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317
BALLADS.
319
THE BALLAD OF CHRISTOPHER ASKE.
(CATHOLIC REBELLION OF 1536.)
Come gentle sweet ladies, with kerchief and fan;
Come lily-fair maidens, who love a brave man;
Come all ye gay gallants from wine-cup and flask,
To hear my good ballad of Christopher Aske.
Come lily-fair maidens, who love a brave man;
Come all ye gay gallants from wine-cup and flask,
To hear my good ballad of Christopher Aske.
There was fighting in Lincoln and firing in Trent,
The bells were all ringing, the bows were all bent;
The commons had risen at Catholic call,
And the Askes left their hunting at Ellerkar Hall.
The bells were all ringing, the bows were all bent;
The commons had risen at Catholic call,
And the Askes left their hunting at Ellerkar Hall.
There was Robert the Rebel, one brother of three;
They nursed at one bosom, and prayed at one knee;
But true men and loyal stood two against one,—
Jolly brave Christopher, sober-sides John.
They nursed at one bosom, and prayed at one knee;
But true men and loyal stood two against one,—
Jolly brave Christopher, sober-sides John.
Lord Clifford in Skipton lay all but alone,
For Cumberland's vassals to Robert had gone;
And all the West Riding was up and away,
While there with a handful Earl Cumberland lay.
For Cumberland's vassals to Robert had gone;
And all the West Riding was up and away,
While there with a handful Earl Cumberland lay.
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“They may hew us in gobbets,” said Christopher then,
“They'll make no curst rebels of Harry's true men!
Come saddle and bridle, to Skipton with speed,
To help our good cousin in time of his need!”
“They'll make no curst rebels of Harry's true men!
Come saddle and bridle, to Skipton with speed,
To help our good cousin in time of his need!”
Full glad was Lord Clifford to welcome the pair,
Though dark was his look as they mounted the stair.
“Good gentles and cousins, ye come at our need,
For Skipton's old castle is empty indeed!
Though dark was his look as they mounted the stair.
“Good gentles and cousins, ye come at our need,
For Skipton's old castle is empty indeed!
“My wife and my babies to Bolton have fled;
Would God they had tarried by board and by bed!
And Rosamond Tempest, and Mary Kildare,
And Isabel Darcy are all with them there.
Would God they had tarried by board and by bed!
And Rosamond Tempest, and Mary Kildare,
And Isabel Darcy are all with them there.
“With murder and outrage the rebels have sworn
To visit my darlings ere Friday at morn,
If we hold the gates fast to their rascally crew.
And the Abbot 's a coward. Friends, what shall I do?
To visit my darlings ere Friday at morn,
If we hold the gates fast to their rascally crew.
And the Abbot 's a coward. Friends, what shall I do?
“A traitor I must be to king or to wife;
My heart 's like to burst in the terrible strife,—
For Clifford and traitor were never at one.
Yet if Nell and the babies—my life were well done!”
My heart 's like to burst in the terrible strife,—
For Clifford and traitor were never at one.
Yet if Nell and the babies—my life were well done!”
Up sprung gallant Christopher, red to the brow,
He had sworn to proud Rosamond many a vow:
“Bide here in your castle, and Robert defy;
I'll bring back the women and children, or die!”
He had sworn to proud Rosamond many a vow:
“Bide here in your castle, and Robert defy;
I'll bring back the women and children, or die!”
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The darkness of midnight hid forest and fell,
But loud through the tree-tops whirled roaring and yell,
For a storm was abroad, like the morning of doom,
When out of the postern, and into the gloom,
But loud through the tree-tops whirled roaring and yell,
For a storm was abroad, like the morning of doom,
When out of the postern, and into the gloom,
With soft-pacing horses and armor of black,
By many a by-path and intricate track,
Rode the vicar of Skipton, Earl Cumberland's squire,
And Christopher Aske, with his eyes like a fire.
By many a by-path and intricate track,
Rode the vicar of Skipton, Earl Cumberland's squire,
And Christopher Aske, with his eyes like a fire.
Proud Rosamond sat by the casement awake;
She longed and she sighed for the daylight to break;
When clear in the darkness a signal she heard,—
A cry that came never from beast or from bird.
