 | The music-lesson of Confucius, And Other Poems |  |
63
LEGENDS OF THE BIRDS.
THE WONDERFUL CROW.
Erfordiensis quidam civis corvum in deliciis habuisse dicitur quem spiritum ejusmodi fuisse (i.e. spiritus aeri) quod sequitur evincit. Quum quidam die tacitum et tristem videret, ‘quid tu,’ inquit jocabundus, ‘mi corve ita mæstus es; quidve cogitas? Heîc ex improviso ingeminat: Cogitavi dies antiquos et annos æternos in mente habui. Statimque ex oculis heri disparuit.
‘There was a certain citizen of Erfurth who had a pet crow which was one of these spirits of the air, as the following fully proves. For seeing him one day sad and silent, the master said in joke: “Well, my crow, why are you so sorrowful, and of what are you thinking?” To whom the crow mournfully made answer from the seventy-seventh Psalm: “I have considered the days of old, the years of ancient times.” Having said this he suddenly disappeared from the eyes of his lord.’—
Henrici Kornmanni. Opera Curiosa Francofurti, A.M., A.D. 1694.
IN the Thuringian Land of Song,
Where nightingales sing all summer long,
By the river Gesar Erfurth stands,
A town well-known in many lands;
For there—as all the histories tell—
Great Luther had a cloister cell.
Enough—of him no further word,
My song is of a humbler bird
Than the great Reformation swan,
Whose notes were heard in freedom's dawn.
Where nightingales sing all summer long,
By the river Gesar Erfurth stands,
A town well-known in many lands;
For there—as all the histories tell—
Great Luther had a cloister cell.
Enough—of him no further word,
My song is of a humbler bird
Than the great Reformation swan,
Whose notes were heard in freedom's dawn.
64
In this town of Erfurth—long ago
A gentleman once tamed a crow,
Which proved to be a wondrous bird,
If we may trust a writer's word:
For he cawed to the horses in the stable,
Could dance a hornpipe on the table,
Beat time with his bill to the harper's tunes,
Pilfered honey and hid the spoons,
Kissed the maidens and bullied the cats,
Played with the children and chased the rats,
Frolicked about in the kitchen dens
Where he earned a living by driving hens,
Broke with his bill the window panes,
And was always tangled in ladies' trains,
Till everybody declared that he
Was the life and soul of the family.
A gentleman once tamed a crow,
Which proved to be a wondrous bird,
If we may trust a writer's word:
For he cawed to the horses in the stable,
Could dance a hornpipe on the table,
Beat time with his bill to the harper's tunes,
Pilfered honey and hid the spoons,
Kissed the maidens and bullied the cats,
Played with the children and chased the rats,
Frolicked about in the kitchen dens
Where he earned a living by driving hens,
Broke with his bill the window panes,
And was always tangled in ladies' trains,
Till everybody declared that he
Was the life and soul of the family.
In the town of Erfurth long ago.
A change came over that jolly crow.
No more he heeded the harper's tunes,
No longer he pilfered honey or spoons,
No more to the hens was a constable grim,
And the cats quite lost their awe of him;
While after dinner he danced no more
His ‘wheel-about’ jigs on table or floor,
And his health and spirits sunk so low
That he seemed to be quite a converted crow.
A change came over that jolly crow.
No more he heeded the harper's tunes,
No longer he pilfered honey or spoons,
No more to the hens was a constable grim,
And the cats quite lost their awe of him;
While after dinner he danced no more
His ‘wheel-about’ jigs on table or floor,
And his health and spirits sunk so low
That he seemed to be quite a converted crow.
One day his master jesting said:
‘Crow! what fancies are in your head,
Or what mighty sorrow is on your soul,
That you mope and hide like a frightened mole?
Crow, my Crony—’
‘Crow! what fancies are in your head,
Or what mighty sorrow is on your soul,
That you mope and hide like a frightened mole?
Crow, my Crony—’
Here came a surprise!
The master started and opened his eyes,
While a sense of doubt and terror stole o'er him,
As though a ghost had jumped up before him.
Well might he start—for, without a joke,
The crow uplifted his voice and spoke,
In good clear tones, with no awe or qualms,
From the Seventy-seventh of David's Psalms:
‘Cogitavi dies antiquos’—
(Here he paused)—‘et annos æternos.’
He spoke with great solemnity,
Setting forth this ancient Chronology;
But ere a second breath they drew
He spread his wings, and away he flew
Far over river and road and plain,
And never in Erfurth was seen again.
The master started and opened his eyes,
While a sense of doubt and terror stole o'er him,
As though a ghost had jumped up before him.
