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diff --git a/42850-8.txt b/42850-8.txt deleted file mode 100644 index 0fe5a1c..0000000 --- a/42850-8.txt +++ /dev/null @@ -1,2726 +0,0 @@ -The Project Gutenberg EBook of The Pied Piper of Hamelin and Other Poems, by -Robert Browning - -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: The Pied Piper of Hamelin and Other Poems - Every Boy's Library - -Author: Robert Browning - -Release Date: May 30, 2013 [EBook #42850] - -Language: English - -Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1 - -*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE PIED PIPER OF HAMELIN *** - - - - -Produced by Juliet Sutherland, Paul Clark and the Online -Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net - - - - - - - - - -[Illustration] - - - If this is borrowed by a friend - Right welcome shall he be - To read, to study, _not_ to _lend_ - But to return to me. - Not that imparted knowledge doth - Diminish learning's store - But books I find if often lent - Return to me no more. - - - - -Every Boy's Library - -For Little Boys - -NEW EDITION, 1910 - - -=1 The Man Without a Country= By Rev. E. E. Hale - -=2 The Bicycle Highwaymen= By Frank M. Bicknell - -=3 The Railroad Cut= By W. O. Stoddard - -=4 J. Cole= By Emma Gellibrand - -=5 Laddie= By Evelyn Whitaker - -=6 Miss Toosey= By Evelyn Whitaker - -=7 Elder Leland's Ghost= By Hezekiah Butterworth - -=9 Wonder Book Stories= By Nathaniel Hawthorne - -=10 The Prince of the Pin Elves= By Charles Lee Sleight - -=11 The Little Lame Prince= By Miss Mulock - -=12 One Thousand Men for a Christmas Present= By Mary B. Sheldon - -=13 The Little Earl= By Ouida - -=14 The Double Prince= By Frank M. Bicknell - -=15 The Young Archer= By Charles E. Brimblecom - -=16 Little Peterkin Vandike= By Charles Stuart Pratt - -=17 Christmas Carol= By Charles Dickens - -=18 A Great Emergency= By Juliana Horatia Ewing - -=19 The Rose and the Ring= By William M. Thackeray - -=20 Lazy Lawrence and other Stories= By Maria Edgeworth - -=21 Forgive and Forget and Other Stories= By Maria Edgeworth - -=22 The False Key and other Stories= By Maria Edgeworth - -=23 A Boy's Battle= By Will Allen Dromgoole - -=24 The Gold Bug= By Edgar Allan Poe - -=25 The Pineboro Quartette= By Willis Boyd Allen - -=26 His Majesty the King and Wee Willie Winkie= By Rudyard Kipling - -=27 The Old Monday Farm= By Louise R. Baker - -=28 Daddy Darwin's Dovecote= By Juliana H. Ewing - -=29 Little Dick's Christmas= By Etheldred B. Barry - -=30 What Paul Did= By Etheldred B. Barry - -=31 Harum Scarum Joe= By Will Allen Dromgoole - -=32 The Drums of the Fore and Aft= By Rudyard Kipling - -=33 The Child of Urbino and Moufflou= By Ouida - -=34 Hero-Chums= By Will Allen Dromgoole - -=35 Little Tong's Mission= By Etheldred B. Barry - - - H. M. CALDWELL COMPANY - Publishers - NEW YORK AND BOSTON - - - - -[Illustration: THE PIED PIPER OF HAMELIN] - - - - - EVERY BOY'S LIBRARY - - THE PIED - PIPER of - HAMELIN - - and Other Poems - - By - - ROBERT BROWNING - - [Illustration] - - ILLUSTRATED - - H. M. CALDWELL CO. - PUBLISHERS - NEW YORK & BOSTON - - - - - _Copyright, 1899_ - BY DANA ESTES & COMPANY - - - - -CONTENTS. - - - PAGE - - THE PIED PIPER OF HAMELIN 11 - - HERVÉ RIEL 24 - - CAVALIER TUNES 31 - - "HOW THEY BROUGHT THE GOOD NEWS FROM GHENT TO AIX" 34 - - THROUGH THE METIDJA TO ABD-EL-KADR 37 - - INCIDENT OF THE FRENCH CAMP 39 - - CLIVE 41 - - MULÉYKEH 59 - - TRAY 68 - - A TALE 70 - - GOLD HAIR 75 - - DONALD 82 - - THE GLOVE 90 - - - - -LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS. - - - PAGE - - THE PIED PIPER OF HAMELIN _Frontispiece_ - - "'LEAVE TO GO AND SEE MY WIFE, WHOM I CALL THE BELLE AURORE'" 30 - - "I GALLOPED, DIRCK GALLOPED, WE GALLOPED ALL THREE" 34 - - "A RIDER BOUND ON BOUND FULL GALLOPING, NOR BRIDLE DREW UNTIL - HE REACHED THE MOUND" 39 - - "HAIR, SUCH A WONDER OF FLIX AND FLOSS" 75 - - "AND FULL IN THE FACE OF ITS OWNER FLUNG THE GLOVE" 95 - - - - -THE BOYS' BROWNING. - - - - -THE PIED PIPER OF HAMELIN. - -A CHILD'S STORY. - - - I. - - Hamelin Town's in Brunswick, - By famous Hanover city; - The river Weser, deep and wide, - Washes its wall on the southern side; - A pleasanter spot you never spied; - But, when begins my ditty, - Almost five hundred years ago, - To see the townsfolk suffer so - From vermin, was a pity. - - - II. - - Rats! - They fought the dogs and killed the cats, - And bit the babies in the cradles, - And ate the cheeses out of the vats, - And licked the soup from the cooks' own ladles, - Split open the kegs of salted sprats, - Made nests inside men's Sunday hats, - And even spoiled the women's chats - By drowning their speaking - With shrieking and squeaking - In fifty different sharps and flats. - - - III. - - At last the people in a body - To the Town Hall came flocking: - "'Tis clear," cried they, "our Mayor's a noddy; - And as for our Corporation--shocking - To think we buy gowns lined with ermine - For dolts that can't or won't determine - What's best to rid us of our vermin! - You hope, because you're old and obese, - To find in the furry civic robe ease? - Rouse up, sirs! Give your brains a racking - To find the remedy we're lacking, - Or, sure as fate, we'll send you packing!" - At this the Mayor and Corporation - Quaked with a mighty consternation. - - - IV. - - An hour they sat in council; - At length the Mayor broke silence: - "For a guilder I'd my ermine gown sell, - I wish I were a mile hence! - It's easy to bid one rack one's brain-- - I'm sure my poor head aches again, - I've scratched it so, and all in vain. - Oh, for a trap, a trap, a trap!" - Just as he said this, what should hap - At the chamber-door but a gentle tap? - "Bless us," cried the Mayor, "what's that?" - (With the Corporation as he sat, - Looking little though wondrous fat; - Nor brighter was his eye, nor moister - Than a too-long-opened oyster, - Save when at noon his paunch grew mutinous - For a plate of turtle green and glutinous) - "Only a scraping of shoes on the mat? - Anything like the sound of a rat - Makes my heart go pit-a-pat!" - - - V. - - "Come in!"--the Mayor cried, looking bigger: - And in did come the strangest figure! - His queer long coat from heel to head - Was half of yellow and half of red, - And he himself was tall and thin, - With sharp blue eyes, each like a pin, - And light loose hair, yet swarthy skin, - No tuft on cheek nor beard on chin, - But lips where smiles went out and in; - There was no guessing his kith and kin: - And nobody could enough admire - The tall man and his quaint attire. - Quoth one: "It's as my great-grandsire, - Starting up at the Trump of Doom's tone, - Had walked this way from his painted tombstone!" - - - VI. - - He advanced to the council-table: - And, "Please your honours," said he, "I'm able, - By means of a secret charm, to draw - All creatures living beneath the sun, - That creep or swim or fly or run, - After me so as you never saw! - And I chiefly use my charm - On creatures that do people harm, - The mole and toad and newt and viper; - And people call me the Pied Piper." - (And here they noticed round his neck - A scarf of red and yellow stripe, - To match with his coat of the self-same cheque; - And at the scarf's end hung a pipe; - And his fingers, they noticed, were ever straying - As if impatient to be playing - Upon this pipe, as low it dangled - Over his vesture so old-fangled.) - "Yet," said he, "poor piper as I am, - In Tartary I freed the Cham, - Last June, from his huge swarms of gnats; - I eased in Asia the Nizam - Of a monstrous brood of vampire-bats: - And as for what your brain bewilders, - If I can rid your town of rats - Will you give me a thousand guilders?" - "One? fifty thousand!"--was the exclamation - Of the astonished Mayor and Corporation. - - - VII. - - Into the street the Piper stept, - Smiling first a little smile, - As if he knew what magic slept - In his quiet pipe the while; - Then, like a musical adept, - To blow the pipe his lips he wrinkled, - And green and blue his sharp eyes twinkled, - Like a candle-flame where salt is sprinkled; - And ere three shrill notes the pipe uttered, - You heard as if an army muttered; - And the muttering grew to a grumbling; - And the grumbling grew to a mighty rumbling; - And out of the houses the rats came tumbling. - Great rats, small rats, lean rats, brawny rats - Brown rats, black rats, gray rats, tawny rats - Grave old plodders, gay young friskers, - Fathers, mothers, uncles, cousins, - Cocking tails and pricking whiskers, - Families by tens and dozens, - Brothers, sisters, husbands, wives-- - Followed the Piper for their lives. - From street to street he piped advancing, - And step for step they followed dancing, - Until they came to the river Weser, - Wherein all plunged and perished! - --Save one who, stout as Julius Cæsar, - Swam across and lived to carry - (As he, the manuscript he cherished) - To Rat-land home his commentary: - Which was, "At the first shrill notes of the pipe, - I heard a sound as of scraping tripe, - And putting apples, wondrous ripe, - Into a cider-press's gripe: - And a moving away of pickle-tub-boards, - And a leaving ajar of conserve-cupboards, - And a drawing the corks of train-oil-flasks, - And a breaking the hoops of butter-casks: - And it seemed as if a voice - (Sweeter far than by harp or by psaltery - Is breathed) called out, 'Oh, rats, rejoice! - The world is grown to one vast drysaltery! - So munch on, crunch on, take your nuncheon, - Breakfast, supper, dinner, luncheon!' - And just as a bulky sugar-puncheon, - All ready staved, like a great sun shone - Glorious scarce an inch before me, - Just as methought it said, 'Come, bore me!' - --I found the Weser rolling o'er me." - - - VIII. - - You should have heard the Hamelin people - Ringing the bells till they rocked the steeple. - "Go," cried the Mayor, "and get long poles, - Poke out the nests and block up the holes! - Consult with carpenters and builders, - And leave in our town not even a trace - Of the rats!"