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 | Bits of Talk, in verse and prose, for young folks |  |
7
THE PARABLE OF ST. CHRISTOPHER.
To a king's court a giant came,—
“O king, both far and near
I seek,” he said, “the greatest king,
And thou art he, I hear.
“O king, both far and near
I seek,” he said, “the greatest king,
And thou art he, I hear.
“If it please thee, I will abide;
To thee my knee shall bend;
Only unto the greatest kings
Can giants condescend.”
To thee my knee shall bend;
Only unto the greatest kings
Can giants condescend.”
Right glad the king the giant took
Into his service then,
For since Goliath's mighty days
No man so big was seen.
Into his service then,
For since Goliath's mighty days
No man so big was seen.
Well pleased the giant, too, to serve
The greatest king on earth;
He served him well, in peace, in war,
In sorrow, and in mirth,
The greatest king on earth;
He served him well, in peace, in war,
In sorrow, and in mirth,
8
Till came a wandering minstrel by,
One day, who played and sang
Wild songs, through which the devil's name
Profanely, loudly rang.
One day, who played and sang
Wild songs, through which the devil's name
Profanely, loudly rang.
Astonished then the giant saw
The king look sore afraid;
At mention of the devil's name,
The cross's sign he made.
The king look sore afraid;
At mention of the devil's name,
The cross's sign he made.
“How now, my master! Why dost thou
Make on thy breast this sign?”
He said. “It is a spell,” replied
The king—“a spell divine,
Make on thy breast this sign?”
He said. “It is a spell,” replied
The king—“a spell divine,
“Which shall the devil circumvent,
And keep me safe and whole
From all the wicked arts he tries
To slay my precious soul.”
And keep me safe and whole
From all the wicked arts he tries
To slay my precious soul.”
“O, ho, my master! then he is
More powerful than thou!
They lied who called thee greatest king;
I leave thy service now,
More powerful than thou!
They lied who called thee greatest king;
I leave thy service now,
9
“And seek the devil; him will I
My master call henceforth,”
The giant cried, and strode away
Contemptuous and wroth.
My master call henceforth,”
The giant cried, and strode away
Contemptuous and wroth.
He found the devil soon. I ween
The devil waited near,
Well pleased to have this mighty man
Within his ranks appear.
The devil waited near,
Well pleased to have this mighty man
Within his ranks appear.
They journeyed on full many a day,
And now the giant deemed
At last he had a master found,
Who was the king he seemed.
And now the giant deemed
At last he had a master found,
Who was the king he seemed.
But lo! one day they came apace
To where four roadways met,
And at the meeting of the roads
A cross of stone was set.
To where four roadways met,
And at the meeting of the roads
A cross of stone was set.
The devil trembled and fell back,
And said, “We go around.”
“Now tell me,” fierce the giant cried,
“Why fearest thou this ground?”
And said, “We go around.”
“Now tell me,” fierce the giant cried,
“Why fearest thou this ground?”
10
The devil would not answer. “Then
I leave thee, master mine,”
The giant said. “Of something wrong
This mystery is sign.”
I leave thee, master mine,”
The giant said. “Of something wrong
This mystery is sign.”
Then answered him the fiend, ashamed:
“'Twas there Christ Jesus died;
Wherever stands a cross like that,
I may not, dare not bide.”
“'Twas there Christ Jesus died;
Wherever stands a cross like that,
I may not, dare not bide.”
“Ho, ho!” the giant cried again,
Surprised again, perplexed;
“Then Jesus is the greatest king,—
I seek and serve him next.”
Surprised again, perplexed;
“Then Jesus is the greatest king,—
I seek and serve him next.”
The king named Jesus, far and near,
The weary giant sought;
His name was everywhere proclaimed,
His image sold and bought,
The weary giant sought;
His name was everywhere proclaimed,
His image sold and bought,
His power vaunted, and his laws
Upheld by sword and fire;
But him the giant sought in vain,
Until he cried in ire,
Upheld by sword and fire;
But him the giant sought in vain,
Until he cried in ire,
11
One winter eve, as late he came
Upon a hermit's cell:
“Now by my troth, tell me, good saint,
Where doth thy master dwell?
Upon a hermit's cell:
“Now by my troth, tell me, good saint,
Where doth thy master dwell?
“For I have sought him far and wide,
By leagues of land and sea;
I seek to be his servant true,
In honest fealty.
By leagues of land and sea;
I seek to be his servant true,
In honest fealty.
“I have such strength as kings desire,
State to their state to lend;
But only to the greatest king
Can giants condescend.”
State to their state to lend;
But only to the greatest king
Can giants condescend.”
Then said the hermit, pale and wan:
“Oh, giant man! indeed
The King thou seekest doth all kings
In glorious power exceed;
“Oh, giant man! indeed
The King thou seekest doth all kings
In glorious power exceed;
“But they who see him face to face,
In full communion clear,
Crowned with his kingdom's splendor bright,
Must buy the vision dear.
In full communion clear,
Crowned with his kingdom's splendor bright,
Must buy the vision dear.
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“Dwell here, O brother, and thy lot
With ours contented cast,
And first, that flesh be well subdued,
For days and nights thou'lt fast!”
With ours contented cast,
And first, that flesh be well subdued,
For days and nights thou'lt fast!”
“I fast!” the giant cried, amazed.
“Good saint, I'll no such thing.
My strength would fail; without that, I
Were fit to serve no king!”
“Good saint, I'll no such thing.
My strength would fail; without that, I
Were fit to serve no king!”
“Then thou must pray,” the hermit said;
“We kneel on yonder stone,
And tell these beads, and for each bead
A prayer, one by one.”
“We kneel on yonder stone,
And tell these beads, and for each bead
A prayer, one by one.”
The giant flung the beads away,
Laughing in scornful pride,
“I will not wear my knees on stones;
I know no prayers,” he cried.
Laughing in scornful pride,
“I will not wear my knees on stones;
I know no prayers,” he cried.
Then said the hermit, “Giant, since
Thou canst not fast nor pray,
I know not if our Master will
Save thee some other way.
Thou canst not fast nor pray,
I know not if our Master will
Save thee some other way.
13
“But go down to yon river deep,
Where pilgrims daily sink,
And build for thee a little hut
Close on the river's brink,
Where pilgrims daily sink,
And build for thee a little hut
Close on the river's brink,
“And carry travellers back and forth
Across the raging stream;
Perchance this service to our King
A worthy one will seem.”
Across the raging stream;
Perchance this service to our King
A worthy one will seem.”
“Now that is good,” the giant cried;
“That work I understand;
A joyous task 'twill be to bear
Poor souls from land to land,
“That work I understand;
A joyous task 'twill be to bear
Poor souls from land to land,
“Who, but for me, would sink and drown.
Good saint, thou hast at length
Made mention of a work which is
Fit for a giant's strength.”
Good saint, thou hast at length
Made mention of a work which is
Fit for a giant's strength.”
For many a year, in lowly hut,
The giant dwelt content
Upon the bank, and back and forth
Across the stream he went,
The giant dwelt content
Upon the bank, and back and forth
Across the stream he went,
14
And on his giant shoulders bore
All travellers who came,
By night, by day, or rich or poor,
All in King Jesus' name.
All travellers who came,
By night, by day, or rich or poor,
All in King Jesus' name.
But much he doubted if the King
His work would note or know,
And often with a weary heart
He waded to and fro.
His work would note or know,
And often with a weary heart
He waded to and fro.
One night, as wrapped in sleep he lay,
He sudden heard a call:
“Oh, Christopher, come carry me!”
