i0">One feels that thumping of the heart</span> +<span class="i4">As no prompt voice replies.</span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">And as in faltering tone and slow</span><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_164" id="Page_164">[Pg 164]</a></span> +<span class="i4">The last few names were said,</span> +<span class="i0">Across the field some missing horse</span> +<span class="i4">Toiled up with weary tread,</span> +<span class="i0">It caught the Sergeant's eye, and quick</span> +<span class="i4">Bay Billy's name he read.</span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Yes! there the old bay hero stood,</span> +<span class="i4">All safe from battle's harms,</span> +<span class="i0">And ere an order could be heard,</span> +<span class="i4">Or the bugle's quick alarms,</span> +<span class="i0">Down all the front, from end to end,</span> +<span class="i4">The troops presented arms!</span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Not all the shoulder-straps on earth</span> +<span class="i4">Could still our mighty cheer;</span> +<span class="i0">And ever from that famous day,</span> +<span class="i4">When rang the roll-call clear,</span> +<span class="i0">Bay Billy's name was read, and then</span> +<span class="i4">The whole line answered, "Here!"</span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i10"><i>Frank H. Gassaway.</i></span> +</div></div> + + + +<hr class="chap" /> +<h2>WIDDERIN'S RACE.</h2> + + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">A horse amongst ten thousand! on the verge,</span> +<span class="i0">The extremest verge, of equine life he stands;</span> +<span class="i0">Yet mark his action, as those wild young colts</span> +<span class="i0">Freed from the stock-yard gallop whinnying up;</span> +<span class="i0">See how he trots towards them,—nose in air,</span> +<span class="i0">Tail arched, and his still sinewy legs out-thrown</span> +<span class="i0">In gallant grace before him! A brave beast</span> +<span class="i0">As ever spurned the moorland, ay, and more,—</span><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_165" id="Page_165">[Pg 165]</a></span> +<span class="i0">He bore me once,—such words but smite the truth</span> +<span class="i0">I' the outer ring, while vivid memory wakes,</span> +<span class="i0">Recalling now, the passion and the pain,—</span> +<span class="i0">He bore me once from earthly Hell to Heaven!</span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">The sight of fine old Widderin (that's his name,</span> +<span class="i0">Caught from a peak, the topmost rugged peak</span> +<span class="i0">Of tall Mount Widderin, towering to the North</span> +<span class="i0">Most like a steed's head, with full nostrils blown,</span> +<span class="i0">And ears pricked up),—the sight of Widderin brings</span> +<span class="i0">That day of days before me, whose strange hours</span> +<span class="i0">Of fear and anguish, ere the sunset, changed</span> +<span class="i0">To hours of such content and full-veined joy</span> +<span class="i0">As Heaven can give our mortal lives but once.</span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2">Well, here's the story: While yon bush-fires sweep</span> +<span class="i0">The distant ranges, and the river's voice</span> +<span class="i0">Pipes a thin treble through the heart of drouth,</span> +<span class="i0">While the red heaven like some hugh caldron's top</span> +<span class="i0">Seems with the heat a-simmering, better far</span> +<span class="i0">In place of riding tilt 'gainst such a sun,</span> +<span class="i0">Here in the safe veranda's flowery gloom,</span> +<span class="i0">To play the dwarfish Homer to a song,</span> +<span class="i0">Whereof myself am hero:</span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i26">Two decades</span> +<span class="i0">Have passed since that wild autumn-time when last</span> +<span class="i0">The convict hordes from near Van Diemen, freed</span><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_166" id="Page_166">[Pg 166]</a></span> +<span class="i0">By force or fraud, swept, like a blood-red fire,</span> +<span class="i0">Inland from beach to mountain, bent on raid</span> +<span class="i0">And rapine.</span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">*....*....*....*</span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">So, in late autumn,—'twas a marvellous morn,</span> +<span class="i0">With breezes from the calm snow-river borne</span> +<span class="i0">That touched the air, and stirred it into thrills,</span> +<span class="i0">Mysterious and mesmeric, a bright mist</span> +<span class="i0">Lapping the landscape like a golden trance,</span> +<span class="i0">Swathing the hill-tops with fantastic veils,</span> +<span class="i0">And o'er the moorland-ocean quivering light</span> +<span class="i0">As gossamer threads drawn down the forest aisles</span> +<span class="i0">At dewy dawning,—on this marvellous morn,</span> +<span class="i0">I, with four comrades, in this selfsame spot,</span> +<span class="i0">Watched the fair scene, and drank the spicy airs,</span> +<span class="i0">That held a subtler spirit than our wine,</span> +<span class="i0">And talked and laughed, and mused in idleness,—</span> +<span class="i0">Weaving vague fancies, as our pipe-wreaths curled</span> +<span class="i0">Fantastic in the sunlight! I, with head</span> +<span class="i0">Thrown back, and cushioned snugly, and with eyes</span> +<span class="i0">Intent on one grotesque and curious cloud,</span> +<span class="i0">Puffed upward, that now seemed to take the shape</span> +<span class="i0">Of a Dutch tulip, now a Turk's face topped</span> +<span class="i0">By folds on folds of turban limitless,—</span> +<span class="i0">Heard suddenly, just as the clock chimed one,</span> +<span class="i0">To melt in musical echoes up the hills,</span><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_167" id="Page_167">[Pg 167]</a></span> +<span class="i0">Quick footsteps on the gravelled path without,—</span> +<span class="i0">Steps of the couriers of calamity,—</span> +<span class="i0">So my heart told me,—ere with blanched regards,</span> +<span class="i0">Two stalwart herdsmen on our threshold paused,</span> +<span class="i0">Panting, with lips that writhed, and awful eyes;—</span> +<span class="i0">A breath's space in each other's eyes we glared,</span> +<span class="i0">Then, swift as interchange of lightning thrusts</span> +<span class="i0">In deadly combat, question and reply</span> +<span class="i0">Clashed sharply, "What! the Rangers?" "Ay, by Heaven!</span> +<span class="i0">And loosed in force,—the hell-hounds!" "Whither bound?"</span> +<span class="i0">I stammered, hoarsely. "Bound," the elder said,</span> +<span class="i0">"Southward!—four stations had they sacked and burnt,</span> +<span class="i0">And now, drunk, furious"—But I stopped to hear</span> +<span class="i0">No more: with booming thunder in mine ears,</span> +<span class="i0">And blood-flushed eyes, I rushed to Widderin's side,</span> +<span class="i0">Drew tight the girths, upgathered curb and rein,</span> +<span class="i0">And sprang to horse ere yet our laggard friends—</span> +<span class="i0">Now trooping from the green veranda's shade—</span> +<span class="i0">Could dream of action!</span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i22">Love had winged my will,</span> +<span class="i0">For to the southward fair Garoopna held</span> +<span class="i0">My all of hope, life, passion; she whose hair</span><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_168" id="Page_168">[Pg 168]</a></span> +<span class="i0">(Its tiniest strand of waving, witch-like gold)</span> +<span class="i0">Had caught my heart, entwined, and bound it fast,</span> +<span class="i0">As 'twere some sweet enchantment's heavenly net!</span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">I only gave a hand-wave in farewell,</span> +<span class="i0">Shot by, and o'er the endless moorland swept</span> +<span class="i0">(Endless it seemed, as those weird, measureless plains,</span> +<span class="i0">Which, in some nightmare vision, stretch and stretch</span> +<span class="i0">Towards infinity!) like some lone ship</span> +<span class="i0">O'er wastes of sailless waters: now, a pine,</span> +<span class="i0">The beacon pine gigantic, whose grim crown</span> +<span class="i0">Signals the far land-mariner from out</span> +<span class="i0">Gaunt boulders of the gray-backed Organ hill,</span> +<span class="i0">Rose on my sight, a mist-like, wavering orb,</span> +<span class="i0">The while, still onward, onward, onward still,</span> +<span class="i0">With motion winged, elastic, equable,</span> +<span class="i0">Brave Widderin cleaved the air-tides, tossed aside</span> +<span class="i0">The winds as waves, their swift, invisible breasts</span> +<span class="i0">Hissing with foam-like noise when pressed and pierced</span> +<span class="i0">By that keen head and fiery-crested form!</span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">The lonely shepherd guardian on the plains,</span> +<span class="i0">Watching his sheep through languid, half-shut eyes,</span> +<span class="i0">Looked up, and marvelled, as we passed him by,</span> +<span class="i0">Thinking, perchance, it was a glorious thing,</span><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_169" id="Page_169">[Pg 169]</a></span> +<span class="i0">So dressed, so booted, so caparisoned,</span> +<span class="i0">To ride such bright blood-coursers unto death!</span> +<span class="i0">Two sun-blacked natives, slumbering in the grass,</span> +<span class="i0">Just rose betimes to 'scape the trampling hoofs,</span> +<span class="i0">And hurled hot curses at me as I sped;</span> +<span class="i0">While here and there the timid kangaroo</span> +<span class="i0">Blundered athwart the mole-hills, and in puffs</span> +<span class="i0">Of steamy dust-cloud vanished like a mote!</span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Onward, still onward, onward, onward still!</span> +<span class="i0">And lo! thank Heaven, the mighty Organ hill,</span> +<span class="i0">That seemed a dim blue cloudlet at the start,</span> +<span class="i0">Hangs in aerial, fluted cliffs aloft,—</span> +<span class="i0">And still as through the long, low glacis borne,</span> +<span class="i0">Beneath the gorge borne ever at wild speed,</span> +<span class="i0">I saw the mateless mountain eagle wheel</span> +<span class="i0">Beyond the stark height's topmost pinnacle;</span> +<span class="i0">I heard his shriek of rage and ravin die</span> +<span class="i0">Deep down the desolate dells, as far behind</span> +<span class="i0">I left the gorge, and far before me swept</span> +<span class="i0">Another plain, tree-bordered now, and bound</span> +<span class="i0">By the clear river gurgling o'er its bed.</span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">By this, my panting, but unconquered steed</span> +<span class="i0">Had thrown his small head backward, and his breath</span> +<span class="i0">Through the red nostrils burst in labored sighs;</span> +<span class="i0">I bent above his outstretched neck, I threw</span> +<span class="i0">My quivering arms about him, murmuring low,</span> +<span class="i0">"Good horse! brave heart! a little longer bear</span> +<span class="i0">The strain, the travail; and thenceforth for thee</span> +<span class="i0">Free pastures all thy days, till death shall come!</span><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_170" id="Page_170">[Pg 170]</a></span> +<span class="i0">Ah, many and many a time, my noble bay,</span> +<span class="i0">Her lily hand hath wandered through thy mane,</span> +<span class="i0">Patted thy rainbow neck, and brought thee ears</span> +<span class="i0">Of daintiest corn from out the farmhouse loft,—</span> +<span class="i0">Help, help to save her now!"</span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i28">I'll vow the brute</span> +<span class="i0">Heard me, and comprehended what he heard!</span> +<span class="i0">He shook his proud crest madly, and his eye</span> +<span class="i0">Turned for a moment sideways, flashed in mine</span> +<span class="i0">A lightning gleam, whose fiery language said,</span> +<span class="i0">"I know my lineage, will not shame my sire,—</span> +<span class="i0">My sire, who rushed triumphant 'twixt the flags,</span> +<span class="i0">And frenzied thousands, when on Epsom downs</span> +<span class="i0">Arcturus won the Derby!—no, nor shame</span> +<span class="i0">My granddam, whose clean body, half enwrought</span> +<span class="i0">Of air, half fire, through swirls of desert sand</span> +<span class="i0">Bore Sheik Abdallah headlong on his prey!"</span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">At last came forest shadows, and the road</span> +<span class="i0">Winding through bush and bracken, and at last</span> +<span class="i0">The hoarse stream rumbling o'er its quartz-sown crags.</span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"No, no! stanch Widderin! pause not now to drink;</span> +<span class="i0">An hour hence, and thy dainty nose shall dip</span> +<span class="i0">In richest wine, poured jubilantly forth</span> +<span class="i0">To quench thy thirst, my Beauty! but press on,</span> +<span class="i0">Nor heed these sparkling waters." God! my brain's</span> +<span class="i0">On fire once more! an instant tells me all;</span><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_171" id="Page_171">[Pg 171]</a></span> +<span class="i0">All! life or death,—salvation or despair!</span> +<span class="i0">For yonder, o'er the wild grass-matted slope</span> +<span class="i0">The house stands, or it stood but yesterday.</span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">A Titan cry of inarticulate joy</span> +<span class="i0">I raised, as, calm and peaceful in the sun,</span> +<span class="i0">Shone the fair cottage, and the garden-close,</span> +<span class="i0">Wherein, white-robed, unconscious, sat my Love</span> +<span class="i0">Lilting a low song to the birds and flowers.</span> +<span class="i0">She heard the hoof-strokes, saw me, started up,</span> +<span class="i0">And with her blue eyes wider than their wont,</span> +<span class="i0">And rosy lips half tremulous, rushed to meet</span> +<span class="i0">And greet me swiftly. "Up, dear Love!" I cried,</span> +<span class="i0">"The Convicts, the Bush-rangers! let us fly!"</span> +<span class="i0">Ah, then and there you should have seen her, friend,</span> +<span class="i0">My noble, beauteous Helen! not a tear,</span> +<span class="i0">Nor sob, and scarce a transient pulse-quiver,</span> +<span class="i0">As, clasping hand in hand, her fairy foot</span> +<span class="i0">Lit like a small bird on my horseman's boot,</span> +<span class="i0">And up into the saddle, lithe and light,</span> +<span class="i0">Vaulting she perched, her bright curls round my face!</span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">We crossed the river, and, dismounting, led</span> +<span class="i0">O'er the steep slope of blended rock and turf</span> +<span class="i0">The wearied horse, and there behind a Tor</span> +<span class="i0">Of castellated bluestone, paused to sweep</span> +<span class="i0">With young keen eyes the broad plain stretched afar,</span> +<span class="i0">Serene and autumn-tinted at our feet:</span><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_172" id="Page_172">[Pg 172]</a></span> +<span class="i0">"Either," said I, "these devils have gone east,</span> +<span class="i0">To meet with bloodhound Desborough in his rage</span> +<span class="i0">Between the granite passes of Luxorme,</span> +<span class="i0">Or else—dear Christ! my Helen, low! stoop low!"</span> +<span class="i0">(These words were hissed in horror, for just then,</span> +<span class="i0">'Twixt the deep hollows of the river-vale,</span> +<span class="i0">The miscreants, with mixed shouts and curses, poured</span> +<span class="i0">Down through the flinty gorge tumultuously,</span> +<span class="i0">Seeming, we thought, in one fierce throng to charge</span> +<span class="i0">Our hiding-place.) I seized my Widderin's head,</span> +<span class="i0">Blindfolding him, for with a single neigh</span> +<span class="i0">Our fate were sealed o' the instant! As they rode,</span> +<span class="i0">Those wild, foul-languaged demons by our lair,</span> +<span class="i0">Scarce twelve yards off, my troubled steed shook wide</span> +<span class="i0">His streaming mane, stamped on the earth, and pawed</span> +<span class="i0">So loudly, that the sweat of agony rolled</span> +<span class="i0">Down my cold forehead; at which point I felt</span> +<span class="i0">My arm clutched, and a voice I did not know</span> +<span class="i0">Dropped the low murmur from pale, shuddering lips,</span> +<span class="i0">"O God! if in those brutal hands I fall,</span> +<span class="i0">Living, look not into your mother's face</span><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_173" id="Page_173">[Pg 173]</a></span> +<span class="i0">Or any woman's more!"</span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i24">What time had passed</span> +<span class="i0">Above our bowed heads, we pent, pinioned there</span> +<span class="i0">By awe and nameless horror, who shall tell?</span> +<span class="i0">Minutes, perchance, by mortal measurement,</span> +<span class="i0">Eternity by heart-throbs!—when at length</span> +<span class="i0">We turned, and eyes of mutual wonder raised,</span> +<span class="i0">We gazed on alien faces, haggard, worn,</span> +<span class="i0">And strange of feature as the faces born</span> +<span class="i0">In fever and delirium! Were we saved?</span> +<span class="i0">We scarce could comprehend it, till from out</span> +<span class="i0">The neighboring oak-wood rode our friends at speed,</span> +<span class="i0">With clang of steel, and eyebrows bent in wrath.</span> +<span class="i0">But, warned betimes, the wily ruffians fled</span> +<span class="i0">Far up the forest-coverts, and beyond</span> +<span class="i0">The dazzling snow-line of the distant hills,</span> +<span class="i0">Their yells of fiendish laughter pealing faint</span> +<span class="i0">And fainter from the cloudland, and the mist</span> +<span class="i0">That closed about them like an ash-gray shroud:</span> +<span class="i0">Yet were these wretches marked for imminent death:</span> +<span class="i0">The next keen sunrise pierced the savage gorge,</span> +<span class="i0">To which we tracked them, where, mere beasts at bay,</span> +<span class="i0">Grimly they fought, and brute by brute they fell.</span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i10"><i>Paul Hamilton Hayne.</i></span> +</div></div> + + +<hr class="chap" /><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_174" id="Page_174">[Pg 174]</a></span></p> + +<h2>THE DIVERTING HISTORY OF JOHN GILPIN.</h2> + +<h3>SHOWING HOW HE WENT FARTHER THAN HE INTENDED, AND CAME SAFE HOME AGAIN.</h3> + + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">John Gilpin was a citizen</span> +<span class="i2">Of credit and renown,</span> +<span class="i0">A trainband captain eke was he</span> +<span class="i2">Of famous London town.</span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">John Gilpin's spouse said to her dear,</span> +<span class="i2">"Though wedded we have been</span> +<span class="i0">These twice ten tedious years, yet we</span> +<span class="i1">No holiday have seen.</span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"To morrow is our wedding-day,</span> +<span class="i2">And we will then repair</span> +<span class="i0">Unto the Bell at Edmonton</span> +<span class="i2">All in a chaise and pair.</span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"My sister, and my sister's child,</span> +<span class="i2">Myself, and children three,</span> +<span class="i0">Will fill the chaise; so you must ride</span> +<span class="i2">On horseback after we."</span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">He soon replied, "I do admire</span> +<span class="i2">Of womankind but one,</span> +<span class="i0">And you are she, my dearest dear,</span><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_175" id="Page_175">[Pg 175]</a></span> +<span class="i2">Therefore it shall be done.</span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"I am a linendraper bold,</span> +<span class="i2">As all the world doth know,</span> +<span class="i0">And my good friend the calender</span> +<span class="i2">Will lend his horse to go."</span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Quoth Mrs. Gilpin, "That's well said;</span> +<span class="i2">And for that wine is dear,</span> +<span class="i0">We will be furnished with our own,</span> +<span class="i2">Which is both bright and clear."</span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">John Gilpin kissed his loving wife;</span> +<span class="i2">O'erjoyed was he to find,</span> +<span class="i0">That, though on pleasure she was bent,</span> +<span class="i2">She had a frugal mind.</span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">The morning came, the chaise was brought,</span> +<span class="i2">But yet was not allowed</span> +<span class="i0">To drive up to the door, lest all</span> +<span class="i2">Should say that she was proud.</span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">So three doors off the chaise was stayed,</span> +<span class="i2">Where they did all get in;</span> +<span class="i0">Six precious souls, and all agog</span> +<span class="i2">To dash through thick and thin.</span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Smack went the whip, round went the wheels,</span> +<span class="i2">Were never folks so glad;</span> +<span class="i0">The stones did rattle underneath,</span> +<span class="i2">As if Cheapside were mad.</span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">John Gilpin at his horse's side</span><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_176" id="Page_176">[Pg 176]</a></span> +<span class="i2">Seized fast the flowing mane,</span> +<span class="i0">And up he got, in haste to ride,</span> +<span class="i2">But soon came down again;</span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">For saddle-tree scarce reached had he,</span> +<span class="i2">His journey to begin,</span> +<span class="i0">When, turning round his head, he saw</span> +<span class="i2">Three customers come in.</span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">So down he came; for loss of time,</span> +<span class="i2">Although it grieved him sore,</span> +<span class="i0">Yet loss of pence, full well he knew,</span> +<span class="i2">Would trouble him much more.</span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">'Twas long before the customers</span> +<span class="i2">Were suited to their mind,</span> +<span class="i0">When Betty screaming came down stairs,</span> +<span class="i2">"The wine is left behind!"</span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"Good lack!" quoth he, "yet bring it me,</span> +<span class="i2">My leathern belt likewise,</span> +<span class="i0">In which I bear my trusty sword</span> +<span class="i2">When I do exercise."</span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Now Mistress Gilpin (careful soul!)</span> +<span class="i2">Had two stone bottles found,</span> +<span class="i0">To hold the liquor that she loved,</span> +<span class="i2">And keep it safe and sound.</span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Each bottle had a curling ear,</span> +<span class="i2">Through which the belt he drew,</span> +<span class="i0">And hung a bottle on each side,</span><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_177" id="Page_177">[Pg 177]</a></span> +<span class="i2">To make his balance true.</span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Then over all, that he might be</span> +<span class="i2">Equipped from top to toe,</span> +<span class="i0">His long-red cloak, well brushed and neat,</span> +<span class="i1">He manfully did throw.</span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Now see him mounted once again</span> +<span class="i2">Upon his nimble steed,</span> +<span class="i0">Full slowly pacing o'er the stones,</span> +<span class="i2">With caution and good heed.</span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">But finding soon a smoother road</span> +<span class="i2">Beneath his well-shod feet,</span> +<span class="i0">The snorting beast began to trot,</span> +<span class="i2">Which galled him in his seat.</span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"So, fair and softly," John he cried,</span> +<span class="i2">But John he cried in vain;</span> +<span class="i0">That trot became a gallop soon,</span> +<span class="i2">In spite of curb and rein.</span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">So stooping down, as needs he must</span> +<span class="i2">Who cannot sit upright,</span> +<span class="i0">He grasped the mane with both his hands,</span> +<span class="i2">And eke with all his might.</span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">His horse, who never in that sort</span> +<span class="i2">Had handled been before,</span> +<span class="i0">What thing upon his back had got</span> +<span class="i2">Did wonder more and more.</span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Away went Gilpin, neck or naught;</span><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_178" id="Page_178">[Pg 178]</a></span> +<span class="i2">Away went hat and wig;</span> +<span class="i0">He little dreamt, when he set out,</span> +<span class="i2">Of running such a rig.</span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">The wind did blow, the cloak did fly,</span> +<span class="i2">Like streamer long and gay,</span> +<span class="i0">Till, loop and button failing both,</span> +<span class="i2">At last it flew away.</span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Then might all people well discern</span> +<span class="i2">The bottles he had slung;</span> +<span class="i0">A bottle swinging at each side,</span> +<span class="i2">As hath been said or sung.</span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">The dogs did bark, the children screamed,</span> +<span class="i2">Up flew the windows all;</span> +<span class="i0">And every soul cried out, "Well done!"</span> +<span class="i2">As loud as he could bawl.</span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Away went Gilpin,—who but he?</span> +<span class="i2">His fame soon spread around,</span> +<span class="i0">"He carries weight! he rides a race!</span> +<span class="i2">'Tis for a thousand pound!"</span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">And still as fast as he drew near,</span> +<span class="i2">'Twas wonderful to view,</span> +<span class="i0">How in a trice the turnpike men</span> +<span class="i2">Their gates wide open threw.</span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">And now, as he went bowing down</span> +<span class="i2">His reeking head fell low,</span> +<span class="i0">The bottles twain behind his back</span><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_179" id="Page_179">[Pg 179]</a></span> +<span class="i2">Were shattered at a blow.</span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Down ran the wine into the road,</span> +<span class="i2">Most piteous to be seen,</span> +<span class="i0">Which made his horse's flanks to smoke</span> +<span class="i2">As they had basted been.</span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">But still he seemed to carry weight,</span> +<span class="i2">With leathern girdle braced;</span> +<span class="i0">For all might see the bottle necks</span> +<span class="i2">Still dangling at his waist.</span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Thus all through merry Islington</span> +<span class="i2">These gambols did he play,</span> +<span class="i0">Until he came unto the Wash</span> +<span class="i2">Of Edmonton so gay;</span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">And there he threw the wash about</span> +<span class="i2">On both sides of the way,</span> +<span class="i0">Just like unto a trundling mop,</span> +<span class="i2">Or a wild goose at play.</span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">At Edmonton his loving wife</span> +<span class="i2">From the balcony spied</span> +<span class="i0">Her tender husband, wondering much</span> +<span class="i2">To see how he did ride.</span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"Stop, stop, John Gilpin!—Here's the house,"</span> +<span class="i2">They all at once did cry;</span> +<span class="i0">"The dinner waits, and we are tired."