--when suddenly, up the face - Of the Piper perked in the market-place, - With a, "First, if you please, my thousand guilders!" - - - IX. - - A thousand guilders! The Mayor looked blue; - So did the Corporation, too. - For council dinners made rare havoc - With Claret, Moselle, Vin-de-Grave, Hock; - And half the money would replenish - Their cellar's biggest butt with Rhenish. - To pay this sum to a wandering fellow - With a gypsy coat of red and yellow! - "Beside," quoth the Mayor with a knowing wink, - "Our business was done at the river's brink; - We saw with our eyes the vermin sink, - And what's dead can't come to life, I think. - So, friend, we're not the folks to shrink - From the duty of giving you something for drink, - And a matter of money to put in your poke; - But as for the guilders, what we spoke - Of them, as you very well know, was in joke. - Beside, our losses have made us thrifty. - A thousand guilders! Come, take fifty!" - - - X. - - The Piper's face fell, and he cried, - "No trifling! I can't wait, beside! - I've promised to visit by dinner-time - Bagdat, and accept the prime - Of the Head-Cook's pottage, all he's rich in, - For having left, in the Caliph's kitchen, - Of a nest of scorpions no survivor: - With him I proved no bargain-driver, - With you, don't think I'll bate a stiver! - And folks who put me in a passion - May find me pipe after another fashion." - - - XI. - - "How?" cried the Mayor, "d'ye think I brook - Being worse treated than a Cook? - Insulted by a lazy ribald - With idle pipe and vesture piebald? - You threaten us, fellow? Do your worst, - Blow your pipe there till you burst!" - - - XII. - - Once more he stept into the street, - And to his lips again - Laid his long pipe of smooth straight cane; - And ere he blew three notes (such sweet - Soft notes as yet musician's cunning - Never gave the enraptured air) - There was a rustling that seemed like a bustling - Of merry crowds justling at pitching and hustling; - Small feet were pattering, wooden shoes clattering, - Little hands clapping and little tongues chattering, - And, like fowls in a farmyard when barley is scattering, - Out came the children running. - All the little boys and girls, - With rosy cheeks and flaxen curls, - And sparkling eyes and teeth like pearls, - Tripping and skipping, ran merrily after - The wonderful music with shouting and laughter. - - - XIII. - - The Mayor was dumb, and the Council stood - As if they were changed into blocks of wood, - Unable to move a step, or cry - To the children merrily skipping by, - --Could only follow with the eye - That joyous crowd at the Piper's back. - But how the Mayor was on the rack, - And the wretched Council's bosoms beat, - As the Piper turned from the High Street - To where the Weser rolled its waters - Right in the way of their sons and daughters! - However, he turned from South to West, - And to Koppelberg Hill his steps addressed, - And after him the children pressed; - Great was the joy in every breast. - "He never can cross that mighty top! - He's forced to let the piping drop, - And we shall see our children stop!" - When, lo, as they reached the mountainside, - A wondrous portal opened wide, - As if a cavern was suddenly hollowed; - And the Piper advanced and the children followed, - And when all were in to the very last, - The door in the mountainside shut fast. - Did I say, all? No! One was lame, - And could not dance the whole of the way; - And in after years, if you would blame - His sadness, he was used to say,-- - "It's dull in our town since my playmates left! - I can't forget that I'm bereft - Of all the pleasant sights they see, - Which the Piper also promised me. - For he led us, he said, to a joyous land, - Joining the town and just at hand, - Where waters gushed and fruit-trees grew - And flowers put forth a fairer hue, - And everything was strange and new; - The sparrows were brighter than peacocks here, - And their dogs outran our fallow deer, - And honey-bees had lost their stings, - And horses were born with eagles' wings: - And just as I became assured - My lame foot would be speedily cured, - The music stopped and I stood still, - And found myself outside the hill, - Left alone against my will, - To go now limping as before, - And never hear of that country more!" - - - XIV. - - Alas, alas for Hamelin! - There came into many a burgher's pate - A text which says that heaven's gate - Opes to the rich at as easy rate - As the needle's eye takes a camel in! - The Mayor sent East, West, North, and South, - To offer the Piper, by word of mouth, - Wherever it was men's lot to find him, - Silver and gold to his heart's content, - If he'd only return the way he went, - And bring the children behind him. - But when they saw 'twas a lost endeavour, - And Piper and dancers were gone for ever, - They made a decree that lawyers never - Should think their records dated duly - If, after the day of the month and year, - These words did not as well appear, - "And so long after what happened here - On the Twenty-second of July, - Thirteen hundred and seventy-six:" - And the better in memory to fix - The place of the children's last retreat, - They called it, the Pied Piper's Street-- - Where any one playing on pipe or tabour - Was sure for the future to lose his labour. - Nor suffered they hostelry or tavern - To shock with mirth a street so solemn; - But opposite the place of the cavern - They wrote the story on a column, - And on the great church-window painted - The same, to make the world acquainted - How their children were stolen away, - And there it stands to this very day. - And I must not omit to say - That in Transylvania there's a tribe - Of alien people who ascribe - The outlandish ways and dress - On which their neighbours lay such stress, - To their fathers and mothers having risen - Out of some subterraneous prison - Into which they were trepanned - Long time ago in a mighty band - Out of Hamelin town in Brunswick land, - But how or why, they don't understand. - - - XV. - - So, Willy, let me and you be wipers - Of scores out with all men--especially pipers! - And, whether they pipe us free fróm rats or fróm mice, - If we've promised them aught, let us keep our promise! - - - - -HERVÉ RIEL. - - - I. - - On the sea and at the Hogue, sixteen hundred ninety-two, - Did the English fight the French,--woe to France! - And, the thirty-first of May, helter-skelter through the blue, - Like a crowd of frightened porpoises a shoal of sharks pursue, - Came crowding ship on ship to Saint Malo on the Rance, - With the English fleet in view. - - - II. - - 'Twas the squadron that escaped, with the victor in full chase; - First and foremost of the drove, in his great ship, Damfreville; - Close on him fled, great and small, - Twenty-two good ships in all; - And they signalled to the place - "Help the winners of a race! - Get us guidance, give us harbour, take us quick--or, quicker still, - Here's the English can and will!" - - - III. - - Then the pilots of the place put out brisk and leapt on board; - "Why, what hope or chance have ships like these to pass?" - laughed they: - "Rocks to starboard, rocks to port, all the passage scarred - and scored, - Shall the _Formidable_ here with her twelve and eighty guns - Think to make the river-mouth by the single narrow way, - Trust to enter where 'tis ticklish for a craft of twenty tons, - And with flow at full beside? - Now, 'tis slackest ebb of tide. - Reach the mooring? Rather say, - While rock stands or water runs, - Not a ship will leave the bay!" - - - IV. - - Then was called a council straight. - Brief and bitter the debate: - "Here's the English at our heels; would you have them take in tow - All that's left us of the fleet, linked together stern and bow, - For a prize to Plymouth Sound? - Better run the ships aground!" - (Ended Damfreville his speech.) - "Not a minute more to wait! - Let the Captains all and each - Shove ashore, then blow up, burn the vessels on the beach! - France must undergo her fate. - - - V. - - "Give the word!" But no such word - Was ever spoke or heard; - For up stood, for out stepped, for in struck amid all these - --A Captain? A Lieutenant? A Mate--first, second, third? - No such man of mark, and meet - With his betters to compete! - But a simple Breton sailor pressed by Tourville for the fleet, - A poor coasting-pilot he, Hervé Riel the Croisickese. - - - VI. - - And "What mockery or malice have we here?" cries Hervé Riel: - "Are you mad, you Malouins? Are you cowards, fools, or rogues? - Talk to me of rocks and shoals, me who took the soundings, tell - On my fingers every bank, every shallow, every swell - 'Twixt the offing here and Grève where the river disembogues? - Are you bought by English gold? Is it love the lying's for? - Morn and eve, night and day, - Have I piloted your bay, - Entered free and anchored fast at the foot of Solidor. - Burn the fleet and ruin France? That were worse than fifty Hogues! - Sirs, they know I speak the truth! Sirs, believe me there's a way! - Only let me lead the line, - Have the biggest ship to steer, - Get this _Formidable_ clear, - Make the others follow mine, - And I lead them, most and least, by a passage I know well, - Right to Solidor past Grève, - And there lay them safe and sound; - And if one ship misbehave, - --Keel so much as grate the ground, - Why, I've nothing but my life,--here's my head!" cries Hervé Riel. - - - VII. - - Not a minute more to wait. - "Steer us in, then, small and great! - Take the helm, lead the line, save the squadron!" cried its chief. - Captains, give the sailor place! - He is Admiral, in brief. - Still the north wind, by God's grace! - See the noble fellow's face - As the big ship, with a bound, - Clears the entry like a hound, - Keeps the passage as its inch of way were the wide sea's profound! - See, safe through shoal and rock, - How they follow in a flock, - Not a ship that misbehaves, not a keel that grates the ground, - Not a spar that comes to grief! - The peril, see, is past, - All are harboured to the last, - And just as Hervé Riel hollas "Anchor!"