He sprang, looked out, but all
He sudden heard a call:
“Oh, Christopher, come carry me!”
He sprang, looked out, but all
Was dark and silent on the shore.
“It must be that I dreamed,”
He said, and laid him down again;
But instantly there seemed
“It must be that I dreamed,”
He said, and laid him down again;
But instantly there seemed
Again the feeble, distant cry:
“Oh, come and carry me!”
Again he sprang, and looked; again
No living thing could see.
“Oh, come and carry me!”
Again he sprang, and looked; again
No living thing could see.
15
The third time came the plaintive voice,
Like infant's soft and weak;
With lantern strode the giant forth,
More carefully to seek.
Like infant's soft and weak;
With lantern strode the giant forth,
More carefully to seek.
Down on the bank a little child
He found,—a piteous sight,—
Who, weeping, earnestly implored
To cross that very night.
He found,—a piteous sight,—
Who, weeping, earnestly implored
To cross that very night.
With gruff good-will he picked him up,
And on his neck to ride,
He tossed him, as men play with babes,
And plunged into the tide.
And on his neck to ride,
He tossed him, as men play with babes,
And plunged into the tide.
But as the water closed around
His knees, the infant's weight
Grew heavier and heavier,
Until it was so great
His knees, the infant's weight
Grew heavier and heavier,
Until it was so great
The giant scarce could stand upright;
His staff shook in his hand,
His mighty knees bent under him,
He barely reached the land,
His staff shook in his hand,
His mighty knees bent under him,
He barely reached the land,
16
And, staggering, set the infant down,
And turned to scan his face;
When, lo! he saw a halo bright
Which lit up all the place.
And turned to scan his face;
When, lo! he saw a halo bright
Which lit up all the place.
Then Christopher fell down afraid
At marvel of the thing,
And dreamed not that it was the face
Of Jesus Christ, his King,
At marvel of the thing,
And dreamed not that it was the face
Of Jesus Christ, his King,
Until the infant spoke, and said:
“Oh, Christopher, behold!
I am the Lord whom thou hast served!
Rise up, be glad and bold!
“Oh, Christopher, behold!
I am the Lord whom thou hast served!
Rise up, be glad and bold!
“For I have seen and noted well
Thy works of charity;
And that thou art my servant good,
A token thou shalt see.
Thy works of charity;
And that thou art my servant good,
A token thou shalt see.
“Plant firmly here upon this bank
Thy stalwart staff of pine,
And it shall blossom and bear fruit,
This very hour, in sign.”
Thy stalwart staff of pine,
And it shall blossom and bear fruit,
This very hour, in sign.”
17
Then, vanishing, the infant smiled.
The giant, left alone,
Saw on the bank, with luscious dates,
His stout pine staff bent down.
The giant, left alone,
Saw on the bank, with luscious dates,
His stout pine staff bent down.
For many a year, St. Christopher
Served God in many a land;
And master painters drew his face,
With loving heart and hand,
Served God in many a land;
And master painters drew his face,
With loving heart and hand,
On altar fronts and church's walls;
And peasants used to say,
To look on good St. Christopher
Brought luck for all the day.
And peasants used to say,
To look on good St. Christopher
Brought luck for all the day.
I think the lesson is as good
To-day as it was then—
As good to us called Christians
As to the heathen men:
To-day as it was then—
As good to us called Christians
As to the heathen men:
The lesson of St. Christopher,
Who spent his strength for others,
And saved his soul by working hard
To help and save his brothers!
Who spent his strength for others,
And saved his soul by working hard
To help and save his brothers!
38
THE LEGEND OF ST. NICHOLAS.
The tales of good St. Nicholas
Are known in every clime;
Told in painting, and in statues,
And in the poet's rhyme.
For centuries they've worshipped him,
In churches east and west;
Of all the saints we read about
He is beloved the best.
Because he was the saint of all
The wretched and the poor,
And never sent a little child
Unsuccored from his door.
In England's isle, alone, to-day,
Four hundred churches stand
Which bear his name, and keep it well
Remembered through the land.
And all the little children
In England know full well
This tale of good St. Nicholas,
Which I am now to tell.
The sweetest tale, I think, of all
The tales they tell of him;
I never read it but my eyes
With tears begin to swim.
Are known in every clime;
Told in painting, and in statues,
And in the poet's rhyme.
For centuries they've worshipped him,
In churches east and west;
Of all the saints we read about
He is beloved the best.
Because he was the saint of all
The wretched and the poor,
And never sent a little child
Unsuccored from his door.
In England's isle, alone, to-day,
Four hundred churches stand
Which bear his name, and keep it well
Remembered through the land.
And all the little children
In England know full well
This tale of good St. Nicholas,
Which I am now to tell.
39
The tales they tell of him;
I never read it but my eyes
With tears begin to swim.
There was a heathen king who roved
About with cruel bands,
And waged a fierce and wicked war
On all the Christian lands.
And once he took as captive
A little fair-haired boy,
A Christian merchant's only son,
His mother's pride and joy.
He decked him in apparel gay,
And said, “You're just the age
To serve behind my chair at meat,
A dainty Christian page.”
Oh, with a sore and aching heart
The lonely captive child
Roamed through the palace, big and grand,
And wept and never smiled.
And all the heathen jeered at him,
And called him Christian dog,
And when the king was angry
He kicked him like a log,
And spat upon his face, and said:
“Now by my beard, thy gods
Are poor to leave their worshippers
At such unequal odds.”
About with cruel bands,
And waged a fierce and wicked war
On all the Christian lands.
And once he took as captive
A little fair-haired boy,
A Christian merchant's only son,
His mother's pride and joy.
He decked him in apparel gay,
And said, “You're just the age
To serve behind my chair at meat,
A dainty Christian page.”
Oh, with a sore and aching heart
The lonely captive child
Roamed through the palace, big and grand,
And wept and never smiled.
And all the heathen jeered at him,
And called him Christian dog,
And when the king was angry
He kicked him like a log,
40
“Now by my beard, thy gods
Are poor to leave their worshippers
At such unequal odds.”
One day, just as the cruel king
Had sat him down to dine,
And in his jewelled cup of gold
The page was pouring wine,
The little fellow's heart ran o'er
In tears he could not stay,
For he remembered suddenly,
It was the very day
On which the yearly feast was kept
Of good St Nicholas,
And at his home that very hour
Were dancing on the grass,
With music, and with feasting, all
The children of the town.
The king looked up, and saw his tears;
His face began to frown:
“How now, thou dog! thy snivelling tears
Are running in my cup;
'Twas not with these, but with good wine,
I bade thee fill it up.
Why weeps the hound?” The child replied:
“I weep, because to-day,
In name of good St. Nicholas,
All Christian children play;
And all my kindred gather home,
From greatest unto least,
And keep to good St. Nicholas
A merry banquet feast.”
The heathen king laughed scornfully:
“If he be saint indeed,
Thy famous great St. Nicholas,
Why does he not take heed
To thee to-day, and bear thee back
To thy own native land?
Ha! well I wot, he cannot take
One slave from out my hand!”
Had sat him down to dine,
And in his jewelled cup of gold
The page was pouring wine,
The little fellow's heart ran o'er
In tears he could not stay,
For he remembered suddenly,
It was the very day
On which the yearly feast was kept
Of good St Nicholas,
And at his home that very hour
Were dancing on the grass,
With music, and with feasting, all
The children of the town.
The king looked up, and saw his tears;
His face began to frown:
“How now, thou dog! thy snivelling tears
Are running in my cup;
'Twas not with these, but with good wine,
I bade thee fill it up.