</span> +<span class="i2">Said Gilpin, "So am I!"</span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">But yet his horse was not a whit</span><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_180" id="Page_180">[Pg 180]</a></span> +<span class="i2">Inclined to tarry there;</span> +<span class="i0">For why?—his owner had a house</span> +<span class="i2">Full ten miles off, at Ware.</span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">So like an arrow swift he flew,</span> +<span class="i2">Shot by an archer strong;</span> +<span class="i0">So did he fly,—which brings me to</span> +<span class="i2">The middle of my song.</span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Away went Gilpin out of breath,</span> +<span class="i2">And sore against his will,</span> +<span class="i0">Till at his friend the calender's</span> +<span class="i2">His horse at last stood still.</span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">The calender, amazed to see</span> +<span class="i2">His neighbor in such trim,</span> +<span class="i0">Laid down his pipe, flew to the gate,</span> +<span class="i2">And thus accosted him:</span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"What news? what news? your tidings tell;</span> +<span class="i2">Tell me you must and shall.—</span> +<span class="i0">Say why bareheaded you are come,</span> +<span class="i2">Or why you come at all?"</span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Now Gilpin had a pleasant wit,</span> +<span class="i2">And loved a timely joke;</span> +<span class="i0">And thus unto the calender</span> +<span class="i2">In merry guise he spoke:</span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"I came because your horse would come;</span> +<span class="i2">And, if I well forbode,</span> +<span class="i0">My hat and wig will soon be here,</span><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_181" id="Page_181">[Pg 181]</a></span> +<span class="i2">They are upon the road."</span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">The calender, right glad to find</span> +<span class="i2">His friend in merry pin,</span> +<span class="i0">Returned him not a single word,</span> +<span class="i2">But to the house went in;</span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Whence straight he came with hat and wig;</span> +<span class="i2">A wig that flowed behind,</span> +<span class="i0">A hat not much the worse for wear,</span> +<span class="i2">Each comely in its kind.</span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">He held them up, and in his turn</span> +<span class="i2">Thus showed his ready wit,</span> +<span class="i0">"My head is twice as big as yours,</span> +<span class="i2">They therefore needs must fit.</span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"But let me scrape the dirt away</span> +<span class="i2">That hangs upon your face;</span> +<span class="i0">And stop and eat, for well you may</span> +<span class="i2">Be in a hungry case."</span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Said John, "It is my wedding-day,</span> +<span class="i2">And all the world would stare,</span> +<span class="i0">If wife should dine at Edmonton,</span> +<span class="i2">And I should dine at Ware."</span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">So, turning to his horse, he said,</span> +<span class="i2">"I am in haste to dine;</span> +<span class="i0">'Twas for your pleasure you came here,</span> +<span class="i2">You shall go back for mine."</span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Ah, luckless speech, and bootless boast!</span><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_182" id="Page_182">[Pg 182]</a></span> +<span class="i2">For which he paid full dear;</span> +<span class="i0">For, while he spake, a braying ass</span> +<span class="i2">Did sing most loud and clear;</span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Whereat his horse did snort, as he</span> +<span class="i2">Had heard a lion roar,</span> +<span class="i0">And galloped off with all his might,</span> +<span class="i2">As he had done before.</span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Away went Gilpin, and away</span> +<span class="i2">Went Gilpin's hat and wig;</span> +<span class="i0">He lost them sooner than at first,</span> +<span class="i2">For why?—they were too big.</span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Now Mistress Gilpin, when she saw</span> +<span class="i2">Her husband posting down</span> +<span class="i0">Into the country far away,</span> +<span class="i2">She pulled out half a crown;</span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">And thus unto the youth she said,</span> +<span class="i2">That drove them to the Bell,</span> +<span class="i0">"This shall be yours, when you bring back</span> +<span class="i2">My husband safe and well."</span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">The youth did ride, and soon did meet</span> +<span class="i2">John coming back amain;</span> +<span class="i0">Whom in a trice he tried to stop</span> +<span class="i2">By catching at his rein,</span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">But not performing what he meant,</span> +<span class="i2">And gladly would have done,</span> +<span class="i0">The frighted steed he frighted more,</span><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_183" id="Page_183">[Pg 183]</a></span> +<span class="i2">And made him faster run.</span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Away went Gilpin, and away</span> +<span class="i2">Went postboy at his heels,</span> +<span class="i0">The postboy's horse right glad to miss</span> +<span class="i2">The lumbering of the wheels.</span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Six gentlemen upon the road,</span> +<span class="i2">Thus seeing Gilpin fly,</span> +<span class="i0">With postboy scampering in the rear,</span> +<span class="i2">They raised the hue and cry:—</span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"Stop thief! stop thief!—a highwayman!"</span> +<span class="i2">Not one of them was mute;</span> +<span class="i0">And all and each that passed that way</span> +<span class="i2">Did join in the pursuit.</span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">And now the turnpike-gates again</span> +<span class="i2">Flew open in short space;</span> +<span class="i0">The toll-men thinking, as before,</span> +<span class="i2">That Gilpin rode a race.</span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">And so he did, and won it too,</span> +<span class="i2">For he got first to town;</span> +<span class="i0">Nor stopped till where he had got up</span> +<span class="i2">He did again get down.</span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Now let us sing, "Long live the king,</span> +<span class="i2">And Gilpin, long live he;</span> +<span class="i0">And when he next doth ride abroad,</span> +<span class="i2">May I be there to see!"</span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i10"><i>William Cowper.</i></span> +</div></div> + + + +<hr class="chap" /><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_184" id="Page_184">[Pg 184]</a></span></p> +<h2>REFLECTIONS OF A PROUD PEDESTRIAN.</h2> + + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">I saw the curl of his waving lash,</span> +<span class="i2">And the glance of his knowing eye,</span> +<span class="i0">And I knew that he thought he was cutting a dash,</span> +<span class="i2">As his steed went thundering by.</span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">And he may ride in the rattling gig,</span> +<span class="i2">Or flourish the Stanhope gay,</span> +<span class="i0">And dream that he looks exceeding big</span> +<span class="i2">To the people that walk in the way;</span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">But he shall think, when the night is still,</span> +<span class="i2">On the stable-boy's gathering numbers,</span> +<span class="i0">And the ghost of many a veteran bill</span> +<span class="i2">Shall hover around his slumbers;</span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">The ghastly dun shall worry his sleep,</span> +<span class="i2">And constables cluster around him,</span> +<span class="i0">And he shall creep from the wood-hole deep</span> +<span class="i2">Where their spectre eyes have found him!</span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Ay! gather your reins, and crack your thong,</span> +<span class="i2">And bid your steed go faster;</span> +<span class="i0">He does not know, as he scrambles along,</span><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_185" id="Page_185">[Pg 185]</a></span> +<span class="i2">That he has a fool for his master;</span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">And hurry away on your lonely ride,</span> +<span class="i2">Nor deign from the mire to save me;</span> +<span class="i0">I will paddle it stoutly at your side</span> +<span class="i2">With the tandem that nature gave me!</span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i10"><i>Oliver Wendell Holmes.</i></span> +</div></div> + + + + + + + + + +<pre> + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg 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You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org/license + + +Title: In the Saddle + A Collection of Poems on Horseback-Riding + +Author: Various + +Release Date: March 24, 2012 [EBook #39236] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ASCII + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK IN THE SADDLE *** + + + + +Produced by Julia Miller, Josephine Paolucci and the Online +Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net. (This +file was produced from images generously made available +by The Internet Archive/American Libraries.) + + + + + + + + + + + +IN THE SADDLE + +A COLLECTION OF POEMS ON HORSEBACK-RIDING + + "_A good rider on a good horse is as much above himself and + others as the world can make him_" + + Lord Herbert of Cherbury + +BOSTON +HOUGHTON, MIFFLIN AND COMPANY +New York: 11 East Seventeenth Street +The Riverside Press, Cambridge +1882 + + +Copyright, 1882, +BY HOUGHTON, MIFFLIN & CO. + +_All rights reserved._ + +_The Riverside Press, Cambridge:_ +Electrotyped and Printed by H. O. Houghton & Co. + + + + +CONTENTS. + + Page + +DESCRIPTION OF A HORSE. _Venus and Adonis_ 1 + +A DAY'S RIDE: A LIFE'S ANALOGY. _The Spectator_ 2 + +ON HORSEBACK. _E. Paxton Hood_ 3 + +THE HORSEBACK RIDE. _Sara Jane Lippincott_ (_Grace Greenwood_) 4 + +AN EVENING RIDE. _Owen Innsly_ 7 + +THE QUEEN'S RIDE. _T. B. Aldrich_ 8 + +THE LAST RIDE TOGETHER. _Robert Browning_ 9 + +RIDING TOGETHER. _William Morris_ 13 + +SIR LAUNCELOT AND QUEEN GUINEVERE. _Alfred Tennyson_ 15 + +THE KING OF DENMARK'S RIDE. _Hon. Caroline Norton_ 17 + +RHYME OF THE DUCHESS MAY. _Elizabeth Barrett Browning_ 19 + +IRMINGARD'S ESCAPE. _Henry Wadsworth Longfellow_ 37 + +WILLIAM AND HELEN. _Buerger's "Leonore." + Translated by Sir Walter Scott_ 42 + +THE GREETING ON KYNAST. _Rueckert. Translated by C. T. Brooks_ 52 + +HARRAS, THE BOLD LEAPER. _Karl Theodor Koerner. + Translated by G. F. Richardson_ 57 + +THE KNIGHT'S LEAP. _Charles Kingsley_ 60 + +THE LEAP OF ROUSHAN BEG. _Henry Wadsworth Longfellow_ 61 + +ANNAN WATER 64 + +THOMAS THE RHYMER 66 + +THE GREEK GNOME. _Robert Buchanan_ 70 + +FRIAR PEDRO'S RIDE. _Bret Harte_ 73 + +TAM O'SHANTER. _Robert Burns_ 79 + +THE WILD HUNTSMAN. _Buerger's Wilde Jaeger. Tr. by Walter Scott_ 86 + +LUeTZOW'S WILD CHASE. _Theodor Koerner_ 94 + +THE ERL-KING. _Walter Scott_ 96 + +MAZEPPA'S RIDE. _Byron_ 98 + +THE GIAOUR'S RIDE. _Byron_ 110 + +THE NORSEMAN'S RIDE. _Bayard Taylor_ 113 + +BOOT AND SADDLE. _Robert Browning_ 116 + +THE CAVALIER'S ESCAPE. _Walter Thornbury_ 116 + +KING JAMES'S RIDE. _Walter Scott_ 118 + +DELORAINE'S RIDE. _Walter Scott_ 119 + +GODIVA. _Alfred Tennyson_ 124 + +HOW THEY BROUGHT THE GOOD NEWS FROM GHENT TO AIX. _Robert Browning_ 127 + +THE LANDLORD'S TALE. _H. W. Longfellow_ 130 + +SHERIDAN'S RIDE. _Thomas Buchanan Read_ 135 + +KEARNY AT SEVEN PINES. _Edmund Clarence Stedman_ 138 + +THE RIDE OF COLLINS GRAVES. _John Boyle O'Reilly_ 140 + +A TALE OF PROVIDENCE. _Isaac R. Pennybacker_ 143 + +KIT CARSON'S RIDE. _Joaquin Miller_ 149 + +TAMING THE WILD HORSE. _W. G. Simms_ 155 + +CHIQUITA. _Bret Harte_ 157 + +BAY BILLY. _Frank H. Gassaway_ 160 + +WIDDERIN'S RACE. _Paul Hamilton Hayne_ 164 + +THE DIVERTING HISTORY OF JOHN GILPIN. _William Cowper_ 174 + +REFLECTIONS OF A PROUD PEDESTRIAN. _Oliver Wendell Holmes_ 184 + + + + +IN THE SADDLE. + + +DESCRIPTION OF A HORSE. + + +Look, when a painter would surpass the life, + In limning out a well-proportioned steed, +His art with nature's workmanship at strife, + As if the dead the living should exceed; +So did this horse excel a common one, +In shape, in courage, color, pace, and bone. + +Round-hoofed, short-jointed, fetlocks shag and long, + Broad breast, full eye, small head, and nostril wide, +High crest, short ears, straight legs, and passing strong, + Thin mane, thick tail, broad buttock, tender hide: +Look, what a horse should have, he did not lack, +Save a proud rider on so proud a back. + + _Venus and Adonis._ + + + + +A DAY'S RIDE: A LIFE'S ANALOGY. + + + 'Mid tangled forest and o'er grass plains wide, + By many a devious path and bridle-way, + Through the short brightness of an Indian day, + In middle winter 'twas my lot to ride, + Skirting the round-topped, pine-clad mountain side, + While far away upon the steely blue + Horizon, half concealed, half in view, + Himalay's peaks upreared their snow-crowned pride, + In utter purity and vast repose. + I, ere the first faint flush of morning glowed + Within her eastern chamber, took the road, + And, slowly riding between day and night, + I marked how, through the wan, imperfect light, + Ghost-like and gray loomed the eternal snows. + + So near they seemed, each crack and crevice small + Like bas-relief work showed, while in the light + Of ruddy morn, gray changed through pink to white. + But soon the sun, up-climbing, flooded all + The heavens, and then a thin and misty pall + Of exhalations rose, and pale of hue + And fainter ever those far summits grew, + Until the day waned low, and shadows tall + Sloped eastward. Then once more, in radiance clear, + Of setting sunlight, beautiful as brief, + Each peak and crag stood out in bold relief, + Till, slowly, pink faded to ghostly gray. + So through life's morning, noontide, evening, may + Ideal hopes dawn, fade, and reappear. + + _The Spectator._ + + + + +ON HORSEBACK. + + + Hurrah! for a ride in the morning gray, + On the back of a bounding steed. + What pleasure to list how the wild winds play; + Hark! Hark! to their music,--away! away! + Gallop away with speed. + 'Neath the leaf and the cloud in spring-time's pride + There is health in a morning's joyous ride. + + And hurrah! for a ride in the sultry noon, + When the summer has mounted high, + 'Neath the shady wood in the glowing June, + When the rivulet chanteth its lullaby tune + To the breeze as it wanders by, + Quietly down by the brooklet's side;-- + Sweet is the summer's joyous ride. + + And do you not love at evening's hour, + By the light of the sinking sun, + To wend your way o'er the widening moor, + Where the silvery mists their mystery pour, + While the stars come one by one? + Over the heath by the mountain's side, + Pensive and sweet is the evening's ride. + + I tell thee, O stranger, that unto me + The plunge of a fiery steed + Is a noble thought,--to the brave and free + It is music, and breath, and majesty,-- + 'Tis the life of a noble deed; + And the heart and the mind are in spirit allied + In the charm of a morning's glorious ride. + + Then hurrah! for the ring of the bridle rein,-- + Away, brave horse, away! + The preacher or poet may chant their strain, + The bookman his wine of the past may drain,-- + We bide not with them to-day; + And yet it is true, we may look with pride + On the mental spoils of a morning's ride. + + _E. Paxton Hood._ + + + + +THE HORSEBACK RIDE. + + + When troubled in spirit, when weary of life, + When I faint 'neath its burdens, and shrink from its strife, + When its fruits, turned to ashes, are mocking my taste, + And its fairest scene seems but a desolate waste, + Then come ye not near me, my sad heart to cheer + With friendship's soft accents or sympathy's tear. + No pity I ask, and no counsel I need, + But bring me, oh, bring me my gallant young steed, + With his high arched neck, and his nostril spread wide, + His eye full of fire, and his step full of pride! + As I spring to his back, as I seize the strong rein, + The strength to my spirit returneth again! + The bonds are all broken that fettered my mind, + And my cares borne away on the wings of the wind; + My pride lifts its head, for a season bowed down, + And the queen in my nature now puts on her crown! + + Now we're off--like the winds to the plains whence they came; + And the rapture of motion is thrilling my frame! + On, on speeds my courser, scarce printing the sod, + Scarce crushing a daisy to mark where he trod! + On, on like a deer, when the hound's early bay + Awakes the wild echoes, away, and away! + Still faster, still farther, he leaps at my cheer, + Till the rush of the startled air whirs in my ear! + Now 'long a clear rivulet lieth his track,-- + See his glancing hoofs tossing the white pebbles back! + Now a glen dark as midnight--what matter?--we'll down + Though shadows are round us, and rocks o'er us frown; + The thick branches shake as we're hurrying through, + And deck us with spangles of silvery dew! + + What a wild thought of triumph, that this girlish hand + Such a steed in the might of his strength may command! + What a glorious creature! Ah! glance at him now, + As I check him a while on this green hillock's brow; + How he tosses his mane, with a shrill joyous neigh, + And paws the firm earth in his proud, stately play! + Hurrah! off again, dashing on as in ire, + Till the long, flinty pathway is flashing with fire! + Ho! a ditch!--Shall we pause? No; the bold leap we dare, + Like a swift-winged arrow we rush through the air! + Oh, not all the pleasures that poets may praise, + Not the 'wildering waltz in the ball-room's blaze, + Nor the chivalrous joust, nor the daring race, + Nor the swift regatta, nor merry chase, + Nor the sail, high heaving waters o'er, + Nor the rural dance on the moonlight shore, + Can the wild and thrilling joy exceed + Of a fearless leap on a fiery steed! + + _Sara Jane Lippincott_ (_Grace Greenwood_). + + + + +AN EVENING RIDE. + +FROM GLASHUeTTE TO MUeGELN IN SAXONY. + + + We ride and ride. High on the hills + The fir-trees stretch into the sky; + The birches, which the deep calm stills, + Quiver again as we speed by. + + Beside the road a shallow stream + Goes leaping o'er its rocky bed: + Here lie the corn-fields with a gleam + Of daisies white and poppies red. + + A faint star trembles in the west; + A fire-fly sparkles, fluttering bright + Against the mountain's sombre breast; + And yonder shines a village light. + + Oh! could I creep into thine arms + Beloved! and upon thy face + Read the arrest of dire alarms + That press me close; from thy embrace + + View the sweet earth as on we ride. + Alas! how vain our longings are! + Already night is spreading wide + Her sable wing, and thou art far. + + _Owen Innsly._ + + + + +THE QUEEN'S RIDE. + +AN INVITATION. + + + 'Tis that fair time of year, + Lady mine, + When stately Guinevere, + In her sea-green robe and hood, + Went a-riding through the wood, + Lady mine. + + And as the Queen did ride, + Lady mine, + Sir Launcelot at her side + Laughed and chatted, bending over, + Half her friend and all her lover, + Lady mine. + + And as they rode along, + Lady mine, + The throstle gave them song, + And the buds peeped through the grass + To see youth and beauty pass, + Lady mine. + + And on, through deathless time, + Lady mine, + These lovers in their prime, + (Two fairy ghosts together!) + Ride, with sea-green robe, and feather! + Lady mine. + + And so we two will ride, + Lady mine, + At your pleasure, side by side, + Laugh and chat; I bending over, + Half your friend and all your lover! + Lady mine. + + But if you like not this, + Lady mine, + And take my love amiss, + Then I'll ride unto the end, + Half your lover, all your friend! + Lady mine. + + So, come which way you will, + Lady mine, + Vale, upland, plain, and hill + Wait your coming. For one day + Loose the bridle, and away! + Lady mine. + + _T. B. Aldrich._ + + + + +THE LAST RIDE TOGETHER. + + + I said--Then, dearest, since 'tis so, + Since now at length my fate I know, + Since nothing all my love avails, + Since all my life seemed meant for, fails, + Since this was written and needs must be-- + My whole heart rises up to bless + Your name in pride and thankfulness! + Take back the hope you gave,--I claim + Only a memory of the same, + --And this beside, if you will not blame, + Your leave for one more last ride with me. + + My mistress bent that brow of hers, + Those deep dark eyes where pride demurs + When pity would be softening through, + Fixed me a breathing-while or two + With life or death in the balance--Right! + The blood replenished me again: + My last thought was at least not vain. + I and my mistress, side by side + Shall be together, breathe and ride, + So one day more am I deified. + Who knows but the world may end to-night? + + Hush! if you saw some western cloud + All billowy-bosomed, over-bowed + By many benedictions--sun's + And moon's and evening-star's at once-- + And so, you, looking and loving best, + Conscious grew, your passion drew + Cloud, sunset, moonrise, star-shine too + Down on you, near and yet more near, + Till flesh must fade for heaven was here!-- + Thus leant she and lingered--joy and fear! + Thus lay she a moment on my breast. + + Then we began to ride. My soul + Smoothed itself out, a long-cramped scroll + Freshening and fluttering in the wind. + Past hopes already lay behind. + What need to strive with a life awry? + Had I said that, had I done this, + So might I gain, so might I miss. + Might she have loved me? just as well + She might have hated,--who can tell? + Where had I been now if the worst befell? + And here we are riding, she and I. + + Fail I alone, in words and deeds? + Why, all men strive and who succeeds? + We rode; it seemed my spirit flew, + Saw other regions, cities new, + As the world rushed by on either side. + I thought, All labor, yet no less + Bear up beneath their unsuccess. + Look at the end of work, contrast + The petty Done the Undone vast, + This present of theirs with the hopeful past! + I hoped she would love me. Here we ride. + + What hand and brain went ever paired? + What heart alike conceived and dared? + What act proved all its thought had been? + What will but felt the fleshly screen? + We ride and I see her bosom heave. + There's many a crown for who can reach + Ten lines, a statesman's life in each! + The flag stuck on a heap of bones, + A soldier's doing! what atones? + They scratch his name on the Abbey-stones. + My riding is better, by their leave. + + What does it all mean, poet? well, + Your brain's beat into rhythm--you tell + What we felt only; you expressed + You hold things beautiful the best, + And pace them in rhyme so, side by side. + 'Tis something, nay 'tis much--but then, + Have you yourself what's best for men? + Are you--poor, sick, old ere your time-- + Nearer one whit your own sublime + Than we who never have turned a rhyme? + Sing, riding's a joy! For me, I ride. + + And you, great sculptor--so you gave + A score of years to art, her slave, + And that's your Venus--whence we turn + To yonder girl that fords the burn! + You acquiesce and shall I repine? + What, man of music, you grown gray + With notes and nothing else to say, + Is this your sole praise from a friend, + "Greatly his opera's strains intend, + But in music we know how fashions end!" + I gave my youth--but we ride, in fine. + + Who knows what's fit for us? Had fate + Proposed bliss here should sublimate + My being; had I signed the bond-- + Still one must lead some life beyond, + --Have a bliss to die with, dim-descried. + This foot once planted on the goal, + This glory-garland round my soul, + Could I descry such? Try and test! + I sink back shuddering from the quest-- + Earth being so good, would heaven seem best? + Now, heaven and she are beyond this ride. + + And yet--she has not spoke so long! + What if heaven be, that, fair and strong + At life's best, with our eyes upturned + Whither life's flower if first discerned, + We, fixed so, ever should so abide? + What if we still ride on, we two, + With life forever old yet new, + Changed not in kind but in degree, + The instant made eternity,-- + And heaven just prove that I and she + Ride, ride together, forever ride? + + _Robert Browning._ + + + + +RIDING TOGETHER. + + + For many, many days together + The wind blew steady from the east; + For many days hot grew the weather, + About the time of our Lady's Feast. + + For many days we rode together, + Yet met we neither friend nor foe; + Hotter and clearer grew the weather, + Steadily did the east-wind blow. + + We saw the trees in the hot, bright weather, + Clear-cut, with shadows very black, + As freely we rode on together + With helms unlaced and bridles slack. + + And often as we rode together, + We, looking down the green-banked stream, + Saw flowers in the sunny weather, + And saw the bubble-making bream. + + And in the night lay down together, + And hung above our heads the rood, + Or watched night-long in the dewy weather, + The while the moon did watch the wood. + + Our spears stood bright and thick together, + Straight out the banners streamed behind, + As we galloped on in the sunny weather, + With faces turned towards the wind. + + Down sank our threescore spears together, + As thick we saw the pagans ride; + His eager face in the clear fresh weather + Shone out that last time by my side. + + Up the sweep of the bridge we dashed together, + It rocked to the crash of the meeting spears; + Down rained the buds of the dear spring weather, + The elm-tree flowers fell like tears. + + There, as we rolled and writhed together, + I threw my arms above my head, + For close by my side, in the lovely weather, + I saw him reel and fall back dead. + + I and the slayer met together, + He waited the death-stroke there in his place, + With thoughts of death, in the lovely weather + Gapingly mazed at my maddened face. + + Madly I fought as we fought together; + In vain: the little Christian band + The pagans drowned, as in stormy weather + The river drowns low-lying land. + + They bound my blood-stained hands together, + They bound his corpse to nod by my side: + Then on we rode, in the bright March weather, + With clash of cymbals did we ride. + + We ride no more, no more together; + My prison-bars are thick and strong, + I take no heed of any weather, + The sweet Saints grant I live not long. + + _William Morris._ + + + + +SIR LAUNCELOT AND QUEEN GUINEVERE. + +A FRAGMENT. + + + Like souls that balance joy and pain, + With tears and smiles from heaven again + The maiden Spring upon the plain + Came in a sunlit fall of rain. + In crystal vapor everywhere + Blue isles of heaven laughed between, + And far, in forest-deeps unseen, + The topmost elm-tree gathered green + From draughts of balmy air. + + Sometimes the linnet piped his song: + Sometimes the throstle whistled strong: + Sometimes the sparhawk, wheeled along, + Hushed all the groves from fear of wrong: + By grassy capes with fuller sound + In curves the yellowing river ran, + And drooping chestnut-buds began + To spread into the perfect fan, + Above the teeming ground. + + Then, in the boyhood of the year, + Sir Launcelot and Queen Guinevere + Rode through the coverts of the deer, + With blissful treble ringing clear. + She seemed a part of joyous Spring: + A gown of grass-green silk she wore, + Buckled with golden clasps before; + A light-green tuft of plumes she bore + Closed in a golden ring. + + Now on some twisted ivy-net, + Now by some tinkling rivulet, + In mosses mixt with violet + Her cream-white mule his pastern set: + And fleeter now she skimmed the plains + Than she whose elfin prancer springs + By night to eery warblings, + When all the glimmering moorland rings + With jingling bridle-reins. + + As she fled fast through sun and shade, + The happy winds upon her played, + Blowing the ringlet from the braid: + She looked so lovely, as she swayed + The rein with dainty finger-tips, + A man had given all other bliss, + And all his worldly worth for this, + To waste his whole heart in one kiss + Upon her perfect lips. + + _Alfred Tennyson._ + + + + +THE