She longed and she sighed for the daylight to break;
When clear in the darkness a signal she heard,—
A cry that came never from beast or from bird.
It was Christopher's call; to the wicket she crept.
Full soundly the Abbot that midnight had slept;
For long ere the dawning came, stormy and red,
Far over the moorland his guests had all fled!
Full soundly the Abbot that midnight had slept;
For long ere the dawning came, stormy and red,
Far over the moorland his guests had all fled!
They muffled the horse-hoofs with wrappings of silk,
They blackened the palfrey, whose coat was like milk;
The babies were Clifford's, they uttered no cry,
And scorned the brave women to tremble or sigh.
They blackened the palfrey, whose coat was like milk;
The babies were Clifford's, they uttered no cry,
And scorned the brave women to tremble or sigh.
They crept in the heather and slid through the trees,
They stalked the wild rebels like deer on their knees;
Like a vision of spirits, so silent and fleet,
Save the throb of the hearts in their bosoms that beat.
They stalked the wild rebels like deer on their knees;
Like a vision of spirits, so silent and fleet,
Save the throb of the hearts in their bosoms that beat.
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In stillness and darkness sped maidens and men,
But the dark was as daylight to Christopher's ken;
As sure as an arrow, as true as a hound,
Through the host of the rebels a pathway he found.
But the dark was as daylight to Christopher's ken;
As sure as an arrow, as true as a hound,
Through the host of the rebels a pathway he found.
At the dawning of day, on the battlement high,
Those women and children the rebels did spy;
They raged like the ocean along a lee shore,
But Clifford laughed softly to hear the wild roar.
Those women and children the rebels did spy;
They raged like the ocean along a lee shore,
But Clifford laughed softly to hear the wild roar.
“We 're safe from your mercy, good rascals!” quoth he,
“But a shaft might still find us, so high as we be.
Go down, my sweet ladies, and rest you to-day;
I think our brave gallant comes hither away!”
“But a shaft might still find us, so high as we be.
Go down, my sweet ladies, and rest you to-day;
I think our brave gallant comes hither away!”
And there on the dais, in midst of them all,
The Rose of the Tempests stood stately and tall;
And Christopher, stooping, or ever she wist,
Before all the maidens her red lips he kissed.
The Rose of the Tempests stood stately and tall;
And Christopher, stooping, or ever she wist,
Before all the maidens her red lips he kissed.
“Fie!” rustled the ladies; but Rosamond laughed:
“I give thee good-will to the cup thou hast quaffed.
Thou hast done thy devoir like a courteous knight,
And becomes a true lady to give thee thy right.”
“I give thee good-will to the cup thou hast quaffed.
Thou hast done thy devoir like a courteous knight,
And becomes a true lady to give thee thy right.”
Then Christopher louted full low at her feet:
“I could go to the death for a guerdon so sweet;
But the poor ride to Bolton,—the guiding thee back,—
'T were no hazardous deed for a friar, good lack!
“I could go to the death for a guerdon so sweet;
But the poor ride to Bolton,—the guiding thee back,—
'T were no hazardous deed for a friar, good lack!
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“'T was the trick of a coward to steal through the moor;
Yet we were but three men, you women were four
It was terrible odds from those devils to ask,
And behooved to be careful!” quoth Christopher Aske.
Yet we were but three men, you women were four
It was terrible odds from those devils to ask,
And behooved to be careful!” quoth Christopher Aske.
Yet again and again ere the rebels had fled,
On errand as valiant had Christopher sped;
Till summer came smiling with blossoms and sun,
And England had rest, for the wars were all done.
On errand as valiant had Christopher sped;
Till summer came smiling with blossoms and sun,
And England had rest, for the wars were all done.
But Nicholas Tempest hung high on the tree,—
And kin to proud Rosamond's father was he;
And Robert the rebel, that villainous Aske,
On a gallows still higher had ended his task.
And kin to proud Rosamond's father was he;
And Robert the rebel, that villainous Aske,
On a gallows still higher had ended his task.