--sure as fate, - Up the English come--too late! - - - VIII. - - So, the storm subsides to calm: - They see the green trees wave - On the heights o'erlooking Grève. - Hearts that bled are stanched with balm. - "Just our rapture to enhance, - Let the English rake the bay, - Gnash their teeth and glare askance - As they cannonade away! - 'Neath rampired Solidor pleasant riding on the Rance!" - How hope succeeds despair on each Captain's countenance! - Out burst all with one accord, - "This is Paradise for Hell! - Let France, let France's King - Thank the man that did the thing!" - What a shout, and all one word, - "Hervé Riel!" - As he stepped in front once more, - Not a symptom of surprise - In the frank blue Breton eyes, - Just the same man as before. - - - IX. - - Then said Damfreville, "My friend, - I must speak out at the end, - Though I find the speaking hard. - Praise is deeper than the lips: - You have saved the King his ships, - You must name your own reward. - 'Faith, our sun was near eclipse! - Demand whate'er you will, - France remains your debtor still. - Ask to heart's content and have! or my name's not Damfreville." - - - X. - - Then a beam of fun outbroke - On the bearded mouth that spoke, - As the honest heart laughed through - Those frank eyes of Breton blue: - "Since I needs must say my say, - Since on board the duty's done, - And from Malo Roads to Croisic Point, what is it but a run?-- - Since 'tis ask and have, I may-- - Since the others go ashore-- - Come! A good whole holiday! - Leave to go and see my wife, whom I call the Belle Aurore!" - That he asked and that he got,--nothing more. - - - XI. - - Name and deed alike are lost: - Not a pillar nor a post - In his Croisic keeps alive the feat as it befell; - Not a head in white and black - On a single fishing-smack, - In memory of the man but for whom had gone to wrack - All that France saved from the fight whence England bore the bell. - Go to Paris: rank on rank - Search the heroes flung pell-mell - On the Louvre, face and flank! - You shall look long enough ere you come to Hervé Riel. - So, for better and for worse, - Hervé Riel, accept my verse! - In my verse, Hervé Riel, do thou once more - Save the squadron, honour France, love thy wife the Belle Aurore! - -[Illustration: "'LEAVE TO GO AND SEE MY WIFE, WHOM I CALL THE BELLE -AURORE.'"] - - - - -CAVALIER TUNES. - - -I. MARCHING ALONG. - - Kentish Sir Byng stood for his King, - Bidding the crop-headed Parliament swing: - And, pressing a troop unable to stoop - And see the rogues flourish and honest folk droop, - Marched them along, fifty-score strong, - Great-hearted gentlemen, singing this song. - - God for King Charles! Pym and such carles - To the Devil that prompts 'em their treasonous parles! - Cavaliers, up! Lips from the cup, - Hands from the pasty, nor bite take nor sup - Till you're-- - - CHORUS.--Marching along, fifty-score strong, - Great-hearted gentlemen, singing this song. - - Hampden to hell, and his obsequies' knell. - Serve Hazelrig, Fiennes, and young Harry as well! - England, good cheer! Rupert is near! - Kentish and loyalists, keep we not here, - - CHO.--Marching along, fifty-score strong, - Great-hearted gentlemen, singing this song? - - Then, God for King Charles! Pym and his snarls - To the Devil that pricks on such pestilent carles! - Hold by the right, you double your might; - So, onward to Nottingham, fresh for the fight, - - CHO.--March we along, fifty-score strong, - Great-hearted gentlemen, singing this song! - - -II. GIVE A ROUSE. - - King Charles, and who'll do him right now? - King Charles, and who's ripe for fight now? - Give a rouse: here's, in hell's despite now, - King Charles! - - Who gave me the goods that went since? - Who raised me the house that sank once? - Who helped me to gold I spent since? - Who found me in wine you drank once? - - CHO.--King Charles, and who'll do him right now? - King Charles, and who's ripe for fight now? - Give a rouse: here's, in hell's despite now, - King Charles! - - To whom used my boy George quaff else, - By the old fool's side that begot him? - For whom did he cheer and laugh else, - While Noll's damned troopers shot him? - - CHO.--King Charles, and who'll do him right now? - King Charles, and who's ripe for fight now? - Give a rouse: here's, in hell's despite now, - King Charles! - - -III. 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!" - -[Illustration: "I GALLOPED, DIRCK GALLOPED, WE GALLOPED ALL THREE."] - - - - -"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, - Then shortened each stirrup, and set the pique right, - Rebuckled the cheek-strap, chained slacker the bit, - 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 Aershot, 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 hear 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 buffcoat, 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. - - - - -THROUGH THE METIDJA TO ABD-EL-KADR. - - - As I ride, as I ride, - With a full heart for my guide, - So its tide rocks my side, - As I ride, as I ride, - That, as I were double-eyed, - He, in whom our Tribes confide, - Is descried, ways untried, - As I ride, as I ride. - - As I ride, as I ride - To our Chief and his Allied, - Who dares chide my heart's pride - As I ride, as I ride? - Or are witnesses denied-- - Through the desert waste and wide - Do I glide unespied - As I ride, as I ride? - - As I ride, as I ride, - When an inner voice has cried, - The sands slide, nor abide - (As I ride, as I ride) - O'er each visioned homicide - That came vaunting (has he lied?) - To reside--where he died, - As I ride, as I ride. - - As I ride, as I ride, - Ne'er has spur my swift horse plied, - Yet his hide, streaked and pied, - As I ride, as I ride, - Shows where sweat has sprung and dried, - --Zebra-footed, ostrich-thighed-- - How has vied stride with stride - As I ride, as I ride! - - As I ride, as I ride, - Could I loose what Fate has tied, - Ere I pried, she should hide - (As I ride, as I ride) - All that's meant me--satisfied - When the Prophet and the Bride - Stop veins I'd have subside - As I ride, as I ride! - -[Illustration: "A RIDER BOUND ON BOUND FULL GALLOPING, NOR BRIDLE DREW -UNTIL HE REACHED THE MOUND."] - - - - -INCIDENT OF THE FRENCH CAMP. - - - You know, we French stormed Ratisbon: - A mile or so away, - On a little mound, Napoleon - Stood on our storming-day; - With neck out-thrust, you fancy how, - Legs wide, arms locked behind, - As if to balance the prone brow, - Oppressive with its mind. - - Just as perhaps he mused "My plans - That soar, to earth may fall, - Let once my army-leader, Lannes, - Waver at yonder wall,--" - Out 'twixt the battery-smokes there flew - A rider, bound on bound - Full-galloping; nor bridle drew - Until he reached the mound. - - Then off there flung in smiling joy, - And held himself erect - By just his horse's mane, a boy: - You hardly could suspect-- - (So tight he kept his lips compressed, - Scarce any blood came through) - You looked twice ere you saw his breast - Was all but shot in two. - - "Well," cried he, "Emperor, by God's grace - We've got you Ratisbon! - The Marshal's in the market-place, - And you'll be there anon - To see your flag-bird flap his vans - Where I, to heart's desire, - Perched him!" The chief's eye flashed; his plans - Soared up again like fire. - - The chief's eye flashed; but presently - Softened itself, as sheathes - A film the mother-eagle's eye - When her bruised eaglet breathes; - "You're wounded!" "Nay," the soldier's pride - Touched to the quick, he said: - "I'm killed, Sire!" and his chief beside, - Smiling the boy fell dead. - - - - -CLIVE. - - - I and Clive were friends--and why not? Friends! I think you laugh, - my lad. - Clive it was gave England India, while your father gives--egad, - England nothing but the graceless boy who lures him on to speak-- - "Well, Sir, you and Clive were comrades--" with a tongue thrust in - your cheek! - Very true: in my eyes, your eyes, all the world's eyes, Clive was man, - I was, am, and ever shall be--mouse, nay, mouse of all its clan - Sorriest sample, if you take the kitchen's estimate for fame; - While the man Clive--he fought Plassy, spoiled the clever foreign - game, - Conquered and annexed and Englished! - - Never mind! As o'er my punch - (You away) I sit of evenings,--silence, save for biscuit crunch, - Black, unbroken,--thought grows busy, thrids each pathway of old - years, - Notes this forthright, that meander, till the long past life appears - Like an outspread map of country plodded through, each mile and rood, - Once, and well remembered still,--I'm startled in my solitude - Ever and anon by--what's the sudden mocking light that breaks - On me as I slap the table till no rummer-glass but shakes - While I ask--aloud, I do believe, God help me!