KING OF DENMARK'S RIDE. + + + Word was brought to the Danish king, + Hurry! + That the love of his heart lay suffering, + And pined for the comfort his voice would bring; + O, ride as though you were flying! + Better he loves each golden curl + On the brow of that Scandinavian girl + Than his rich crown jewels of ruby and pearl; + And his rose of the isles is dying! + + Thirty nobles saddled with speed; + Hurry! + Each one mounting a gallant steed + Which he kept for battle and days of need; + O, ride as though you were flying! + Spurs were struck in the foaming flank; + Worn-out chargers staggered and sank; + Bridles were slackened, and girths were burst; + But ride as they would, the king rode first, + For his rose of the isles lay dying! + + His nobles are beaten, one by one; + Hurry! + They have fainted, and faltered, and homeward gone; + His little fair page now follows alone, + For strength and for courage trying! + The king looked back at that faithful child; + Wan was the face that answering smiled; + They passed the drawbridge with clattering din, + Then he dropped; and only the king rode in + Where his rose of the isles lay dying! + + The king blew a blast on his bugle-horn; + Silence! + No answer came; but faint and forlorn + An echo returned on the cold gray morn, + Like the breath of a spirit sighing. + The castle portal stood grimly wide; + None welcomed the king from that weary ride; + For dead, in the light of the dawning day, + The pale sweet form of the welcomer lay, + Who had yearned for his voice while dying! + + The panting steed, with a drooping crest, + Stood weary. + The king returned from her chamber of rest, + The thick sobs choking in his breast; + And, that dumb companion eying, + The tears gushed forth which he strove to check; + He bowed his head on his charger's neck; + "O steed, that every nerve didst strain, + Dear steed, our ride hath been in vain + To the halls where my love lay dying!" + + _Hon. Caroline Norton._ + + + + +RHYME OF THE DUCHESS MAY. + + + Broad the forests stood (I read) on the hills of Linteged-- + _Toll slowly._ + And three hundred years had stood mute adown each hoary wood, + Like a full heart having prayed. + + And the little birds sang east, and the little birds sang west,-- + _Toll slowly._ + And but little thought was theirs of the silent antique years, + In the building of their nest. + + Down the sun dropt large and red, on the towers of Linteged,-- + _Toll slowly._ + Lance and spear upon the height, bristling strange in fiery light, + While the castle stood in shade. + + There, the castle stood up black, with the red sun at its back,-- + _Toll slowly._ + Like a sullen smouldering pyre, with a top that flickers fire, + When the wind is on its track. + + And five hundred archers tall did besiege the castle wall,-- + _Toll slowly._ + And the castle seethed in blood, fourteen days and nights had stood, + And to-night, was near its fall. + + Yet thereunto, blind to doom, three months since, a bride did come,-- + _Toll slowly._ + One who proudly trod the floors, and softly whispered in the doors, + "May good angels bless our home." + + Oh, a bride of queenly eyes, with a front of constancies,-- + _Toll slowly._ + Oh, a bride of cordial mouth,--where the untired smile of youth + Did light outward its own sighs. + + 'Twas a Duke's fair orphan-girl, and her uncle's ward, the Earl, + _Toll slowly._ + Who betrothed her, twelve years old, for the sake of dowry gold, + To his son Lord Leigh, the churl. + + But what time she had made good all her years of womanhood, + _Toll slowly._ + Unto both those Lords of Leigh, spake she out right sovranly, + "My will runneth as my blood. + + "And while this same blood makes red this same right hand's + veins," she said,-- + _Toll slowly._ + "'Tis my will as lady free, not to wed a Lord of Leigh, + But Sir Guy of Linteged." + + The old Earl he smiled smooth, then he sighed for willful youth,-- + _Toll slowly._ + "Good my niece, that hand withal looketh somewhat soft and small + For so large a will, in sooth." + + She, too, smiled by that same sign,--but her smile was cold and fine,-- + _Toll slowly._ + "Little hand clasps muckle gold, or it were not worth the hold + Of thy son, good uncle mine!" + + Then the young lord jerked his breath, and sware thickly in his teeth,-- + _Toll slowly._ + "He would wed his own betrothed, an she loved him an she loathed, + Let the life come or the death." + + Up she rose with scornful eyes, as her father's child might rise,-- + _Toll slowly._ + "Thy hound's blood, my Lord of Leigh, stains thy knightly heel," quoth she, + "And he moans not where he lies. + + "But a woman's will dies hard, in the hall or on the sward!"-- + _Toll slowly._ + "By that grave, my lords, which made me orphaned girl and dowered lady, + I deny you wife and ward." + + Unto each she bowed her head, and swept past with lofty tread. + _Toll slowly._ + Ere the midnight-bell had ceased, in the chapel had the priest + Blessed her, bride of Linteged. + + Fast and fain the bridal train along the night-storm rode amain:-- + _Toll slowly._ + Hard the steeds of lord and serf struck their hoofs out on the turf, + In the pauses of the rain. + + Fast and fain the kinsmen's train along the storm pursued amain-- + _Toll slowly._ + Steed on steed-track, dashing off--thickening, doubling, hoof on hoof, + In the pauses of the rain. + + And the bridegroom led the flight on his red-roan steed of might,-- + _Toll slowly._ + And the bride lay on his arm, still, as if she feared no harm, + Smiling out into the night. + + "Dost thou fear?" he said at last;--"Nay!" she answered him in haste,-- + _Toll slowly._ + "Not such death as we could find--only life with one behind-- + Ride on fast as fear--ride fast!" + + Up the mountain wheeled the steed--girth to ground, and fetlocks spread,-- + _Toll slowly._ + Headlong bounds, and rocking flanks,--down he staggered--down the banks, + To the towers of Linteged. + + High and low the serfs looked out, red the flambeaus tossed about,-- + _Toll slowly._ + In the courtyard rose the cry--"Live the Duchess and Sir Guy!" + But she never heard them shout. + + On the steed she dropt her cheek, kissed his mane and kissed his neck,-- + _Toll slowly._ + "I had happier died by thee, than lived on a Lady Leigh," + Were the first words she did speak. + + But a three months' joyaunce lay 'twixt that moment and to-day,-- + _Toll slowly._ + When five hundred archers tall stand beside the castle wall, + To recapture Duchess May. + + And the castle standeth black, with the red sun at its back,-- + _Toll slowly._ + And a fortnight's siege is done--and, except the Duchess, none + Can misdoubt the coming wrack. + + *....*....*....* + + Oh, the little birds sang east, and the little birds sang west,-- + _Toll slowly._ + On the tower the castle's lord leant in silence on his sword, + With an anguish in his breast. + + With a spirit-laden weight, did he lean down passionate.-- + _Toll slowly._ + They have almost sapped the wall,--they will enter therewithal, + With no knocking at the gate. + + Then the sword he leant upon, shivered--snapped upon the stone,-- + _Toll slowly._ + "Sword," he thought, with inward laugh, "ill thou servest for a staff + When thy nobler use is done! + + "Sword, thy nobler use is done!--tower is lost, and shame begun"-- + _Toll slowly._ + "If we met them in the breach, hilt to hilt or speech to speech, + We should die there, each for one. + + "If we met them at the wall, we should singly, vainly fall,"-- + _Toll slowly._ + "But if _I_ die here alone,--then I die, who am but one, + And die nobly for them all. + + "Five true friends lie for my sake,--in the moat and in the brake,"-- + _Toll slowly._ + "Thirteen warriors lie at rest, with a black wound in the breast, + And not one of these will wake. + + "And no more of this shall be!--heart-blood weighs too heavily,"-- + _Toll slowly._ + "And I could not sleep in grave, with the faithful and the brave + Heaped around and over me. + + "Since young Clare a mother hath, and young Ralph a plighted faith,"-- + _Toll slowly._ + "Since my pale young sister's cheeks blush like rose when Ronald speaks, + Albeit never a word she saith-- + + "These shall never die for me--life-blood falls too heavily."-- + _Toll slowly._ + "And if _I_ die here apart,--o'er my dead and silent heart + They shall pass out safe and free. + + "When the foe hath heard it said--'Death holds Guy of Linteged,'"-- + _Toll slowly._ + "That new corse new peace shall bring, and a blessed, blessed thing + Shall the stone be at its head. + + "Then my friends shall pass out free, and shall bear my memory,"-- + _Toll slowly._ + "Then my foes shall sleek their pride, soothing fair my widowed bride + Whose sole sin was love of me. + + "With their words all smooth and sweet, they will front her and entreat,"-- + _Toll slowly._ + "And their purple pall will spread underneath her fainting head + While her tears drop over it. + + "She will weep her woman's tears, she will pray her woman's prayers,"-- + _Toll slowly._ + "But her heart is young in pain, and her hopes will spring again + By the suntime of her years. + + "Ah, sweet May--ah, sweetest grief!--once I vowed thee my belief,"-- + _Toll slowly._ + "That thy name expressed thy sweetness,--May of poets, in completeness! + Now my May-day seemeth brief." + + All these silent thoughts did swim o'er his eyes grown strange and dim,-- + _Toll slowly._ + Till his true men in the place wished they stood there face to face + With the foe instead of him. + + "One last oath, my friends that wear faithful hearts to do and dare!" + _Toll slowly._ + "Tower must fall, and bride be lost!--swear me service worth the cost!" + --Bold they stood around to swear. + + "Each man clasp my hand and swear, by the deed we failed in there,"-- + _Toll slowly._ + "Not for vengeance, not for right, will ye strike one blow to-night!"-- + Pale they stood around--to swear. + + "One last boon, young Ralph and Clare! faithful hearts to do and dare!"-- + _Toll slowly._ + "Bring that steed up from his stall, which she kissed before you all,-- + Guide him up the turret-stair. + + "Ye shall harness him aright, and lead upward to this height!"-- + _Toll slowly._ + "Once in love and twice in war, hath he borne me strong and far, + He shall bear me far to-night." + + Then his men looked to and fro, when they heard him speaking so.-- + _Toll slowly._ + --"'Las! the noble heart," they thought,--"he in sooth is grief-distraught. + Would, we stood here with the foe!" + + But a fire flashed from his eye, 'twixt their thought and their reply,-- + _Toll slowly._ + "Have ye so much time to waste? We who ride here, must ride fast, + As we wish our foes to fly." + + They have fetched the steed with care, in the harness he did wear,-- + _Toll slowly._ + Past the court and through the doors, across the rushes of the floors, + But they goad him up the stair. + + Then from out her bower chambere, did the Duchess May repair.-- + _Toll slowly._ + "Tell me now what is your need," said the lady, "of this steed, + That ye goad him up the stair?" + + Calm she stood; unbodkined through, fell her dark hair to her shoe,-- + _Toll slowly._ + And the smile upon her face, ere she left the tiring-glass, + Had not time enough to go. + + "Get thee back, sweet Duchess May! hope is gone like yesterday,"-- + _Toll slowly._ + "One half-hour completes the breach; and thy lord grows wild of speech,-- + Get thee in, sweet lady, and pray. + + "In the east tower, high'st of all,--loud he cries for steed from stall."-- + _Toll slowly._ + "He would ride as far," quoth he, "as for love and victory, + Though he rides the castle-wall. + + "And we fetch the steed from stall, up where never a hoof did fall."-- + _Toll slowly._ + "Wifely prayer meets deathly need! may the sweet Heavens hear thee plead + If he rides the castle-wall." + + Low she dropt her head, and lower, till her hair coiled on the floor,-- + _Toll slowly._ + And tear after tear you heard, fall distinct as any word + Which you might be listening for. + + "Get thee in, thou soft ladye!--here, is never a place for thee!"-- + _Toll slowly._ + "Braid thine hair and clasp thy gown, that thy beauty in its moan + May find grace with Leigh of Leigh." + + She stood up in bitter case, with a pale yet steady face, + _Toll slowly._ + Like a statue thunderstruck, which, though quivering, seems to look + Right against the thunder-place. + + And her foot trod in, with pride, her own tears i' the stone beside,-- + _Toll slowly._ + "Go to, faithful friends, go to!--Judge no more what ladies do,-- + No, nor how their lords may ride!" + + Then the good steed's rein she took, and his neck did kiss and stroke:-- + _Toll slowly._ + Soft he neighed to answer her, and then followed up the stair, + For the love of her sweet look. + + Oh, and steeply, steeply wound up the narrow stair around,-- + _Toll slowly._ + Oh, and closely, closely speeding, step by step beside her treading,-- + Did he follow, meek as hound. + + On the east tower, high'st of all,--there, where never a hoof did fall,-- + _Toll slowly._ + Out they swept, a vision steady,--noble steed and lovely lady, + Calm as if in bower or stall. + + Down she knelt at her lord's knee, and she looked up silently,-- + _Toll slowly._ + And he kissed her twice and thrice, for that look within her eyes + Which he could not bear to see. + + Quoth he, "Get thee from this strife,--and the sweet saints bless thy life!"-- + _Toll slowly._ + "In this hour, I stand in need of my noble red-roan steed-- + But no more of my noble wife." + + Quoth she, "Meekly have I done all thy biddings under sun:"-- + _Toll slowly._ + "But by all my womanhood, which is proved so true and good, + I will never do this one. + + "Now by womanhood's degree, and by wifehood's verity,"-- + _Toll slowly._ + "In this hour if thou hast need of thy noble red-roan steed, + Thou hast also need of _me_. + + "By this golden ring ye see on this lifted hand pardie,"-- + _Toll slowly._ + "If, this hour, on castle-wall, can be room for steed from stall, + Shall be also room for _me_. + + "So the sweet saints with me be" (did she utter solemnly),-- + _Toll slowly._ + "If a man, this eventide, on this castle wall will ride, + He shall ride the same with _me_." + + Oh, he sprang up in the selle, and he laughed out bitter-well,-- + _Toll slowly._ + "Wouldst thou ride among the leaves, as we used on other eves, + To hear chime a vesper-bell?" + + She clang closer to his knee--"Ay, beneath the cypress-tree!"-- + _Toll slowly._ + "Mock me not, for otherwhere than along the greenwood fair, + Have I ridden fast with thee! + + "Fast I rode with new-made vows, from my angry kinsman's house!" + _Toll slowly._ + "What! and would you men should reck that I dared more for love's sake + As a bride than as a spouse? + + "What, and would you it should fall, as a proverb, before all,"-- + _Toll slowly._ + "That a bride may keep your side while through castle-gate you ride, + Yet eschew the castle-wall?" + + Ho! the breach yawns into ruin, and roars up against her suing,-- + _Toll slowly._ + With the inarticulate din, and the dreadful falling in-- + Shrieks of doing and undoing! + + Twice he wrung her hands in twain, but the small hands closed again,-- + _Toll slowly._ + Back he reined the steed--back, back! but she trailed along his track + With a frantic clasp and strain. + + Evermore the foemen pour through the crash of window and door,-- + _Toll slowly._ + And the shouts of Leigh and Leigh, and the shrieks of "kill!" and "flee!" + Strike up clear amid the roar. + + Thrice he wrung her hands in twain,--but they closed and clung again,-- + _Toll slowly._ + Wild she clung, as one, withstood, clasps a Christ upon the rood, + In a spasm of deathly pain. + + She clung wild and she clung mute,--with her shuddering lips half-shut,-- + _Toll slowly._ + Her head fallen as half in swound,--hair and knee swept on the ground,-- + She clung wild to stirrup and foot. + + Back he reined his steed back-thrown on the slippery coping-stone,-- + _Toll slowly._ + Back the iron hoofs did grind on the battlement behind, + Whence a hundred feet went down. + + And his heel did press and goad on the quivering flank bestrode, + _Toll slowly._ + "Friends, and brothers! save my wife!--Pardon, sweet, in change for life,-- + But I ride alone to God." + + Straight as if the Holy name had upbreathed her like a flame,-- + _Toll slowly._ + She upsprang, she rose upright,--in his selle she sate in sight, + By her love she overcame. + + And her head was on his breast, where she smiled as one at rest,-- + _Toll slowly._ + "Ring," she cried, "O vesper-bell, in the beechwood's old chapelle! + But the passing-bell rings best." + + They have caught out at the rein, which Sir Guy threw loose--in vain,-- + _Toll slowly._ + For the horse in stark despair, with his front hoofs poised in air, + On the last verge rears amain. + + Now he hangs, the rocks between--and his nostrils curdle in,-- + _Toll slowly._ + Now he shivers head and hoof--and the flakes of foam fall off; + And his face grows fierce and thin! + + And a look of human woe from his staring eyes did go,-- + _Toll slowly_. + And a sharp cry uttered he, in a foretold agony + Of the headlong death below,---- + + And, "Ring, ring, thou passing-bell," still she cried, + "i' the old chapelle!"-- + _Toll slowly_. + Then back-toppling, crashing back,--a dead weight flung out to wrack, + Horse and riders overfell. + + _Elizabeth Barrett Browning._ + + + + +IRMINGARD'S ESCAPE. + + + I am the Lady Irmingard, + Born of a noble race and name! + Many a wandering Suabian bard, + Whose life was dreary and bleak and hard, + Has found through me the way to fame. + Brief and bright were those days, and the night + Which followed was full of a lurid light. + Love, that of every woman's heart + Will have the whole, and not a part, + That is to her, in Nature's plan, + More than ambition is to man, + Her light, her life, her very breath, + With no alternative but death, + Found me a maiden soft and young, + Just from the convent's cloistered school, + And seated on my lowly stool, + Attentive while the minstrels sung. + + Gallant, graceful, gentle, tall, + Fairest, noblest, best of all, + Was Walter of the Vogelweid; + And, whatsoever may betide, + Still I think of him with pride! + His song was of the summer-time, + The very birds sang in his rhyme; + The sunshine, the delicious air, + The fragrance of the flowers, were there; + And I grew restless as I heard, + Restless and buoyant as a bird, + Down soft, aerial currents sailing, + O'er blossomed orchards, and fields in bloom, + And through the momentary gloom + Of shadows o'er the landscape trailing, + Yielding and borne I knew not where, + But feeling resistance unavailing. + + And thus, unnoticed and apart, + And more by accident than choice, + I listened to that single voice + Until the chambers of my heart + Were filled with it by night and day. + One night--it was a night in May,-- + Within the garden, unawares, + Under the blossoms in the gloom, + I heard it utter my own name + With protestations and wild prayers; + And it rang through me, and became + Like the archangel's trump of doom, + Which the soul hears, and must obey; + And mine arose as from a tomb. + My former life now seemed to me + Such as hereafter death may be, + When in the great Eternity + We shall awake and find it day. + + It was a dream, and would not stay; + A dream, that in a single night + Faded and vanished out of sight. + My father's anger followed fast + This passion, as a freshening blast + Seeks out and fans the fire, whose rage + It may increase, but not assuage. + And he exclaimed: "No wandering bard + Shall win thy hand, O Irmingard! + For which Prince Henry of Hoheneck + By messenger and letter sues." + + Gently, but firmly, I replied: + "Henry of Hoheneck I discard! + Never the hand of Irmingard + Shall lie in his as the hand of a bride!" + This said I, Walter, for thy sake; + This said I, for I could not choose. + After a pause, my father spake + In that cold and deliberate tone + Which turns the hearer into stone, + And seems itself the act to be + That follows with such dread certainty; + "This, or the cloister and the veil!" + No other words than these he said, + But they were like a funeral wail; + My life was ended, my heart was dead. + + That night from the castle-gate went down, + With silent, slow, and stealthy pace, + Two shadows, mounted on shadowy steeds, + Taking the narrow path that leads + Into the forest dense and brown. + In the leafy darkness of the place, + One could not distinguish form nor face, + Only a bulk without a shape, + A darker shadow in the shade; + One scarce could say it moved or stayed. + Thus it was we made our escape! + A foaming brook, with many a bound, + Followed us like a playful hound; + Then leaped before us, and in the hollow + Paused, and waited for us to follow, + And seemed impatient, and afraid + That our tardy flight should be betrayed + By the sound our horses' hoof-beats made. + And when we reached the plain below, + We paused a moment and drew rein + To look back at the castle again; + And we saw the windows all aglow + With lights, that were passing to and fro; + Our hearts with terror ceased to beat; + The brook crept silent to our feet; + We knew what most we feared to know. + + Then suddenly horns began to blow; + And we heard a shout, and a heavy tramp, + And our horses snorted in the damp + Night-air of the meadows green and wide, + And in a moment, side by side, + So close, they must have seemed but one, + The shadows across the moonlight run, + And another came, and swept behind, + Like the shadow of clouds before the wind! + + How I remember that breathless flight + Across the moors, in the summer night! + How under our feet the long, white road + Backward like a river flowed, + Sweeping with it fences and hedges, + Whilst farther away, and overhead, + Paler than I, with fear and dread, + The moon fled with us, as we fled + Along the forest's jagged edges! + + All this I can remember well; + But of what afterwards befell + I nothing further can recall + Than a blind, desperate, headlong fall; + The rest is a blank and darkness all. + When I awoke out of this swoon, + The sun was shining, not the moon, + Making a cross upon the wall + With the bars of my windows narrow and tall; + And I prayed to it, as I had been wont to pray, + From early childhood, day by day, + Each morning, as in bed I lay! + I was lying again in my own room! + And I thanked God, in my fever and pain, + That those shadows on the midnight plain + Were gone, and could not come again! + I struggled no longer with my doom! + + _Henry Wadsworth Longfellow._ + + + + +WILLIAM AND HELEN. + + + From heavy dreams fair Helen rose, + And eyed the dawning red: + "Alas, my love, thou tarriest long! + O art thou false or dead?"-- + + With gallant Fred'rick's princely power + He sought the bold Crusade; + But not a word from Judah's wars + Told Helen how he sped. + + With Paynim and with Saracen + At length a truce was made, + And every knight returned to dry + The tears his love had shed. + + Our gallant host was homeward bound + With many a song of joy; + Green waved the laurel in each plume, + The badge of victory. + + And old and young, and sire and son, + To meet them crowd the way, + With shouts and mirth and melody, + The debt of love to pay. + + Full many a maid her true-love met, + And sobbed in his embrace, + And fluttering joy in tears and smiles + Arrayed full many a face. + + Nor joy nor smile for Helen sad; + She sought the host in vain; + For none could tell her William's fate, + If faithless, or if slain. + + The martial band is past and gone; + She rends her raven hair, + And in distraction's bitter mood + She weeps with wild despair. + + "O rise, my child," her mother said, + "Nor sorrow thus in vain; + A perjured lover's fleeting heart + No tears recall again."-- + + "O mother, what is gone, is gone, + What's lost forever lorn; + Death, death alone can comfort me; + O had I ne'er been born! + + "O break, my heart,--O break at once! + Drink my life-blood, Despair! + No joy remains on earth for me, + For me in heaven no share."-- + + "O enter not in judgment, Lord!" + The pious mother prays; + "Impute not guilt to thy frail child! + She knows not what she says. + + "O say thy pater noster, child! + O turn to God and grace! + His will, that turned thy bliss to bale, + Can change thy bale to bliss."-- + + "O mother, mother, what is bliss? + O mother, what is bale? + My William's love was heaven on earth, + Without it earth is hell. + + "Why should I pray to ruthless Heaven, + Since my loved William's slain? + I only prayed for William's sake, + And all my prayers were vain."-- + + "O take the sacrament, my child, + And check these tears that flow; + By resignation's humble prayer, + O hallowed be thy woe!"-- + + "No sacrament can quench this fire, + Or slake this scorching pain; + No sacrament can bid the dead + Arise and live again. + + "O break, my heart,--O break at once! + Be thou my god, Despair! + Heaven's heaviest blow has fallen on me, + And vain each fruitless prayer."-- + + "O enter not in judgment, Lord, + With thy frail child of clay! + She knows not what her tongue has spoke; + Impute it not, I pray! + + "Forbear, my child, this desperate woe, + And turn to God and grace; + Well can devotion's heavenly glow + Convert thy bale to bliss."-- + + "O mother, mother, what is bliss? + O mother, what is bale? + Without my William what were heaven, + Or with him what were hell?"-- + + Wild she arraigns the eternal doom, + Upbraids each sacred power, + Till, spent, she sought her silent room, + All in the lonely tower. + + She beat her breast, she wrung her hands, + Till sun and day were o'er, + And through the glimmering lattice shone + The twinkling of the star. + + Then, crash! the heavy drawbridge fell + That o'er the moat was hung; + And, clatter! clatter! on its boards + The hoof of courser rung. + + The clank of echoing steel was heard + As off the rider bounded; + And slowly on the winding stair + A heavy footstep sounded. + + And hark! and hark! a knock--Tap! tap! + A rustling stifled noise;-- + Door-latch and tinkling staples ring;-- + At length a whispering voice. + + "Awake, awake, arise, my love! + How, Helen, dost thou fare? + Wakest thou, or sleepest? laughest thou, or weepest? + Hast thought on me, my fair?"-- + + "My love! my love!--so late by night!-- + I waked, I wept for thee: + Much have I borne since dawn of morn; + Where, William, couldst thou be!"-- + + "We saddle late--from Hungary + I rode since darkness fell; + And to its bourne we both return + Before the matin-bell."-- + + "O rest this night within my arms, + And warm thee in their fold! + Chill howls through hawthorn bush the wind:-- + My love is deadly cold."-- + + "Let the wind howl through hawthorn bush! + This night we must away; + The steed is wight, the spur is bright; + I cannot stay till day. + + "Busk, busk, and boune![1] Thou mount'st behind + Upon my black barb steed: + O'er stock and stile, a hundred miles, + We haste to bridal bed."-- + + "To-night--to-night a hundred miles!-- + O dearest William, stay! + The bell strikes twelve--dark, dismal hour? + O wait, my love, till day!"-- + + "Look here, look here--the moon shines clear-- + Full fast I ween we ride; + Mount and away! for ere the day + We reach our bridal bed. + + "The black barb snorts, the bridle rings; + Haste, busk, and boune, and seat thee! + The feast is made, the chamber spread, + The bridal guests await thee."-- + + Strong love prevailed: she busks, she bounes, + She mounts the barb behind, + And round her darling William's waist + Her lily arms she twines. + + And, hurry! hurry! off they rode, + As fast as fast might be; + Spurned from the courser's thundering heels + The flashing pebbles flee. + + And on the right, and on the left, + Ere they could snatch a view, + Fast, fast each mountain, mead, and plain, + And cot, and castle, flew. + + "Sit fast--dost fear?--The moon shines clear-- + Fleet goes my barb--keep hold! + Fearest thou?"--"O no!" she faintly said; + "But why so stern and cold? + + "What yonder rings? what yonder sings? + Why shrieks the owlet gray?"-- + "'Tis death-bells' clang, 'tis funeral song, + The body to the clay. + + "With song and clang, at morrow's dawn. + Ye may inter the dead: + To-night I ride, with my young bride, + To deck our bridal bed. + + "Come with thy choir, thou coffined guest, + To swell our nuptial song! + Come, priest, to bless our marriage feast! + Come all, come all along!"-- + + Ceased clang and song; down sunk the bier; + The shrouded corpse arose: + And, hurry, hurry! all the train + The thundering steed pursues. + + And, forward! forward! on they go; + High snorts the straining steed; + Thick pants the rider's laboring breath, + As headlong on they speed. + + "O William, why this savage haste? + And where thy bridal bed?"