Yet for all that was dead and for all that was gone,
The living and loyal made never a moan;
At the bravest of weddings did Rosamond ride,
With Christopher Aske on his charger beside.
The living and loyal made never a moan;
At the bravest of weddings did Rosamond ride,
With Christopher Aske on his charger beside.
A mighty carousal saw Skipton that day,
With lords and with ladies in goodly array.
Their souls are in heaven to-day, we do trust,
For Christopher Aske and his comrades are dust.
With lords and with ladies in goodly array.
Their souls are in heaven to-day, we do trust,
For Christopher Aske and his comrades are dust.
Give a smile to his memory, sweethearts, I pray;
Come fill him a bumper, my gallants so gay!
Full loath do I finish my excellent task,
Such a jolly brave fellow was Christopher Aske!
Come fill him a bumper, my gallants so gay!
Full loath do I finish my excellent task,
Such a jolly brave fellow was Christopher Aske!
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THE GUERZ OF GENOSSA.
(AFTER THE BRÉTON.)
Sole and lonely lived the maid
Unattended, unafraid,
Good nor evil there she knew
Only clouds, or winds that blew
Wiling to her silken snare
Little birds that sung in air,
Laughing low their joy to see
When her fingers set them free,
Idly with the lambs she played
Or beside the Laber strayed,
Like its waves her childhood ran
Knowing naught of God or man.
Past nor future dared to stir
In her heart a sweet demur,
Past or future she had none,
There she lived from sun to sun,
Lonely daughter of a king
Into woman blossoming,
Oh Genossa!
Unattended, unafraid,
Good nor evil there she knew
Only clouds, or winds that blew
Wiling to her silken snare
Little birds that sung in air,
Laughing low their joy to see
When her fingers set them free,
Idly with the lambs she played
Or beside the Laber strayed,
Like its waves her childhood ran
Knowing naught of God or man.
Past nor future dared to stir
In her heart a sweet demur,
Past or future she had none,
There she lived from sun to sun,
Lonely daughter of a king
Into woman blossoming,
Oh Genossa!
On a heifer white and bold,
Gay with shining horns of gold,
Through the forest ways she rode.
Down its neck her tresses flowed
Black as coils of glittering jet,
And her soft eyes, darker yet,
Shone amid the cloudy hair
Blowing round her forehead fair.
Red as blood her mantle rolled
To the greensward, fold on fold,
On her brow for diadem
Sparkled neither gold or gem,
But a blood-red wreath of bloom,
Roses in her ringlets' gloom,
Fair she rode beneath the trees
As a dream the sleeper sees.
Oh Genossa!
Gay with shining horns of gold,
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Down its neck her tresses flowed
Black as coils of glittering jet,
And her soft eyes, darker yet,
Shone amid the cloudy hair
Blowing round her forehead fair.
Red as blood her mantle rolled
To the greensward, fold on fold,
On her brow for diadem
Sparkled neither gold or gem,
But a blood-red wreath of bloom,
Roses in her ringlets' gloom,
Fair she rode beneath the trees
As a dream the sleeper sees.
Oh Genossa!
Suddenly, one morn of May,
Wondrous visions barred her way;
Lo! a swart and glossy bull,
Short of horn, with forehead full,
Wrinkled front, and eye of flame,
Toward her like a tempest came;
But across the level path,
Pawing in restraint and wrath,
Curving neck and bristled mane,
Show the check of curb and rein;
Swift she sees a splendid gleam,
Gilded armor, blue eyes' beam,
Haughty visage bended low,
Helmet set on brow of snow;
Ah! her heart is half afraid,
Fear assails the fearless maid.
Oh Genossa!
Wondrous visions barred her way;
Lo! a swart and glossy bull,
Short of horn, with forehead full,
Wrinkled front, and eye of flame,
Toward her like a tempest came;
But across the level path,
Pawing in restraint and wrath,
Curving neck and bristled mane,
Show the check of curb and rein;
Swift she sees a splendid gleam,
Gilded armor, blue eyes' beam,
Haughty visage bended low,
Helmet set on brow of snow;
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Fear assails the fearless maid.
Oh Genossa!