41
“I weep, because to-day,
In name of good St. Nicholas,
All Christian children play;
And all my kindred gather home,
From greatest unto least,
And keep to good St. Nicholas
A merry banquet feast.”
The heathen king laughed scornfully:
“If he be saint indeed,
Thy famous great St. Nicholas,
Why does he not take heed
To thee to-day, and bear thee back
To thy own native land?
Ha! well I wot, he cannot take
One slave from out my hand!”
Scarce left the boastful words his tongue
When, with astonished eyes,
The cruel king a giant form
Saw swooping from the skies.
A whirlwind shook the palace walls,
The doors flew open wide,
And lo! the good St. Nicholas
Came in with mighty stride.
Right past the guards, as they were not,
Close to the king's gold chair,
With striding steps the good Saint came,
And seizing by his hair
The frightened little page, he bore
Him, in a twinkling, high
Above the palace topmost roof,
And vanished in the sky.
When, with astonished eyes,
The cruel king a giant form
Saw swooping from the skies.
A whirlwind shook the palace walls,
The doors flew open wide,
And lo! the good St. Nicholas
Came in with mighty stride.
42
Close to the king's gold chair,
With striding steps the good Saint came,
And seizing by his hair
The frightened little page, he bore
Him, in a twinkling, high
Above the palace topmost roof,
And vanished in the sky.
Now at that very hour was spread
A banquet rich and dear,
Within the little page's home,
To which, from far and near,
The page's mourning parents called
All poor to come and pray
With them, to good St. Nicholas,
Upon his sacred day.
Thinking, perhaps, that he would heal
Their anguish and their pain,
And at poor people's prayers might give
Their child to them again.
A banquet rich and dear,
Within the little page's home,
To which, from far and near,
The page's mourning parents called
All poor to come and pray
With them, to good St. Nicholas,
Upon his sacred day.
Thinking, perhaps, that he would heal
Their anguish and their pain,
And at poor people's prayers might give
Their child to them again.
Now what a sight was there to see,
When flying through the air,
The Saint came carrying the boy,
Still by his curly hair!
And set him on his mother's knee,
Too frightened yet to stand,
And holding still the king's gold cup
Fast in his little hand.
And what glad sounds were these to hear,
What sobs and joyful cries,
And calls for good St. Nicholas,
To come back from the skies!
But swift he soared, and only smiled,
And vanished in the blue;
Most likely he was hurrying
Some other good to do.
But I wonder if he did not stop
To take a passing look
Where still the cruel heathen king
In terror crouched and shook;
While from the palace all his guards
In coward haste had fled,
And told the people, in his chair
The king was sitting dead.
When flying through the air,
The Saint came carrying the boy,
Still by his curly hair!
43
Too frightened yet to stand,
And holding still the king's gold cup
Fast in his little hand.
And what glad sounds were these to hear,
What sobs and joyful cries,
And calls for good St. Nicholas,
To come back from the skies!
But swift he soared, and only smiled,
And vanished in the blue;
Most likely he was hurrying
Some other good to do.
But I wonder if he did not stop
To take a passing look
Where still the cruel heathen king
In terror crouched and shook;
While from the palace all his guards
In coward haste had fled,
And told the people, in his chair
The king was sitting dead.
Hurrah for good St. Nicholas!
The friend of all the poor,
Who never sent a little child
Unsuccored from his door.
We do not pray to saints to-day,
But still we hold them dear,
And the stories of their holy lives
Are stories good to hear.
They are a sort of parable,
And if we ponder well,
We shall not find it hard to read
The lesson which they tell.
We do not pray to saints to-day,
Yet who knows but they hear
Our mention of them, and are glad
We hold their memory dear?
Hurrah for good St. Nicholas,
The friend of all the poor,
Who never sent a little child
Unsuccored from his door!
The friend of all the poor,
Who never sent a little child
Unsuccored from his door.
44
But still we hold them dear,
And the stories of their holy lives
Are stories good to hear.
They are a sort of parable,
And if we ponder well,
We shall not find it hard to read
The lesson which they tell.
We do not pray to saints to-day,
Yet who knows but they hear
Our mention of them, and are glad
We hold their memory dear?
Hurrah for good St. Nicholas,
The friend of all the poor,
Who never sent a little child
Unsuccored from his door!
57
ST. MARTIN'S CLOAK.
St. Martin was a soldier
Of Constantine the Great;
While yet he was a stripling
He bore full armor's weight;
He fought right well and valiantly;
No worse because he prayed;
His comrades sometime scoffed at him,
When the cross's sign he made.
But they loved him in their hearts,
And revered his saintly life,
And felt safer with him close to them,
In the thickest of the strife.
Of Constantine the Great;
While yet he was a stripling
He bore full armor's weight;
He fought right well and valiantly;
No worse because he prayed;
His comrades sometime scoffed at him,
When the cross's sign he made.
But they loved him in their hearts,
And revered his saintly life,
And felt safer with him close to them,
In the thickest of the strife.
They tell a many tales of him;
His generosity;
His love for all the poor; his deeds
Of gracious charity;
Above them all, this one is sweet
And wonderful to read,
And holds a tender lesson
For us to learn and heed.
Oh if we lived to-day, as lived
Those blessed ancient saints,
This world of ours less full would be
Of weeping and complaints.
His generosity;
His love for all the poor; his deeds
Of gracious charity;
Above them all, this one is sweet
And wonderful to read,
And holds a tender lesson
For us to learn and heed.
58
Those blessed ancient saints,
This world of ours less full would be
Of weeping and complaints.
One dreadful winter, when the cold
Was so bitter that it killed
Men on the streets, and, spite of fires,
In houses they were chilled,
St. Martin went one morning
To pass the city's gate,
And there he saw a ragged man,
Whose pitiable state
So moved his heart, that in a trice
He drew his good broadsword,
And cut his warm fur cloak in two
Without a single word,
And threw the beggar-man one-half;
Then in the other, clad
But meagrely, he rode all day
Half frozen, but most glad.
Was so bitter that it killed
Men on the streets, and, spite of fires,
In houses they were chilled,
St. Martin went one morning
To pass the city's gate,
And there he saw a ragged man,
Whose pitiable state
So moved his heart, that in a trice
He drew his good broadsword,
And cut his warm fur cloak in two
Without a single word,
And threw the beggar-man one-half;
Then in the other, clad
But meagrely, he rode all day
Half frozen, but most glad.
At night, St. Martin dreamed a dream,
Such dreams as angels bring;
They led him in his dream to Heaven,
To see a wondrous thing.
He saw the Good Lord walking
Along the golden street,
With angels crowding round him,
On silver pinions fleet;
And lo, upon his shoulders
A wrap of fur he bore,
The self-same wrap of fur which matched
The half St. Martin wore!
Such dreams as angels bring;
They led him in his dream to Heaven,
To see a wondrous thing.
59
Along the golden street,
With angels crowding round him,
On silver pinions fleet;
And lo, upon his shoulders
A wrap of fur he bore,
The self-same wrap of fur which matched
The half St. Martin wore!
And turning to the angels,
With smile, the Good Lord said,
“Now do ye know, my angels,
Who thus hath me array'd?
My servant Martin hath done this,
Though he is unbaptized,
And dreameth not his charity
By me is known and prized.”
With smile, the Good Lord said,
“Now do ye know, my angels,
Who thus hath me array'd?
My servant Martin hath done this,
Though he is unbaptized,
And dreameth not his charity
By me is known and prized.”
The next day, while the vision
Glowed within him like a flame,
Young Martin sought a holy priest,
Who baptized him in God's name.