-- + "'Tis distant far, low, damp, and chill, + And narrow, trustless maid."-- + + "No room for me?"--"Enough for both;-- + Speed, speed, my barb, thy course!" + O'er thundering bridge, through boiling surge, + He drove the furious horse. + + Tramp! tramp! along the land they rode, + Splash! splash! along the sea; + The scourge is wight, the spur is bright, + The flashing pebbles flee. + + Fled past on right and left how fast + Each forest, grove, and bower! + On right and left fled past how fast + Each city, town, and tower! + + "Dost fear? dost fear? The moon shines clear, + Dost fear to ride with me?-- + Hurrah! hurrah! the dead can ride!" + "O William, let them be!-- + + "See there, see there! What yonder swings + And creaks 'mid whistling rain?"-- + "Gibbet and steel, th' accursed wheel; + A murderer in his chain.-- + + "Hollo! thou felon, follow here: + To bridal bed we ride; + And thou shalt prance a fetter dance + Before me and my bride."-- + + And, hurry! hurry! clash, clash, clash! + The wasted form descends; + And fleet as wind through hazel bush + The wild career attends. + + Tramp! tramp! along the land they rode, + Splash! splash! along the sea; + The scourge is red, the spur drops blood, + The flashing pebbles flee. + + How fled what moonshine faintly showed! + How fled what darkness hid! + How fled the earth beneath their feet, + The heaven above their head! + + "Dost fear? dost fear? The moon shines clear. + And well the dead can ride; + Does faithful Helen fear for them?"-- + "O leave in peace the dead!"-- + + "Barb! Barb! methinks I hear the cock; + The sand will soon be run: + Barb! Barb! I smell the morning air; + The race is well-nigh done."-- + + Tramp! tramp! along the land they rode; + Splash! splash! along the sea; + The scourge is red, the spur drops blood, + The flashing pebbles flee. + + "Hurrah! hurrah! well ride the dead; + The bride, the bride is come; + And soon we reach the bridal bed, + For, Helen, here's my home."-- + + Reluctant on its rusty hinge + Revolved an iron door, + And by the pale moon's setting beam + Were seen a church and tower. + + With many a shriek and cry whiz round + The birds of midnight, scared; + And rustling like autumnal leaves + Unhallowed ghosts were heard. + + O'er many a tomb and tombstone pale + He spurred the fiery horse, + Till sudden at an open grave + He checked the wondrous course. + + The falling gauntlet quits the rein, + Down drops the casque of steel, + The cuirass leaves his shrinking side, + The spur his gory heel. + + The eyes desert the naked skull, + The mouldering flesh the bone, + Till Helen's lily arms entwine + A ghastly skeleton. + + The furious barb snorts fire and foam, + And, with a fearful bound, + Dissolves at once in empty air, + And leaves her on the ground. + + Half seen by fits, by fits half heard, + Pale spectres flit along, + Wheel round the maid in dismal dance, + And howl the funeral song: + + "E'en when the heart's with anguish cleft, + Revere the doom of Heaven. + Her soul is from her body reft; + Her spirit be forgiven!" + + _Buerger's "Leonore"--Translated by Sir Walter Scott._ + +FOOTNOTES: + +[1] _Busk_--to dress. _Boune_--to prepare one's self for a journey. + + + + +THE GREETING ON KYNAST. + + + She said: This narrow chamber is not for me the place, + Said the lady Kunigunde of Kynast! + 'Tis pleasanter on horseback, I'll hie me to the chase, + Said the lady Kunigunde! + + She said: The knight who weds me, I do require of him, + Said the lady Kunigunde of Kynast! + To gallop round the Kynast and break not neck nor limb. + + A noble knight came forward and galloped round the wall; + The lady Kunigunde of Kynast, + The lady, without lifting a finger, saw him fall. + + And yet another galloped around the battlement; + The lady Kunigunde, + The lady saw him tumble, yet did she not relent. + + And rider after rider spurred round his snorting horse; + The lady Kunigunde + Saw him vanish o'er the rampart, and never felt remorse. + + Long time the folly lasted, then came no rider more; + The lady Kunigunde, + They would not ride to win her, the trial was too sore. + + She stood upon her towers, she looked upon the land, + The lady Kunigunde of Kynast: + I'm all alone at home here, will no one seek my hand? + + Is there none will ride to win me, to win me for his bride, + The lady Kunigunde of Kynast? + O fie, the paltry rider who dreads the bridal ride! + + Then out and spake from Thueringen the Landgrave Adelbert: + The lady Kunigunde of Kynast! + Well may the haughty damsel her worthiness assert. + + He trains his horse to gallop on narrow walls of stone; + The lady Kunigunde of Kynast! + The lady shall not see us break neck or limb or bone. + + See here, O noble lady, I'm he that dares the ride! + The lady Kunigunde, + She looks in thoughtful silence, to see him sit in pride. + + She saw him now make ready, then trembled she and sighed, + The lady Kunigunde: + Woe's me that I so fearful have made the bridal ride! + + Then rode he round the Kynast; her face she turned away, + The lady Kunigunde: + Woe 's me, the knight is riding down to his grave to-day! + + He rides around the Kynast, right round the narrow wall; + The lady Kunigunde! + She cannot stir for terror her lily hand at all. + + He rides around the Kynast, clear round the battlement; + The lady Kunigunde! + As if a breath might kill him, she held her breath suspent. + + He rode around the Kynast and straight to her rode he; + Said the lady Kunigunde of Kynast: + Thanks be to God in heaven, who gave thy life to thee! + + Thanks be to God that into thy grave thou didst not ride! + Said the lady Kunigunde: + Come down from off thy horse now, O knight, unto thy bride! + + Then spake the noble rider, and greeted, as he sate, + The lady Kunigunde: + O trust a knight for horsemanship! well have I taught thee that. + + Now wait till comes another who can the same thing do, + O lady Kunigunde of Kynast! + I've wife and child already, can be no spouse for you. + + He gave his steed the spur, now; rode back the way he came; + The lady Kunigunde! + The lady saw him vanish, she swooned with scorn and shame. + + And she remains a virgin, her pride had such a fall, + The lady Kunigunde! + Changed to a wooden image she stands in sight of all. + + An image, like a hedgehog, with spines for hair, is now + The lady Kunigunde of Kynast! + The stranger has to kiss it, who climbs the Kynast's brow. + + We bring it him to kiss it: and if it shocks his pride, + The lady Kunigunde of Kynast! + He must pay down his forfeit, who will not kiss the bride, + The lady Kunigunde! + + _Rueckert. Tr. C. T. Brooks._ + + + + +HARRAS, THE BOLD LEAPER. + + + The world yet waited in shadowy light + The dawn of the rising day; + And scarcely yet had waked the night + From the slumber in which it lay. + But, hark! along the forest way + Unwonted echoes rung, + And all accoutred for the fray + A band of warriors sprung! + + And forth they rushed along the plain, + In thunder, to the fight; + And foremost of that martial train + Was Harras, the gallant knight. + They ride upon their secret way, + O'er forest and vale and down, + To reach their foe while yet 'tis day, + And storm his castled town. + + So sally they forth from the forest gloom; + But as they leave its shade + They rush, alas! to meet their doom, + And their progress is betrayed: + For suddenly bursts upon their rear + The foe, with twice their force; + Then out at once rush shield and spear, + And the charger flies on his course. + + And the wood in unwonted echoes rang + With the sounds of that deadly fray, + And the sabre's clash and the helmet's clang + Is mixed with the courser's neigh. + A thousand wounds have dyed the field + Unheeded in the strife; + But not a man will ask to yield, + For freedom is dearer than life! + + But their stronger foes must win the day, + And the knights begin to fail; + For the sword hath swept their best array, + And superior powers prevail. + Unconquered alone, to a rocky height + Bold Harras fought his way; + And his brave steed carried him through the fight, + And bore him safe away. + + And he left the rein to that trusty steed, + And rode from the fatal fray; + But he gave to his erring path no heed, + And he missed the well-known way. + And when he heard the foemen near, + He sprang from the forest gloom; + But as soon as he reached the daylight clear, + He saw at once his doom! + + He had reached a frightful precipice, + Where he heard the deep waves roll; + For he stood on Zschopauthal's dread abyss, + And horror chilled his soul! + For on yonder bank he could espy + The remnant of his band; + And his heart impatient panted high, + As they waved the friendly hand. + + And he longed, as he looked o'er that dreadful steep, + For wings to aid his flight; + For that cliff is full fifty fathoms deep, + And his horse drew back with fright. + And he saw, as he looked behind and below, + On either side his grave: + Behind him, from the coming foe; + Before him, in the wave! + + And he chooses 'twixt death from the foemen's hand, + Or death where the deep waves roll; + Then he boldly rides up to that rocky strand, + And commends to the Lord his soul! + And as nearer he hears the foemen ride, + He seeks the utmost steep; + And he plunges his spurs in his courser's side, + And dares the dreadful leap! + + And swiftly he sank through the yielding air, + And into the flood he fell; + His steed is dashed to atoms there, + But the knight lives safe and well! + And mid the plaudits of his band, + He stemmed the parting wave, + And soon in safety reached the land, + For Heaven will never forsake the brave! + + _Karl Theodor Koerner. Tr. G. F. Richardson._ + + + + +THE KNIGHT'S LEAP. + + + "So the foeman has fired the gate, men of mine, + And the water is spent and done; + Then bring me a cup of the red Ahr-wine; + I never shall drink but this one. + + "And fetch me my harness, and saddle my horse, + And lead him me round to the door: + He must take such a leap to-night perforce + As horse never took before. + + "I have lived by the saddle for years two score, + And if I must die on tree, + The old saddle-tree, which has borne me of yore, + Is the properest timber for me. + + "I have lived my life, I have fought my fight, + I have drunk my share of wine; + From Trier to Coeln there was never a knight + Led a merrier life than mine. + + "So now to show bishop and burgher and priest + How the Altenahr hawk can die, + If they smoke the old falcon out of his nest, + He must take to his wings and fly." + + He harnessed himself by the clear moonshine, + And he mounted his horse at the door, + And he drained such a cup of the red Ahr-wine + As never man drained before. + + He spurred the old horse, and he held him tight, + And he leapt him out over the wall; + Out over the cliff, out into the night, + Three hundred feet of fall. + + They found him next morning below in the glen, + And never a bone in him whole; + But Heaven may yet have more mercy than men + On such a bold rider's soul. + + _Charles Kingsley._ + + + + +THE LEAP OF ROUSHAN BEG. + + + Mounted on Kyrat strong and fleet, + His chestnut steed with four white feet, + Roushan Beg, called Kurroglou, + Son of the road and bandit chief, + Seeking refuge and relief, + Up the mountain pathway flew. + + Such was Kyrat's wondrous speed, + Never yet could any steed + Reach the dust-cloud in his course. + More than maiden, more than wife, + More than gold and next to life + Roushan the Robber loved his horse. + + In the land that lies beyond + Erzeroum and Trebizond, + Garden-girt his fortress stood; + Plundered khan, or caravan + Journeying north from Koordistan, + Gave him wealth and wine and food. + + Seven hundred and fourscore + Men at arms his livery wore, + Did his bidding night and day. + Now, through regions all unknown, + He was wandering, lost, alone, + Seeking without guide his way. + + Suddenly the pathway ends, + Sheer the precipice descends, + Loud the torrent roars unseen; + Thirty feet from side to side + Yawns the chasm; on air must ride + He who crosses this ravine. + + Following close in his pursuit, + At the precipice's foot, + Reyhan the Arab of Orfah + Halted with his hundred men, + Shouting upward from the glen, + "La Illah illa Allah!" + + Gently Roushan Beg caressed + Kyrat's forehead, neck, and breast; + Kissed him upon both his eyes; + Sang to him in his wild way, + As upon the topmost spray + Sings a bird before it flies. + + "O my Kyrat, O my steed, + Round and slender as a reed, + Carry me this peril through! + Satin housings shall be thine. + Shoes of gold, O Kyrat mine, + O thou soul of Kurroglou! + + "Soft thy skin as silken skein, + Soft as woman's hair thy mane, + Tender are thine eyes and true; + All thy hoofs like ivory shine, + Polished bright; O, life of mine, + Leap, and rescue Kurroglou!" + + Kyrat, then, the strong and fleet, + Drew together his four white feet, + Paused a moment on the verge, + Measured with his eye the space, + And into the air's embrace + Leaped as leaps the ocean surge. + + As the ocean surge o'er sand + Bears a swimmer safe to land, + Kyrat safe his rider bore; + Rattling down the deep abyss + Fragments of the precipice + Rolled like pebbles on a shore. + + Roushan's tasselled cap of red + Trembled not upon his head, + Careless sat he and upright; + Neither hand nor bridle shook, + Nor his head he turned to look, + As he galloped out of sight. + + Flash of harness in the air, + Seen a moment like the glare + Of a sword drawn from its sheath; + Thus the phantom horseman passed, + And the shadow that he cast + Leaped the cataract underneath. + + Reyhan the Arab held his breath + While this vision of life and death + Passed above him. "Allahu!" + Cried he. "In all Koordistan + Lives there not so brave a man + As this Robber Kurroglou!" + + _H. W. Longfellow._ + + + + +ANNAN WATER. + + + "Annan water's wading deep, + And my love Annie's wondrous bonny; + And I am laith she suld weet her feet, + Because I love her best of ony. + + "Gar saddle me the bonny black, + Gar saddle sune, and make him ready; + For I will down the Gatehope-Slack, + And all to see my bonny ladye."-- + + He has loupen on the bonny black, + He stirr'd him wi' the spur right sairly; + But, or he wan the Gatehope-Slack, + I think the steed was wae and weary. + + He has loupen on the bonny grey, + He rade the right gate and the ready; + I trow he would neither stint nor stay, + For he was seeking his bonny ladye. + + O he has ridden o'er field and fell, + Through muir and moss, and mony a mire: + His spurs o' steel were sair to bide, + And fra her fore-feet flew the fire. + + "Now, bonny grey, now play your part! + Gin ye be the steed that wins my deary, + Wi' corn and hay ye'se be fed for aye, + And never spur sall make you wearie."-- + + The grey was a mare, and a right good mare; + But when she wan the Annan water, + She couldna hae ridden a furlong mair, + Had a thousand merks been wadded at her. + + "O boatman, boatman, put off your boat! + Put off your boat for gowden money! + I cross the drumly stream the night, + Or never mair I see my honey."-- + + "O I was sworn sae late yestreen, + And not by ae aith, but by many; + And for a' the gowd in fair Scotland, + I dare na take ye through to Annie." + + The side was stey, and the bottom deep, + Frae bank to brae the water pouring; + And the bonny grey mare did sweat for fear, + For she heard the water-kelpy roaring. + + O he has pou'd aff his dapperpy coat, + The silver buttons glanced bonny; + The waistcoat bursted aff his breast, + He was sae full of melancholy. + + He has ta'en the ford at that stream tail; + I wot he swam both strong and steady; + But the stream was broad, and his strength did fail, + And he never saw his bonny ladye! + + "O wae betide the frush saugh wand! + And wae betide the bush of brier! + It brake into my true love's hand, + When his strength did fail, and his limbs did tire. + + "And wae betide ye, Annan Water, + This night that ye are a drumlie river! + For over thee I'll build a bridge, + That ye never more true love may sever." + + + + +THOMAS THE RHYMER. + + + True Thomas lay on Huntlie bank;[2] + A ferlie[3] he spied wi' his ee; + And there he saw a ladye bright, + Come riding down by the Eildon Tree. + + Her shirt was o' the grass-green silk, + Her mantle o' the velvet fyne; + At ilka[4] tett of her horse's mane, + Hung fifty siller bells and nine. + + True Thomas, he pulled aff his cap, + And louted[5] low down to his knee, + "All hail, thou mighty Queen of Heaven! + For thy peer on earth I never did see." + + "O no, O no, Thomas," she said, + "That name does not belang to me; + I am but the Queen of fair Elfland, + That am hither come to visit thee. + + "Harp and carp, Thomas," she said; + "Harp and carp along wi' me; + And if ye dare to kiss my lips, + Sure of your bodie I will be." + + "Betide me weal, betide me woe, + That weird[6] shall never daunton me."-- + Syne he has kiss'd her rosy lips, + All underneath the Eildon Tree. + + "Now, ye maun go wi' me," she said; + "True Thomas, ye maun go wi' me; + And ye maun serve me seven years, + Thro' weal or woe as may chance to be." + + She mounted on her milk-white steed; + She's ta'en true Thomas up behind: + And aye, whene'er her bridle rung, + The steed flew swifter than the wind. + + O they rade on, and farther on; + The steed gaed swifter than the wind; + Until they reached a desert wide, + And living land was left behind. + + "Light down, light down, now, true Thomas, + And lean your head upon my knee; + Abide and rest a little space, + And I will show you ferlies[7] three. + + "O see ye not yon narrow road, + So thick beset with thorns and briers? + That is the path of righteousness, + Though after it but few inquires. + + "And see ye not that braid braid road, + That lies across that lily leven? + That is the path of wickedness, + Though some call it the road to heaven. + + "And see not ye that bonny road, + That winds about the fernie brae? + That is the road to fair Elfland, + Where thou and I this night maun gae. + + "But, Thomas, ye maun hold your tongue, + Whatever ye may hear or see; + For, if ye speak word in Elfyn land, + Ye'll ne'er get back to your ain countrie." + + O they rade on, and farther on, + And they waded through rivers aboon the knee, + And they saw neither sun nor moon, + But they heard the roaring of the sea. + + It was mirk mirk night, and there was nae stern light, + And they waded through red blude to the knee, + For a' the blude that's shed on earth + Rins through the springs o' that countrie. + + Syne they came on to a garden green, + And she pu'd an apple frae a tree-- + "Take this for thy wages, true Thomas; + It will give thee the tongue that can never lie." + + "My tongue is mine ain," true Thomas said; + "A gudely gift ye wad gie to me! + I neither dought to buy nor sell, + At fair or tryst where I may be. + + "I dought neither speak to prince or peer, + Nor ask of grace from fair ladye." + "Now hold thy peace!" the lady said, + "For as I say, so must it be." + + He has gotten a coat of the even cloth, + And a pair of shoes of velvet green; + And till seven years were gane and past, + True Thomas on earth was never seen. + + _Walter Scott._ + +FOOTNOTES: + +[2] A spot afterwards included in the domain of Abbotsford. + +[3] Wonder. + +[4] Each. + +[5] Bowed. + +[6] Destiny shall not alarm me. + +[7] Wonders. + + + + +THE GREEN GNOME. + +A MELODY. + + + Ring, sing! ring, sing! pleasant Sabbath bells! + Chime, rhyme! chime, rhyme! through dales and dells! + Rhyme, ring! chime, sing! pleasant Sabbath bells! + Chime, sing! rhyme, ring! over fields and fells! + + And I galloped and I galloped on my palfrey white as milk, + My robe was of the sea-green woof, my serk was of the silk; + My hair was golden-yellow, and it floated to my shoe; + My eyes were like two harebells bathed in little drops of dew; + My palfrey, never stopping, made a music sweetly blent + With the leaves of autumn dropping all around me as I went; + And I heard the bells, grown fainter, far behind me peal and play, + Fainter, fainter, fainter, till they seemed to die away; + And beside a silver runnel, on a little heap of sand, + I saw the green gnome sitting, with his cheek upon his hand. + Then he started up to see me, and he ran with a cry and bound, + And drew me from my palfrey white and set me on the ground. + O crimson, crimson were his locks, his face was green to see, + But he cried, "O light-haired lassie, you are bound to marry me!" + He clasped me round the middle small, he kissed me on the cheek, + He kissed me once, he kissed me twice, I could not stir or speak; + He kissed me twice, he kissed me thrice; but when he kissed again, + I called aloud upon the name of Him who died for men. + + Sing, sing! ring, ring! pleasant Sabbath bells! + Chime, rhyme! chime, rhyme! through dales and dells! + Rhyme, ring! chime, sing! pleasant Sabbath bells! + Chime, sing! rhyme, ring! over fields and fells! + + O faintly, faintly, faintly, calling men and maids to pray, + So faintly, faintly, faintly rang the bells far away; + And as I named the Blessed Name, as in our need we can, + The ugly green gnome became a tall and comely man: + His hands were white, his beard was gold, his eyes were black as sloes, + His tunic was of scarlet woof, and silken were his hose; + A pensive light from faeryland still lingered on his cheek, + His voice was like the running brook when he began to speak: + "O, you have cast away the charm my step-dame put on me, + Seven years have I dwelt in Faeryland, and you have set me free. + O, I will mount thy palfrey white, and ride to kirk with thee, + And, by those dewy little eyes, we twain will wedded be!" + + Back we galloped, never stopping, he before and I behind, + And the autumn leaves were dropping, red and yellow in the wind; + And the sun was shining clearer, and my heart was high and proud, + As nearer, nearer, nearer rang the kirk bells sweet and loud, + And we saw the kirk, before us, as we trotted down the fells, + And nearer, clearer, o'er us, rang the welcome of the bells. + + Ring, sing! ring, sing! pleasant Sabbath bells! + Chime, rhyme! chime, rhyme! through dales and dells! + Rhyme, ring! chime, sing! pleasant Sabbath bells! + Chime, sing! rhyme, ring! over fields and fells! + + _Robert Buchanan._ + + + + +FRIAR PEDRO'S RIDE. + + + It was the morning season of the year; + It was the morning era of the land; + The watercourses rang full loud and clear; + Portala's cross stood where Portala's hand + Had planted it when Faith was taught by Fear, + When monks and missions held the sole command + Of all that shore beside the peaceful sea, + Where spring-tides beat their long-drawn reveille. + + Out of the Mission of San Luis Rey, + All in that brisk, tumultuous spring weather, + Rode Friar Pedro, in a pious way, + With six dragoons in cuirasses of leather, + Each armed alike for either prayer or fray, + Handcuffs and missals they had slung together; + And as in aid the gospel truth to scatter + Each swung a lasso--_alias_ a "riata." + + In sooth, that year the harvest had been slack, + The crop of converts scarce worth computation; + Some souls were lost, whose owners had turned back + To save their bodies frequent flagellation; + And some preferred the songs of birds, alack! + To Latin matins and their soul's salvation, + And thought their own wild whoopings were less dreary + Than Father Pedro's droning _miserere_. + + To bring them back to matins and to prime, + To pious works and secular submission, + To prove to them that liberty was crime,-- + This was, in fact, the Padre's present mission; + To get new souls perchance at the same time, + And bring them to a "sense of their condition"-- + That easy phrase, which, in the past and present, + Means making that condition most unpleasant. + + He saw the glebe land guiltless of a furrow; + He saw the wild oats wrestle on the hill; + He saw the gopher working in his burrow; + He saw the squirrel scampering at his will;-- + He saw all this and felt no doubt a thorough + And deep conviction of God's goodness; still + He failed to see that in His glory He + Yet left the humblest of His creatures free. + + He saw the flapping crow, whose frequent note + Voiced the monotony of land and sky, + Mocking with graceless wing and rusty coat + His priestly presence as he trotted by. + He would have cursed the bird by bell and rote, + But other game just then was in his eye-- + A savage camp, whose occupants preferred + Their heathen darkness to the living Word. + + He rang his bell, and at the martial sound + Twelve silver spurs their jingling rowels clashed; + Six horses sprang across the level ground + As six dragoons in open order dashed; + Above their heads the lassos circled round, + In every eye a pious fervor flashed; + They charged the camp, and in one moment more + They lassoed six and reconverted four. + + The Friar saw the conflict from a knoll, + And sang _Laus Deo_ and cheered on his men: + "Well thrown, Bautista--that's another soul; + After him, Gomez--try it once again; + This way, Felipe--there the heathen stole; + Bones of St. Francis!