--"Was it thus? - Can it be that so I faltered, stopped when just one step for us--" - (Us,--you were not born, I grant, but surely some day born would be) - "--One bold step had gained a province" (figurative talk, you see) - "Got no end of wealth and honour,--yet I stood stock-still no less?" - --"For I was not Clive," you comment: but it needs no Clive to guess - Wealth were handy, honour ticklish, did no writing on the wall - Warn me "Trespasser, 'ware man-traps!" Him who braves that - notice--call - Hero! None of such heroics suit myself who read plain words, - Doff my hat, and leap no barrier. Scripture says, the land's the - Lord's: - Louts then--what avail the thousand, noisy in a smock-frocked ring, - All-agog to have me trespass, clear the fence, be Clive their king? - Higher warrant must you show me ere I set one foot before - T'other in that dark direction, though I stand for evermore - Poor as Job and meek as Moses. Evermore? No! By and by - Job grows rich and Moses valiant, Clive turns out less wise than I. - Don't object "Why call him friend, then?" Power is power, my boy, - and still - Marks a man,--God's gift magnific, exercised for good or ill. - You've your boot now on my hearth-rug, tread what was a tiger's skin; - Rarely such a royal monster as I lodged the bullet in! - True, he murdered half a village, so his own death came to pass; - Still, for size and beauty, cunning, courage--ah, the brute he was! - Why, that Clive,--that youth, that greenhorn, that quill-driving - clerk, in fine,-- - He sustained a siege in Arcot ... But the world knows! Pass the wine. - - Where did I break off at? How bring Clive in? Oh, you mentioned - "fear!" - Just so: and, said I, that minds me of a story you shall hear. - - We were friends then, Clive and I: so, when the clouds, about the orb - Late supreme, encroaching slowly, surely threaten to absorb - Ray by ray its noontide brilliance,--friendship might, with - steadier eye - Drawing near, hear what had burned else, now no blaze--all majesty. - Too much bee's-wing floats my figure? Well, suppose a castle's new: - None presume to climb its ramparts, none find foothold sure for shoe - 'Twixt those squares and squares of granite plating the impervious - pile - As his scale-mail's warty iron cuirasses a crocodile. - Reels that castle thunder-smitten, storm-dismantled? From without - Scrambling up by crack and crevice, every cockney prates about - Towers--the heap he kicks now! Turrets--just the measure of his cane! - Will that do? Observe moreover--(same similitude again)-- - Such a castle seldom crumbles by sheer stress of cannonade: - 'Tis when foes are foiled, and fighting's finished that vile rains - invade, - Grass o'ergrows, o'ergrows till night-birds congregating find no holes - Fit to build like the topmost sockets made for banner-poles. - So Clive crumbled slow in London, crashed at last. - - A week before, - Dining with him,--after trying churchyard chat of days of yore,-- - Both of us stopped, tired as tombstones, head-piece, foot-piece, - when they lean - Each to other, drowsed in fog-smoke, o'er a coffined Past between. - As I saw his head sink heavy, guessed the soul's extinguishment - By the glazing eyeball, noticed how the furtive fingers went - Where a drug-box skulked behind the honest liquor,--"One more throw - Try for Clive!" thought I: "Let's venture some good rattling - question!" So-- - "Come Clive, tell us"--out I blurted--"what to tell in turn, - years hence, - When my boy--suppose I have one--asks me on what evidence - I maintain my friend of Plassy proved a warrior every whit - Worth your Alexanders, Cæsars, Marlboroughs, and--what said Pitt?-- - Frederick the Fierce himself! Clive told me once"--I want to say-- - "Which feat out of all those famous doings bore the bell away - --In his own calm estimation, mark you, not the mob's rough guess-- - Which stood foremost as evincing what Clive called courageousness! - Come! What moment of the minute, what speck-centre in the wide - Circle of the action saw your mortal fairly deified? - (Let alone that filthy sleep-stuff, swallow bold this wholesome Port!) - If a friend has leave to question,--when were you most brave, - in short?" - - Up he arched his brows o' the instant--formidably Clive again. - "When was I most brave? I'd answer, were the instance half as plain - As another instance that's a brain-lodged crystal--curse it!--here - Freezing when my memory touches--ugh!--the time I felt most fear. - Ugh! I cannot say for certain if I showed fear--anyhow, - Fear I felt, and, very likely, shuddered, since I shiver now." - - "Fear!" smiled I. "Well, that's the rarer: that's a specimen to seek, - Ticket up in one's museum, _Mind-Freaks_, _Lord Clive's Fear_, - _Unique_!" - - Down his brows dropped. On the table painfully he pored as though - Tracing, in the stains and streaks there, thoughts encrusted long ago. - When he spoke 'twas like a lawyer reading word by word some will, - Some blind jungle of a statement,--beating on and on until - Out there leaps fierce life to fight with. - - "This fell in my factor-days. - Desk-drudge, slaving at Saint David's, one must game, or drink, or - craze. - I chose gaming: and,--because your high-flown gamesters hardly take - Umbrage at a factor's elbow, if the factor pays his stake,-- - I was winked at in a circle where the company was choice, - Captain This and Major That, men high of colour, loud of voice, - Yet indulgent, condescending to the modest juvenile - Who not merely risked, but lost his hard-earned guineas with a smile. - - "Down I sat to cards, one evening,--had for my antagonist - Homebody whose name's a secret--you'll know why--so, if you list, - Call him Cock o' the Walk, my scarlet son of Mars from head to heel! - Play commenced: and, whether Cocky fancied that a clerk must feel - Quite sufficient honour came of bending over one green baize, - I the scribe with him the warrior, guessed no penman dared to raise - Shadow of objection should the honour stay but playing end - More or less abruptly,--whether disinclined he grew to spend - Practice strictly scientific on a booby born to stare - At--not ask of--lace-and-ruffles if the hand they hide plays fair,-- - Anyhow, I marked a movement when he bade me 'Cut!' - - "I rose. - 'Such the new manoeuvre, Captain? I'm a novice: knowledge grows. - What, you force a card, you cheat, Sir?' - - "Never did a thunder-clap - Cause emotion, startle Thyrsis locked with Chloe in his lap, - As my word and gesture (down I flung my cards to join the pack) - Fired the man of arms, whose visage, simply red before, turned black. - - "When he found his voice, he stammered 'That expression once again!' - - "'Well, you forced a card and cheated!' - - "'Possibly a factor's brain, - Busied with his all important balance of accounts, may deem - Weighing words superfluous trouble: cheat to clerkly ears may seem - Just the joke for friends to venture: but we are not friends, you see! - When a gentleman is joked with,--if he's good at repartee, - He rejoins, as do I--Sirrah, on your knees, withdraw in full! - Beg my pardon, or be sure a kindly bullet through your skull - Lets in light and teaches manner to what brain it finds! - Choose quick-- - Have your life snuffed out or, kneeling, pray me trim yon - candle-wick!' - - "'Well, you cheated!' - - "Then outbroke a howl from all the friends around. - To his feet sprang each in fury, fists were clenched and teeth - were ground. - 'End it! no time like the present! Captain, yours were our disgrace! - No delay, begin and finish! Stand back, leave the pair a space! - Let civilians be instructed: henceforth simply ply the pen, - Fly the sword! This clerk's no swordsman? Suit him with a pistol, - then! - Even odds! A dozen paces 'twixt the most and least expert - Make a dwarf a giant's equal: nay, the dwarf, if he's alert, - Likelier hits the broader target!' - - "Up we stood accordingly. - As they handed me the weapon, such was my soul's thirst to try - Then and there conclusions with this bully, tread on and stamp out - Every spark of his existence, that,--crept close to, curled about - By that toying, tempting, teasing, fool-forefinger's middle joint,-- - Don't you guess?--the trigger yielded. Gone my chance! and at - the point - Of such prime success moreover: scarce an inch above his head - Went my ball to hit the wainscot. He was living, I was dead. - - "Up he marched in flaming triumph--'twas his right, mind!--up, within - Just an arm's length. 'Now, my clerkling,' chuckled Cocky, with a grin - As the levelled piece quite touched me, 'Now, Sir Counting-House, - repeat - That expression which I told you proved bad manners! Did I cheat?' - - "'Cheat you did, you knew you cheated, and, this moment, know as well. - As for me, my homely breeding bids you--fire and go to Hell!' - - "Twice the muzzle touched my forehead. Heavy barrel, flurried wrist. - Either spoils a steady lifting. Thrice: then, 'Laugh at Hell who list, - I can't! God's no fable either. Did this boy's eye wink once? No! - There's no standing him and Hell and God all three against me,--so, - I did cheat!' - - "And down he threw the pistol, out rushed--by the door - Possibly, but, as for knowledge if by chimney, roof or floor, - He effected disappearance--I'll engage no glance was sent - That way by a single starer, such a blank astonishment - Swallowed up their senses: as for speaking--mute they stood as mice. - - "Mute not long, though! Such reaction, such a hubbub in a trice! - 'Rogue and rascal! Who'd have thought it? What's to be expected next, - When His Majesty's Commission serves a sharper as pretext - For ... But where's the need of wasting time now? Naught requires - delay: - Punishment the Service cries for: let disgrace be wiped away - Publicly, in good broad daylight! Resignation? No, indeed! - Drum and fife must play the Rogue's-March, rank and file be free - to speed - Tardy marching on the rogue's part by appliance in the rear - --Kicks administered shall right this wronged civilian,--never fear, - Mister Clive, for--though a clerk--you bore yourself--suppose - we say-- - Just as would beseem a soldier? - - "'Gentlemen, attention--pray! - First, one word!' - - "I passed each speaker severally in review. - When I had precise their number, names, and styles, and fully knew - Over whom my supervision thenceforth must extend,--why, then-- - - "Some five minutes since, my life lay--as you all saw, gentlemen-- - At the mercy of your friend there. Not a single voice was raised - In arrest of judgment, not one tongue--before my powder blazed-- - Ventured "Can it be the youngster plundered, really seemed to mark - Some irregular proceeding? We conjecture in the dark, - Guess at random,--still, for sake of fair play--what if for a freak, - In a fit of absence,--such things have been!