And after that, for thirty years
He fought the Emperor's fights
As one whose eye and hand are nerved
By Heaven's sounds and sights.
Glowed within him like a flame,
Young Martin sought a holy priest,
Who baptized him in God's name.
And after that, for thirty years
He fought the Emperor's fights
As one whose eye and hand are nerved
By Heaven's sounds and sights.
81
THE PALACE OF GONDOFORUS.
A LEGEND OF ST. THOMAS.
When King Gondoforus desired
To have a palace built that should
Be finer than all palaces
Which in the Roman Empire stood,
To have a palace built that should
Be finer than all palaces
Which in the Roman Empire stood,
He sent his provost Abanes
To search the countries far and wide
For builders and for architects,
Whose skill and knowledge had been tried.
To search the countries far and wide
For builders and for architects,
Whose skill and knowledge had been tried.
Then God unto St. Thomas said:
“Go, Thomas, now, and tell this king
That thou wilt build a palace which
Immortal fame to him shall bring.”
“Go, Thomas, now, and tell this king
That thou wilt build a palace which
Immortal fame to him shall bring.”
Then to the saint, Gondoforus
Gave stores of silver and of gold,
And precious stones and jewels rich;
Nought did the eager king withhold.
Gave stores of silver and of gold,
And precious stones and jewels rich;
Nought did the eager king withhold.
82
“Now see thou build, O saint,” he cried,
All proud and arrogant of mien—
“Now see thou build right speedily
Such palace as was never seen!”
All proud and arrogant of mien—
“Now see thou build right speedily
Such palace as was never seen!”
Then to far countries journeyed he—
Two years and more he staid away;
At other sovereigns' palaces
All scornful gazing, he would say:
Two years and more he staid away;
At other sovereigns' palaces
All scornful gazing, he would say:
“St. Thomas, sent from God, doth build
For me a palace. God hath said
Its splendor an immortal fame
Upon my name and reign shall shed.”
For me a palace. God hath said
Its splendor an immortal fame
Upon my name and reign shall shed.”
Gondoforus returned and sought
With eager haste his palace site;
The field was bare as when he went,
The sod with peaceful daisies white!
With eager haste his palace site;
The field was bare as when he went,
The sod with peaceful daisies white!
“What has the man called Thomas done
With all my gold?” he hotly cried.
“Given it all unto the poor,”
The courtiers sneeringly replied.
With all my gold?” he hotly cried.
“Given it all unto the poor,”
The courtiers sneeringly replied.
83
The king, in rage no words could tell,
St. Thomas into prison threw,
And racked his brains to think what he
For fitting punishment could do.
St. Thomas into prison threw,
And racked his brains to think what he
For fitting punishment could do.
That very day, his brother died;
His vengeance now must cool and wait;
Until a royal tomb was built,
The royal corpse must lie in state.
His vengeance now must cool and wait;
Until a royal tomb was built,
The royal corpse must lie in state.
Lo! on the fourth day sat erect
The royal corpse, and cried aloud,
While all the mourners and the guards
Fled terror-stricken in a crowd;
The royal corpse, and cried aloud,
While all the mourners and the guards
Fled terror-stricken in a crowd;
“O king! O brother! listen now,
These four days I in Paradise
Have wander'd, and return to tell
Thee what I saw with my own eyes.
These four days I in Paradise
Have wander'd, and return to tell
Thee what I saw with my own eyes.
“This man whom thou wouldst torture is
God's servant, dear to God's own heart.
Behold, the angels showed to me
A palace wrought with wondrous art,
God's servant, dear to God's own heart.
Behold, the angels showed to me
A palace wrought with wondrous art,
84
“Of silver, gold, and precious stones:
Most marvellously it did shine;
And when I asked whose name it bore,
O brother! then they told me thine!
Most marvellously it did shine;
And when I asked whose name it bore,
O brother! then they told me thine!
“‘St. Thomas this hath built,’ they said,
‘For one Gondoforus, a king.’
‘It is my brother!’ I exclaimed,
And fled to thee the news to bring.”
‘For one Gondoforus, a king.’
‘It is my brother!’ I exclaimed,
And fled to thee the news to bring.”
Then fell the royal corpse again
Back, silent, solemn in its state;
Until the royal tomb was built,
The royal corpse must lie and wait.
Back, silent, solemn in its state;
Until the royal tomb was built,
The royal corpse must lie and wait.
Oh! swift the king the prison doors,
With his own hands, did open wide.
“Come forth! come forth! O worthy saint!”
He, kneeling on the threshold, cried.
With his own hands, did open wide.
“Come forth! come forth! O worthy saint!”
He, kneeling on the threshold, cried.
“The dead from heaven this day hath come,
To tell me how in Paradise
The palace thou hast built for me
Shines beautiful in angels' eyes.
To tell me how in Paradise
The palace thou hast built for me
Shines beautiful in angels' eyes.
85
“Come forth! come forth! O noble saint!
And graciously forgive my sin.
As honored guest, my palace gates
Oh condescend to enter in!”
And graciously forgive my sin.
As honored guest, my palace gates
Oh condescend to enter in!”
Then, smiling, said St. Thomas, calm
And gracious as an angel might:
“O king! didst thou not know that we
Build not God's palaces in sight
And gracious as an angel might:
“O king! didst thou not know that we
Build not God's palaces in sight
“Of men, nor from the things of earth?
All heaven lieth full and fair
With palaces which charity
Alone can build, alone can share.
All heaven lieth full and fair
With palaces which charity
Alone can build, alone can share.
“Before the world began, were laid
Their bright foundations by God's hand,
For Charity to build upon,
As God and his son Christ had planned.
Their bright foundations by God's hand,
For Charity to build upon,
As God and his son Christ had planned.
“No other palaces endure;
No other riches can remain;
No other kingdoms are secure;
No other kings eternal reign.”
No other riches can remain;
No other kingdoms are secure;
No other kings eternal reign.”
86
Henceforth the king, Gondoforus,
Went on his way, triumphant, glad,
Remembering what a palace he
Already in the heavens had.
Went on his way, triumphant, glad,
Remembering what a palace he
Already in the heavens had.
No more the Roman emperors
With envy could his bosom move.
How poor their palaces by side
Of one not made with hands, above!
With envy could his bosom move.
How poor their palaces by side
Of one not made with hands, above!
His treasures in the good saint's hands
He poured, and left for him to use,
In adding to that palace fair
Such courts and towers as he might choose.
He poured, and left for him to use,
In adding to that palace fair
Such courts and towers as he might choose.
And there to-day they dwell, I ween,
With other saints and other kings;
And roam with hosts of angels bright,
From place to place, on shining wings.
With other saints and other kings;
And roam with hosts of angels bright,
From place to place, on shining wings.
97
THE NEST.
Under the apple-tree, somebody said,
Look at that robin's nest overhead!
All of sharp sticks, and of mud and clay—
What a rough home for a summer day!”
Gaunt stood the apple-tree, gaunt and bare,
And creaked in the winds which blustered there.
The nest was wet with the April rain;
The clay ran down in an ugly stain;
Little it looked, I must truly say,
Like a lovely home for a summer day.
Look at that robin's nest overhead!
All of sharp sticks, and of mud and clay—
What a rough home for a summer day!”
Gaunt stood the apple-tree, gaunt and bare,
And creaked in the winds which blustered there.
The nest was wet with the April rain;
The clay ran down in an ugly stain;
Little it looked, I must truly say,
Like a lovely home for a summer day.
Up in the apple-tree, somebody laughed,
“Little you know of the true home-craft.