65
The crow uplifted his voice and spoke,
In good clear tones, with no awe or qualms,
From the Seventy-seventh of David's Psalms:
‘Cogitavi dies antiquos’—
(Here he paused)—‘et annos æternos.’
He spoke with great solemnity,
Setting forth this ancient Chronology;
But ere a second breath they drew
He spread his wings, and away he flew
Far over river and road and plain,
And never in Erfurth was seen again.
MORAL.
'Tis common in every placeTo set forth by a crow the negro race,
As Gilmore Simms long years ago
Made known in his tale of The Lazy Crow.
And 'tis very fine, if you are able,
To have them work on your farm or stable,
Dance your jigs and beat your call,
And ‘never pay them nothing at all.’
But it cannot last for ever, you know,
For a time will come when every crow,
After being silent and perplexed,
Will search the Scriptures and find a text,—
A text of the wonderful days of old,
When truth was to white and black unrolled,
Then find his tongue. Fire melts all frost;
E'en the negro will find his Pentecost—
And, speaking out, like a soul set free,
Will rise to knowledge and liberty.
Philadelphia, 1863.
66
THE SWALLOW.
WHEN Jesus hung upon the cross
The birds, 'tis said, bewailed the loss
Of Him who first to mortals taught,
Guiding with love the life of all,
And heeding e'en the sparrows' fall.
The birds, 'tis said, bewailed the loss
Of Him who first to mortals taught,
Guiding with love the life of all,
And heeding e'en the sparrows' fall.
But, as old Swedish legends say,
Of all the birds upon that day,
The swallow felt the deepest grief,
And longed to give her Lord relief,
And chirped when any near would come,
‘Hugswala swala swal honom!’
Meaning, as they who tell it deem,
Oh, cool, oh, cool and comfort Him!
Of all the birds upon that day,
The swallow felt the deepest grief,
And longed to give her Lord relief,
And chirped when any near would come,
‘Hugswala swala swal honom!’
Meaning, as they who tell it deem,
Oh, cool, oh, cool and comfort Him!
Oh soul, oh life, oh love! Whene'er
A sufferer in this world draws near,
Wilt thou remember ere thou go
How Jesus died in bitterest woe?
That thou in every brother's pain
Might'st see thy Saviour live again.
Then, drawing from the living stream,
‘Oh, cool, oh, cool and comfort Him!’
A sufferer in this world draws near,
Wilt thou remember ere thou go
How Jesus died in bitterest woe?
That thou in every brother's pain
Might'st see thy Saviour live again.
Then, drawing from the living stream,
‘Oh, cool, oh, cool and comfort Him!’
67
THE SWAN.
WHO rides the rustling woods by night?
Sweet through the green leaves shines the moon;
Blue flames his steel, his plume is white,
And the brook is singing an Elfin tune.
Sweet through the green leaves shines the moon;
Blue flames his steel, his plume is white,
And the brook is singing an Elfin tune.
His road is running with the stream,
Sweet through the green leaves shines the moon;
Who wakes in love still walks in dream,
And the brook is singing an Elfin tune.
Sweet through the green leaves shines the moon;
Who wakes in love still walks in dream,
And the brook is singing an Elfin tune.
Are those three swans white splashing there?
Sweet through the green leaves shines the moon;
No swans are they, but women fair,
And the brook is singing an Elfin tune.
Sweet through the green leaves shines the moon;
No swans are they, but women fair,
And the brook is singing an Elfin tune.
On a tree their swan-robes wave and fall,
Sweet through the green leaves shines the moon;
And the knight, if he would, may seize them all,
While the brook is singing an Elfin tune.
Sweet through the green leaves shines the moon;
And the knight, if he would, may seize them all,
While the brook is singing an Elfin tune.
Who wears a swan-robe merrily,
Sweet through the green leaves shines the moon;
May sail at will o'er land and sea,
And the brook is singing an Elfin tune.
Sweet through the green leaves shines the moon;
May sail at will o'er land and sea,
And the brook is singing an Elfin tune.
He rides and leaves them hanging there:
Sweet through the green leaves shines the moon;
‘When you swim of your clothes take better care,
There are some who would rob you, ladies fair!’
And the brook is singing an Elfin tune.
Sweet through the green leaves shines the moon;
‘When you swim of your clothes take better care,
There are some who would rob you, ladies fair!’
And the brook is singing an Elfin tune.
68
He rides into the deadly fight;
Sweet through the green leaves shines the moon;
Far o'er him fly three swans so white,
And the brook is singing an Elfin tune.
Sweet through the green leaves shines the moon;
Far o'er him fly three swans so white,
And the brook is singing an Elfin tune.