--if our friend - proved weak - --What's the phrase?--corrected fortune! Look into the case, - at least!" - Who dared interpose between the altar's victim and the priest? - Yet he spared me! You eleven! Whosoever, all or each, - To the disadvantage of the man who spared me, utters speech - --To his face, behind his back,--that speaker has to do with me: - Me who promise, if positions change, and mine the chance should be, - Not to imitate your friend and waive advantage!' - - "Twenty-five - Years ago this matter happened: and 'tis certain," added Clive, - "Never, to my knowledge, did Sir Cocky have a single breath - Breathed against him: lips were closed throughout his life, or since - his death, - For if he be dead or living I can tell no more than you. - All I know is--Cocky had one chance more; how he used it,--grew - Out of such unlucky habits, or relapsed, and back again - Brought the late-ejected devil with a score more in his train,-- - That's for you to judge. Reprieval I procured, at any rate. - Ugh--the memory of that minute's fear makes gooseflesh rise! Why prate - Longer? You've my story, there's your instance: fear I did, you see!" - - "Well"--I hardly kept from laughing--"if I see it, thanks must be - Wholly to your Lordship's candour. Not that--in a common case-- - When a bully caught at cheating thrusts a pistol in one's face, - I should under-rate, believe me, such a trial to the nerve! - 'Tis no joke, at one-and-twenty, for a youth to stand nor swerve. - Fear I naturally look for--unless, of all men alive, - I am forced to make exception when I come to Robert Clive. - Since at Arcot, Plassy, elsewhere, he and death--the whole world - knows-- - Came to somewhat closer quarters." - - Quarters? Had we come to blows, - Clive and I, you had not wondered--up he sprang so, out he rapped - Such a round of oaths--no matter! I'll endeavour to adapt - To our modern usage words he--well, 'twas friendly license--flung - At me like so many fire-balls, fast as he could wag his tongue. - - "You--a soldier? You--at Plassy? Yours the faculty to nick - Instantaneously occasion when your foe, if lightning-quick, - --At his mercy, at his malice,--has you, through some stupid inch - Undefended in your bulwark? Thus laid open,--not to flinch - --That needs courage, you'll concede me. Then, look here! Suppose - the man, - Checking his advance, his weapon still extended, not a span - Distant from my temple,--curse him!--quietly had bade me, 'There! - Keep your life, calumniator!--worthless life I freely spare: - Mine you freely would have taken--murdered me and my good fame - Both at once--and all the better! Go, and thank your own bad aim - Which permits me to forgive you!' What if, with such words as these, - He had cast away his weapon? How should I have borne me, please? - Nay, I'll spare you pains and tell you. This, and only this, - remained-- - Pick his weapon up and use it on myself. If so had gained - Sleep the earlier, leaving England probably to pay on still - Rent and taxes for half India, tenant at the Frenchman's will." - - "Such the turn," said I, "the matter takes with you? Then I abate - --No, by not one jot nor tittle,--of your act my estimate. - Fear--I wish I could detect there: courage fronts me, plain enough-- - Call it desperation, madness--never mind! for here's in rough - Why, had mine been such a trial, fear had overcome disgrace. - True, disgrace were hard to bear: but such a rush against God's face - --None of that for me, Lord Plassy, since I go to church at times, - Say the creed my mother taught me! Many years in foreign climes - Rub some marks away--not all, though! We poor sinners reach - life's brink, - Overlook what rolls beneath it, recklessly enough, but think - There's advantage in what's left us--ground to stand on, time to call - 'Lord, have mercy!' ere we topple over--do not leap, that's all!" - - Oh, he made no answer, re-absorbed into his cloud. I caught - Something like "Yes--courage; only fools will call it fear." - - If aught - Comfort you, my great unhappy hero Clive, in that I heard, - Next week, how your own hand dealt you doom, and uttered just the word - "Fearfully courageous!"--this, be sure, and nothing else I groaned. - I'm no Clive, nor parson either: Clive's worst deed--we'll hope - condoned. - - - - -MULÉYKEH. - - - If a stranger passed the tent of Hóseyn, he cried "A churl's!" - Or haply "God help the man who has neither salt nor bread!" - --"Nay," would a friend exclaim, "he needs nor pity nor scorn - More than who spends small thought on the shore-sand, picking pearls, - --Holds but in light esteem the seed-sort, bears instead - On his breast a moon-like prize, some orb which of night makes morn. - - "What if no flocks and herds enrich the son of Sinán? - They went when his tribe was mulct, ten thousand camels the due, - Blood-value paid perforce for a murder done of old. - 'God gave them, let them go! But never since time began, - Muléykeh, peerless mare, owned master the match of you, - And you are my prize, my Pearl: I laugh at men's land and gold!' - - "So in the pride of his soul laughs Hóseyn--and right, I say. - Do the ten steeds run a race of glory? Outstripping all, - Ever Muléykeh stands first steed at the victor's staff. - Who started, the owner's hope, gets shamed and named, that day. - 'Silence,' or, last but one, is 'The Cuffed,' as we used to call - Whom the paddock's lord thrusts forth. Right, Hóseyn, I say, - to laugh!" - - "Boasts he Muléykeh the Pearl?" the stranger replies: "Be sure - On him I waste nor scorn nor pity, but lavish both - On Duhl the son of Sheybán, who withers away in heart - For envy of Hóseyn's luck. Such sickness admits no cure. - A certain poet has sung, and sealed the same with an oath, - 'For the vulgar--flocks and herds! The Pearl is a prize apart.'" - - Lo, Duhl the son of Sheybán comes riding to Hóseyn's tent, - And he casts his saddle down, and enters and "Peace!" bids he. - "You are poor, I know the cause: my plenty shall mend the wrong. - 'Tis said of your Pearl--the price of a hundred camels spent - In her purchase were scarce ill paid: such prudence is far from me - Who proffer a thousand. Speak! Long parley may last too long." - - Said Hóseyn, "You feed young beasts a many, of famous breed, - Slit-eared, unblemished, fat, true offspring of Múzennem: - There stumbles no weak-eyed she in the line as it climbs the hill. - But I love Muléykeh's face: her forefront whitens indeed - Like a yellowish wave's cream-crest. Your camels--go gaze on them! - Her fetlock is foam-splashed too. Myself am the richer still." - - A year goes by: lo, back to the tent again rides Duhl. - "You are open-hearted, ay--moist-handed, a very prince. - Why should I speak of sale? Be the mare your simple gift! - My son is pined to death for her beauty: my wife prompts 'Fool, - Beg for his sake the Pearl! Be God the rewarder, since - God pays debts seven for one: who squanders on Him shows thrift.'" - - Said Hóseyn, "God gives each man one life, like a lamp, then gives - That lamp due measure of oil: lamp lighted--hold high, wave wide - Its comfort for others to share! once quench it, what help is left? - The oil of your lamp is your son: I shine while Muléykeh lives. - Would I beg your son to cheer my dark if Muléykeh died? - It is life against life: what good avails to the life-bereft?" - - Another year, and--hist! What craft is it Duhl designs? - He alights not at the door of the tent as he did last time, - But, creeping behind, he gropes his stealthy way by the trench - Half-round till he finds the flap in the folding, for night combines - With the robber--and such is he: Duhl, covetous up to crime, - Must wring from Hóseyn's grasp the Pearl, by whatever the wrench. - - "He was hunger-bitten, I heard: I tempted with half my store, - And a gibe was all my thanks. Is he generous like Spring dew? - Account the fault to me who chaffered with such an one! - He has killed, to feast chance comers, the creature he rode: - nay, more-- - For a couple of singing-girls his robe has he torn in two: - I will beg! Yet I nowise gained by the tale of my wife and son. - - "I swear by the Holy House, my head will I never wash - Till I filch his Pearl away. Fair dealing I tried, then guile, - And now I resort to force. He said we must live or die: - Let him die, then,--let me live! Be bold--but not too rash! - I have found me a peeping-place: breast, bury your breathing while - I explore for myself! Now, breathe! He deceived me not, the spy! - - "As he said--there lies in peace Hóseyn--how happy! Beside - Stands tethered the Pearl: thrice winds her headstall about his wrist: - 'Tis therefore he sleeps so sound--the moon through the roof reveals. - And, loose on his left, stands too that other, known far and wide, - Buhéyseh, her sister born: fleet is she yet ever missed - The winning tail's fire-flash a-stream past the thunderous heels. - - "No less she stands saddled and bridled, this second, in case some - thief - Should enter and seize and fly with the first, as I mean to do. - What then? The Pearl is the Pearl: once mount her we both escape." - Through the skirt-fold in glides Duhl,--so a serpent disturbs no leaf - In a bush as he parts the twigs entwining a nest: clean through, - He is noiselessly