--surely that makes _ten_; + _Te deum laudamus_--but they're very wild; + _Non nobis dominus_--all right, my child!" + + When at that moment--as the story goes-- + A certain squaw, who had her foes eluded, + Ran past the Friar--just before his nose. + He stared a moment, and in silence brooded, + Then in his breast a pious frenzy rose + And every other prudent thought excluded; + He caught a lasso, and dashed in a canter + After that Occidental Atalanta. + + High o'er his head he swirled the dreadful noose, + But, as the practice was quite unfamiliar, + His first cast tore Felipe's captive loose + And almost choked Tiburcio Camilla, + And might have interfered with that brave youth's + Ability to gorge the tough _tortilla_; + But all things come by practice, and at last + His flying slip-knot caught the maiden fast. + + Then rose above the plain a mingled yell + Of rage and triumph--a demoniac whoop; + The Padre heard it like a passing knell, + And would have loosened his unchristian loop; + But the tough raw-hide held the captive well, + And held, alas! too well the captor-dupe; + For with one bound the savage fled amain, + Dragging horse, Friar, down the lonely plain. + + Down the _arroyo_, out across the mead, + By heath and hollow, sped the flying maid, + Dragging behind her still the panting steed + And helpless Friar, who in vain essayed + To cut the lasso or to check his speed. + He felt himself beyond all human aid, + And trusted to the saints--and, for that matter, + To some weak spot in Felipe's _riata_. + + Alas! the lasso had been duly blessed, + And, like baptism, held the flying wretch-- + A doctrine that the priest had oft expressed-- + Which, like the lasso, might be made to stretch + But would not break; so neither could divest + Themselves of it, but, like some awful _fetch_, + The holy Friar had to recognize + The image of his fate in heathen guise. + + He saw the glebe land guiltless of a furrow; + He saw the wild oats wrestle on the hill; + He saw the gopher standing in his burrow; + He saw the squirrel scampering at his will;-- + He saw all this, and felt no doubt how thorough + The contrast was to his condition; still + The squaw kept onward to the sea, till night + And the cold sea-fog hid them both from sight. + + The morning came above the serried coast, + Lighting the snow-peaks with its beacon fires, + Driving before it all the fleet-winged host + Of chattering birds above the Mission spires, + Filling the land with light and joy--but most + The savage woods with all their leafy lyres; + In pearly tints and opal flame and fire + The morning came, but not the holy Friar. + + Weeks passed away. In vain the Fathers sought + Some trace or token that might tell his story; + Some thought him dead, or, like Elijah, caught + Up to the heavens in a blaze of glory. + In this surmise some miracles were wrought + On his account, and souls in purgatory + Were thought to profit from his intercession; + In brief, his absence made a "deep impression." + + A twelvemonth passed; the welcome Spring once more + Made green the hills beside the white-faced Mission, + Spread her bright dais by the western shore, + And sat enthroned--a most resplendent vision. + The heathen converts thronged the chapel door + At morning mass, when, says the old tradition, + A frightful whoop throughout the church resounded, + And to their feet the congregation bounded. + + A tramp of hoofs upon the beaten course, + Then came a sight that made the bravest quail: + A phantom Friar on a spectre horse, + Dragged by a creature decked with horns and tail. + By the lone Mission, with the whirlwind's force, + They madly swept, and left a sulphurous trail-- + And that was all--enough to tell the story + And leave unblessed those souls in purgatory. + + And ever after, on that fatal day + That Friar Pedro rode abroad lassoing, + A ghostly couple came and went away + With savage whoop and heathenish hallooing, + Which brought discredit on San Luis Rey, + And proved the Mission's ruin and undoing; + For ere ten years had passed, the squaw and Friar + Performed to empty walls and fallen spire. + + The Mission is no more; upon its walls + The golden lizards slip, or breathless pause + Still as the sunshine brokenly that falls + Through crannied roof and spider-webs of gauze; + No more the bell its solemn warning calls-- + A holier silence thrills and overawes; + And the sharp lights and shadows of to-day + Outline the Mission of San Luis Rey. + + _Bret Harte._ + + + + +TAM O' SHANTER. + + + When chapman billies leave the street, + And drouthy neebors, neebors meet, + As market-days are wearing late, + An' folk begin to tak the gate; + While we sit bousing at the nappy, + An' getting fou and unco happy, + We thinkna on the lang Scots miles, + The mosses, waters, slaps, and stiles, + That lie between us and our hame, + Whare sits our sulky sullen dame, + Gathering her brows like gathering storm, + Nursing her wrath to keep it warm. + This truth fand honest Tam O' Shanter, + As he frae Ayr ae night did canter + (Auld Ayr, wham ne'er a town surpasses, + For honest men and bonnie lasses). + O Tam! hadst thou but been sae wise, + As ta'en thy ain wife Kate's advice! + She tauld thee weel thou wast a skellum, + A blethering, blustering, drunken blellum; + That frae November till October, + Ae market-day thou was nae sober; + That ilka melder, wi' the miller, + Thou sat as lang as thou had siller; + That every naig was ca'd a shoe on, + The smith and thee gat roaring fou on; + That at the Lord's house, even on Sunday, + Thou drank wi' Kirkton Jean till Monday. + She prophesied that, late or soon, + Thou would be found deep drowned in Doon; + Or catched wi' warlocks i' the mirk, + By Alloway's auld haunted kirk. + Ah, gentle dames! it gars me greet, + To think how mony counsels sweet, + How mony lengthened, sage advices, + The husband frae the wife despises! + But to our tale: Ae market-night, + Tam had got planted unco right; + Fast by an ingle, bleezing finely, + Wi' reaming swats, that drank divinely; + And at his elbow, Souter Johnny, + His ancient, trusty, drouthy crony; + Tam lo'ed him like a vera brither; + They had been fou for weeks thegither. + The night drave on wi' sangs and clatter; + And ay the ale was growing better: + The landlady and Tam grew gracious, + Wi' favors, secret, sweet, and precious: + The souter tauld his queerest stories; + The landlord's laugh was ready chorus: + The storm without might rair and rustle, + Tam didna mind the storm a whistle. + Care, mad to see a man sae happy, + E'en drowned himself amang the nappy! + As bees flee hame wi' lades o' treasure, + The minutes winged their way wi' pleasure: + Kings may be blessed, but Tam was glorious, + O'er a' the ills o' life victorious! + But pleasures are like poppies spread, + You seize the flower, its bloom is shed; + Or like the snow falls in the river, + A moment white, then melts forever; + Or like the borealis race, + That flit ere you can point their place; + Or like the rainbow's lovely form + Evanishing amid the storm. + Nae man can tether time or tide;-- + The hour approaches Tam maun ride; + That hour, o' night's black arch the key-stane, + That dreary hour he mounts his beast on; + And sic a night he taks the road in, + As ne'er poor sinner was abroad in. + The wind blew as 'twad blawn its last; + The rattling showers rose on the blast; + The speedy gleams the darkness swallowed; + Loud, deep, and lang the thunder bellowed: + That night, a child might understand, + The Deil had business on his hand. + Well mounted on his gray mare, Meg,-- + A better never lifted leg,-- + Tam skelpit on through dub and mire, + Despising wind and rain and fire; + Whiles holding fast his guid blue bonnet; + Whiles crooning o'er some auld Scots sonnet; + Whiles glowering round wi' prudent cares, + Lest bogles catch him unawares; + Kirk Alloway was drawing nigh, + Whare ghaists and houlets nightly cry. + By this time he was cross the ford, + Whare in the snaw the chapman smoored; + And past the birks and meikle-stane, + Whare drunken Charlie brak's neck-bane; + And through the whins, and by the cairn, + Whare hunters fand the murdered bairn: + And near the thorn aboon the well, + Whare Mungo's mither hanged hersel. + Before him Doon pours all his floods; + The doubling storm roars through the woods; + The lightnings flash from pole to pole; + Near and more near the thunders roll: + When, glimmering thro' the groaning trees, + Kirk Alloway seemed in a bleeze; + Through ilka bore the beams were glancing; + And loud resounded mirth and dancing. + Inspiring bold John Barleycorn! + What dangers thou canst make us scorn! + Wi' tippenny, we fear nae evil; + Wi' usquebae, we'll face the Devil! + The swats sae reamed in Tammie's noddle, + Fair play, he cared na deils a boddle, + But Maggie stood right sair astonished, + Till by the heel and hand admonished, + She ventured forward on the light; + And, wow! Tam saw an unco sight! + Warlocks and witches in a dance; + Nae cotillon brent new frae France, + But hornpipes, jigs, strathspeys, and reels, + Put life and mettle in their heels. + At winnock-bunker in the east, + There sat auld Nick, in shape o' beast; + A towzie tyke, black, grim, and large, + To gie them music was his charge: + He screwed the pipes and gart them skirl, + Till roof and rafters a' did dirl,-- + Coffins stood round, like open presses, + That shawed the dead in their last dresses; + And by some devilish cantrip sleight, + Each in its cauld hand held a light,-- + By which heroic Tam was able + To note upon the haly table, + A murderers's banes in gibbet airns; + Two span-lang, wee, unchristened bairns; + A thief, new cutted fra a rape, + Wi' his last gasp his gab did gape; + Five tomahawks, wi' bluid red rusted; + Five scymitars, wi' murder crusted; + A garter which a babe had strangled; + A knife a father's throat had mangled, + Whom his ain son o' life bereft-- + The gray hairs yet stack to the heft; + Three lawyers' tongues turned inside out, + Wi' lies seamed like a beggar's clout; + And priests' hearts, rotten, black as muck, + Lay stinking, vile, in every neuk: + Wi' mair o' horrible and awfu', + Which ev'n to name wad be unlawfu'. + As Tammie glowered, amazed, and curious, + The mirth and fun grew fast and furious; + The piper loud and louder blew; + The dancers quick and quicker flew; + They reeled, they set, they crossed, they cleckit, + Till ilka carlin swat and reekit, + And coost her duddies to the wark, + And linket at it in her sark. + Now Tam, O Tam! had they been queans + A' plump and strapping in their teens: + Their sarks, instead o' creeshie flannen, + Been snaw-white seventeen-hunder linen; + Thir breeks o' mine, my only pair, + That ance were plush, o' guid blue hair, + I wad hae gi'en them aff my hurdies, + For ae blink o' the bonnie burdies! + But withered beldams, auld and droll, + Rigwoodie hags wad spean a foal, + Lowping an' flinging on a crummock-- + I wonder did na turn thy stomach. + But Tam kenned what was what fu' brawlie. + There was ae winsome wench and walie, + That night inlisted in the core + (Lang after kenned on Carrick shore! + For monie a beast to dead she shot, + And perished monie a bonnie boat, + And shook baith meikle corn and bear + And kept the country-side in fear), + Her cutty-sark, o' Paisley harn, + That while a lassie she had worn, + In longitude tho' sorely scanty, + It was her best, and she was vauntie. + Ah! little kenned thy reverend grannie + That sark she coft for her wee Nannie, + Wi' twa pund Scots (twas a' her riches), + Wad ever graced a dance o' witches! + But here my Muse her wing maun cow'r; + Sic flights are far beyond her pow'r; + To sing how Nannie lap and flang, + (A souple jad she was and strang!) + And how Tam stood, like ane bewitched, + And thought his very een enriched. + Ev'n Satan glowered, and fidged fu' fain, + And hotch'd and blew wi' might and main; + Till first ae caper, syne anither, + Tam tint his reason a' thegither, + And roars out, "Weel done, Cutty-sark!" + And in an instant a' was dark; + And scarcely had he Maggie rallied, + When out the hellish legion sallied. + As bees bizz out wi' angry fyke, + When plundering herds assail their byke; + As open pussie's mortal foes, + When pop! she starts before their nose; + As eager runs the market-crowd, + When "Catch the thief!" resounds aloud; + So Maggie runs,--the witches follow, + Wi' monie an eldritch skreech and hollow. + Ah, Tam! ah, Tam! thou'lt get thy fairin'! + In hell they'll roast thee like a herrin! + In vain thy Kate awaits thy comin'-- + Kate soon will be a woefu' woman! + Now, do thy speedy utmost, Meg, + And win the key-stane of the brig; + There at them thou thy tail may toss,-- + A running stream they dare na cross. + But ere the key-stane she could make, + The fient a tail she had to shake; + For Nannie, far before the rest, + Hard upon noble Maggie prest, + And flew at Tam wi' furious ettle; + But little wist she Maggie's mettle-- + Ae spring brought off her master hale, + But left behind her ain gray tail: + The carlin claught her by the rump, + And left poor Maggie scarce a stump. + Now, wha this tale o' truth shall read, + Ilk man and mother's son take heed; + Whene'er to drink you are inclined, + Or cutty-sarks run in your mind, + Think, ye may buy the joys o'er dear, + Remember Tam o' Shanter's mare. + + _Robert Burns._ + + + + +THE WILD HUNTSMAN. + + + The Wildgrave winds his bugle horn, + To horse, to horse! halloo, halloo! + His fiery courser snuffs the morn, + And thronging serfs their lord pursue. + + The eager pack, from couples freed, + Dash through the brush, the brier, the brake; + While answering hound, and horn, and steed, + The mountain echoes startling wake. + + The beams of God's own hallowed day + Had painted yonder spire with gold, + And, calling sinful man to pray, + Loud, long, and deep the bell had tolled. + + But still the Wildgrave onward rides; + Halloo, halloo! and hark again! + When spurring from opposing sides, + Two Stranger Horsemen join the train. + + Who was each Stranger, left and right, + Well may I guess, but dare not tell; + The right-hand steed was silver white, + The left, the swarthy hue of hell. + + The right-hand Horseman young and fair, + His smile was like the morn of May; + The left, from eye of tawny glare, + Shot midnight lightning's lurid ray. + + He waved his huntsman's cap on high, + Cried, "Welcome, welcome, noble lord! + What sport can earth, or sea, or sky, + To match the princely chase, afford?" + + "Cease thy loud bugle's clanging knell," + Cried the fair youth, with silver voice; + "And for devotion's choral swell, + Exchange the rude unhallowed noise. + + "To-day, the ill-omened chase forbear, + Yon bell yet summons to the fane; + To-day the Warning Spirit hear, + To-morrow thou mayst mourn in vain."-- + + "Away, and sweep the glades along!" + The Sable Hunter hoarse replies; + "To muttering monks leave matin-song, + And bell, and books, and mysteries." + + The Wildgrave spurred his ardent steed, + And, launching forward with a bound, + "Who, for thy drowsy priestlike rede, + Would leave the jovial horn and hound?" + + "Hence, if our manly sport offend! + With pious fools go chant and pray: + Well hast thou spoke, my dark-browed friend; + Halloo, halloo! and, hark away!" + + The Wildgrave spurred his courser light, + O'er moss and moor, o'er holt and hill; + And on the left and on the right, + Each Stranger Horseman followed still. + + Up springs, from yonder tangled thorn, + A stag more white than mountain snow; + And louder rung the Wildgrave's horn, + "Hark forward, forward! holla, ho!" + + A heedless wretch has crossed the way; + He gasps, the thundering hoofs below;-- + But, live who can, or die who may, + Still, "Forward, forward!" on they go. + + See, where yon simple fences meet, + A field with autumn's blessings crowned; + See, prostrate at the Wildgrave's feet, + A husbandman, with toil embrowned; + + "O mercy, mercy, noble lord! + Spare the poor's pittance," was his cry, + "Earned by the sweat these brows have poured, + In scorching hour of fierce July." + + Earnest the right-hand Stranger pleads, + The left still cheering to the prey, + The impetuous Earl no warning heeds, + But furious holds the onward way. + + "Away, thou hound! so basely born, + Or dread the scourge's echoing blow!"-- + Then loudly rung his bugle-horn, + "Hark forward, forward, holla, ho!" + + So said, so done:--A single bound + Clears the poor laborer's humble pale; + Wild follows man, and horse, and hound, + Like dark December's stormy gale. + + And man and horse, and hound and horn, + Destructive sweep the field along; + While, joying o'er the wasted corn, + Fell Famine marks the maddening throng. + + Again uproused, the timorous prey + Scours moss and moor, and holt and hill; + Hard run, he feels his strength decay, + And trusts for life his simple skill. + + Too dangerous solitude appeared; + He seeks the shelter of the crowd; + Amid the flock's domestic herd + His harmless head he hopes to shroud. + + O'er moss and moor, and holt and hill, + His track the steady blood-hounds trace; + O'er moss and moor, unwearied still, + The furious Earl pursues the chase. + + Full lowly did the herdsman fall;-- + "O spare, thou noble Baron, spare + These herds, a widow's little all; + These flocks, an orphan's fleecy care!"-- + + Earnest the right-hand Stranger pleads, + The left still cheering to the prey; + The Earl nor prayer nor pity heeds, + But furious keeps the onward way. + + "Unmannered dog! To stop my sport + Vain were thy cant and beggar whine, + Though human spirits, of thy sort, + Were tenants of these carrion kine!"-- + + Again he winds his bugle-horn, + "Hark forward, forward, holla, ho!" + And through the herd, in ruthless scorn, + He cheers his furious hounds to go. + + In heaps the throttled victims fall; + Down sinks their mangled herdsman near; + The murderous cries the stag appall,-- + Again he starts, new-nerved by fear. + + With blood besmeared, and white with foam, + While big the tears of anguish pour, + He seeks, amid the forest's gloom, + The humble hermit's hallowed bower. + + But man and horse, and horn and hound, + Fast rattling on his traces go; + The sacred chapel rung around + With, "Hark away! and, holla, ho!" + + All mild, amid the route profane, + The holy hermit poured his prayer; + "Forbear with blood God's house to stain; + Revere his altar, and forbear!" + + "The meanest brute has rights to plead, + Which, wronged by cruelty, or pride, + Draw vengeance on the ruthless head:-- + Be warned at length, and turn aside." + + Still the Fair Horseman anxious pleads; + The Black, wild whooping, points the prey:-- + Alas! the Earl no warning heeds, + But frantic keeps the forward way. + + "Holy or not, or right or wrong, + Thy altar, and its rites, I spurn; + Not sainted martyrs' sacred song, + Not God himself, shall make me turn!" + + He spurs his horse, he winds his horn, + "Hark forward, forward, holla, ho!"-- + But off, on whirlwind's pinions borne, + The stag, the hut, the hermit, go. + + And horse and man, and horn and hound, + And clamor of the chase, was gone; + For hoofs, and howls, and bugle-sound, + A deadly silence reigned alone. + + Wild gazed the affrighted Earl around; + He strove in vain to wake his horn, + In vain to call: for not a sound + Could from his anxious lips be borne. + + He listens for his trusty hounds; + No distant baying reached his ears: + His courser rooted to the ground, + The quickening spur unmindful bears. + + Still dark and darker frown the shades, + Dark as the darkness of the grave; + And not a sound the still invades, + Save what a distant torrent gave. + + High o'er the sinner's humbled head + At length the solemn silence broke; + And, from a cloud of swarthy red, + The awful voice of thunder spoke. + + "Oppressor of creation fair! + Apostate Spirits' hardened tool! + Scorner of God! Scourge of the poor! + The measure of thy cup is full. + + "Be chased forever through the wood; + Forever roam the affrighted wild; + And let thy fate instruct the proud, + God's meanest creature is his child." + + 'Twas hushed:--One flash, of sombre glare, + With yellow tinged the forests brown; + Uprose the Wildgrave's bristling hair, + And horror chilled each nerve and bone. + + Cold poured the sweat in freezing rill; + A rising wind began to sing; + And louder, louder, louder still, + Brought storm and tempest on its wing. + + Earth heard the call;--her entrails rend; + From yawning rifts, with many a yell, + Mixed with sulphureous flames, ascend + The misbegotten dogs of hell. + + What ghastly Huntsman next arose, + Well may I guess, but dare not tell; + His eye like midnight lightning glows, + His steed the swarthy hue of hell. + + The Wildgrave flies o'er bush and thorn, + With many a shriek of helpless woe; + Behind him hound, and horse, and horn, + And, "Hark away, and holla, ho!" + + With wild despair's reverted eye, + Close, close behind, he marks the throng, + With bloody fangs and eager cry; + In frantic fear he scours along. + + Still, still shall last the dreadful chase, + Till time itself shall have an end; + By day, they scour earth's caverned space, + At midnight's witching hour, ascend. + + This is the horn, and hound, and horse, + That oft the lated peasant hears; + Appalled, he signs the frequent cross, + When the wild din invades his ears. + + The wakeful priest oft drops a tear + For human pride, for human woe, + When, at his midnight mass, he hears + The infernal cry of "Holla, ho!" + + _Buerger's Wilde Jaeger. Tr. Walter Scott._ + + + + +LUeTZOW'S WILD CHASE. + + + What is it that beams in the bright sunshine, + And echoes yet nearer and nearer? + And see! how it spreads in a long dark line, + And hark! how its horns in the distance combine + To impress with affright the hearer! + And ask ye what means the daring race? + This is--Luetzow's wild and desperate chase! + + See, they leave the dark wood in silence all, + And from hill to hill are seen flying; + In ambush they'll lie till the deep nightfall, + Then ye'll hear the hurrah! and the rifle ball! + And the French will be falling and dying! + And ask ye what means their daring race? + This is--Luetzow's wild and desperate chase! + + Where the vine-boughs twine, the Rhine waves roar, + And the foe thinks its waters shall hide him; + But see, they fearless approach the shore, + And they leap in the stream, and swim proudly o'er, + And stand on the bank beside him! + And ask ye what means the daring race? + This is--Luetzow's wild and desperate chase! + + Why roars in the valley the raging fight, + Where swords clash red and gory? + O fierce is the strife of that deadly fight, + For the spark of young Freedom is newly alight, + And it breaks into flames of glory! + And ask ye what means the daring race? + This is--Luetzow's wild and desperate chase! + + See yon warrior who lies on a gory spot, + From life compelled to sever; + Yet he never is heard to lament his lot, + And his soul at its parting shall tremble not, + Since his country is saved forever! + And if ye will ask at the end of his race, + Still 'tis--Luetzow's wild and desperate chase! + + The wild chase, and the German chase + Against tyranny and oppression! + Therefore weep not, loved friends, at this last embrace, + For freedom has dawned on our loved birth-place, + And our deaths shall insure its possession! + And 'twill ever be said from race to race, + This was--Luetzow's wild and desperate chase! + + _Theodor Koerner._ + + + + +THE ERL-KING. + +FROM THE GERMAN OF GOETHE. + + + O, who rides by night thro' the woodland so wild? + It is the fond father embracing his child; + And close the boy nestles within his loved arm, + To hold himself fast, and to keep himself warm. + + "O father, see yonder! see yonder!" he says; + "My boy, upon what dost thou fearfully gaze?"-- + "O, 'tis the Erl-King with his crown and his shroud"-- + "No, my son, it is but a dark wreath of the cloud." + +(THE ERL-KING SPEAKS.) + + "O come and go with me, thou loveliest child; + By many a gay sport shall thy time be beguiled; + My mother keeps for thee full many a fair toy, + And many a fine flower shall she pluck for my boy." + + "O father, my father, and did you not hear + The Erl-King whisper so loud in my ear?"-- + "Be still, my heart's darling--my child, be at ease; + It was but the wild blast as it sung thro' the trees." + +ERL-KING. + + "O wilt thou go with me, thou loveliest boy? + My daughter shall tend thee with care and with joy; + She shall bear thee so lightly thro' wet and thro' wild, + And press thee, and kiss thee, and sing to my child." + + "O father, my father, and saw you not plain, + The Erl-King's pale daughter glide past thro' the rain?"-- + "O yes, my loved treasure, I knew it full soon; + It was the gray willow that danced to the moon." + +ERL-KING. + + "O come and go with me, no longer delay, + Or else, silly child, I will drag thee away."-- + "O father! O father! now, now keep your hold, + The Erl-King has seized me, his grasp is so cold!"-- + + Sore trembled the father; he spurred thro' the wild, + Clasping close to his bosom his shuddering child; + He reaches his dwelling in doubt and in dread, + But, clasped to his bosom, the infant was _dead_! + + _Walter Scott._ + + + + +MAZEPPA'S RIDE. + + + "'Bring forth the horse!'--the horse was brought, + In truth, he was a noble steed, + A Tartar of the Ukraine breed, + Who looked as though the speed of thought + Were in his limbs: but he was wild, + Wild as the wild deer, and untaught, + With spur and bridle undefiled,-- + 'Twas but a day he had been caught; + And snorting, with erected mane, + And struggling fiercely, but in vain, + In the full foam of wrath and dread, + To me the desert-born was led; + They bound me on, that menial throng, + Upon his back with many a thong; + Then loosed him with a sudden lash,-- + Away!--away!--and on we dash! + Torrents less rapid and less rash. + Away!--away! My breath was gone,-- + I saw not where he hurried on: + 'Twas scarcely yet the break of day, + And on he foamed,--away!--away!-- + The last of human sounds which rose, + As I was darted from my foes, + Was the wild shout of savage laughter, + Which on the wind came roaring after + A moment from that rabble rout: + With sudden wrath I wrenched my head, + And snapped the cord, which to the mane + Had bound my neck in lieu of rein, + And writhing half my form about, + Howled back my curse; but midst the tread, + The thunder of my courser's speed, + Perchance they did not hear nor heed: + It vexes me,--for I would fain + Have paid their insult back again. + I paid it well in after days: + There is not of that castle gate, + Its drawbridge and portcullis' weight, + Stone, bar, moat, bridge, or barrier left; + Nor of its fields a blade of grass, + Save what grows on a ridge of wall, + Where stood the hearthstone of the hall; + And many a time ye there might pass, + Nor dream that e'er that fortress was: + I saw its turrets in a blaze, + Their crackling battlements all cleft, + And the hot lead pour down like rain + From off the scorched and blackening roof, + Whose thickness was not vengeance-proof. + They little thought that day of pain, + When launched, as on the lightning's flash, + They bade me to destruction dash, + That one day I should come again, + With twice five thousand horse, to thank + The count for his uncourteous ride. + They played me then a bitter prank, + When, with the wild horse for my guide, + They bound me to his foaming flank: + At length I played them one as frank,-- + For time at last sets all things even,-- + And if we do but watch the hour, + There never yet was human power + Which could evade, if unforgiven, + The patient search and vigil long + Of him who treasures up a wrong. + + "Away, away, my steed and I, + Upon the pinions of the wind, + All human dwellings left behind; + We sped like meteors through the sky, + When with its crackling sound the night + Is checkered with the northern light: + Town,--village,--none were on our track, + But a wild plain of far extent, + And bounded by a forest black: + And, save the scarce-seen battlement + On distant heights of some strong hold, + Against the Tartars built of old, + No trace of man. The year before + A Turkish army had marched o'er; + And where the Spahi's hoof hath trod, + The verdure flies the bloody sod: + The sky was dull, and dim, and gray, + And a low breeze crept moaning by,-- + I could have answered with a sigh,-- + But fast we fled, away, away,-- + And I could neither sigh nor pray; + And my cold sweat-drops fell like rain + Upon the courser's bristling mane: + But, snorting still with rage and fear, + He flew upon his far career: + At times I almost thought, indeed, + He must have slackened in his speed: + But no,--my bound and slender frame + Was nothing to his angry might, + And merely like a spur became: + Each motion which I made to free + My swoln limbs from their agony + Increased his fury and affright: + I tried my voice,--'twas faint and low, + But yet he swerved as from a blow; + And, starting to each accent, sprang + As from a sudden trumpet's clang: + Meantime my chords were wet with gore, + Which, oozing through my limbs, ran o'er; + And in my tongue the thirst became + A something fierier far than flame. + + "We neared the wild wood,--'twas so wide, + I saw no bounds on either side; + 'Twas studded with old sturdy trees, + That bent not to the roughest breeze + Which howls down from Siberia's waste, + And strips the forest in its haste,-- + But these were few, and far between, + Set thick with shrubs more young and green, + Luxuriant with their annual leaves, + Ere strown by those autumnal eves + That nip the forest's foliage dead, + Discolored with a lifeless red, + Which stands thereon like stiffened gore + Upon the slain when battle's o'er, + And some long winter's night hath shed + Its frost o'er every tombless head, + So cold and stark the raven's beak + May peck unpierced each frozen cheek: + 'Twas a wild waste of underwood, + And here and there a chestnut stood, + The strong oak, and the hardy pine; + But far apart,--and well it were, + Or else a different lot were mine,-- + The boughs gave way, and did not tear + My limbs; and I found strength to bear + My wounds, already scarred with cold,-- + My bonds forbade to loose my hold. + We rustled through the leaves like wind, + Left shrubs and trees and wolves behind; + By night I heard them on the track, + Their troop came hard upon our back, + With their long gallop, which can tire + The hound's deep hate, and hunter's fire: + Where'er we flew they followed on, + Nor left us with the morning sun; + Behind I saw them, scarce a rood, + At daybreak winding through the wood, + And through the night had heard their feet + Their stealing, rustling step repeat. + O, how I wished for spear or sword, + At least to die amidst the horde, + And perish--if it must be so-- + At bay, destroying many a foe. + When first my courser's race begun, + I wished the goal already won; + But now I doubted strength and speed. + Vain doubt! his swift and savage breed + Had nerved him like the mountain-roe; + Nor faster falls the blinding snow + Which whelms the peasant near the door + Whose threshold he shall cross no more, + Bewildered with the dazzling blast, + Than through the forest-paths he past,-- + Untired, untamed, and worse than wild; + All furious as a favored child + Balked of its wish; or, fiercer still, + A woman piqued, who has her will. + + "The wood was past; 'twas more than noon; + But chill the air, although in June; + Or it might be my veins ran cold,-- + Prolonged endurance tames the bold: + And I was then not what I seem, + But headlong as a wintry stream, + And wore my feelings out before + I well could count their causes o'er: + And what with fury, fear, and wrath, + The tortures which beset my path, + Cold, hunger, sorrow, shame, distress, + Thus bound in nature's nakedness; + Sprung from a race whose rising blood + When stirred beyond its calmer mood, + And trodden hard upon, is like + The rattlesnake's, in act to strike, + What marvel if this worn-out trunk + Beneath its woes a moment sunk? + The earth gave way, the skies rolled round, + I seemed to sink upon the ground; + But erred, for I was fastly bound. + My heart turned sick, my brain grew sore, + And throbbed awhile, then beat no more: + The skies spun like a mighty wheel; + I saw the trees like drunkards reel, + And a slight flash sprang o'er my eyes, + Which saw no farther: he who dies + Can die no more than then I died. + O'ertortured by that ghastly ride, + I felt the blackness come and go, + And strove to wake; but could not make + My senses climb up from below: + I felt as on a plank at sea, + When all the waves that dash o'er thee, + At the same time upheave and whelm, + And hurl thee towards a desert realm. + My undulating life was as + The fancied lights that flitting pass + Our shut eyes in deep midnight, when + Fever begins upon the brain; + But soon it passed, with little pain, + But a confusion worse than such: + I own that I should deem it much, + Dying, to feel the same again; + And yet I do suppose we must + Feel far more ere we turn to dust: + No matter; I have bared my brow + Full in Death's face--before--and now. + + "My thoughts came back; where was I? Cold, + And numb, and giddy: pulse by pulse + Life reassumed its lingering hold, + And throb by throb; till grown a pang + Which for a moment would convulse, + My blood reflowed, though thick and chill; + My ear with uncouth noises rang, + My heart began once more to thrill; + My sight returned, though dim, alas! + And thickened, as it were, with glass. + Methought the dash of waves was nigh; + There was a gleam too of the sky, + Studded with stars;--it is no dream: + The wild horse swims the wilder stream! + The bright broad river's gushing tide + Sweeps, winding onward, far and wide, + And we are half-way struggling o'er + To yon unknown and silent shore. + The waters broke my hollow trance. + And with a temporary strength + My stiffened limbs were rebaptized, + My courser's broad breast proudly braves, + And dashes off the ascending waves, + And onward we advance! + We reach the slippery shore at length, + A haven I but little prized, + For all behind was dark and drear, + And all before was night and fear. + How many hours of night or day + In those suspended pangs I lay, + I could not tell; I scarcely knew + If this were human breath I drew. + + "With glossy skin, and dripping mane, + And reeling limbs, and reeking flank, + The wild steed's sinewy nerves still strain + Up the repelling bank. + We gain the top: a boundless plain + Spreads through the shadow of the night, + And onward, onward, onward, seems + Like precipices in our dreams, + To stretch beyond the sight; + And here and there a speck of white, + Or scattered spot of dusky green, + In masses broke into the light, + As rose the moon upon my right. + But naught distinctly seen + In the dim waste, would indicate + The omen of a cottage gate; + No twinkling taper from afar + Stood like a hospitable star; + Not even an ignis-fatuus rose + To make him merry with my woes: + That very cheat had cheered me then! + Although detected, welcome still, + Reminding me, through every ill, + Of the abodes of men. + + "Onward we went,--but slack and slow; + His savage force at length o'erspent, + The drooping courser, faint and low, + All feebly foaming went. + A sickly infant had had power + To guide him forward in that hour; + But useless all to me. + His new-born tameness naught availed, + My limbs were bound; my force had failed, + Perchance, had they been free. + With feeble effort still I tried + To rend the bonds so starkly tied,-- + But still it was in vain; + My limbs were only wrung the more, + And soon the idle strife gave o'er, + Which but prolonged their pain: + The dizzy race seemed almost done, + Although no goal was nearly won: + Some streaks announced the coming sun.