Laugh if you like, at my sticks and clay;
They'll make a good home for a summer day.
May turns the apple-tree pink and white,
Sunny all day, and fragrant all night.
My babies will never feel the showers,
For rain can't get through these feathers of ours.
Sung under my wings they will cuddle and creep,
The happiest babies awake or asleep,”
Said the robin-mother, flying away
After more of the sticks and mud and clay.
“Little you know of the true home-craft.
Laugh if you like, at my sticks and clay;
They'll make a good home for a summer day.
May turns the apple-tree pink and white,
Sunny all day, and fragrant all night.
My babies will never feel the showers,
For rain can't get through these feathers of ours.
Sung under my wings they will cuddle and creep,
The happiest babies awake or asleep,”
Said the robin-mother, flying away
After more of the sticks and mud and clay.
98
Under the apple-tree somebody sighed,
“Ah me, the blunder of folly and pride!
The roughest small house of mud or clay
Might be a sweet home for a summer day,
Sunny and fragrant all day, all night,
With only good cheer for fragrance and light;
And the bitterest storms of grief and pain
Will beat and break on that home in vain,
Where a true-hearted mother broods alway,
And makes the whole year like a summer day.”
“Ah me, the blunder of folly and pride!
The roughest small house of mud or clay
Might be a sweet home for a summer day,
Sunny and fragrant all day, all night,
With only good cheer for fragrance and light;
And the bitterest storms of grief and pain
Will beat and break on that home in vain,
Where a true-hearted mother broods alway,
And makes the whole year like a summer day.”
112
COLORADO SNOW-BIRDS.
I'll tell you how the snow-birds come,
Here in our Winter days;
They make me think of chickens,
With their cunning little ways.
Here in our Winter days;
They make me think of chickens,
With their cunning little ways.
We go to bed at night, and leave
The ground all bare and brown,
And not a single snow-bird
To be seen in all the town.
The ground all bare and brown,
And not a single snow-bird
To be seen in all the town.
But when we wake at morning
The ground with snow is white,
And with the snow, the snow-birds
Must have travelled all the night;
The ground with snow is white,
And with the snow, the snow-birds
Must have travelled all the night;
For the streets and yards are full of them,
The dainty little things,
With snow-white breasts, and soft brown heads,
And speckled russet wings.
The dainty little things,
With snow-white breasts, and soft brown heads,
And speckled russet wings.
113
Not here and there a snow-bird,
As we see them at the East,
But in great flocks, like grasshoppers,
By hundreds, at the least,
As we see them at the East,
But in great flocks, like grasshoppers,
By hundreds, at the least,
They push and crowd and jostle,
And twitter as they feed,
And hardly lift their heads up,
For fear to miss a seed.
And twitter as they feed,
And hardly lift their heads up,
For fear to miss a seed.
What 'tis they eat, nobody seems
To know or understand;
The seeds are much too fine to see,
All sifted in the sand.
To know or understand;
The seeds are much too fine to see,
All sifted in the sand.
But winds last Summer scattered them,
All thickly on these plains;
The little snow-birds have no barns,
But God protects their grains.
All thickly on these plains;
The little snow-birds have no barns,
But God protects their grains.
They let us come quite near them,
And show no sign of dread;
Then, in a twinkling, the whole flock
Will flutter on ahead
And show no sign of dread;
Then, in a twinkling, the whole flock
Will flutter on ahead
114
A step or two, and light, and feed,
And look demure and tame,
And then fly on again, and stop,
As if it were a game.
And look demure and tame,
And then fly on again, and stop,
As if it were a game.
Some flocks count up to thousands,
I know, and when they fly,
Their tiny wings make rustle,
As if a wind went by.
I know, and when they fly,
Their tiny wings make rustle,
As if a wind went by.
They go as quickly as they come,
Go in a night or day;
Soon as the snow has melted off,
The darlings fly away,
Go in a night or day;
Soon as the snow has melted off,
The darlings fly away,
But come again, again, again,
All Winter, with each snow;
Brave little armies, through the cold,
Swift back and forth they go.
All Winter, with each snow;
Brave little armies, through the cold,
Swift back and forth they go.
I always wondered where they lived
In Summer, till last year
I stumbled on them in their home,
High in the upper air;
In Summer, till last year
I stumbled on them in their home,
High in the upper air;
115
'Way up among the clouds it was,
A many thousand feet,
But on the mountain-side gay flowers
Were blooming fresh and sweet.
A many thousand feet,
But on the mountain-side gay flowers
Were blooming fresh and sweet.
Great pine-trees' swaying branches
Gave cool and fragrant shade;
And here, we found, the snow-birds
Their Summer home had made.
Gave cool and fragrant shade;
And here, we found, the snow-birds
Their Summer home had made.
“Oh, lucky little snow-birds!”
We said, “to know so well,
In Summer time and Winter time,
Your destined place to dwell—
We said, “to know so well,
In Summer time and Winter time,
Your destined place to dwell—
“To journey, nothing doubting,
Down to the barren plains,
Where harvests are all over,
To find your garnered grains!
Down to the barren plains,
Where harvests are all over,
To find your garnered grains!
“Oh, precious little snow-birds!
If we were half as wise,
If we were half as trusting
To the Father in the skies,—
If we were half as wise,
If we were half as trusting
To the Father in the skies,—
116
“He would feed us, though the harvests
Had ceased throughout the land,
And hold us, all our lifetime,
In the hollow of his hand!”
Had ceased throughout the land,
And hold us, all our lifetime,
In the hollow of his hand!”
145
“THE PENNY YE MEANT TO GI'E.”
There's a funny tale of a stingy man,
Who was none too good, but might have been worse,
Who went to his church on a Sunday night,
And carried along his well-filled purse.
Who was none too good, but might have been worse,
Who went to his church on a Sunday night,
And carried along his well-filled purse.
When the sexton came with his begging-plate,
The church was but dim with the candle's light;
The stingy man fumbled all through his purse,
And chose a coin by touch and not sight.
The church was but dim with the candle's light;
The stingy man fumbled all through his purse,
And chose a coin by touch and not sight.
It's an odd thing now that guineas should be
So like unto pennies in shape and size.
“I'll give a penny,” the stingy man said;
“The poor must not gifts of pennies despise.”
So like unto pennies in shape and size.
“I'll give a penny,” the stingy man said;
“The poor must not gifts of pennies despise.”
The penny fell down with a clatter and ring!
And back in his seat leaned the stingy man.
“The world is so full of the poor,” he thought,
“I can't help them all,—I give what I can.”
And back in his seat leaned the stingy man.
“The world is so full of the poor,” he thought,
“I can't help them all,—I give what I can.”
Ha, ha! how the sexton smiled, to be sure,
To see the gold guinea fall in his plate!
Ha, ha! how the stingy man's heart was wrung,
Perceiving his blunder, but just too late!
To see the gold guinea fall in his plate!
Ha, ha! how the stingy man's heart was wrung,
Perceiving his blunder, but just too late!
146
“No matter,” he said; “in the Lord's account
That guinea of gold is set down to me.
They lend to Him who give to the poor;
It will not so bad an investment be.”
That guinea of gold is set down to me.
They lend to Him who give to the poor;
It will not so bad an investment be.”
“Na, na, mon,” the chuckling sexton cried out,
“The Lord is na cheated—He kens thee well;
He knew it was only by accident
That out o' thy fingers the guinea fell!
“The Lord is na cheated—He kens thee well;
He knew it was only by accident
That out o' thy fingers the guinea fell!