at his work: as he planned, he performs the rape. - - He has set the tent-door wide, has buckled the girth, has clipped - The headstall away from the wrist he leaves thrice bound as before, - He springs on the Pearl, is launched on the desert like bolt from bow. - Up starts our plundered man: from his breast though the heart be - ripped, - Yet his mind has the mastery: behold, in a minute more, - He is out and off and away on Buhéyseh, whose worth we know! - - And Hóseyn--his blood turns flame, he has learned long since to ride, - And Buhéyseh does her part,--they gain--they are gaining fast - On the fugitive pair, and Duhl has Ed-Dárraj to cross and quit, - And to reach the ridge El-Sabán,--no safety till that he spied! - And Buhéyseh is, bound by bound, but a horse-length off at last, - For the Pearl has missed the tap of the heel, the touch of the bit. - - She shortens her stride, she chafes at her rider the strange and - queer: - Buhéyseh is mad with hope--beat sister she shall and must, - Though Duhl, of the hand and heel so clumsy, she has to thank. - She is near now, nose by tail--they are neck by croup--joy! fear! - What folly makes Hóseyn shout "Dog Duhl, Damned son of the Dust, - Touch the right ear and press with your foot my Pearl's left flank!" - - And Duhl was wise at the word, and Muléykeh as prompt perceived - Who was urging redoubled pace, and to hear him was to obey, - And a leap indeed gave she, and evanished for evermore. - And Hóseyn looked one long last look as who, all bereaved, - Looks, fain to follow the dead so far as the living may: - Then he turned Buhéyseh's neck slow homeward, weeping sore. - - And, lo, in the sunrise, still sat Hóseyn upon the ground - Weeping: and neighbours came, the tribesmen of Bénu-Asád - In the vale of green Er-Rass, and they questioned him of his grief; - And he told from first to last how, serpent-like, Duhl had wound - His way to the nest, and how Duhl rode like an ape, so bad! - And how Buhéyseh did wonders, yet Pearl remained with the thief. - - And they jeered him, one and all: "Poor Hóseyn is crazed past hope! - How else had he wrought himself his ruin, in fortune's spite? - To have simply held the tongue were a task for boy or girl, - And here were Muléykeh again, the eyed like an antelope, - The child of his heart by day, the wife of his breast by night!"-- - "And the beaten in speed!" wept Hóseyn. "You never have loved - my Pearl." - - - - -TRAY. - - - Sing me a hero! Quench my thirst - Of soul, ye bards! - - Quoth Bard the first: - "Sir Olaf, the good knight, did don - His helm and eke his habergeon"... - Sir Olaf and his bard--! - - "That sin-scathed brow" (quoth Bard the second), - "That eye wide ope as though Fate beckoned - My hero to some steep, beneath - Which precipice smiled tempting death"... - You too without your host have reckoned! - - "A beggar-child" (let's hear this third!) - "Sat on a quay's edge: like a bird - Sang to herself at careless play, - And fell into the stream. 'Dismay! - Help, you the standers-by!' None stirred. - - "Bystanders reason, think of wives - And children ere they risk their lives. - Over the balustrade has bounced - A mere instinctive dog, and pounced - Plumb on the prize. 'How well he dives! - - "'Up he comes with the child, see, tight - In mouth, alive too, clutched from quite - A depth of ten feet--twelve, I bet! - Good dog! What, off again? There's yet - Another child to save? All right! - - "'How strange we saw no other fall! - It's instinct in the animal. - Good dog! But he's a long while under: - If he got drowned I should not wonder-- - Strong current, that against the wall! - - "'Here he comes, holds in mouth this time - --What may the thing be? Well, that's prime! - Now, did you ever? Reason reigns - In man alone, since all Tray's pains - Have fished--the child's doll from the slime!' - - "And so, amid the laughter gay, - Trotted my hero off,--old Tray,-- - Till somebody, prerogatived - With reason, reasoned: 'Why he dived, - His brain would show us, I should say. - - "'John, go and catch--or, if needs be, - Purchase--that animal for me! - By vivisection, at expense - Of half-an-hour and eighteenpence, - How brain secretes dog's soul, we'll see!'" - - - - -A TALE. - - - What a pretty tale you told me - Once upon a time - --Said you found it somewhere (scold me!) - Was it prose or was it rhyme, - Greek or Latin? Greek, you said, - While your shoulder propped my head. - - Anyhow there's no forgetting - This much if no more, - That a poet (pray, no petting!) - Yes, a bard, sir, famed of yore, - Went where suchlike used to go, - Singing for a prize, you know. - - Well, he had to sing, nor merely - Sing but play the lyre; - Playing was important clearly - Quite as singing: I desire, - Sir, you keep the fact in mind - For a purpose that's behind. - - There stood he, while deep attention - Held the judges round, - --Judges able, I should mention, - To detect the slightest sound - Sung or played amiss: such ears - Had old judges, it appears! - - None the less he sang out boldly, - Played in time and tune, - Till the judges, weighing coldly - Each note's worth, seemed, late or soon, - Sure to smile "In vain one tries - Picking faults out: take the prize!" - - When, a mischief! Were they seven - Strings the lyre possessed? - Oh, and afterwards eleven, - Thank you! Well, sir,--who had guessed - Such ill luck in store?--it happed - One of those same seven strings snapped. - - All was lost, then! No! a cricket - (What "cicada?" Pooh!) - --Some mad thing that left its thicket - For mere love of music--flew - With its little heart on fire, - Lighted on the crippled lyre. - - So that when (Ah, joy!) our singer - For his truant string - Feels with disconcerted finger, - What does cricket else but fling - Fiery heart forth, sound the note - Wanted by the throbbing throat? - - Ay, and ever to the ending, - Cricket chirps at need, - Executes the hand's intending, - Promptly, perfectly,--indeed - Saves the singer from defeat - With her chirrup low and sweet. - - Till, at ending, all the judges - Cry with one assent - "Take the prize--a prize who grudges - Such a voice and instrument? - Why, we took your lyre for harp, - So it shrilled us forth F sharp!" - - Did the conqueror spurn the creature, - Once its service done? - That's no such uncommon feature - In the case when Music's son - Finds his Lotte's power too spent - For aiding soul-development. - - No! This other, on returning - Homeward, prize in hand, - Satisfied his bosom's yearning: - (Sir, I hope you understand!) - --Said "Some record there must be - Of this cricket's help to me!" - - So, he made himself a statue: - Marble stood, life-size; - On the lyre, he pointed at you, - Perched his partner in the prize; - Never more apart you found - Her, he throned, from him, she crowned. - - That's the tale: its application? - Somebody I know - Hopes one day for reputation - Through his poetry that's--Oh, - All so learned and so wise - And deserving of a prize! - - If he gains one, will some ticket, - When his statue's built, - Tell the gazer "'Twas a cricket - Helped my crippled lyre, whose lilt - Sweet and low, when strength usurped - Softness' place i' the scale, she chirped? - - "For as victory was nighest, - While I sang and played,-- - With my lyre at lowest, highest, - Right alike,--one string that made - 'Love' sound soft was snapt in twain, - Never to be heard again,-- - - "Had not a kind cricket fluttered, - Perched upon the place - Vacant left, and duly uttered - 'Love, Love, Love,' whene'er the bass - Asked the treble to atone - For its somewhat sombre drone." - - But you don't know music! Wherefore - Keep on casting pearls - To a--poet? All I care for - Is--to tell him that a girl's - "Love" comes aptly in when gruff - Grows his singing. (There, enough!) - -[Illustration: "HAIR, SUCH A WONDER OF FLIX AND FLOSS."] - - - - -GOLD HAIR. - - - Oh, the beautiful girl, too white, - Who lived at Pornic, down by the sea, - Just where the sea and the Loire unite! - And a boasted name in Brittany - She bore, which I will not write. - - Too white, for the flower of life is red: - Her flesh was the soft seraphic screen - Of a soul that is meant (her parents said) - To just see earth, and hardly be seen, - And blossom in heaven instead. - - Yet earth saw one thing, one how fair! - One grace that grew to its full on earth: - Smiles might be sparse on her cheek so spare, - And her waist want half a girdle's girth, - But she had her great gold hair. - - Hair, such a wonder of flix and floss, - Freshness and fragrance--floods of it, too! - Gold, did I say? Nay, gold's mere dross: - Here, Life smiled, "Think what I meant to do!" - And Love sighed, "Fancy my loss!" - - So, when she died, it was scarce more strange - Than that, when delicate evening dies, - And you follow its spent sun's pallid range, - There's a shoot of colour startles the skies - With sudden, violent change,-- - - That, while the breath was nearly to seek, - As they put the little cross to her lips, - She changed; a spot came out on her cheek, - A spark from her eye in mid-eclipse, - And she broke forth, "I must speak!" - - "Not my hair!" made the girl her moan-- - "All the rest is gone or to go; - But the last, last grace, my all, my own, - Let it stay in the grave, that the ghosts may know! - Leave my poor gold hair alone!" - - The passion thus vented, dead lay she; - Her parents sobbed their worst on that; - All friends joined in, nor observed degree: - For indeed the hair was to wonder at, - As it spread--not flowing free, - - But curled around her brow, like a crown, - And coiled beside her cheeks, like a cap, - And calmed about her neck--ay, down - To her breast, pressed flat, without a gap - I' the gold, it reached her gown. - - All kissed that face, like a silver