-- + How slow, alas! he came! + Methought that mist of dawning gray + Would never dapple into day; + How heavily it rolled away,-- + Before the eastern flame + Rose crimson, and deposed the stars, + And called the radiance from their cars, + And filled the earth, from his deep throne, + With lonely lustre, all his own. + + "Up rose the sun; the mists were curled + Back from the solitary world + Which lay around--behind--before: + What booted it to traverse o'er + Plain, forest, river? Man nor brute, + Nor dint of hoof, nor print of foot, + Lay in the wild luxuriant soil; + No sign of travel,--none of toil; + The very air was mute; + And not an insect's shrill small horn, + Nor matin bird's new voice was borne + From herb nor thicket. Many a werst, + Panting as if his heart would burst, + The weary brute still staggered on; + And still we were--or seemed--alone: + At length, while reeling on our way, + Methought I heard a courser neigh, + From out yon tuft of blackening firs. + Is it the wind those branches stirs? + No, no! from out the forest prance + A trampling troop; I see them come! + In one vast squadron they advance! + I strove to cry,--my lips were dumb. + The steeds rush on in plunging pride; + But where are they the reins to guide? + A thousand horse,--and none to ride! + With flowing tail, and flying main, + Wide nostrils,--never stretched by pain,-- + Mouths bloodless to the bit or rein, + And feet that iron never shod, + And flanks unscarred by spur or rod, + A thousand horse, the wild, the free, + Like waves that follow o'er the sea, + Came thickly thundering on, + As if our faint approach to meet; + The sight renerved my courser's feet, + A moment staggering, feebly fleet, + A moment, with a faint low neigh, + He answered, and then fell; + With gasps and glazing eyes he lay, + And reeking limbs immovable, + His first and last career is done! + On came the troop,--they saw him stoop, + They saw me strangely bound along + His back with many a bloody thong: + They stop--they start--they snuff the air, + Gallop a moment here and there, + Approach, retire, wheel round and round, + Then plunging back with sudden bound, + Headed by one black mighty steed, + Who seemed the patriarch of his breed, + Without a single speck or hair + Of white upon his shaggy hide; + They snort--they foam--neigh--swerve aside, + And backward to the forest fly, + By instinct from a human eye,-- + They left me there, to my despair, + Linked to the dead and stiffening wretch, + Whose lifeless limbs beneath me stretch, + Relieved from that unwonted weight, + From whence I could not extricate + Nor him nor me,--and there we lay, + The dying on the dead! + + _Byron._ + + + + +THE GIAOUR'S RIDE. + + + Who thundering comes on blackest steed, + With slackened bit and hoof of speed? + Beneath the clattering iron's sound + The caverned echoes wake around + In lash for lash, and bound for bound; + The foam that streaks the courser's side + Seems gathered from the ocean-tide: + Though weary waves are sunk to rest, + There's none within his rider's breast; + And though to-morrow's tempest lower, + 'Tis calmer than thy heart, young Giaour! + I know thee not, I loathe thy race, + But in thy lineaments I trace + What time shall strengthen, not efface: + Though young and pale, that sallow front + Is scathed by fiery passion's brunt; + Though bent on earth thine evil eye, + As meteor-like thou glidest by, + Right well I view and deem thee one + Whom Othman's sons should slay or shun. + + On--on he hastened, and he drew + My gaze of wonder as he flew: + Though like a demon of the night + He passed, and vanished from my sight, + His aspect and his air impressed + A troubled memory on my breast, + And long upon my startled ear + Rung his dark courser's hoofs of fear. + He spurs his steed; he nears the steep, + That, jutting, shadows o'er the deep; + He winds around; he hurries by; + The rock relieves him from mine eye; + For well I ween unwelcome he + Whose glance is fixed on those that flee; + And not a star but shines too bright + On him who takes such timeless flight. + He wound along; but ere he passed + One glance he snatched, as if his last, + A moment checked his wheeling steed, + A moment breathed him from his speed, + A moment on his stirrup stood-- + Why looks he o'er the olive wood? + The crescent glimmers on the hill, + The Mosque's high lamps are quivering still: + Though too remote for sound to wake + In echoes of the far tophaike, + The flashes of each joyous peal + Are seen to prove the Moslem's zeal, + To-night, set Rhamazani's sun; + To-night, the Bairam feast's begun; + To-night--but who and what art thou + Of foreign garb and fearful brow? + And what are these to thine, or thee, + That thou should'st either pause or flee? + + He stood--some dread was on his face, + Soon Hatred settled in its place: + It rose not with the reddening flush + Of transient Anger's hasty blush, + But pale as marble o'er the tomb, + Whose ghastly whiteness aids its gloom. + His brow was bent, his eye was glazed; + He raised his arm, and fiercely raised, + And sternly shook his hand on high, + As doubting to return or fly: + Impatient of his flight delayed, + Here loud his raven charger neighed-- + Down glanced that hand, and grasped his blade; + That sound had burst his waking dream, + As Slumber starts at owlet's scream. + The spur hath lanced his courser's sides; + Away, away, for life he rides: + Swift as the hurled on high jerreed + Springs to the touch his startled steed; + The rock is doubled, and the shore + Shakes with the clattering tramp no more; + The crag is won, no more is seen + His Christian crest and haughty mien. + 'Twas but an instant he restrained + That fiery barb so sternly reined; + 'Twas but a moment that he stood, + Then sped as if by death pursued: + But in that instant o'er his soul + Winters of Memory seemed to roll, + And gather in that drop of time + A life of pain, an age of crime. + O'er him who loves, or hates, or fears, + Such moment pours the grief of years: + What felt _he_ then, at once opprest + By all that most distracts the breast? + That pause, which pondered o'er his fate, + Oh, who its dreary length shall date! + Though in Time's record nearly nought, + It was Eternity to Thought! + For infinite as boundless space + The thought that Conscience must embrace, + Which in itself can comprehend + Woe without name, or hope, or end. + + The hour is past, the Giaour is gone; + And did he fly or fall alone? + Woe to that hour he came or went! + The curse of Hassan's sin was sent + To turn a palace to a tomb; + He came, he went, like the Simoom, + That harbinger of fate and gloom, + Beneath whose widely-wasting breath + The very cypress droops to death-- + Dark tree, still sad when others' grief is fled, + The only constant mourner o'er the dead! + + _Byron._ + + + + +THE NORSEMAN'S RIDE. + + + The frosty fires of Northern starlight + Gleamed on the glittering snow, + And through the forest's frozen branches + The shrieking winds did blow; + A floor of blue, translucent marble + Kept ocean's pulses still, + When, in the depth of dreary midnight, + Opened the burial hill. + + Then while a low and creeping shudder + Thrilled upward through the ground, + The Norseman came, as armed for battle, + In silence from his mound: + He, who was mourned in solemn sorrow + By many a swordsman bold, + And harps that wailed along the ocean, + Struck by the Skalds of old. + + Sudden, a swift and silver shadow + Rushed up from out the gloom,-- + A horse that stamped with hoof impatient, + Yet noiseless, on the tomb. + "Ha, Surtur! let me hear thy tramping, + Thou noblest Northern steed, + Whose neigh along the stormy headlands + Bade the bold Viking heed!" + + He mounted: like a north-light streaking + The sky with flaming bars, + They, on the winds so wildly shrieking, + Shot up before the stars. + "Is this thy mane, my fearless Surtur, + That streams against my breast? + Is this thy neck, that curve of moonlight, + Which Helva's hand caressed? + + "No misty breathing strains thy nostril, + Thine eye shines blue and cold, + Yet, mounting up our airy pathway, + I see thy hoofs of gold! + Not lighter o'er the springing rainbow + Walhalla's gods repair, + Than we, in sweeping journey over + The bending bridge of air. + + "Far, far around, star-gleams are sparkling + Amid the twilight space; + And Earth, that lay so cold and darkling, + Has veiled her dusky face. + Are those the Nornes that beckon onward + To seats at Odin's board, + Where nightly by the hands of heroes + The foaming mead is poured? + + "'Tis Skuld! her star-eye speaks the glory + That waits the warrior's soul, + When on its hinge of music opens + The gateway of the Pole,-- + When Odin's warder leads the hero + To banquets never done, + And Freya's eyes outshine in summer + The ever-risen sun. + + "On! on! the Northern lights are streaming + In brightness like the morn, + And pealing far amid the vastness, + I hear the Gjallarhorn: + The heart of starry space is throbbing + With songs of minstrels old, + And now, on high Walhalla's portal, + Gleam Surtur's hoofs of gold!" + + _Bayard Taylor._ + + + + +BOOT AND SADDLE. + + + "Boot, saddle, to horse, and away! + Rescue my Castle, before the hot day + Brightens to blue from its silvery gray, + (_Cho._) Boot, saddle, to horse, and away!" + + Ride past the suburbs, asleep as you'd say; + Many's the friend there will listen and pray + "God's luck to gallants that strike up the lay, + (_Cho._) Boot, saddle, to horse, and away!" + + Forty miles off, like a roebuck at bay, + Flouts Castle Brancepeth the Roundheads' array: + Who laughs, "Good fellows ere this, by my fay, + (_Cho._) Boot, saddle, to horse, and away!" + + Who? My wife Gertrude; that, honest and gay, + Laughs when you talk of surrendering, "Nay! + I've better counsellors; what counsel they? + (_Cho._) Boot, saddle, to horse, and away!" + + _Robert Browning._ + + + + +THE CAVALIER'S ESCAPE. + + + Trample! trample! went the roan, + Trap! trap! went the gray; + But pad! pad! pad! like a thing that was mad, + My chestnut broke away.-- + It was just five miles from Salisbury town, + And but one hour to day. + + Thud! thud! came on the heavy roan, + Rap! rap! the mettled gray; + But my chestnut mare was of blood so rare, + That she showed them all the way. + Spur on! spur on!--I doffed my hat, + And wished them all good day. + + They splashed through miry rut and pool,-- + Splintered through fence and rail; + But chestnut Kate switched over the gate,-- + I saw them droop and tail. + To Salisbury town--but a mile of down, + Once over this brook and rail. + + Trap! trap! I heard their echoing hoofs + Past the walls of mossy stone; + The roan flew on at a staggering pace, + But blood is better than bone. + I patted old Kate, and gave her the spur, + For I knew it was all my own. + + But trample! trample! came their steeds, + And I saw their wolfs' eyes burn; + I felt like a royal hart at bay, + And made me ready to turn. + I looked where highest grew the may, + And deepest arched the fern. + + I flew at the first knave's sallow throat; + One blow, and he was down. + The second rogue fired twice, and missed; + I sliced the villain's crown. + Clove through the rest, and flogged brave Kate, + Fast, fast to Salisbury town! + + Pad! pad! they came on the level sward, + Thud! thud! upon the sand; + With a gleam of swords, and a burning match, + And a shaking of flag and hand: + But one long bound, and I passed the gate, + Safe from the canting band. + + _Walter Thornbury._ + + + + +KING JAMES'S RIDE. + + + "Stand, Bayard, stand!"--the steed obeyed, + With arching neck and bending head, + And glancing eye and quivering ear + As if he loved his lord to hear. + No foot Fitz-James in stirrup staid, + No grasp upon the saddle laid, + But wreathed his left hand in the mane, + And lightly bounded from the plain, + Turned on the horse his armed heel, + And stirred his courage with the steel. + Bounded the fiery steed in air, + The rider sate erect and fair, + Then like a bolt from steel crossbow + Forth launched, along the plain they go. + They dashed that rapid torrent through, + And up Carhonie's hill they flew; + Still at the gallop pricked the Knight, + His merry-men followed as they might. + Along thy banks, swift Teith! they ride, + And in the race they mocked thy tide; + Torry and Lendrick now are past, + And Deanstown lies behind them cast; + They rise, the bannered towers of Doune, + They sink in distant woodland soon; + Blair-Drummond sees the hoof strike fire, + They sweep like breeze through Ochtertyre; + They mark just glance and disappear + The lofty brow of ancient Kier; + They bathe their courser's sweltering sides, + Dark Forth! amid thy sluggish tides, + And on the opposing shore take ground, + With plash, with scramble, and with bound. + Right-hand they leave thy cliffs, Craig-Forth! + And soon the bulwark of the North, + Grey Stirling, with her towers and town, + Upon their fleet career looked down. + + _Walter Scott._ + + + + +DELORAINE'S RIDE. + + + *....*....*....* + + The Ladye forgot her purpose high, + One moment, and no more; + One moment gazed with a mother's eye, + As she paused at the arched door: + Then from amid the armed train, + She called to her William of Deloraine. + + A stark moss-trooping Scott was he, + As e'er couched Border lance by knee; + Through Solway sands, through Tarras moss, + Blindfold, he knew the paths to cross; + By wily turns, by desperate bounds, + Had baffled Percy's best blood-hounds; + In Eske, or Liddel, fords were none, + But he would ride them, one by one; + Alike to him was time or tide, + December's snow, or July's pride; + Alike to him was tide or time, + Moonless midnight, or matin prime: + Steady of heart, and stout of hand, + As ever drove prey from Cumberland; + Five times outlawed had he been + By England's King, and Scotland's Queen. + + "Sir William of Deloraine, good at need, + Mount thee on the wightest steed; + Spare not to spur, nor stint to ride, + Until thou come to fair Tweedside; + And in Melrose's holy pile + Seek thou the Monk of St. Mary's aisle. + Greet the Father well from me; + Say that the fated hour is come, + And to-night he shall watch with thee, + To win the treasure of the tomb. + For this will be St. Michael's night, + And, though stars be dim, the moon is bright; + And the Cross, of bloody red, + Will point to the grave of the mighty dead. + + "What he gives thee, see thou keep; + Stay not thou for food or sleep: + Be it scroll, or be it book, + Into it, Knight, thou must not look; + If thou readest, thou art lorn! + Better hadst thou ne'er been born."-- + + "O swiftly can speed my dapple-grey steed, + Which drinks of the Teviot clear; + Ere break of day," the Warrior 'gan say, + "Again will I be here: + And safer by none may thy errand be done, + Than, noble dame, by me; + Letter nor line know I never a one, + Wer't my neck-verse at Hairibee." + + Soon in his saddle sate he fast, + And soon the steep descent he past, + Soon crossed the sounding barbican, + And soon the Teviot side he won. + Eastward the wooded path he rode, + Green hazels o'er his basnet nod; + He passed the Peel of Goldiland, + And crossed old Borthwick's roaring strand; + Dimly he viewed the Moat-hill's mound, + Where Druid shades still flitted round; + In Hawick twinkled many a light; + Behind him soon they set in night; + And soon he spurred his courser keen + Beneath the tower of Hazeldean. + + The clattering hoofs the watchmen mark;-- + "Stand, ho! thou courier of the dark."-- + "For Branksome, ho!" the knight rejoined, + And left the friendly tower behind. + He turned him now from Teviotside, + And, guided by the tinkling rill, + Northward the dark ascent did ride, + And gained the moor at Horsliehill; + Broad on the left before him lay, + For many a mile, the Roman way. + + A moment now he slacked his speed, + A moment breathed his panting steed; + Drew saddle-girth and corslet-band. + And loosened in the sheath his brand. + On Minto-crags the moonbeams glint, + Where Barnhill hewed his bed of flint; + Who flung his outlawed limbs to rest, + Where falcons hang their giddy nest, + Mid cliffs, from whence his eagle eye + For many a league his prey could spy; + Cliffs, doubling, on their echoes borne, + The terrors of the robber's horn? + Cliffs, which, for many a later year, + The warbling Doric reed shall hear, + When some sad swain shall teach the grove, + Ambition is no cure for love! + + Unchallenged, thence passed Deloraine, + To ancient Riddel's fair domain. + Where Aill, from mountains freed. + Down from the lakes did raving come; + Each wave was crested with tawny foam, + Like the mane of a chestnut steed. + In vain! no torrent, deep or broad, + Might bar the bold moss-trooper's road. + At the first plunge the horse sunk low, + And the water broke o'er the saddlebow; + Above the foaming tide, I ween, + Scarce half the charger's neck was seen; + For he was barded from counter to tail, + And the rider was armed complete in mail; + Never heavier man and horse + Stemmed a midnight torrent's force. + The warrior's very plume, I say + Was daggled by the dashing spray: + Yet, through good heart, and Our Ladye's grace, + At length he gained the landing place. + + Now Bowden Moor the march-man won, + And sternly shook his plumed head, + As glanced his eye o'er Halidon; + For on his soul the slaughter red + Of that unhallowed morn arose, + When first the Scott and Carr were foes; + When royal James beheld the fray, + Prize to the victor of the day; + When Home and Douglas, in the van, + Bore down Buccleuch's retiring clan, + Till gallant Cessford's heart-blood dear + Reeked on dark Elliot's Border spear. + + In bitter mood he spurred fast, + And soon the hated heath was past; + And far beneath, in lustre wan, + Old Melros' rose, and fair Tweed ran: + Like some tall rock with lichens gray, + Seemed dimly huge, the dark Abbaye. + When Hawick he passed, had curfew rung, + Now midnight lauds were in Melrose sung. + The sound, upon the fitful gale, + In solemn wise did rise and fail, + Like that wild harp, whose magic tone + Is wakened by the winds alone. + But when Melrose he reached, 'twas silence all; + He meetly stabled his steed in stall, + And sought the convent's lonely wall. + + _Sir Walter Scott._ + + + + +GODIVA. + + + _I waited for the train at Coventry; + I hung with grooms and porters on the bridge, + To watch the three tall spires; and there I shaped + The city's ancient legend into this_:-- + Not only we, the latest seed of Time, + New men, that in the flying of a wheel + Cry down the past, not only we, that prate + Of rights and wrongs, have loved the people well, + And loathed to see them overtaxed; but she + Did more, and underwent, and overcame, + The woman of a thousand summers back, + Godiva, wife to that grim Earl, who ruled + In Coventry: for when he laid a tax + Upon his town, and all the mothers brought + Their children, clamoring, "If we pay, we starve!" + She sought her lord, and found him, where he strode + About the hall, among his dogs, alone, + His beard a foot before him, and his hair + A yard behind. She told him of their tears, + And prayed him, "If they pay this tax, they starve." + Whereat he stared, replying, half-amazed, + "You would not let your little finger ache + For such as _these_?"--"But I would die," said she. + He laughed, and swore by Peter and by Paul: + Then filliped at the diamond in her ear; + "O ay, ay, ay, you talk!"--"Alas!" she said, + "But prove me what it is I would not do." + And from a heart as rough as Esau's hand, + He answered, "Ride you naked through the town, + And I repeal it;" and nodding, as in scorn, + He parted, with great strides among his dogs. + So left alone, the passions of her mind, + As winds from all the compass shift and blow, + Made war upon each other for an hour, + Till pity won. She sent a herald forth, + And bade him cry, with sound of trumpet, all + The hard condition; but that she would loose + The people: therefore, as they loved her well, + From then till noon no foot should pace the street, + No eye look down, she passing; but that all + Should keep within, door shut, and window barred. + Then fled she to her inmost bower, and there + Unclasped the wedded eagles of her belt, + The grim Earl's gift; but ever at a breath + She lingered, looking like a summer moon + Half-dipt in cloud: anon she shook her head, + And showered the rippled ringlets to her knee; + Unclad herself in haste; adown the stair + Stole on; and, like a creeping sunbeam, slid + From pillar unto pillar, until she reached + The gateway; there she found her palfrey trapt + In purple blazoned with armorial gold. + Then she rode forth, clothed on with chastity: + The deep air listened round her as she rode, + And all the low wind hardly breathed for fear. + The little wide-mouthed heads upon the spout + Had cunning eyes to see: the barking cur + Made her cheek flame: her palfrey's footfall shot + Light horrors through her pulses: the blind walls + Were full of chinks and holes; and overhead + Fantastic gables, crowding, stared: but she + Not less through all bore up, till, last, she saw + The white-flowered elder-thicket from the field + Gleam through the Gothic archways in the wall. + Then she rode back, clothed on with chastity: + And one low churl, compact of thankless earth, + The fatal byword of all years to come, + Boring a little auger-hole in fear, + Peeped--but his eyes, before they had their will, + Were shrivelled into darkness in his head, + And dropt before him. So the Powers, who wait + On noble deeds, cancelled a sense misused; + And she, that knew not, passed: and all at once, + With twelve great shocks of sound, the shameless noon + Was clashed and hammered from a hundred towers, + One after one: but even then she gained + Her bower; whence reissuing, robed and crowned, + To meet her lord, she took the tax away, + And built herself an everlasting name. + + _Alfred Tennyson._ + + + + +"HOW THEY BROUGHT THE GOOD NEWS FROM GHENT TO AIX." + + + I sprang to the stirrup, and Joris, and he; + I galloped, Dirck galloped, we galloped all three; + "Good speed!" cried the watch, as the gate-bolts undrew; + "Speed!" echoed the wall to us galloping through; + Behind shut the postern, the lights sank to rest, + And into the midnight we galloped abreast. + + Not a word to each other; we kept the great pace + Neck by neck, stride by stride, never changing our place; + I turned in my saddle and made its girths tight, + Rebuckled the check-strap, chained slacker the bit, + Then shortened each stirrup, and set the pique right, + Nor galloped less steadily Roland a whit. + + 'Twas moonset at starting; but while we drew near + Lokeren, the cocks crew and twilight dawned clear; + At Boom, a great yellow star came out to see; + At Dueffeld, 'twas morning as plain as could be; + And from Mecheln church-steeple we heard the half-chime, + So Joris broke silence with, "Yet there is time!" + + At Aerschot, up leaped of a sudden the sun, + And against him the cattle stood black every one, + To stare through the mist at us galloping past, + And I saw my stout galloper Roland at last, + With resolute shoulders, each butting away + The haze, as some bluff river headland its spray. + + And his low head and crest, just one sharp ear bent back + For my voice, and the other pricked out on his track; + And one eye's black intelligence,--ever that glance + O'er its white edge at me, his own master, askance! + And the thick heavy spume-flakes which aye and anon + His fierce lips shook upwards in galloping on. + + By Hasselt, Dirck groaned; and cried Joris, "Stay spur! + Your Roos galloped bravely, the fault's not in her, + We'll remember at Aix,"--for one heard the quick wheeze + Of her chest, saw the stretched neck and staggering knees, + And sunk tail, and horrible heave of the flank, + As down on her haunches she shuddered and sank. + + So we were left galloping, Joris and I, + Past Looz and past Tongres, no cloud in the sky; + The broad sun above laughed a pitiless laugh, + 'Neath our feet broke the brittle bright stubble like chaff; + Till over by Dalhem a dome-spire sprang white, + And "Gallop," gasped Joris, for "Aix is in sight!" + + "How they'll greet us!"