A lance has killed him in the fray:
Sweet through the green leaves shines the moon;
Three swans with a soul have flown away;
They fade in the first red light of day:—
And the brook is singing an Elfin tune.
Sweet through the green leaves shines the moon;
Three swans with a soul have flown away;
They fade in the first red light of day:—
And the brook is singing an Elfin tune.
69
THE PEACOCK.
WHY has the peacock hideous feet?
Why is his voice no longer sweet?
He who in Eden ere the Fall
Mid birds, in both, surpassed them all.
Why is his voice no longer sweet?
He who in Eden ere the Fall
Mid birds, in both, surpassed them all.
To Paradise, the Arabs say,
Satan could never find the way
Until the peacock led him in:—
Pride takes in every sin;—
Pride teaches Evil paths to gain
Which he for years had sought in vain.
Satan could never find the way
Until the peacock led him in:—
Pride takes in every sin;—
Pride teaches Evil paths to gain
Which he for years had sought in vain.
The curse which pierced the Serpent through,
'Tis said, fell on the peacock too.
His voice, which once in Eden's vales
Rang sweeter than the nightingale's,
Grew harsh:—the feet, which led the way
Of him who led the world astray,
Became the claws which now he wears,
Such as the Hebrew demon bears.
'Tis said, fell on the peacock too.
His voice, which once in Eden's vales
Rang sweeter than the nightingale's,
Grew harsh:—the feet, which led the way
Of him who led the world astray,
Became the claws which now he wears,
Such as the Hebrew demon bears.
Such is the story, plain to all,
Which teaches, Pride must have a fall.
Which teaches, Pride must have a fall.
70
THE EAGLE.
Who is ruler of the eagles,
Father of the feathered kings?
In the dark and lonely Norland
There the giant spreads his wings:
Giant bird and god Hrosvelgar;—
As the Iceland poet sings.
Father of the feathered kings?
In the dark and lonely Norland
There the giant spreads his wings:
Giant bird and god Hrosvelgar;—
As the Iceland poet sings.
When he flaps his wings, a tempest
Howling o'er the ocean flies,
From his eyes the lightning flashes,
And he makes the whirlwind rise:
So he calls his eagle-children,
And they answer him with cries.
Howling o'er the ocean flies,
From his eyes the lightning flashes,
And he makes the whirlwind rise:
So he calls his eagle-children,
And they answer him with cries.
‘He who clears away corruption,’
Is the meaning of his name;
Storm-winds sweep away infection,
Wrath and strength cure many a shame
Eagles also have their mission:
Every bird should not be tame!
Is the meaning of his name;
Storm-winds sweep away infection,
Wrath and strength cure many a shame
Eagles also have their mission:
Every bird should not be tame!
71
THE OWL.
WHEN Jesus walked in Jewry, then
He hungered oft like other men;
And quaint old monkish legends say
That in a baker's shop one day
He asked for food. About to bake,
The mistress took a generous cake,
And said: ‘All this I mean for thee;
Wait, Lord, until it ready be!’
‘It is too much!’ her daughter cried,
And put one half the gift aside
With angry air. He nothing said,
But by the fire laid down the bread,
When, lo! as when a blossom blows,
To a vast loaf the manchet rose!
In angry wonder standing by,
The girl sent forth a wild, rude cry,
And feathering fast into a fowl,
Flew to the woods a wailing owl!
He hungered oft like other men;
And quaint old monkish legends say
That in a baker's shop one day
He asked for food. About to bake,
The mistress took a generous cake,
And said: ‘All this I mean for thee;
Wait, Lord, until it ready be!’
‘It is too much!’ her daughter cried,
And put one half the gift aside
With angry air. He nothing said,
But by the fire laid down the bread,
When, lo! as when a blossom blows,
To a vast loaf the manchet rose!
In angry wonder standing by,
The girl sent forth a wild, rude cry,
And feathering fast into a fowl,
Flew to the woods a wailing owl!
Each voice which in the desert cries
Teaches a lesson to the wise.
Experience, the mistress stern,
In legends gives us truth to learn,
And emblemed in the owl we see
That all men wise and kind should be.
Teaches a lesson to the wise.
Experience, the mistress stern,
In legends gives us truth to learn,
And emblemed in the owl we see
That all men wise and kind should be.
72
Thus monks in moralizing strain
Revived Minerva's bird again,
Adding a kindlier Christian sense
To the symbol of intelligence,
Making it Learning's quaintest type
Humanity and wisdom ripe.
Revived Minerva's bird again,
Adding a kindlier Christian sense
To the symbol of intelligence,
Making it Learning's quaintest type
Humanity and wisdom ripe.
| The music-lesson of Confucius, And Other Poems | |