wedge - 'Mid the yellow wealth, nor disturbed its hair: - E'en the priest allowed death's privilege, - As he planted the crucifix with care - On her breast, 'twixt edge and edge. - - And thus was she buried, inviolate - Of body and soul, in the very space - By the altar; keeping saintly state - In Pornic church, for her pride of race, - Pure life and piteous fate. - - And in after-time would your fresh tear fall, - Though your mouth might twitch with a dubious smile, - As they told you of gold, both robe and pall, - How she prayed them leave it alone awhile, - So it never was touched at all. - - Years flew; this legend grew at last - The life of the lady; all she had done, - All been, in the memories fading fast - Of lover and friend, was summed in one - Sentence survivors passed: - - To wit, she was meant for heaven, not earth; - Had turned an angel before the time: - Yet, since she was mortal, in such dearth - Of frailty, all you could count a crime - Was--she knew her gold hair's worth. - - * * * * * - - At little pleasant Pornic church, - It chanced, the pavement wanted repair, - Was taken to pieces: left in the lurch, - A certain sacred space lay bare, - And the boys began research. - - 'Twas the space where our sires would lay a saint, - A benefactor,--a bishop, suppose, - A baron with armour-adornments quaint, - Dame with chased ring and jewelled rose, - Things sanctity saves from taint; - - So we come to find them in after-days - When the corpse is presumed to have done with gauds - Of use to the living, in many ways: - For the boys get pelf, and the town applauds, - And the church deserves the praise. - - They grubbed with a will: and at length--_O cor - Humanum, pectora cæca_, and the rest!-- - They found--no gaud they were prying for, - No ring, no rose, but--who would have guessed?-- - A double Louis-d'or! - - Here was a case for the priest: he heard, - Marked, inwardly digested, laid - Finger on nose, smiled, "There's a bird - Chirps in my ear:" then, "Bring a spade, - Dig deeper!"--he gave the word. - - And lo, when they came to the coffin-lid, - Or rotten planks which composed it once, - Why, there lay the girl's skull wedged amid - A mint of money, it served for the nonce - To hold in its hair-heaps hid! - - Hid there? Why? Could the girl be wont - (She the stainless soul) to treasure up - Money, earth's trash and heaven's affront? - Had a spider found out the communion-cup, - Was a toad in the christening-font? - - Truth is truth: too true it was. - Gold! She hoarded and hugged it first, - Longed for it, leaned o'er it, loved it--alas-- - Till the humour grew to a head and burst, - And she cried, at the final pass,-- - - "Talk not of God, my heart is stone! - Nor lover nor friend--be gold for both! - Gold I lack; and, my all, my own, - It shall hide in my hair. I scarce die loth - If they let my hair alone!" - - Louis-d'or, some six times five, - And duly double, every piece. - Now, do you see? With the priest to shrive, - With parents preventing her soul's release - By kisses that kept alive,-- - - With heaven's gold gates about to ope, - With friends' praise, gold-like, lingering still, - An instinct had bidden the girl's hand grope - For gold, the true sort--"Gold in heaven, if you will; - But I keep earth's too, I hope." - - Enough! The priest took the grave's grim yield: - The parents, they eyed that price of sin - As if _thirty pieces_ lay revealed - On the place _to bury strangers in_, - The hideous Potter's Field. - - But the priest bethought him: "'Milk that's spilt' - --You know the adage! Watch and pray! - Saints tumble to earth with so slight a tilt! - It would build a new altar; that, we may!" - And the altar therewith was built. - - Why I deliver this horrible verse? - As the text of a sermon, which now I preach: - Evil or good may be better or worse - In the human heart, but the mixture of each - Is a marvel and a curse. - - The candid incline to surmise of late - That the Christian faith proves false, I find; - For our Essays-and-Reviews' debate - Begins to tell on the public mind, - And Colenso's words have weight: - - I still, to suppose it true, for my part, - See reasons and reasons; this, to begin: - 'Tis the faith that launched point-blank her dart - At the head of a lie--taught Original Sin, - The Corruption of Man's Heart. - - - - -DONALD. - - - Do you happen to know in Ross-shire - Mount Ben ... but the name scarce matters: - Of the naked fact I am sure enough, - Though I clothe it in rags and tatters. - - You may recognise Ben by description; - Behind him--a moor's immenseness: - Up goes the middle mount of a range, - Fringed with its firs in denseness. - - Rimming the edge, its fir-fringe, mind! - For an edge there is, though narrow; - From end to end of the range, a strip - Of path runs straight as an arrow. - - And the mountaineer who takes that path - Saves himself miles of journey - He has to plod if he crosses the moor - Through heather, peat, and burnie. - - But a mountaineer he needs must be, - For, look you, right in the middle - Projects bluff Ben--with an end in _ich_-- - Why planted there, is a riddle: - - Since all Ben's brothers little and big - Keep rank, set shoulder to shoulder, - And only this burliest out must bulge - Till it seems--to the beholder - - From down in the gully,--as if Ben's breast, - To a sudden spike diminished, - Would signify to the boldest foot - "All further passage finished!" - - Yet the mountaineer who sidles on - And on to the very bending, - Discovers, if heart and brain be proof, - No necessary ending. - - Foot up, foot down, to the turn abrupt - Having trod, he, there arriving, - Finds--what he took for a point was breadth - A mercy of Nature's contriving. - - So, he rounds what, when 'tis reached, proves straight, - From one side gains the other: - The wee path widens--resume the march, - And he foils you, Ben my brother! - - But Donald--(that name, I hope, will do)-- - I wrong him if I call "foiling" - The tramp of the callant, whistling the while - As blithe as our kettle's boiling. - - He had dared the danger from boyhood up, - And now,--when perchance was waiting - A lass at the brig below,--'twixt mount - And moor would he standing debating? - - Moreover this Donald was twenty-five, - A glory of bone and muscle: - Did a fiend dispute the right of way, - Donald would try a tussle. - - Lightsomely marched he out of the broad - On to the narrow and narrow; - A step more, rounding the angular rock, - Reached the front straight as an arrow. - - He stepped it, safe on the ledge he stood, - When--whom found he full-facing? - What fellow in courage and wariness too, - Had scouted ignoble pacing, - - And left low safety to timid mates, - And made for the dread dear danger, - And gained the height where--who could guess - He would meet with a rival ranger? - - 'Twas a gold-red stag that stood and stared, - Gigantic and magnific, - By the wonder--ay, and the peril--struck - Intelligent and pacific: - - For a red deer is no fallow deer - Grown cowardly through park-feeding; - He batters you like a thunderbolt - If you brave his haunts unheeding. - - I doubt he could hardly perform _volte-face_ - Had valour advised discretion: - You may walk on a rope, but to turn on a rope - No Blondin makes profession. - - Yet Donald must turn, would pride permit, - Though pride ill brooks retiring: - Each eyed each--mute man, motionless beast-- - Less fearing than admiring. - - These are the moments when quite new sense, - To meet some need as novel, - Springs up in the brain: it inspired resource: - --"Nor advance nor retreat but--grovel!" - - And slowly, surely, never a whit - Relaxing the steady tension - Of eye-stare which binds man to beast,-- - By an inch and inch declension, - - Sank Donald sidewise down and down: - Till flat, breast upwards, lying - At his six-foot length, no corpse more still, - --"If he cross me! The trick's worth trying." - - Minutes were an eternity; - But a new sense was created - In the stag's brain too; he resolves! Slow, sure, - With eye-stare unabated, - - Feelingly he extends a foot - Which tastes the way ere it touches - Earth's solid and just escapes man's soft, - Nor hold of the same unclutches - - Till its fellow foot, light as a feather whisk, - Lands itself no less finely: - So a mother removes a fly from the face - Of her babe asleep supinely. - - And now 'tis the haunch and hind-foot's turn - --That's hard: can the beast quite raise it? - Yes, traversing half the prostrate length, - His hoof-tip does not graze it. - - Just one more lift! But Donald, you see, - Was sportsman first, man after: - A fancy lightened his caution through, - --He wellnigh broke into laughter: - - "It were nothing short of a miracle! - Unrivalled, unexampled-- - All sporting feats with this feat matched - Were down and dead and trampled!" - - The last of the legs as tenderly - Follows the rest: or never - Or now is the time! His knife in reach, - And his right hand loose--how clever! - - For this can stab up the stomach's soft, - While the left hand grasps the pastern. - A rise on the elbow, and--now's the time - Or never: this turn's the last turn! - - I shall dare to place myself by God - Who scanned--for he does--each feature - Of the face thrown up in appeal to him - By the agonising creature. - - Nay, I hear plain words: "Thy gift brings this!" - Up he sprang, back he staggered, - Over he fell, and with him our friend - --At following game no laggard. - - Yet he was not dead when they picked next day - From the gully's depth the wreck of him; - His fall had been stayed by the stag beneath - Who cushioned and saved the neck of him. - - But the rest of his body--why, doctors said, - Whatever could break was broken; - Legs, arms, ribs, all of him looked like a toast - In a tumbler of port wine soaken. - - "That your life is left you, thank the stag!" - Said they when--the slow cure ended-- - They opened the hospital door, and thence - --Strapped, spliced, main fractures mended, - - And minor damage left wisely alone,-- - Like an old shoe clouted and cobbled, - Out--what went in a Goliath wellnigh,-- - Some half of a David hobbled. - - "You must ask an alms from house to house: - Sell the stag's head for a bracket, - With its grand twelve tines--I'd buy it myself-- - And use the skin for a jacket!" - - He was wiser, made both head and hide - His win-penny: hands and knees on, - Would manage to crawl--poor crab--by the roads - In the misty stalking season. - - And if he discovered a bothy like this, - Why, harvest was sure: folk listened. - He told his tale to the lovers of Sport: - Lips twitched, cheeks glowed, eyes glistened. - - And when he had come to the close, and spread - His spoils for the gazers' wonder, - With "Gentlemen, here's the skull of the stag - I was over, thank God, not under!"