--and all in a moment his roan + Rolled neck and croup over, lay dead as a stone; + And there was my Roland to bear the whole weight + Of the news which alone could save Aix from her fate, + With his nostrils like pits full of blood to the brim, + And with circles of red for his eye-sockets' rim. + + Then I cast loose my buff-coat, each holster let fall, + Shook off both my jack-boots, let go belt and all, + Stood up in the stirrup, leaned, patted his ear, + Called my Roland his pet-name, my horse without peer; + Clapped my hands, laughed and sang, any noise, bad or good, + Till at length into Aix Roland galloped and stood. + + And all I remember is, friends flocking round + As I sat with his head 'twixt my knees on the ground, + And no voice but was praising this Roland of mine, + As I poured down his throat our last measure of wine, + Which (the burgesses voted by common consent) + Was no more than his due who brought good news from Ghent. + + _Robert Browning._ + + + + +THE LANDLORD'S TALE. + +PAUL REVERE'S RIDE. + + + Listen, my children, and you shall hear + Of the midnight ride of Paul Revere, + On the eighteenth of April, in Seventy-five; + Hardly a man is now alive + Who remembers that famous day and year. + + He said to his friend, "If the British march + By land or sea from the town to-night, + Hang a lantern aloft in the belfry arch + Of the North Church tower as a signal light,-- + One, if by land, and two, if by sea; + And I on the opposite shore will be, + Ready to ride and spread the alarm + Through every Middlesex village and farm, + For the country folk to be up and to arm." + + Then he said, "Good night!" and with muffled oar + Silently rowed to the Charlestown shore, + Just as the moon rose over the bay, + Where swinging wide at her moorings lay + The Somerset, British man-of-war; + A phantom ship, with each mast and spar + Across the moon like a prison bar, + And a huge black hulk, that was magnified + By its own reflection in the tide. + + Meanwhile, his friend, through alley and street, + Wanders and watches with eager ears, + Till in the silence around him he hears + The muster of men at the barrack door, + The sound of arms, and the tramp of feet, + And the measured tread of the grenadiers, + Marching down to their boats on the shore. + + Then he climbed the tower of the Old North Church, + By the wooden stairs, with stealthy tread, + To the belfry-chamber overhead, + And startled the pigeons from their perch + On the sombre rafters, that round him made + Masses and moving shapes of shade,-- + By the trembling ladder, steep and tall, + To the highest window in the wall, + Where he paused to listen and look down + A moment on the roofs of the town, + And the moonlight flowing over all. + + Beneath, in the churchyard, lay the dead, + In their night-encampment on the hill, + Wrapped in silence so deep and still + That he could hear, like a sentinel's tread, + The watchful night-wind, as it went + Creeping along from tent to tent, + And seeming to whisper, "All is well!" + A moment only he feels the spell + Of the place and hour, and the secret dread + Of the lonely belfry and the dead; + For suddenly all his thoughts are bent + On a shadowy something far away, + Where the river widens to meet the bay,-- + A line of black that bends and floats + On the rising tide, like a bridge of boats. + + Meanwhile, impatient to mount and ride, + Booted and spurred with a heavy stride + On the opposite shore walked Paul Revere. + Now he patted his horse's side, + Now gazed at the landscape far and near, + Then, impetuous, stamped the earth, + And turned and tightened his saddle-girth; + But mostly he watched with eager search + The belfry-tower of the Old North Church, + As it rose above the graves on the hill, + Lonely and spectral and sombre and still. + And lo! as he looks, on the belfry's height + A glimmer, and then a gleam of light! + He springs to the saddle, the bridle he turns, + But lingers and gazes, till full on his sight + A second lamp in the belfry burns! + + A hurry of hoofs in a village street, + A shape in the moonlight, a bulk in the dark, + And beneath, from the pebbles, in passing, a spark + Struck out by a steed flying fearless and fleet: + That was all! and yet, through the gloom and the light, + The fate of a nation was riding that night; + And the spark struck out by that steed, in his flight, + Kindled the land into flame with its heat. + He has left the village and mounted the steep, + And beneath him, tranquil and broad and deep, + Is the Mystic, meeting the ocean tides; + And under the alders, that skirt its edge, + Now soft on the sand, now loud on the ledge, + Is heard the tramp of his steed as he rides. + + It was twelve by the village clock + When he crossed the bridge into Medford town. + He heard the crowing of the cock, + And the barking of the farmer's dog, + And felt the damp of the river fog, + That rises after the sun goes down. + + It was one by the village clock, + When he galloped into Lexington. + He saw the gilded weathercock + Swim in the moonlight as he passed, + And the meeting-house windows, blank and bare, + Gaze at him with a spectral glare, + As if they already stood aghast + At the bloody work they would look upon. + + It was two by the village clock, + When he came to the bridge in Concord town. + He heard the bleating of the flock, + And the twitter of birds among the trees, + And felt the breath of the morning breeze + Blowing over the meadows brown. + And one was safe and asleep in his bed + Who at the bridge would be first to fall, + Who that day would be lying dead, + Pierced by a British musket-ball. + + You know the rest. In the books you have read, + How the British Regulars fired and fled,-- + How the farmers gave them ball for ball, + From behind each fence and farm-yard wall, + Chasing the red-coats down the lane, + Then crossing the fields to emerge again + Under the trees at the turn of the road, + And only pausing to fire and load. + + So through the night rode Paul Revere; + And so through the night went his cry of alarm + To every Middlesex village and farm,-- + A cry of defiance and not of fear, + A voice in the darkness a knock at the door, + And a word that shall echo forevermore! + For, borne on the night-wind of the Past, + Through all our history, to the last, + In the hour of darkness and peril and need, + The people will waken and listen to hear + The hurrying hoof-beats of that steed, + And the midnight message of Paul Revere. + + _H. W. Longfellow._ + + + + +SHERIDAN'S RIDE. + + + Up from the South at break of day, + Bringing to Winchester fresh dismay, + The affrighted air with a shudder bore, + Like a herald in haste, to the chieftain's door, + The terrible grumble, and rumble, and roar, + Telling the battle was on once more, + And Sheridan twenty miles away. + + And wider still those billows of war + Thundered along the horizon's bar; + And louder yet into Winchester rolled + The roar of that red sea uncontrolled, + Making the blood of the listener cold, + As he thought of the stake in that fiery fray, + And Sheridan twenty miles away. + + But there is a road from Winchester town, + A good broad highway leading down; + And there, through the flush of the morning light, + A steed as black as the steeds of night, + Was seen to pass, as with eagle flight, + As if he knew the terrible need; + He stretched away with his utmost speed; + Hills rose and fell; but his heart was gay, + With Sheridan fifteen miles away. + + Still sprung from those swift hoofs, thundering South, + The dust, like smoke from the cannon's mouth; + Or the trail of a comet, sweeping faster and faster, + Foreboding to traitors the doom of disaster. + The heart of the steed and the heart of the master + Were beating like prisoners assaulting their walls, + Impatient to be where the battle-field calls; + Every nerve of the charger was strained to full play, + With Sheridan only ten miles away. + + Under his spurning feet the road + Like an arrowy alpine river flowed, + And the landscape sped away behind + Like an ocean flying before the wind, + And the steed, like a bark fed with furnace fire, + Swept on, with his wild eye full of ire. + But lo! he is nearing his heart's desire; + He is snuffing the smoke of the roaring fray, + With Sheridan only five miles away. + + The first that the general saw were the groups + Of stragglers, and then the retreating troops, + What was done? what to do? a glance told him both, + Then striking his spurs, with a terrible oath, + He dashed down the line, mid a storm of huzzas, + And the wave of retreat checked its course there, because + The sight of the master compelled it to pause. + With foam and with dust the black charger was gray; + By the flash of his eye, and the red nostril's play, + He seemed to the whole great army to say, + "I have brought you Sheridan all the way + From Winchester down, to save the day!" + + Hurrah! hurrah for Sheridan! + Hurrah! hurrah for horse and man! + And when their statues are placed on high, + Under the dome of the Union sky, + The American soldiers' Temple of Fame; + There with the glorious general's name, + Be it said, in letters both bold and bright, + "Here is the steed that saved the day, + By carrying Sheridan into the fight, + From Winchester, twenty miles away!" + + _Thomas Buchanan Read._ + + + + +KEARNY AT SEVEN PINES. + + + So that soldierly legend is still on its journey,-- + That story of Kearny who knew not to yield! + 'Twas the day when with Jameson, fierce Berry, and Birney, + Against twenty thousand he rallied the field. + Where the red volleys poured, where the clamor rose highest, + Where the dead lay in clumps through the dwarf oak and pine; + Where the aim from the thicket was surest and nighest,-- + No charge like Phil Kearny's along the whole line. + + When the battle went ill, and the bravest were solemn, + Near the dark Seven Pines, where we still held our ground, + He rode down the length of the withering column, + And his heart at our war-cry leapt up with a bound; + He snuffed, like his charger, the wind of the powder,-- + His sword waved us on, and we answered the sign: + Loud our cheers as we rushed, but his laugh rang the louder, + "There's the devil's own fun, boys, along the whole line!" + + How he strode his brown steed! How we saw his blade brighten + In the one hand still left,--and the reins in his teeth! + He laughed like a boy when the holidays heighten, + But a soldier's glance shot from his visor beneath. + Up came the reserves to the mellay infernal, + Asking where to go in,--through the clearing or pine? + "Oh, anywhere! Forward! 'Tis all the same, Colonel: + You'll find lovely fighting along the whole line!" + + Oh, evil the black shroud of night at Chantilly, + That hid him from sight of his brave men and tried! + Foul, foul sped the bullet that clipped the white lily, + The flower of our knighthood, the whole army's pride! + Yet we dream that he still,--in that shadowy region, + Where the dead form their ranks at the wan drummer's sign,-- + Rides on, as of old, down the length of his legion, + And the word still is Forward! along the whole line. + + _Edmund Clarence Stedman._ + + + + +THE RIDE OF COLLINS GRAVES. + +AN INCIDENT OF THE FLOOD IN MASSACHUSETTS, ON MAY 16, 1874. + + + No song of a soldier riding down + To the raging fight from Winchester town; + No song of a time that shook the earth + With the nations' throe at a nation's birth; + But the song of a brave man, free from fear + As Sheridan's self, or Paul Revere; + Who risked what they risked, free from strife, + And its promise of glorious pay--his life! + + The peaceful valley has waked and stirred, + And the answering echoes of life are heard: + The dew still clings to the trees and grass, + And the early toilers smiling pass, + As they glance aside at the white-walled homes, + Or up the valley, where merrily comes + The brook that sparkles in diamond rills + As the sun comes over the Hampshire hills. + + What was it, that passed like an ominous breath-- + Like a shiver of fear, or a touch of death? + What was it? The valley is peaceful still, + And the leaves are afire on top of the hill. + It was not a sound--nor a thing of sense-- + But a pain, like the pang of the short suspense + That thrills the being of those who see + At their feet the gulf of Eternity! + + The air of the valley has felt the chill: + The workers pause at the door of the mill; + The housewife, keen to the shivering air, + Arrests her foot on the cottage stair, + Instinctive taught by the mother-love, + And thinks of the sleeping ones above. + Why start the listeners? Why does the course + Of the mill-stream widen? Is it a horse-- + Hark to the sound of his hoofs, they say-- + That gallops so wildly Williamsburg way! + + God! what was that, like a human shriek + From the winding valley? Will nobody speak? + Will nobody answer those women who cry + As the awful warnings thunder by? + + Whence come they? Listen! And now they hear + The sound of the galloping horse-hoofs near; + They watch the trend of the vale, and see + The rider who thunders so menacingly, + With waving arms and warning scream + To the home-filled banks of the valley stream. + He draws no rein, but he shakes the street + With a shout and the ring of the galloping feet; + And this the cry he flings to the wind: + "To the hills for your lives! The flood is behind!" + + He cries and is gone; but they know the worst-- + The breast of the Williamsburg dam has burst! + The basin that nourished their happy homes + Is changed to a demon--It comes! it comes! + + A monster in aspect, with shaggy front + Of shattered dwellings, to take the brunt + Of the homes they shatter--white-maned and hoarse, + The merciless Terror fills the course + Of the narrow valley, and rushing raves, + With Death on the first of its hissing waves, + Till cottage and street and crowded mill + Are crumbled and crushed. + + But onward still, + In front of the roaring flood is heard + The galloping horse and the warning word. + Thank God! the brave man's life is spared! + From Williamsburg town he nobly dared + To race with the flood and take the road + In front of the terrible swath it mowed. + For miles it thundered and crashed behind, + But he looked ahead with a steadfast mind; + "They must be warned!" was all he said, + As away on his terrible ride he sped. + + When heroes are called for, bring the crown + To this Yankee rider: send him down + On the stream of time with the Curtius old; + His deed as the Roman's was brave and bold, + And the tale can as noble a thrill awake, + For he offered his life for the people's sake. + + _John Boyle O'Reilly._ + + + + +A TALE OF PROVIDENCE. + + + The tall green tree its shadow cast + Upon Howe's army that southward passed + From Gordon's Ford to the Quaker town, + Intending in quarters to settle down + Till snows were gone, and spring again + Should easier make a new campaign. + + Beyond the fences that lined the way, + The fields of Captain Richardson lay; + His woodland and meadows reached far and wide, + From the hills behind to the Schuylkill's side, + Across the stream, in the mountain gorge, + He could see the smoke of the valley forge. + + The Captain had fought in the frontier war; + When the fight was done, bearing seam and scar, + He marched back home to tread once more + The same tame round he had trod before, + And turn his thoughts with sighs of regret + To his ploughshares, wishing them sword-blades yet. + + He put the meadow in corn that year, + And swore till his blacks were white with fear. + He plowed, and planted, and married a wife, + But life grew weary with inward strife. + His blood was hot and his throbbing brain + Beat with the surf of some far main. + + Should he sack a town, or rob the mail, + Or on the wide seas a pirate sail? + He pondered it over, concluding instead, + To buy three steeds in Arabia bred, + On Sopus, Fearnaught, or Scipio, + He felt his blood more evenly flow. + + To his daughter Tacey, the coming days + Brought health, and beauty, and graceful ways. + He taught her to ride his fleetest steed + At a five-barred fence, or a ditch at need, + And the Captain's horses, his hounds, and his child + Were famous from sea to forests wild. + + *....*....*....* + + Master and man from home were gone, + And Fearnaught held the stables alone, + And Mistress Tacey her spirit showed + The morning the British came down the road. + She hid the silver, and drove the cows + To the island behind the willow boughs. + + Was time too short? or did she forget + That Fearnaught stood in the stables yet? + Across the fields to the gate she ran, + And followed the path 'neath the grape-arbors' span; + On the doorstep she paused and turned to see + The head of the line beneath the green tree. + + The last straggler passed, the night came on, + And then 'twas discovered that Fearnaught was gone; + Sometime, somehow, from his stall he was led, + Where an old gray horse was left in his stead, + And Tacey must prove to her father that she + Had been prepared for the emergency. + + For the words he scattered on kind soil fell, + And Tacey had learned his maxim well + In the stories he read. She remembered the art + That concealed the fear in Esther's heart; + How the words of the woman Abigail + Appeased the king's wrath, the deed of Jael! + + How Judith went from the city's gate + Across the plain as the day grew late, + To the tent of the great Assyrian; + The leader exalted with horse and man, + And brought back his head, said Tacey: "Of course, + A more difficult feat than to bring back a horse." + + In the English camp the reveille drum + Told the sleeping troops that the dawn had come, + And the shadows abroad that with night were blent + At the drum's tap startled, crept under each tent + As Tacey stole from the sheltering wood + Across the wet grass where the horse pound stood. + + Hark! was it the twitter of frightened bird, + Or was it the challenge of sentry she heard? + She entered unseen, but her footsteps she stayed + When the old gray horse in the wood still, neighed, + Half hid in the mist a shape loomed tall, + A steed that answered her well-known call. + + With freedom beyond for the recompense + She sprang to his back, and leaped the fence; + Too late the alarm; but Tacey heard + As she sped away how the camp was stirred, + The stamping of horses, the shouts of men + And the bugle's impatient call again. + + Loudly and fast on the Ridge Road beat + The regular fall of Fearnaught's feet, + On his broad, bare back his rider's seat + Was as firm as the tread of the steed so fleet; + Small need of saddle, or bridle rein, + He answered as well her touch on his mane. + + On down the hill by the river shore, + Faster and faster she rode than before; + Her bonnet fell back, her head was bare, + And the river breeze that freed her hair + Dispersed the fog, and she heard the shout + Of the troopers behind when the sun came out. + + The wheel at Van Deering's had dripped nearly dry, + In Sabbath-like stillness the morning passed by; + Then the clatter of hoofs came down the hill, + And the white old miller ran out from the mill. + But he only saw through the dust of the road + The last red-coat that faintly showed. + + To Tacey the sky, and the trees, and the wind + Seemed all to rush toward her, and follow behind, + Her lips were set firm, and pale was her cheek + As she plunged down the hill and through the creek, + The tortoise shell comb that she lost that day + The Wissahickon carried away. + + On the other side up the stony hill + The feet of Fearnaught went faster still, + But somewhat backward the troopers fell, + For the hill, and the pace, began to tell + On their horses worn with a long campaign + O'er rugged mountains, and weary plain. + + The road was deserted, for when men fought + A secret path the traveler sought; + Two scared idlers in Levering's Inn + Fled to the woods at the coming din, + The watch dog ran to bark his delight, + But pursued and pursuers were out of sight. + + Surely the distance between them increased, + And the shouts of the troopers had long since ceased, + One after another pulled his rein + And rode with great oaths to the camp again. + Oft a look backward Tacey sent + To the fading red of the regiment. + + She heard the foremost horseman call; + She saw the horse stumble, the rider fall; + She patted her steed and checked his pace + And leisurely rode the rest of the race. + When the Seven-Stars' sign on the horizon showed + Behind not a trooper was on the road. + + In vain had they shouted who followed in chase, + In vain their wild ride; so ended the race. + Though fifty strong voices may clamor and call, + If she hear not the strongest, she hears not them all; + Though fifty fleet horses go galloping fast, + One swifter than all shall be furthest at last. + + Said the well-pleased Captain when he came home: + "The steed shall be thine and a new silver comb. + 'Twas a daring deed and bravely done." + As proud of the praise as the promise won, + The maiden stole from the house to feed + With a generous hand her gallant steed. + + Unavailing the storms of the century beat + With the roar of thunder, or winter's sleet, + The mansion still stands, and is heard as of yore + The wind in the trees on the island's shore; + But the restless river its shore line wears + And no longer the island its old name bears. + + And years that are gone in obscurity + Have enveloped the rider's memory, + But in Providence still abide her race, + Brave youths with her spirit, fair maids with her grace, + Undaunted they stand when fainter hearts flee, + Prepared whatsoever the emergency. + + _Isaac R. Pennypacker._ + + + + +KIT CARSON'S RIDE. + + + We lay low in the grass on the broad plain levels, + Old Revels and I, and my stolen brown bride; + And the heavens of blue and the harvest of brown + And beautiful clover were welded as one, + To the right and the left, in the light of the sun. + "Forty full miles if a foot to ride, + Forty full miles if a foot, and the devils + Of red Camanches are hot on the track + When once they strike it. Let the sun go down + Soon, very soon," muttered bearded old Revels + As he peered at the sun, lying low on his back, + Holding fast to his lasso. Then he jerked at his steed + And he sprang to his feet, and glanced swiftly around, + And then dropped, as if shot, with his ear to the ground; + Then again to his feet, and to me, to my bride, + While his eyes were like fire, his face like a shroud, + His form like a king, and his beard like a cloud, + And his voice loud and shrill, as if blown from a reed,-- + "Pull, pull in your lassos, and bridle to steed, + And speed you if ever for life you would speed, + And ride for your lives, for your lives you must ride! + For the plain is aflame, the prairie on fire, + And feet of wild horses hard flying before + I hear like a sea breaking high on the shore, + While the buffalo come like a surge of the sea, + Driven far by the flame, driving fast on us three + As a hurricane comes, crushing palms in his ire." + + We drew in the lassos, seized saddle and rein, + Threw them on, sinched them on, sinched them over again, + And again drew the girth, cast aside the macheers, + Cut away tapidaros, loosed the sash from its fold, + Cast aside the catenas red-spangled with gold, + And gold mounted Colt's, the companions of years, + Cast the silken serapes to the wind in a breath, + And so bared to the skin sprang all haste to the horse,-- + As bare as when born, as when new from the hand + Of God,--without word, or one word of command. + Turned head to the Brazos in a red race with death, + Turned head to the Brazos with a breath in the hair + Blowing hot from a king leaving death in his course; + Turned head to the Brazos with a sound in the air + Like the rush of an army, and a flash in the eye + Of a red wall of fire reaching up to the sky, + Stretching fierce in pursuit of a black rolling sea + Rushing fast upon us, as the wind sweeping free + And afar from the desert blew hollow and hoarse. + + Not a word, not a wail from a lip was let fall, + Not a kiss from my bride, not a look nor low call + Of love-note or courage; but on o'er the plain + So steady and still, leaning low to the mane, + With the heel to the flank and the hand to the rein, + Rode we on, rode we three, rode we nose and gray nose, + Reaching long, breathing loud, as a creviced wind blows: + Yet we broke not a whisper, we breathed not a prayer, + There was work to be done, there was death in the air, + And the chance was as one to a thousand for all. + + Gray nose to gray nose, and each steady mustang + Stretched neck and stretched nerve till the arid earth rang, + And the foam from the flank and the croup and the neck + Flew around like the spray on a storm-driven deck. + Twenty miles!... thirty miles!... a dim distant speck ... + Then a long reaching line, and the Brazos in sight, + And I rose in my seat with a shout of delight. + I stood in my stirrup and looked to my right-- + But Revels was gone; I glanced by my shoulder + And saw his horse stagger; I saw his head drooping + Hard down on his breast, and his naked breast stooping + Low down to the mane, as so swifter and bolder + Ran reaching out for us the red-footed fire. + To right and to left the black buffalo came, + A terrible surf on a red sea of flame + Rushing on in the rear, reaching high, reaching higher. + And he rode neck to neck to a buffalo bull, + The monarch of millions, with shaggy mane full + Of smoke and of dust, and it shook with desire + Of battle, with rage and with bellowings loud + And unearthly, and up through its lowering cloud + Came the flash of his eyes like a half-hidden fire, + While his keen crooked horns, through the storm of his mane, + Like black lances lifted and lifted again; + And I looked but this once, for the fire licked through, + And he fell and was lost, as we rode two and two. + + I looked to my left then,--and nose, neck, and shoulder + Sank slowly, sank surely, till back to my thighs; + And up through the black blowing veil of her hair + Did beam full in mine her two marvelous eyes, + With a longing and love, yet a look of despair + And of pity for me, as she felt the smoke fold her, + And flames reaching far for her glorious hair. + Her sinking steed faltered, his eager ears fell + To and fro and unsteady, and all the neck's swell + Did subside and recede, and the nerves fall as dead. + Then she saw sturdy Pache still lorded his head, + With a look of delight; for nor courage nor bribe, + Nor naught but my bride, could have brought him to me. + For he was her father's, and at South Santafee + Had once won a whole herd, sweeping everything down + In a race where the world came to run for the crown. + And so when I won the true heart of my bride,-- + My neighbor's and deadliest enemy's child, + And child of the kingly war-chief of his tribe,-- + She brought me this steed to the border the night + She met Revels and me in her perilous flight + From the lodge of the chief to the North Brazos side; + And said, so half guessing of ill as she smiled, + As if jesting, that I, and I only, should ride + The fleet-footed Pache, so if kin should pursue + I should surely escape without other ado + Than to ride, without blood, to the North Brazos side, + And await her,--and wait till the next hollow moon + Hung her horn in the palms, when surely and soon + And swift she would join me, and all would be well + Without bloodshed or word. And now as she fell + From the front, and went down in the ocean of fire, + The last that I saw was a look of delight + That I should escape--a love--a desire-- + Yet never a word, not one look of appeal, + Lest I should reach hand, should stay hand or stay heel + One instant for her in my terrible flight. + + Then the rushing of fire around me and under, + And the howling of beasts and a sound as of thunder,-- + Beasts burning and blind and forced onward and over, + As the passionate flame reached around them, and wove her + Red hands in their hair, and kissed hot till they died,-- + Till they died with a wild and a desolate moan, + As a sea heart-broken on the hard brown stone ... + And into the Brazos ... I rode all alone,-- + All alone, save only a horse long-limbed, + And blind and bare and burnt to the skin. + Then just as the terrible sea came in + And tumbled its thousands hot into the tide + Till the tide blocked up and the swift stream brimmed + In eddies, we struck on the opposite side. + + _Joaquin Miller._ + + + + +TAMING THE WILD HORSE. + + + Last night he trampled with a thousand steeds + The trembling desert. Now, he stands alone-- + His speed hath baffled theirs. His fellows lurk, + Behind, on heavy sands, with weary limbs + That cannot reach him. From the highest hill, + He gazes o'er the wild whose plains he spurned, + And his eye kindles, and his breast expands, + With an upheaving consciousness of might. + He stands an instant, then he breaks away, + As revelling in his freedom. What if art, + That strikes soul into marble, could but seize + That agony of action,--could impress + Its muscular fulness, with its winged haste, + Upon the resisting rock, while wonder stares, + And admiration worships? There,--away-- + As glorying in that mighty wilderness, + And conscious of the gazing skies o'erhead, + Quiver for flight, his sleek and slender limbs, + Elastic, springing into headlong force-- + While his smooth neck, curved loftily to arch, + Dignifies flight, and to his speed imparts + The majesty, not else its attribute. + And, circling, now he sweeps, the flowery plain, + As if 'twere his--imperious, gathering up + His limbs, unwearied by their sportive play, + Until he stands, an idol of the sight. + + He stands and trembles! The warm life is gone + That gave him action. Wherefore is it thus? + His eye hath lost its lustre, though it still + Sends forth a glance of consciousness and care, + To a deep agony of acuteness wrought, + And straining at a point--a narrow point-- + That rises, but a speck upon the verge + Of the horizon. Sure, the humblest life, + Hath, in God's providence, some gracious guides, + That warn it of its foe. The danger there, + His instinct teaches, and with growing dread, + No more solicitous of graceful flight, + He bounds across the plain--he speeds away, + Into the tameless wilderness afar, + To 'scape his bondage. Yet, in vain his flight-- + Vain his fleet limbs, his desperate aim, his leap + Through the close thicket, through the festering swamp, + And rushing waters. His proud neck must bend + Beneath a halter, and the iron parts + And tears his delicate mouth. The brave steed, + Late bounding in his freedom's consciousness, + The leader of the wild, unreached of all, + Wears gaudy trappings, and becomes a slave. + + He bears a master on his shrinking back, + He feels a rowel in his bleeding flanks, + And his arched neck, beneath the biting thong, + Burns, while he bounds away--all desperate-- + Across the desert, mad with the vain hope + To shake his burden off. He writhes, he turns + On his oppressor. He would rend the foe, + Who subtle, with less strength, had taken him thus, + At foul advantage--but he strives in vain. + A sudden pang--a newer form of pain, + Baffles, and bears him on--he feels his fate, + And with a shriek of agony, which tells, + Loudly, the terrors of his new estate, + He makes the desert--his own desert--ring + With the wild clamors of his new born grief. + One fruitless effort more--one desperate bound, + For the old freedom of his natural life, + And then he humbles to his cruel lot, + Submits, and finds his conqueror in man! + + _W. G. Simms._ + + + + +CHIQUITA. + + + Beautiful! Sir, you may say so. Thar isn't her match in the county. + Is thar, old gal,--Chiquita, my darling, my beauty? + Feel of that neck, sir,--thar's velvet! Whoa! Steady,--ah, + will you, you vixen! + Whoa! I say. Jack, trot her out; let the gentleman look at her paces. + + Morgan!