Softer than a south-wind's sigh,
Gentler than a wood-dove's cry,
Sweeter than the cherubim
Quiring loud their angel hymn,
Falls the voice those proud lips parting;
Into soul and spirit darting
Wilder thrills than death could give,
Thrills that bid the woman live.
Never-more, ah never more,
Shall she stray by wood or shore,
Dreamless, aimless, tranquil, calm,
Stately as a tropic palm,
Undisturbed by hope or prayer,
Innocent as bird in air.
Peace hath left her maiden bosom,
For the bee hath found the blossom.
Oh Genossa!
Gentler than a wood-dove's cry,
Sweeter than the cherubim
Quiring loud their angel hymn,
Falls the voice those proud lips parting;
Into soul and spirit darting
Wilder thrills than death could give,
Thrills that bid the woman live.
Never-more, ah never more,
Shall she stray by wood or shore,
Dreamless, aimless, tranquil, calm,
Stately as a tropic palm,
Undisturbed by hope or prayer,
Innocent as bird in air.
Peace hath left her maiden bosom,
For the bee hath found the blossom.
Oh Genossa!
Day by day, and day by day
In the fragrant woodland way
Met the damsel and the stranger,
Thoughtless she of harm or danger,
Sunshine brimmed the tender sky,
All the birds sung joyously,
Languid odors filled the air,
Summer brooded everywhere,
And the hoof-beats as they rode
Like a rhythmic legend flowed.
‘Love is sweet, love is sweet,
Sweeter, sweetest;’ beat on beat.
Ever to the throbbing rhyme
All her pulses keeping time
Rapture drowning soul and sense,
Bliss beyond all innocence,
Till, alas! one dewy day
On the bull she rode away,
And the heifer homeward strayed,
Lowing loudly for the maid.
Oh Genossa!
In the fragrant woodland way
Met the damsel and the stranger,
Thoughtless she of harm or danger,
Sunshine brimmed the tender sky,
All the birds sung joyously,
Languid odors filled the air,
Summer brooded everywhere,
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Like a rhythmic legend flowed.
‘Love is sweet, love is sweet,
Sweeter, sweetest;’ beat on beat.
Ever to the throbbing rhyme
All her pulses keeping time
Rapture drowning soul and sense,
Bliss beyond all innocence,
Till, alas! one dewy day
On the bull she rode away,
And the heifer homeward strayed,
Lowing loudly for the maid.
Oh Genossa!
All in vain her kin pursue;
Swifter yet the black bull flew,
Vainly on the gray sea-sands
Rozan's monarch wrings his hands,
Dashing through the wild blue water
Vanisheth his spell-bound daughter.
Silver horns and bloodshot eyes
O'er the dancing billows rise,
And the black bull's hide of jet
With the ocean's spray is wet.
But Genossa closely clings
And the knight about her flings
Closer still his stalwart arm;
Yet he holds with deeper charm.
Thought of dread nor dream of harm
Doth her maiden soul alarm,
Strength nor fear the work had done,
Love hath conquered! love hath won!
Ah Genossa!
Swifter yet the black bull flew,
Vainly on the gray sea-sands
Rozan's monarch wrings his hands,
Dashing through the wild blue water
Vanisheth his spell-bound daughter.
Silver horns and bloodshot eyes
O'er the dancing billows rise,
And the black bull's hide of jet
With the ocean's spray is wet.
But Genossa closely clings
And the knight about her flings
Closer still his stalwart arm;
Yet he holds with deeper charm.
Thought of dread nor dream of harm
Doth her maiden soul alarm,
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Love hath conquered! love hath won!
Ah Genossa!
Now in Morgane's fairy cave
Safe they hear the foemen rave,
High above the pale rocks glow
Bluer than the sea below,
Azure, azure everywhere,
Like the vaults of upper air.
And beneath the azure sea
Laps the walls eternally.
Loud she cried in sudden woe,
“Hark! my mother calls below,
From the narrow house of wood
Where she sleeps in solitude.
Safe they hear the foemen rave,
High above the pale rocks glow
Bluer than the sea below,
Azure, azure everywhere,
Like the vaults of upper air.
And beneath the azure sea
Laps the walls eternally.