-- - - The company broke out in applause; - "By Jingo, a lucky cripple! - Have a munch of grouse and a hunk of bread, - And a tug, besides, at our tipple!" - - And "There's my pay for your pluck!" cried This, - "And mine for your jolly story!" - Cried That, while T'other--but he was drunk-- - Hiccupped "A trump, a Tory!" - - I hope I gave twice as much as the rest; - For, as Homer would say, "within grate - Though teeth kept tongue," my whole soul growled, - "Rightly rewarded,--Ingrate!" - -[Illustration: "AND FULL IN THE FACE OF ITS OWNER FLUNG THE GLOVE."] - - - - -THE GLOVE. - -(PETER RONSARD _loipuitur_.) - - - "Heigho," yawned one day King Francis, - "Distance all value enhances! - When a man's busy, why, leisure - Strikes him as wonderful pleasure: - 'Faith, and at leisure once is he? - Straightway he wants to be busy. - Here we've got peace; and aghast I'm - Caught thinking war the true pastime. - Is there a reason in metre? - Give us your speech, master Peter!" - I who, if mortal dare say so, - Ne'er am at a loss with my Naso, - "Sire," I replied, "joys prove cloudlets: - Men are the merest Ixions"-- - Here the King whistled aloud, "Let's - --Heigho--go look at our lions!" - Such are the sorrowful chances - If you talk fine to King Francis. - - And so, to the courtyard proceeding - Our company, Francis was leading, - Increased by new followers tenfold - Before he arrived at the penfold; - Lords, ladies, like clouds which bedizen - At sunset the western horizon. - And Sir De Lorge pressed 'mid the foremost - With the dame he professed to adore most. - Oh, what a face! One by fits eyed - Her, and the horrible pitside; - For the penfold surrounded a hollow - Which led where the eye scarce dared follow, - And shelved to the chamber secluded - Where Bluebeard, the great lion, brooded. - The King hailed his keeper, an Arab - As glossy and black as a scarab, - And bade him make sport and at once stir - Up and out of his den the old monster. - They opened a hole in the wire-work - Across it, and dropped there a firework, - And fled: one's heart's beating redoubled; - A pause, while the pit's mouth was troubled, - The blackness and silence so utter, - By the firework's slow sparkling and sputter; - Then earth in a sudden contortion - Gave out to our gaze her abortion. - Such a brute! Were I friend Clement Marot - (Whose experience of nature's but narrow, - And whose faculties move in no small mist - When he versifies David the Psalmist) - I should study that brute to describe you - _Illum Juda Leonem de Tribu_. - - One's whole blood grew curdling and creepy - To see the black mane, vast and heapy, - The tail in the air stiff and straining, - The wide eyes, nor waxing nor waning, - As over the barrier which bounded - His platform, and us who surrounded - The barrier, they reached and they rested - On space that might stand him in best stead: - For who knew, he thought, what the amazement, - The eruption of clatter and blaze meant, - And if, in this minute of wonder, - No outlet, 'mid lightning and thunder, - Lay broad, and, his shackles all shivered, - The lion at last was delivered? - Ay, that was the open sky o'erhead! - And you saw by the flash on his forehead, - By the hope in those eyes wide and steady. - He was leagues in the desert already, - Driving the flocks up the mountain, - Or catlike couched hard by the fountain - To waylay the date-gathering negress: - So guarded he entrance or egress. - "How he stands!" quoth the King: "we may well swear, - (No novice, we've won our spurs elsewhere - And so can afford the confession,) - We exercise wholesome discretion - In keeping aloof from his threshold, - Once hold you, those jaws want no fresh hold, - Their first would too pleasantly purloin - The visitor's brisket or sirloin: - But who's he would prove so foolhardy? - Not the best man of Marignan, pardie!" - - The sentence no sooner was uttered, - Than over the rails a glove fluttered, - Fell close to the lion, and rested: - The dame 'twas, who flung it and jested - With life so, De Lorge had been wooing - For months past; he sat there pursuing - His suit, weighing out with nonchalance - Fine speeches like gold from a balance. - - Sound the trumpet, no true knight's a tarrier! - De Lorge made one leap at the barrier, - Walked straight to the glove,--while the lion - Ne'er moved, kept his far-reaching eye on - The palm-tree-edged desert-spring's sapphire, - And the musky oiled skin of the Kaffir,-- - Picked it up, and as calmly retreated, - Leaped back where the lady was seated, - And full in the face of its owner - Flung the glove. - - "Your heart's queen, you dethrone her? - So should I!"--cried the King--"'twas mere vanity, - Not love, set that task to humanity!" - Lords and ladies alike turned with loathing - From such a proved wolf in sheep's clothing. - - Not so, I; for I caught an expression - In her brow's undisturbed self-possession - Amid the Court's scoffing and merriment,-- - As if from no pleasing experiment - She rose, yet of pain not much heedful - So long as the process was needful,-- - As if she had tried in a crucible, - To what "speeches like gold" were reducible, - And, finding the finest prove copper, - Felt the smoke in her face was but proper; - To know what she had _not_ to trust to, - Was worth all the ashes and dust too. - She went out 'mid hooting and laughter; - Clement Marot stayed; I followed after, - And asked, as a grace, what it all meant? - If she wished not the rash deed's recallment? - "For I"--so I spoke--"am a poet: - Human nature,--behooves that I know it!" - - She told me, "Too long had I heard - Of the deed proved alone by the word: - For my love--what De Lorge would not dare! - With my scorn--what De Lorge could compare! - And the endless descriptions of death - He would brave when my lip formed a breath, - I must reckon as braved, or, of course, - Doubt his word--and moreover, perforce, - For such gifts as no lady could spurn, - Must offer my love in return. - When I looked on your lion, it brought - All the dangers at once to my thought, - Encountered by all sorts of men, - Before he was lodged in his den,-- - From the poor slave whose club or bare hands - Dug the trap, set the snare on the sands, - With no King and no Court to applaud, - By no shame, should he shrink, overawed, - Yet to capture the creature made shift, - That his rude boys might laugh at the gift, - --To the page who last leaped o'er the fence - Of the pit, on no greater pretence - Than to get back the bonnet he dropped, - Lest his pay for a week should be stopped. - So, wiser I judged it to make - One trial what 'death for my sake' - Really meant, while the power was yet mine, - Than to wait until time should define - Such a phrase not so simply as I, - Who took it to mean just 'to die.' - The blow a glove gives is but weak: - Does the mark yet discolour my cheek? - But when the heart suffers a blow, - Will the pain pass so soon, do you know?" - - I looked, as away she was sweeping, - And saw a youth eagerly keeping - As close as he dared to the doorway. - No doubt that a noble should more weigh - His life than befits a plebeian; - And yet, had our brute been Nemean-- - (I judge by a certain calm fervour - The youth stepped with, forward to serve her) - --He'd have scarce thought you did him the worst turn - If you whispered, "Friend, what you'd get, first earn!" - And when, shortly after, she carried - Her shame from the Court, and they married, - To that marriage some happiness, maugre - The voice of the Court, I dared augur. - - - THE END. - - - - - Transcriber's Note: - - Every effort has been made to replicate this text as faithfully as - possible. - - There is no Number 8 in the list of books in "Every Boy's Library". - - Illustrations have been moved. - - Italic text has been marked with _underscores_. - Bold text has been marked with =equals signs=. - OE ligatures have been expanded. - - - - - -End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of The Pied Piper of Hamelin and Other -Poems, by Robert Browning - -*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE PIED PIPER OF HAMELIN *** - -***** This file should be named 42850-8.txt or 42850-8.zip ***** -This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: - http://www.gutenberg.org/4/2/8/5/42850/ - -Produced by Juliet Sutherland, Paul Clark and the Online -Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net - - -Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions -will be renamed. - -Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no -one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation -(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without -permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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