“He keeps an account, na doubt, for the puir;
But in that account He'll set down to thee
Na mair o' that golden guinea, my mon,
Than the one bare penny ye meant to gi'e!”
But in that account He'll set down to thee
Na mair o' that golden guinea, my mon,
Than the one bare penny ye meant to gi'e!”
There's a comfort, too, in the little tale—
A serious side as well as a joke;
A comfort for all the generous poor,
In the comical words the sexton spoke.
A serious side as well as a joke;
A comfort for all the generous poor,
In the comical words the sexton spoke.
A comfort to think that the good Lord knows
How generous we really desire to be,
And will give us credit in His account,
For all the pennies we long “to gi'e.”
How generous we really desire to be,
And will give us credit in His account,
For all the pennies we long “to gi'e.”
165
MY BROKEN-WINGED BIRD.
For days I have been cherishing
A little bird with broken wing.
I love it in my heart of hearts;
To win its love I try all arts;
I call it by each sweet pet name
That I can think, its fear to tame.
My room is still and bright and warm;
The little thing is safe from harm.
If I had left it where it lay
Fluttering in the wintry day,
No mate remaining by its side,
Before nightfall it must have died.
It sips the drink, it eats the food;
Plenty of both, all sweet and good.
But all the while my hand it flies,
Looks up at me with piteous eyes;
From morn till night, restless and swift,
Runs to and fro, and tries to lift
Itself upon its broken wing,
And through the window-pane to spring.
A little bird with broken wing.
I love it in my heart of hearts;
To win its love I try all arts;
I call it by each sweet pet name
That I can think, its fear to tame.
My room is still and bright and warm;
The little thing is safe from harm.
If I had left it where it lay
Fluttering in the wintry day,
No mate remaining by its side,
Before nightfall it must have died.
It sips the drink, it eats the food;
Plenty of both, all sweet and good.
But all the while my hand it flies,
Looks up at me with piteous eyes;
From morn till night, restless and swift,
Runs to and fro, and tries to lift
Itself upon its broken wing,
And through the window-pane to spring.
166
Poor little bird! Myself I see
From morn till night in watching thee.
A Power I cannot understand
Is sheltering me with loving hand;
It calls me by the dearest name,
My love to win, my fear to tame;
Each day my daily food provides,
And night and day from danger hides
Me safe: the food, the warmth, I take,
Yet all the while ungrateful make
Restless and piteous complaints,
And strive to break the kind restraints.
From morn till night in watching thee.
A Power I cannot understand
Is sheltering me with loving hand;
It calls me by the dearest name,
My love to win, my fear to tame;
Each day my daily food provides,
And night and day from danger hides
Me safe: the food, the warmth, I take,
Yet all the while ungrateful make
Restless and piteous complaints,
And strive to break the kind restraints.
Dear little bird, 'twill not be long;
Each day thy wing is growing strong;
When it is healed, and thou canst fly,
My windows will be opened high;
And I shall watch with loving eyes
To see thee soar in sunny skies.
I, too, some day, on healèd wing
Set free, shall soar aloft and sing,
And in my joy no memory find
Of prison-walls I left behind.
Each day thy wing is growing strong;
When it is healed, and thou canst fly,
My windows will be opened high;
And I shall watch with loving eyes
To see thee soar in sunny skies.
I, too, some day, on healèd wing
Set free, shall soar aloft and sing,
And in my joy no memory find
Of prison-walls I left behind.
176
A SHORT CATECHISM.
At sunset of a summer's day,
All curled up in a funny heap,
Beneath the currant-bushes lay
A boy named Willy, half asleep.
All curled up in a funny heap,
Beneath the currant-bushes lay
A boy named Willy, half asleep.
But peeping through his sleepy eyes
He watched all things as if he dreamed,
And did not feel the least surprise
However strange and queer they seemed.
He watched all things as if he dreamed,
And did not feel the least surprise
However strange and queer they seemed.
And every creature going by
He hailed with questions from the grass,
And laughed and called out sleepily,
“Unless you answer you can't pass.”
He hailed with questions from the grass,
And laughed and called out sleepily,
“Unless you answer you can't pass.”
“O caterpillar, now tell me
Why you roll up so tight and round;
You are the drollest thing to see,
A hairy marble on the ground.”
Why you roll up so tight and round;
You are the drollest thing to see,
A hairy marble on the ground.”
177
“I roll me up to save my bones
When I fall down; young man, if you
Could do the same, the stumps and stones
Would never bruise you black and blue.”
When I fall down; young man, if you
Could do the same, the stumps and stones
Would never bruise you black and blue.”
‘O spider, tell me why you hide
The ropes and ladders which you spin,
And keep them all locked up inside
Your little body slim and thin.”
The ropes and ladders which you spin,
And keep them all locked up inside
Your little body slim and thin.”
“I hide my ropes and ladders fine
Away from neighbors' thievish greed;
If you kept yours as I keep mine,
You'd always have one when you need.”
Away from neighbors' thievish greed;
If you kept yours as I keep mine,
You'd always have one when you need.”
“Why do you buzz so, busy bee?
Why don't you make your honey still?
You move about so boisterously,
I'm sure you must much honey spill.”
Why don't you make your honey still?
You move about so boisterously,
I'm sure you must much honey spill.”
“I buzz and buzz, you silly boy,
Because I can work better so;
Just as you whistle for pure joy
When on the road to school you go.”
Because I can work better so;
Just as you whistle for pure joy
When on the road to school you go.”
178
“O robin, wicked robin, why
Did you my mamma's cherries eat?
You thought no mortal soul was nigh;
But I saw you from bill to feet.”
Did you my mamma's cherries eat?
You thought no mortal soul was nigh;
But I saw you from bill to feet.”
“And I saw you, my fine young lad,
And waited till you'd left the tree;
I thought when you your fill had had,
There would be little left for me!”
And waited till you'd left the tree;
I thought when you your fill had had,
There would be little left for me!”
“O big bull-frogs, why do you make
Such ugly noises every night!
Nobody can a half-nap take;
You make our baby cry with fright.”
Such ugly noises every night!
Nobody can a half-nap take;
You make our baby cry with fright.”
“O Willy, we suppose the noise
Is not a pleasant noise to hear;
But we've one hundred little boys,—
Frog-boys so cunning and so dear;
Is not a pleasant noise to hear;
But we've one hundred little boys,—
Frog-boys so cunning and so dear;
“And it is not an easy task,
You may believe, to put to beds
A hundred little frogs who ask
All questions which pop in their heads.”
You may believe, to put to beds
A hundred little frogs who ask
All questions which pop in their heads.”
195
BY STAGE TO BOSTON.
I have been young, and now I have grown old,
But never until yesterday I knew
How many living souls a stage can hold,
And make the quickest time its journey through.
But never until yesterday I knew
How many living souls a stage can hold,
And make the quickest time its journey through.
I came upon the stage so suddenly,—
And, for a stage, in such a funny place;
I stood stock still, surprised as I could be,
With blank amazement written in my face.
And, for a stage, in such a funny place;
I stood stock still, surprised as I could be,
With blank amazement written in my face.
'Twas just behind old Deacon Thatcher's shed;
The wheels in butter-cups sunk to the hubs;
The pole stretched over a white clover-bed,
And almost into Mrs. Thatcher's tubs.
The wheels in butter-cups sunk to the hubs;
The pole stretched over a white clover-bed,
And almost into Mrs. Thatcher's tubs.
From every window looked out laughing eyes;
From every window came a scream and shout;
Before, behind, the children swarmed like flies,
And madly rocked the old blue stage about.
From every window came a scream and shout;
Before, behind, the children swarmed like flies,
And madly rocked the old blue stage about.