Loud she cried in sudden woe,
“Hark! my mother calls below,
From the narrow house of wood
Where she sleeps in solitude.
“'Tis but waves whose lifting shock
Sobs within the rifted rock.”
Sobs within the rifted rock.”
“Listen, Spountus! Hark! she speaks.”
“What vain word the death-sleep breaks?”
“Daughter! give not flesh and soul
Lawless, unto man's control,
Let the priest with book and bell
Marry thee, if all be well.”
Lawless, unto man's control,
Let the priest with book and bell
Marry thee, if all be well.”
“So, sweet, shall the rite be sped
Honored be the holy dead.”
Honored be the holy dead.”
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Suddenly a little isle,
From the darkness seemed to smile,
Blazing tapers, altar high
Rich with scarlet blazonry,
Mitred priest, and choristers
With whose chant the blue air stirs.
Knight and maiden hand in hand
Swiftly at the altar stand,
And her finger offering
To the priest, she wears the ring.
Ring of fire! in agony
Through the cavern peals a cry:
White and wild she turns to fly.
And a voice laughs scornfully
Ah Genossa!
From the darkness seemed to smile,
Blazing tapers, altar high
Rich with scarlet blazonry,
Mitred priest, and choristers
With whose chant the blue air stirs.
Knight and maiden hand in hand
Swiftly at the altar stand,
And her finger offering
To the priest, she wears the ring.
Ring of fire! in agony
Through the cavern peals a cry:
White and wild she turns to fly.
And a voice laughs scornfully
Ah Genossa!
On and on like dreams of ill,
Ever down an endless hill,
Fainting heart and stumbling feet,
Hurried bride, and bridegroom fleet,
Onward, downward, still they go,
Heralded by shrieks of woe.
Ever down an endless hill,
Fainting heart and stumbling feet,
Hurried bride, and bridegroom fleet,
Onward, downward, still they go,
Heralded by shrieks of woe.
“Hist! I hear both wail and weeping!”
“Tis the miners, night-shift keeping.”
“Tis the miners, night-shift keeping.”
“Spountus! down the rock appears,
Drop on drop, like streaming tears.”
Drop on drop, like streaming tears.”
“Tis the springs of earth, my bride,
Down the dripping stones they glide.”
Down the dripping stones they glide.”
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“Ah my lord! my love, my soul,
How the air burns! like a coal.”
How the air burns! like a coal.”
“Aye, the fires are rising fast.
Fires that heat the whirling blast,
Godless maiden! life is past.
Earth for thee no more shall shine,
Heaven withdraws its gleam divine,
This is Hell!—and thou art mine.
Lost Genossa!”
Fires that heat the whirling blast,
Godless maiden! life is past.
Earth for thee no more shall shine,
Heaven withdraws its gleam divine,
This is Hell!—and thou art mine.
Lost Genossa!”
ROSALIND!
High on the hills Lord Heron he dwells,
Rosalind sings on the moors below,
Faint as the sea in its singing shells,
Up to the castle her soft notes go.
Rosalind sings on the moors below,
Faint as the sea in its singing shells,
Up to the castle her soft notes go.
Young Lord Heron has left his state,
Donned a doublet of hodden-gray;
Stolen out at the postern-gate,
A silly shepherd, to wander away.
Donned a doublet of hodden-gray;
Stolen out at the postern-gate,
A silly shepherd, to wander away.
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Rosalind keeps the heart of a child,
Tender and gentle and true is she;
Colin the shepherd is comely and mild,
Tending his flocks by valley and lea.
Tender and gentle and true is she;
Colin the shepherd is comely and mild,
Tending his flocks by valley and lea.
Never shepherd has whispered before
Words she hears at the close of day:—
“Rose of roses, I love thee more—
More than the tenderest words can say.
Words she hears at the close of day:—
“Rose of roses, I love thee more—
More than the tenderest words can say.
“Though I seem but a shepherd lad,
Down from a stately race I came;
In silks and jewels I'll have thee clad,
And Lady of Heron shall be thy name.”
Down from a stately race I came;
In silks and jewels I'll have thee clad,
And Lady of Heron shall be thy name.”