--She ain't nothin' else, and I've got the papers to prove it. + Sired by Chippewa Chief, and twelve hundred dollars won't buy her. + Briggs of Tuolumne owned her. Did you know Briggs of Tuolumne?-- + Busted hisself in White Pine, and blew out his brains down in 'Frisco? + + Hedn't no savey--hed Briggs. Thar, Jack! that'll do,--quit that foolin'! + Nothin' to what she kin do, when she's got her work cut out before her. + Hosses is hosses, you know, and likewise, too, jockeys is jockeys; + And 'tain't ev'ry man as can ride as knows what a hoss has got in him. + + Know the old ford on the Fork, that nearly got Flanigan's leaders? + Nasty in daylight, you bet, and a mighty rough ford in low water! + Well, it ain't six weeks ago that me and the Jedge and his nevey + Struck for that ford in the night, in the rain, and the water all round us; + + Up to our flanks in the gulch, and Rattlesnake Creek just a bilin', + Not a plank left in the dam, and nary a bridge on the river. + I had the grey, and the Jedge had his roan, and his nevey, Chiquita; + And after us trundled the rocks jest loosed from the top of the canyon. + + Lickity, lickity, switch, we came to the ford, and Chiquita + Buckled right down to her work, and afore I could yell to her rider, + Took water jest at the ford, and there was the Jedge and me standing, + And twelve hundred dollars of hoss-flesh afloat and a driftin' to thunder! + + Would ye b'lieve it? that night that hoss, that ar' filly, Chiquita, + Walked herself into her stall, and stood there, all quiet and dripping: + Clean as a beaver or rat, with nary a buckle of harness, + Just as she swam the Fork,--that hoss, that ar' filly, Chiquita. + + That's what I call a hoss! and--What did you say!--Oh, the nevey? + Drownded, I reckon,--leastways, he never kem back to deny it. + Ye see the derned fool had no seat,--ye couldn't have made him a rider; + And then, ye know, boys will be boys, and hosses--well, hosses is hosses! + + _Bret Harte._ + + + + +BAY BILLY. + + + 'Twas the last fight at Fredericksburg,-- + Perhaps the day you reck, + Our boys, the Twenty-Second Maine, + Kept Early's men in check. + Just where Wade Hampton boomed away + The fight went neck and neck. + + All day the weaker wing we held, + And held it with a will. + Five several stubborn times we charged + The battery on the hill, + And five times beaten back, re-formed, + And kept our column still. + + At last from out the centre fight + Spurred up a General's Aid. + "That battery must silenced be!" + He cried, as past he sped. + Our Colonel simply touched his cap, + And then, with measured tread, + + To lead the crouching line once more + The grand old fellow came. + No wounded man but raised his head + And strove to gasp his name, + And those who could not speak nor stir, + "God blessed him" just the same. + + For he was all the world to us, + That hero gray and grim. + Right well he knew that fearful slope + We'd climb with none but him, + Though while his white head led the way + We'd charge hell's portals in. + + This time we were not half-way up, + When, midst the storm of shell, + Our leader, with his sword upraised, + Beneath our bayonets fell. + And, as we bore him back, the foe + Set up a joyous yell. + + Our hearts went with him. Back we swept, + And when the bugle said + "Up, charge, again!" no man was there + But hung his dogged head. + "We've no one left to lead us now," + The sullen soldiers said. + + Just then before the laggard line + The Colonel's horse we spied, + Bay Billy with his trappings on, + His nostrils swelling wide, + As though still on his gallant back + The master sat astride. + + Right royally he took the place + That was of old his wont, + And with a neigh that seemed to say, + Above the battle's brunt, + "How can the Twenty-second charge + If I am not in front?" + + Like statues rooted there we stood, + And gazed a little space, + Above that floating mane we missed + The dear familiar face, + But we saw Bay Billy's eye of fire, + And it gave us heart of grace. + + No bugle-call could rouse us all + As that brave sight had done. + Down all the battered line we felt + A lightning impulse run. + Up! up! the hill we followed Bill, + And we captured every gun! + + And when upon the conquered height + Died out the battle's hum. + Vainly mid living and the dead + We sought our leader dumb. + It seemed as if a spectre steed + To win that day had come. + + And then the dusk and dew of night + Fell softly o'er the plain, + As though o'er man's dread work of death + The angels wept again, + And drew night's curtain gently round + A thousand beds of pain. + + All night the surgeons' torches went, + The ghastly rows between.-- + All night with solemn step I paced + The torn and bloody green. + But who that fought in the big war + Such dread sights have not seen? + + At last the morning broke. The lark + Sang in the merry skies + As if to e'en the sleepers there + It bade awake, and rise! + Though naught but that last trump of all + Could ope their heavy eyes. + + And then once more with banners gay, + Stretched out the long Brigade. + Trimly upon the furrowed field + The troops stood on parade, + And bravely mid the ranks were closed + The gaps the fight had made. + + Not half the Twenty-second's men + Were in their place that morn, + And Corporal Dick, who yester-noon + Stood six brave fellows on, + Now touched my elbow in the ranks, + For all between were gone. + + Ah! who forgets that dreary hour + When, as with misty eyes, + To call the old familiar roll + The solemn Sergeant tries,-- + One feels that thumping of the heart + As no prompt voice replies. + + And as in faltering tone and slow + The last few names were said, + Across the field some missing horse + Toiled up with weary tread, + It caught the Sergeant's eye, and quick + Bay Billy's name he read. + + Yes! there the old bay hero stood, + All safe from battle's harms, + And ere an order could be heard, + Or the bugle's quick alarms, + Down all the front, from end to end, + The troops presented arms! + + Not all the shoulder-straps on earth + Could still our mighty cheer; + And ever from that famous day, + When rang the roll-call clear, + Bay Billy's name was read, and then + The whole line answered, "Here!" + + _Frank H. Gassaway._ + + + + +WIDDERIN'S RACE. + + + A horse amongst ten thousand! on the verge, + The extremest verge, of equine life he stands; + Yet mark his action, as those wild young colts + Freed from the stock-yard gallop whinnying up; + See how he trots towards them,--nose in air, + Tail arched, and his still sinewy legs out-thrown + In gallant grace before him! A brave beast + As ever spurned the moorland, ay, and more,-- + He bore me once,--such words but smite the truth + I' the outer ring, while vivid memory wakes, + Recalling now, the passion and the pain,-- + He bore me once from earthly Hell to Heaven! + + The sight of fine old Widderin (that's his name, + Caught from a peak, the topmost rugged peak + Of tall Mount Widderin, towering to the North + Most like a steed's head, with full nostrils blown, + And ears pricked up),--the sight of Widderin brings + That day of days before me, whose strange hours + Of fear and anguish, ere the sunset, changed + To hours of such content and full-veined joy + As Heaven can give our mortal lives but once. + + Well, here's the story: While yon bush-fires sweep + The distant ranges, and the river's voice + Pipes a thin treble through the heart of drouth, + While the red heaven like some hugh caldron's top + Seems with the heat a-simmering, better far + In place of riding tilt 'gainst such a sun, + Here in the safe veranda's flowery gloom, + To play the dwarfish Homer to a song, + Whereof myself am hero: + + Two decades + Have passed since that wild autumn-time when last + The convict hordes from near Van Diemen, freed + By force or fraud, swept, like a blood-red fire, + Inland from beach to mountain, bent on raid + And rapine. + + *....*....*....* + + So, in late autumn,--'twas a marvellous morn, + With breezes from the calm snow-river borne + That touched the air, and stirred it into thrills, + Mysterious and mesmeric, a bright mist + Lapping the landscape like a golden trance, + Swathing the hill-tops with fantastic veils, + And o'er the moorland-ocean quivering light + As gossamer threads drawn down the forest aisles + At dewy dawning,--on this marvellous morn, + I, with four comrades, in this selfsame spot, + Watched the fair scene, and drank the spicy airs, + That held a subtler spirit than our wine, + And talked and laughed, and mused in idleness,-- + Weaving vague fancies, as our pipe-wreaths curled + Fantastic in the sunlight! I, with head + Thrown back, and cushioned snugly, and with eyes + Intent on one grotesque and curious cloud, + Puffed upward, that now seemed to take the shape + Of a Dutch tulip, now a Turk's face topped + By folds on folds of turban limitless,-- + Heard suddenly, just as the clock chimed one, + To melt in musical echoes up the hills, + Quick footsteps on the gravelled path without,-- + Steps of the couriers of calamity,-- + So my heart told me,--ere with blanched regards, + Two stalwart herdsmen on our threshold paused, + Panting, with lips that writhed, and awful eyes;-- + A breath's space in each other's eyes we glared, + Then, swift as interchange of lightning thrusts + In deadly combat, question and reply + Clashed sharply, "What! the Rangers?" "Ay, by Heaven! + And loosed in force,--the hell-hounds!" "Whither bound?" + I stammered, hoarsely. "Bound," the elder said, + "Southward!--four stations had they sacked and burnt, + And now, drunk, furious"--But I stopped to hear + No more: with booming thunder in mine ears, + And blood-flushed eyes, I rushed to Widderin's side, + Drew tight the girths, upgathered curb and rein, + And sprang to horse ere yet our laggard friends-- + Now trooping from the green veranda's shade-- + Could dream of action! + + Love had winged my will, + For to the southward fair Garoopna held + My all of hope, life, passion; she whose hair + (Its tiniest strand of waving, witch-like gold) + Had caught my heart, entwined, and bound it fast, + As 'twere some sweet enchantment's heavenly net! + + I only gave a hand-wave in farewell, + Shot by, and o'er the endless moorland swept + (Endless it seemed, as those weird, measureless plains, + Which, in some nightmare vision, stretch and stretch + Towards infinity!) like some lone ship + O'er wastes of sailless waters: now, a pine, + The beacon pine gigantic, whose grim crown + Signals the far land-mariner from out + Gaunt boulders of the gray-backed Organ hill, + Rose on my sight, a mist-like, wavering orb, + The while, still onward, onward, onward still, + With motion winged, elastic, equable, + Brave Widderin cleaved the air-tides, tossed aside + The winds as waves, their swift, invisible breasts + Hissing with foam-like noise when pressed and pierced + By that keen head and fiery-crested form! + + The lonely shepherd guardian on the plains, + Watching his sheep through languid, half-shut eyes, + Looked up, and marvelled, as we passed him by, + Thinking, perchance, it was a glorious thing, + So dressed, so booted, so caparisoned, + To ride such bright blood-coursers unto death! + Two sun-blacked natives, slumbering in the grass, + Just rose betimes to 'scape the trampling hoofs, + And hurled hot curses at me as I sped; + While here and there the timid kangaroo + Blundered athwart the mole-hills, and in puffs + Of steamy dust-cloud vanished like a mote! + + Onward, still onward, onward, onward still! + And lo! thank Heaven, the mighty Organ hill, + That seemed a dim blue cloudlet at the start, + Hangs in aerial, fluted cliffs aloft,-- + And still as through the long, low glacis borne, + Beneath the gorge borne ever at wild speed, + I saw the mateless mountain eagle wheel + Beyond the stark height's topmost pinnacle; + I heard his shriek of rage and ravin die + Deep down the desolate dells, as far behind + I left the gorge, and far before me swept + Another plain, tree-bordered now, and bound + By the clear river gurgling o'er its bed. + + By this, my panting, but unconquered steed + Had thrown his small head backward, and his breath + Through the red nostrils burst in labored sighs; + I bent above his outstretched neck, I threw + My quivering arms about him, murmuring low, + "Good horse! brave heart! a little longer bear + The strain, the travail; and thenceforth for thee + Free pastures all thy days, till death shall come! + Ah, many and many a time, my noble bay, + Her lily hand hath wandered through thy mane, + Patted thy rainbow neck, and brought thee ears + Of daintiest corn from out the farmhouse loft,-- + Help, help to save her now!" + + I'll vow the brute + Heard me, and comprehended what he heard! + He shook his proud crest madly, and his eye + Turned for a moment sideways, flashed in mine + A lightning gleam, whose fiery language said, + "I know my lineage, will not shame my sire,-- + My sire, who rushed triumphant 'twixt the flags, + And frenzied thousands, when on Epsom downs + Arcturus won the Derby!--no, nor shame + My granddam, whose clean body, half enwrought + Of air, half fire, through swirls of desert sand + Bore Sheik Abdallah headlong on his prey!" + + At last came forest shadows, and the road + Winding through bush and bracken, and at last + The hoarse stream rumbling o'er its quartz-sown crags. + + "No, no! stanch Widderin! pause not now to drink; + An hour hence, and thy dainty nose shall dip + In richest wine, poured jubilantly forth + To quench thy thirst, my Beauty! but press on, + Nor heed these sparkling waters." God! my brain's + On fire once more! an instant tells me all; + All! life or death,--salvation or despair! + For yonder, o'er the wild grass-matted slope + The house stands, or it stood but yesterday. + + A Titan cry of inarticulate joy + I raised, as, calm and peaceful in the sun, + Shone the fair cottage, and the garden-close, + Wherein, white-robed, unconscious, sat my Love + Lilting a low song to the birds and flowers. + She heard the hoof-strokes, saw me, started up, + And with her blue eyes wider than their wont, + And rosy lips half tremulous, rushed to meet + And greet me swiftly. "Up, dear Love!" I cried, + "The Convicts, the Bush-rangers! let us fly!" + Ah, then and there you should have seen her, friend, + My noble, beauteous Helen! not a tear, + Nor sob, and scarce a transient pulse-quiver, + As, clasping hand in hand, her fairy foot + Lit like a small bird on my horseman's boot, + And up into the saddle, lithe and light, + Vaulting she perched, her bright curls round my face! + + We crossed the river, and, dismounting, led + O'er the steep slope of blended rock and turf + The wearied horse, and there behind a Tor + Of castellated bluestone, paused to sweep + With young keen eyes the broad plain stretched afar, + Serene and autumn-tinted at our feet: + "Either," said I, "these devils have gone east, + To meet with bloodhound Desborough in his rage + Between the granite passes of Luxorme, + Or else--dear Christ! my Helen, low! stoop low!" + (These words were hissed in horror, for just then, + 'Twixt the deep hollows of the river-vale, + The miscreants, with mixed shouts and curses, poured + Down through the flinty gorge tumultuously, + Seeming, we thought, in one fierce throng to charge + Our hiding-place.) I seized my Widderin's head, + Blindfolding him, for with a single neigh + Our fate were sealed o' the instant! As they rode, + Those wild, foul-languaged demons by our lair, + Scarce twelve yards off, my troubled steed shook wide + His streaming mane, stamped on the earth, and pawed + So loudly, that the sweat of agony rolled + Down my cold forehead; at which point I felt + My arm clutched, and a voice I did not know + Dropped the low murmur from pale, shuddering lips, + "O God! if in those brutal hands I fall, + Living, look not into your mother's face + Or any woman's more!" + + What time had passed + Above our bowed heads, we pent, pinioned there + By awe and nameless horror, who shall tell? + Minutes, perchance, by mortal measurement, + Eternity by heart-throbs!--when at length + We turned, and eyes of mutual wonder raised, + We gazed on alien faces, haggard, worn, + And strange of feature as the faces born + In fever and delirium! Were we saved? + We scarce could comprehend it, till from out + The neighboring oak-wood rode our friends at speed, + With clang of steel, and eyebrows bent in wrath. + But, warned betimes, the wily ruffians fled + Far up the forest-coverts, and beyond + The dazzling snow-line of the distant hills, + Their yells of fiendish laughter pealing faint + And fainter from the cloudland, and the mist + That closed about them like an ash-gray shroud: + Yet were these wretches marked for imminent death: + The next keen sunrise pierced the savage gorge, + To which we tracked them, where, mere beasts at bay, + Grimly they fought, and brute by brute they fell. + + _Paul Hamilton Hayne._ + + + + +THE DIVERTING HISTORY OF JOHN GILPIN. + +SHOWING HOW HE WENT FARTHER THAN HE INTENDED, AND CAME SAFE HOME AGAIN. + + + John Gilpin was a citizen + Of credit and renown, + A trainband captain eke was he + Of famous London town. + + John Gilpin's spouse said to her dear, + "Though wedded we have been + These twice ten tedious years, yet we + No holiday have seen. + + "To morrow is our wedding-day, + And we will then repair + Unto the Bell at Edmonton + All in a chaise and pair. + + "My sister, and my sister's child, + Myself, and children three, + Will fill the chaise; so you must ride + On horseback after we." + + He soon replied, "I do admire + Of womankind but one, + And you are she, my dearest dear, + Therefore it shall be done. + + "I am a linendraper bold, + As all the world doth know, + And my good friend the calender + Will lend his horse to go." + + Quoth Mrs. Gilpin, "That's well said; + And for that wine is dear, + We will be furnished with our own, + Which is both bright and clear." + + John Gilpin kissed his loving wife; + O'erjoyed was he to find, + That, though on pleasure she was bent, + She had a frugal mind. + + The morning came, the chaise was brought, + But yet was not allowed + To drive up to the door, lest all + Should say that she was proud. + + So three doors off the chaise was stayed, + Where they did all get in; + Six precious souls, and all agog + To dash through thick and thin. + + Smack went the whip, round went the wheels, + Were never folks so glad; + The stones did rattle underneath, + As if Cheapside were mad. + + John Gilpin at his horse's side + Seized fast the flowing mane, + And up he got, in haste to ride, + But soon came down again; + + For saddle-tree scarce reached had he, + His journey to begin, + When, turning round his head, he saw + Three customers come in. + + So down he came; for loss of time, + Although it grieved him sore, + Yet loss of pence, full well he knew, + Would trouble him much more. + + 'Twas long before the customers + Were suited to their mind, + When Betty screaming came down stairs, + "The wine is left behind!" + + "Good lack!" quoth he, "yet bring it me, + My leathern belt likewise, + In which I bear my trusty sword + When I do exercise." + + Now Mistress Gilpin (careful soul!) + Had two stone bottles found, + To hold the liquor that she loved, + And keep it safe and sound. + + Each bottle had a curling ear, + Through which the belt he drew, + And hung a bottle on each side, + To make his balance true. + + Then over all, that he might be + Equipped from top to toe, + His long-red cloak, well brushed and neat, + He manfully did throw. + + Now see him mounted once again + Upon his nimble steed, + Full slowly pacing o'er the stones, + With caution and good heed. + + But finding soon a smoother road + Beneath his well-shod feet, + The snorting beast began to trot, + Which galled him in his seat. + + "So, fair and softly," John he cried, + But John he cried in vain; + That trot became a gallop soon, + In spite of curb and rein. + + So stooping down, as needs he must + Who cannot sit upright, + He grasped the mane with both his hands, + And eke with all his might. + + His horse, who never in that sort + Had handled been before, + What thing upon his back had got + Did wonder more and more. + + Away went Gilpin, neck or naught; + Away went hat and wig; + He little dreamt, when he set out, + Of running such a rig. + + The wind did blow, the cloak did fly, + Like streamer long and gay, + Till, loop and button failing both, + At last it flew away. + + Then might all people well discern + The bottles he had slung; + A bottle swinging at each side, + As hath been said or sung. + + The dogs did bark, the children screamed, + Up flew the windows all; + And every soul cried out, "Well done!" + As loud as he could bawl. + + Away went Gilpin,--who but he? + His fame soon spread around, + "He carries weight! he rides a race! + 'Tis for a thousand pound!" + + And still as fast as he drew near, + 'Twas wonderful to view, + How in a trice the turnpike men + Their gates wide open threw. + + And now, as he went bowing down + His reeking head fell low, + The bottles twain behind his back + Were shattered at a blow. + + Down ran the wine into the road, + Most piteous to be seen, + Which made his horse's flanks to smoke + As they had basted been. + + But still he seemed to carry weight, + With leathern girdle braced; + For all might see the bottle necks + Still dangling at his waist. + + Thus all through merry Islington + These gambols did he play, + Until he came unto the Wash + Of Edmonton so gay; + + And there he threw the wash about + On both sides of the way, + Just like unto a trundling mop, + Or a wild goose at play. + + At Edmonton his loving wife + From the balcony spied + Her tender husband, wondering much + To see how he did ride. + + "Stop, stop, John Gilpin!--Here's the house," + They all at once did cry; + "The dinner waits, and we are tired." + Said Gilpin, "So am I!" + + But yet his horse was not a whit + Inclined to tarry there; + For why?--his owner had a house + Full ten miles off, at Ware. + + So like an arrow swift he flew, + Shot by an archer strong; + So did he fly,--which brings me to + The middle of my song. + + Away went Gilpin out of breath, + And sore against his will, + Till at his friend the calender's + His horse at last stood still. + + The calender, amazed to see + His neighbor in such trim, + Laid down his pipe, flew to the gate, + And thus accosted him: + + "What news? what news? your tidings tell; + Tell me you must and shall.-- + Say why bareheaded you are come, + Or why you come at all?" + + Now Gilpin had a pleasant wit, + And loved a timely joke; + And thus unto the calender + In merry guise he spoke: + + "I came because your horse would come; + And, if I well forbode, + My hat and wig will soon be here, + They are upon the road." + + The calender, right glad to find + His friend in merry pin, + Returned him not a single word, + But to the house went in; + + Whence straight he came with hat and wig; + A wig that flowed behind, + A hat not much the worse for wear, + Each comely in its kind. + + He held them up, and in his turn + Thus showed his ready wit, + "My head is twice as big as yours, + They therefore needs must fit. + + "But let me scrape the dirt away + That hangs upon your face; + And stop and eat, for well you may + Be in a hungry case." + + Said John, "It is my wedding-day, + And all the world would stare, + If wife should dine at Edmonton, + And I should dine at Ware." + + So, turning to his horse, he said, + "I am in haste to dine; + 'Twas for your pleasure you came here, + You shall go back for mine." + + Ah, luckless speech, and bootless boast! + For which he paid full dear; + For, while he spake, a braying ass + Did sing most loud and clear; + + Whereat his horse did snort, as he + Had heard a lion roar, + And galloped off with all his might, + As he had done before. + + Away went Gilpin, and away + Went Gilpin's hat and wig; + He lost them sooner than at first, + For why?--they were too big. + + Now Mistress Gilpin, when she saw + Her husband posting down + Into the country far away, + She pulled out half a crown; + + And thus unto the youth she said, + That drove them to the Bell, + "This shall be yours, when you bring back + My husband safe and well." + + The youth did ride, and soon did meet + John coming back amain; + Whom in a trice he tried to stop + By catching at his rein, + + But not performing what he meant, + And gladly would have done, + The frighted steed he frighted more, + And made him faster run. + + Away went Gilpin, and away + Went postboy at his heels, + The postboy's horse right glad to miss + The lumbering of the wheels. + + Six gentlemen upon the road, + Thus seeing Gilpin fly, + With postboy scampering in the rear, + They raised the hue and cry:-- + + "Stop thief! stop thief!--a highwayman!" + Not one of them was mute; + And all and each that passed that way + Did join in the pursuit. + + And now the turnpike-gates again + Flew open in short space; + The toll-men thinking, as before, + That Gilpin rode a race. + + And so he did, and won it too, + For he got first to town; + Nor stopped till where he had got up + He did again get down. + + Now let us sing, "Long live the king, + And Gilpin, long live he; + And when he next doth ride abroad, + May I be there to see!" + + _William Cowper._ + + + + +REFLECTIONS OF A PROUD PEDESTRIAN. + + + I saw the curl of his waving lash, + And the glance of his knowing eye, + And I knew that he thought he was cutting a dash, + As his steed went thundering by. + + And he may ride in the rattling gig, + Or flourish the Stanhope gay, + And dream that he looks exceeding big + To the people that walk in the way; + + But he shall think, when the night is still, + On the stable-boy's gathering numbers, + And the ghost of many a veteran bill + Shall hover around his slumbers; + + The ghastly dun shall worry his sleep, + And constables cluster around him, + And he shall creep from the wood-hole deep + Where their spectre eyes have found him! + + Ay! gather your reins, and crack your thong, + And bid your steed go faster; + He does not know, as he scrambles along, + That he has a fool for his master; + + And hurry away on your lonely ride, + Nor deign from the mire to save me; + I will paddle it stoutly at your side + With the tandem that nature gave me! + + _Oliver Wendell Holmes._ + + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of In the Saddle, by Various + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK IN THE SADDLE *** + +***** This file should be named 39236.txt or 39236.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + http://www.gutenberg.org/3/9/2/3/39236/ + +Produced by Julia Miller, Josephine Paolucci and the Online +Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net. 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