196
“O ho!” I said, and felt as young as they;
“Whose stage is this? To what town does it go?
And is there room for me to go to-day?
And how much is the fare, I want to know?”
“Whose stage is this? To what town does it go?
And is there room for me to go to-day?
And how much is the fare, I want to know?”
As quick as lightning all the children cried:
“We go to Boston, and we've got our load;
But you can go if you will ride outside;
The fare is just a dollar for each rod!”
“We go to Boston, and we've got our load;
But you can go if you will ride outside;
The fare is just a dollar for each rod!”
“Oh dear!” said I, “your fare is much too high;
The money that I have would not begin”—
“Jump on! jump on!” they all began to cry,
“We'll take you once for nothing; you are thin!”
The money that I have would not begin”—
“Jump on! jump on!” they all began to cry,
“We'll take you once for nothing; you are thin!”
I knew much better than to spoil their fun;
So I went on and found a shady place,
And watched, and saw that till the day was done
They travelled tireless, at their quickest pace.
So I went on and found a shady place,
And watched, and saw that till the day was done
They travelled tireless, at their quickest pace.
But all the time I watched I could not win
My heart from thinking, while I dreamed and smiled,
Of that fair kingdom none can enter in
Without becoming first a little child.
My heart from thinking, while I dreamed and smiled,
Of that fair kingdom none can enter in
Without becoming first a little child.
211
LIZZY OF LA BOURGET.
I tell you the tale as 'twas told to me.
'Tis a tale that I dearly love to tell;
The tale of Lizzy of La Bourget,
Of faithful Lizzy, who ran so well.
'Tis a tale that I dearly love to tell;
The tale of Lizzy of La Bourget,
Of faithful Lizzy, who ran so well.
This Lizzy of La Bourget was a mare;
She was all snow white except two black feet;
Her sire was an Arab steed, coal black,
Her dam was a Cossack pony fleet.
She was all snow white except two black feet;
Her sire was an Arab steed, coal black,
Her dam was a Cossack pony fleet.
Her Arab blood made her tireless and strong,
Her Cossack blood made her loving and true;
Oh! Lizzy of La Bourget could love
As warmly as human beings do.
Her Cossack blood made her loving and true;
Oh! Lizzy of La Bourget could love
As warmly as human beings do.
She followed her peasant master to work,
Obeyed at a sign or call of her name;
All day she tugged at his cart or plough,
And bounding at night she homeward came.
Obeyed at a sign or call of her name;
All day she tugged at his cart or plough,
And bounding at night she homeward came.
212
She was never groomed, but she shone like silk,
And fattened well on the poorest fare;
She played with the children like a dog,
And the children fed her with her share.
And fattened well on the poorest fare;
She played with the children like a dog,
And the children fed her with her share.
When the war broke out and her master went
To fight with the French, good Lizzy went too:
And many a battle, night and day,
She carried him bravely, safely through.
To fight with the French, good Lizzy went too:
And many a battle, night and day,
She carried him bravely, safely through.
But at last there came a turn in the tide,
For Lizzy and master, disastrous day;
The day on which a battle was fought,
A bloody battle at La Bourget.
For Lizzy and master, disastrous day;
The day on which a battle was fought,
A bloody battle at La Bourget.
The cavalry regiment, horse and man
Were caught in an ambush and hemmed in:
The Frenchman captured them every one,
And held them, a ransom large to win.
Were caught in an ambush and hemmed in:
The Frenchman captured them every one,
And held them, a ransom large to win.
The captors were tipsy; 'twas late at night;
The foolish men drank because they were glad:
Alone, by a half-open casement low,
Sat Lizzy's poor master, weary and sad,
The foolish men drank because they were glad:
Alone, by a half-open casement low,
Sat Lizzy's poor master, weary and sad,
213
When, sudden, he heard a sound that he knew;
He could not mistake, it was Lizzy's neigh;
She had broken loose and was seeking him,
Oh, brave, good Lizzy of La Bourget!
He could not mistake, it was Lizzy's neigh;
She had broken loose and was seeking him,
Oh, brave, good Lizzy of La Bourget!
The captors were tipsy; they did not hear
Their prisoner call “Lizzy” in whisper low;
They did not notice the joyous neigh:
The first they knew, with one ringing blow
Their prisoner call “Lizzy” in whisper low;
They did not notice the joyous neigh:
The first they knew, with one ringing blow
The casement was burst from its hinges strong,
Their prisoner had leaped on his good mare's back;
And through the darkness he raced, he flew,
With a hundred bullets on his track.
Their prisoner had leaped on his good mare's back;
And through the darkness he raced, he flew,
With a hundred bullets on his track.
No bridle! no spur! But well Lizzy knew
The life of her master lay in her speed,
She ran like a whirlwind, and paid to the shots
No more than to summer raindrops heed.
The life of her master lay in her speed,
She ran like a whirlwind, and paid to the shots
No more than to summer raindrops heed.
No compass! no guide! Nought knew the Hussar
Of right or left in his perilous way;
But safe, sure instinct his Lizzy had,
She knew the road back to La Bourget.
Of right or left in his perilous way;
But safe, sure instinct his Lizzy had,
She knew the road back to La Bourget.
214
All night and the most of a day she ran,
She had no water, she was not fed;
And when she arrived at La Bourget,
You well may think, she was almost dead.
She had no water, she was not fed;
And when she arrived at La Bourget,
You well may think, she was almost dead.
But a shout arose from each man who saw
Her dash into camp with her gallant stride,
And the General himself came out to see
The horse and the master of such a ride.
Her dash into camp with her gallant stride,
And the General himself came out to see
The horse and the master of such a ride.
The fight had been fierce, and many men won
Great fame in the heat of that bloody day,
But long after they are forgotten all,
The world will know Lizzy of La Bourget.
Great fame in the heat of that bloody day,
But long after they are forgotten all,
The world will know Lizzy of La Bourget.
225
MY FIRST VOYAGE ROUND THE WORLD
Four heads peeped over my shoulder,
And four merry voices said,
“Oh, Aunty! tell us a story
Of some journey you have made.”
And four merry voices said,
“Oh, Aunty! tell us a story
Of some journey you have made.”
The lilac-bush at the window
Nodded, and whispered: “You know
There's that one you took in my shadow
Almost thirty years ago.”
Nodded, and whispered: “You know
There's that one you took in my shadow
Almost thirty years ago.”
I nodded back to the lilac,
“Good friend, your plumes are as curled
As when I took, in their shadow,
My first voyage round the world.
“Good friend, your plumes are as curled
As when I took, in their shadow,
My first voyage round the world.
“But I am so old and weary,
I almost forget that sail;
If I find I cannot tell it,
Will you finish me the tale?”
I almost forget that sail;
If I find I cannot tell it,
Will you finish me the tale?”
226
The lilac-bush shook with laughter,
And the fragrance floated in;
The children crowded up closer,
And shouted: “Begin, begin!”
And the fragrance floated in;
The children crowded up closer,
And shouted: “Begin, begin!”
“Well, once there was a little girl.”
“That's you,”
They cried. “Yes, it was I, but 'twill not do
For you to interrupt.
“One day in June
She and her brother took their books at noon
And sat down on the grass, where lilacs made
A green and purple tent with pleasant shade.
They meant to study, but the day was hot;
And watching birds and bugs, they soon forgot
The lessons, and began to idly trace
With pencil-marks the atlas's old face.
But presently, with slow and sleepy gait,
As if they never heard of being late,
Two caterpillars crawled up on the map,
And stopped, and snuffed, and made their feelers snap
With wisest look, on land and on the sea.