Rosalind blushed a rosy red,
Turned as pale as the hawthorns blow,
Folded her kirtle over her head,
And sped away like a startled doe.
Turned as pale as the hawthorns blow,
Folded her kirtle over her head,
And sped away like a startled doe.
“Rose of roses, come back to me!
Leave me never!” Lord Heron cried,—
“Never!” echoed from hill and lea,
“Never!” the lonely cliffs replied.
Leave me never!” Lord Heron cried,—
“Never!” echoed from hill and lea,
“Never!” the lonely cliffs replied.
Loud he mourned a year and a day,
But Lady Alice was fair to see;
The bright sun blesses his bridal day,
And the castle-bells ring merrily.
But Lady Alice was fair to see;
The bright sun blesses his bridal day,
And the castle-bells ring merrily.
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Over the moors, like a rolling knell,
Rosalind hears them slowly peal;
Low she mourned—“I loved him well,—
Better I loved his mortal weal.
Rosalind hears them slowly peal;
Low she mourned—“I loved him well,—
Better I loved his mortal weal.
“Rest, Lord Heron, in Alice's arms,
She is a lady of high degree;
Rosalind had but a peasant's charms,
Ye had rued the day ye wedded me!”
She is a lady of high degree;
Rosalind had but a peasant's charms,
Ye had rued the day ye wedded me!”
Lord Heron he dwells in the castle high,
Rosalind sleeps on the moors below.
He loved, to live; and she loved, to die;
Which loved truest, the angels know!
Rosalind sleeps on the moors below.
He loved, to live; and she loved, to die;
Which loved truest, the angels know!
333
THE NIS.
“See, idug flytter vi.”
There was a man in Funen,
A weary man was he,
For all his huddled sheepfold,
His children fair to see:
A weary man was he,
For all his huddled sheepfold,
His children fair to see:
For all his swine and cattle,
For all his cocks and hens,
His good wife and his casks of beer,
A weary man was Lenz.
For all his cocks and hens,
His good wife and his casks of beer,
A weary man was Lenz.
For a little Nis from Elfland
Had come with Lenz to dwell,
And nobody could fright him
With cursing or with spell.
Had come with Lenz to dwell,
And nobody could fright him
With cursing or with spell.
He danced about the cellar,
And twirled the spigots round;
The delft-ware in the cupboard
He clattered to the ground;
And twirled the spigots round;
The delft-ware in the cupboard
He clattered to the ground;
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He put the cat on horseback;
He broke the spindle twine;
He burnt the porridge in the pot;
And spilled the flask of wine;
He broke the spindle twine;
He burnt the porridge in the pot;
And spilled the flask of wine;
He nipped and bobbed the children,
Till sore and loud they squealed;
He vexed the serving maidens,
And plagued the men a-field.
Till sore and loud they squealed;
He vexed the serving maidens,
And plagued the men a-field.
Till Lenz, who lived in Funen,
By Thor and Freya swore
He'd move to Copenhagen,
Where once he lived before.
By Thor and Freya swore
He'd move to Copenhagen,
Where once he lived before.
So, bag and baggage mustered,
They took their sea-ward way,
To sail for Copenhagen,
One pleasant summer day.
They took their sea-ward way,
To sail for Copenhagen,
One pleasant summer day.
And Lenz, he drove the good wife,
The cart was sure and slow,
Well loaded up with bed and cup,
The churn it swung below.
The cart was sure and slow,
Well loaded up with bed and cup,
The churn it swung below.
And on the road they met a man.
“Where do ye go?” says he.
“We're off for Copenhagen,
A-sailing on the sea.”
“Where do ye go?” says he.
“We're off for Copenhagen,
A-sailing on the sea.”
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Out of the churn below them
There came a little squall:
“Aye! off for Copenhagen,
Good wife, and me, and all!”
There came a little squall:
“Aye! off for Copenhagen,
Good wife, and me, and all!”
“Now by the beard of Odin!”
With face as red as blood,
Swore mightily the baffled Lenz,
“We will not stir a rood!
With face as red as blood,
Swore mightily the baffled Lenz,
“We will not stir a rood!
“If Master Nis goes with us,
A foot we will not go!”
