Historical & Legendary Ballads & Songs By Walter Thornbury. Illustrated by J. Whistler, F. Walker, John Tenniel, J. D. Watson, W. Small, F. Sandys, G. J. Pinwell, T. Morten, M. J. Lawless, and many others |
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A Day-Dream on the Rhine.
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 | Historical & Legendary Ballads & Songs |  |
273
A Day-Dream on the Rhine.
Oh, for a kingdom rocky throned
Above the brimming Rhine!
With vassals who should pay their toll
In many sorts of wine;
Above me nought but the blue air,
And all below the vine.
Above the brimming Rhine!
With vassals who should pay their toll
In many sorts of wine;
Above me nought but the blue air,
And all below the vine.
274
I'd plant my throne where legends say,
In nights of harvest-time,
King Charlemagne, in golden robe
(So runs the rustic rhyme),
Doth come to bless the mellowing crops,
While the bells of heaven chime;
In nights of harvest-time,
King Charlemagne, in golden robe
(So runs the rustic rhyme),
Doth come to bless the mellowing crops,
While the bells of heaven chime;
(Children have heard them!) and a bridge;
Of gold leaps o'er the stream
For the king to cross. A maiden once
Saw its bright arches gleam;
The priests they burnt her for that sight,
Calling it “Satan's Dream.”
Of gold leaps o'er the stream
For the king to cross. A maiden once
Saw its bright arches gleam;
The priests they burnt her for that sight,
Calling it “Satan's Dream.”
Churches should in my valleys hide,
Old towers rise on each hill;
The forge, the farm-house, and the inn,
Should cluster round the mill,
And past them all the river broad
Would flow at its own sweet will.
Old towers rise on each hill;
The forge, the farm-house, and the inn,
Should cluster round the mill,
And past them all the river broad
Would flow at its own sweet will.
My stream at noon of fairy gold
Should crimson turn ere night,
Then by the magic of the moon
Change to quicksilver bright.
At dawn each little wave should be
Mantled with purple light.
Should crimson turn ere night,
Then by the magic of the moon
Change to quicksilver bright.
At dawn each little wave should be
Mantled with purple light.
I'd dwell where Charlemagne looked down,
And, turning to his peers,
Exclaimed, “Behold, for this fair land
I've prayed and fought for years.”
Then all the Rhine towers shook to hear
The earthquake of their cheers.
And, turning to his peers,
Exclaimed, “Behold, for this fair land
I've prayed and fought for years.”
Then all the Rhine towers shook to hear
The earthquake of their cheers.
That day the tide ran crimson red
(But not with Rhenish wine);
Not with those vintage streams that through
The green leaves gush and shine:
'T was blood that from the Lombard ranks
Rushed down into the Rhine.
(But not with Rhenish wine);
Not with those vintage streams that through
The green leaves gush and shine:
'T was blood that from the Lombard ranks
Rushed down into the Rhine.
'T was here the German soldiers flocked,
Burning with love and pride,
And threw their muskets down to kiss
The soil with French blood dyed.
“The Rhine—dear Rhine,” ten thousand men,
Kneeling together, cried.
Burning with love and pride,
And threw their muskets down to kiss
The soil with French blood dyed.
“The Rhine—dear Rhine,” ten thousand men,
Kneeling together, cried.
Oh, fairest of the many brides
Wedded to Father Sea,
That from thy cold home in the snow
Trippest so merrily,
As if in eager haste of love
To plight thy fealty;
Wedded to Father Sea,
That from thy cold home in the snow
Trippest so merrily,
As if in eager haste of love
To plight thy fealty;
Thy handmaids are the little streams,
That to thee flock and throng,
Each with her own small dower of vines,
Each with her special song;
Each like a vein of blood, the more
To make thee stark and strong.
That to thee flock and throng,
Each with her own small dower of vines,
Each with her special song;
Each like a vein of blood, the more
To make thee stark and strong.
Fair daughter of the crownèd Alps
In aspiration bold,
No frost can bind thy fervent flood,
That never doth grow old,
Unchecked by Summer's golden fire,
Or by fierce Winter's cold.
In aspiration bold,
No frost can bind thy fervent flood,
That never doth grow old,
Unchecked by Summer's golden fire,
Or by fierce Winter's cold.
Oh, special favourite of God,
Eternal beauty cling
Around thy banks; let all thy vines
Together praise and sing,
And o'er thee angels bend and pause
With sheathed and reverent wing.
Eternal beauty cling
Around thy banks; let all thy vines
Together praise and sing,
And o'er thee angels bend and pause
With sheathed and reverent wing.
Sweet river! where the laughing hills
Thy majesty do greet,
And echoes call from rock to rock,
All through the noonday heat.
In earliest dusk the gathering stars
Above thee love to meet.
Thy majesty do greet,
And echoes call from rock to rock,
All through the noonday heat.
In earliest dusk the gathering stars
Above thee love to meet.
275
When lovers in the ferry-boat
Forget the passing tide,
And, closer drawn, cling lip to lip,
What though the river's wide,
And silver clouds no secrets tell
To the towers on either side;
Forget the passing tide,
And, closer drawn, cling lip to lip,
What though the river's wide,
And silver clouds no secrets tell
To the towers on either side;
When church bells o'er the water speak
Of God unto the hill,
Where ruined castles on the cliff
Speak of God's anger still,
How strong His arm, how swift His shaft,—
Who may resist His will?
Of God unto the hill,
Where ruined castles on the cliff
Speak of God's anger still,
How strong His arm, how swift His shaft,—
Who may resist His will?
Yes, here upon this haunted Rhine
My kingdom I will found,
No spectre knight, or goblins blue,
My purpose shall confound;
I'll bring the Golden Age again
To this old feudal ground.
My kingdom I will found,
No spectre knight, or goblins blue,
My purpose shall confound;
I'll bring the Golden Age again
To this old feudal ground.
| Historical & Legendary Ballads & Songs | |