‘Halloo! old fellows,’ cried the boy. ‘You'll be
Two travelled worms, and you shall draw our ships.
Go faster, now, or you shall feel the whips.’
Just then two dainty apple-blossoms blew
Down in their laps: one pink, one white. ‘And you
Shall be our ships,’ he cried; ‘one called “The Rose,”
The other, “Snow-bird.”’
“Then his sister chose
‘The Rose’ for hers; and with fine silken strings
They made the caterpillars, helpless things,
Fast to the ships, then watched to see them start.
Oh! ne'er before did worms play such a part;
Oh! ne'er before such ships go gliding through
The seas. Each child a curving stamen picked
From out a tiger-lily bud, and pricked
The sluggish caterpillars right and left
Until they must have been of sense bereft,
If any sense they had.
“‘Oh! now I know
What I will do; for gold and pearls I'll go
To Africa; the good “Snow-bird” shall fly
Past all these islands,’ said the boy.
“‘And I
Will carry first a whole ship-load of bread
To these poor Irishmen who are half dead
With famine,’said the girl; ‘then through the Straits
Of old Gibraltar I will seek the gates
Of Thebes. Oh, dear! all of the River Nile
My caterpillar covers up. Don't smile,
Bad boy; yours is as much too big, and more,
To get between Madeira and the shore.
The open ocean is a better place
For ships towed at a caterpillar's pace.
I'm going round the world, like Captain Cook:
Here is the very track marked out he took.’
‘And so will I,’ cried he; ‘see who will win:
The ship that without cheating first gets in
Shall be the champion ship.’
“Then hard and fast
The poor worms' legs were pricked. They hurried past
Whole continents in seconds. Side by side
These funny racers crawled. No time nor tide
Made odds to them: they thought but of escape.
At last, just as the ‘Snow-bird’ round the Cape
Of Good Hope turned, lo! in a fuzzy ball
Her caterpillar rolled him up, and no
Amount of pricks and shoves could make him go
Another step, or straighten out. The race
Was over, but ‘The Rose’ kept on apace;
Poor caterpillar! patient o'er and o'er
Cook's track in seventeen seventy-three and four,
Through Artic seas and past firm fields of ice,
Past tropic isles, where trade-winds load with spice,
He toiled. At last the play grew dull. ‘The Rose’
Went into port; the ‘Snow-bird’ too; then those
Young tyrants set their victims free; more dead
Than live, the puzzled worms, with feeble tread,
Stole off, and ever after were esteemed,
No doubt, in their own country, as beseemed
Such travellers.
“As for the girl and boy,
They grew up just like all the rest, through joy
And grief, ‘with books, and work, and healthful play;’
But always they remembered well this day;
And when they journeyed in good earnest, said,
Sometimes with pensive laugh: ‘That trip we made
By map, beneath the lilac-bush, was best;
No noise, no smoke, no cinders to molest
On land; no stormy gales on any sea;
Rivers and roads, hotels and harbors free;
Each step of that we both remember yet,
While last year's jaunts we jumble and forget.
Oh! sweet, wise days, when caterpillars made
Fast time enough for us 'neath lilac's shade;
And fancy was so strong that we took trips
Round the whole world in apple-blossom ships.’”
“That's you,”
They cried. “Yes, it was I, but 'twill not do
For you to interrupt.
“One day in June
She and her brother took their books at noon
And sat down on the grass, where lilacs made
A green and purple tent with pleasant shade.
They meant to study, but the day was hot;
And watching birds and bugs, they soon forgot
The lessons, and began to idly trace
With pencil-marks the atlas's old face.
But presently, with slow and sleepy gait,
As if they never heard of being late,
Two caterpillars crawled up on the map,
And stopped, and snuffed, and made their feelers snap
With wisest look, on land and on the sea.
‘Halloo! old fellows,’ cried the boy. ‘You'll be
227
Go faster, now, or you shall feel the whips.’
Just then two dainty apple-blossoms blew
Down in their laps: one pink, one white. ‘And you
Shall be our ships,’ he cried; ‘one called “The Rose,”
The other, “Snow-bird.”’
“Then his sister chose
‘The Rose’ for hers; and with fine silken strings
They made the caterpillars, helpless things,
Fast to the ships, then watched to see them start.
Oh! ne'er before did worms play such a part;
Oh! ne'er before such ships go gliding through
The seas. Each child a curving stamen picked
From out a tiger-lily bud, and pricked
The sluggish caterpillars right and left
Until they must have been of sense bereft,
If any sense they had.
“‘Oh! now I know
What I will do; for gold and pearls I'll go
To Africa; the good “Snow-bird” shall fly
Past all these islands,’ said the boy.
228
Will carry first a whole ship-load of bread
To these poor Irishmen who are half dead
With famine,’said the girl; ‘then through the Straits
Of old Gibraltar I will seek the gates
Of Thebes. Oh, dear! all of the River Nile
My caterpillar covers up. Don't smile,
Bad boy; yours is as much too big, and more,
To get between Madeira and the shore.
The open ocean is a better place
For ships towed at a caterpillar's pace.
I'm going round the world, like Captain Cook:
Here is the very track marked out he took.’
‘And so will I,’ cried he; ‘see who will win:
The ship that without cheating first gets in
Shall be the champion ship.’
“Then hard and fast
The poor worms' legs were pricked. They hurried past
Whole continents in seconds. Side by side
These funny racers crawled. No time nor tide
Made odds to them: they thought but of escape.
At last, just as the ‘Snow-bird’ round the Cape
Of Good Hope turned, lo! in a fuzzy ball
229
Amount of pricks and shoves could make him go
Another step, or straighten out. The race
Was over, but ‘The Rose’ kept on apace;
Poor caterpillar! patient o'er and o'er
Cook's track in seventeen seventy-three and four,
Through Artic seas and past firm fields of ice,
Past tropic isles, where trade-winds load with spice,
He toiled. At last the play grew dull. ‘The Rose’
Went into port; the ‘Snow-bird’ too; then those
Young tyrants set their victims free; more dead
Than live, the puzzled worms, with feeble tread,
Stole off, and ever after were esteemed,
No doubt, in their own country, as beseemed
Such travellers.
“As for the girl and boy,
They grew up just like all the rest, through joy
And grief, ‘with books, and work, and healthful play;’
But always they remembered well this day;
And when they journeyed in good earnest, said,
Sometimes with pensive laugh: ‘That trip we made
230
No noise, no smoke, no cinders to molest
On land; no stormy gales on any sea;
Rivers and roads, hotels and harbors free;
Each step of that we both remember yet,
While last year's jaunts we jumble and forget.
Oh! sweet, wise days, when caterpillars made
Fast time enough for us 'neath lilac's shade;
And fancy was so strong that we took trips
Round the whole world in apple-blossom ships.’”
Four mouths stretching round my shoulder,
Put sweet kisses on my lips;
“Oh! Aunty, what funny stories!
How jolly about the ships!”
Put sweet kisses on my lips;
“Oh! Aunty, what funny stories!
How jolly about the ships!”
And just then a caterpillar,
Who had listened to each word,
Tumbled down, quite blind with terror,
Into the mouth of a bird.
Who had listened to each word,
Tumbled down, quite blind with terror,
Into the mouth of a bird.
And the lilac-bush at the window
Nodded at me with a laugh,
And whispered: “You're growing so old
You've forgotten more than half.”
Nodded at me with a laugh,
And whispered: “You're growing so old
You've forgotten more than half.”
| Bits of Talk, in verse and prose, for young folks | |