Then men and maids, and beasts and wains
Turned backward, vexed and slow.
A foot we will not go!”
Then men and maids, and beasts and wains
Turned backward, vexed and slow.
O Lenz! poor Lenz of Funen!
You're not the last to find
That wander wide worlds over
No trouble stays behind!
You're not the last to find
That wander wide worlds over
No trouble stays behind!
The vexed and weary spirit
May count to-day on this:
Go far and near, go there or here,
Beside it rides the Nis!
May count to-day on this:
Go far and near, go there or here,
Beside it rides the Nis!
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BASILE RENAUD.
The summer sun bedecks Anjou,
The harvest time keeps promise true,
And I have kept my faith with you
Basile Renaud!
The sun forsakes my dungeon walls,
Across the fosse no shadow falls,
I hear no answer to my calls,
Basile Renaud!
The harvest time keeps promise true,
And I have kept my faith with you
Basile Renaud!
The sun forsakes my dungeon walls,
Across the fosse no shadow falls,
I hear no answer to my calls,
Basile Renaud!
My name was Clara Madaillon.
I had a sister, I had one
Who should have been a hooded nun,
That made us three:
Marie and I dwelt in the tower,
But Angelique forsook her dower,
And in a convent made her bower,
The convent of St. Brie.
I had a sister, I had one
Who should have been a hooded nun,
That made us three:
Marie and I dwelt in the tower,
But Angelique forsook her dower,
And in a convent made her bower,
The convent of St. Brie.
There came a lover to our lands,
I wove my hair in shining bands
And put bright jewels on my hands,
Basile Renaud!
You looked at me as at a star,
You said I was as cold and far,
I laugh now, thinking what you are,
Basile Renaud!
I wove my hair in shining bands
And put bright jewels on my hands,
Basile Renaud!
You looked at me as at a star,
You said I was as cold and far,
337
Basile Renaud!
He gave me a betrothal ring,
I learned for him to smile and sing;
“Proud Clara, have you found your king?”
They said to me.
So from the nuns came Angelique
For her farewells; oh! she was meek,
With yellow tresses down her cheek,
And blue eyes soft to see!
I learned for him to smile and sing;
“Proud Clara, have you found your king?”
They said to me.
So from the nuns came Angelique
For her farewells; oh! she was meek,
With yellow tresses down her cheek,
And blue eyes soft to see!
My love beheld her tender face,
Her little hands and gentle grace,—
How dared you give her my right place,
Basile Renaud?
I scoffed at her, I hated him;
And Marie said—“His eyes are dim;
Were't me—” So ran thy requiem,
Basile Renaud!
Her little hands and gentle grace,—
How dared you give her my right place,
Basile Renaud?
I scoffed at her, I hated him;
And Marie said—“His eyes are dim;
Were't me—” So ran thy requiem,
Basile Renaud!
We took our counsel, nor would show
More signs of vengeance than the snow
That hides a traveller far below
Its shining drift.
The winter nights came on too fast,
But they two did not hear the blast
That howled, and howled, and shivered past,
And muttered in the rift.
More signs of vengeance than the snow
That hides a traveller far below
Its shining drift.
The winter nights came on too fast,
But they two did not hear the blast
That howled, and howled, and shivered past,
And muttered in the rift.
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One night we were both grave and gay,
For Angelique had gone away,
And one was sad, but two would play,
Basile Renaud.
The firelight flickered in the hall,
The sconces burned with torches tall;
I, blinded, hunted to the wall
Basile Renaud.
For Angelique had gone away,
And one was sad, but two would play,
Basile Renaud.
The firelight flickered in the hall,
The sconces burned with torches tall;
I, blinded, hunted to the wall
Basile Renaud.
“Will you be hunter?” Marie said;
She tied the kerchief round his head;
I had a knife—and it grew red—
But not with flame.
His brow bent down upon my arm.
I laughed to see the working charm.
He had no will to do us harm,
Nor breath to murmur blame.
She tied the kerchief round his head;
I had a knife—and it grew red—
But not with flame.
His brow bent down upon my arm.
I laughed to see the working charm.
He had no will to do us harm,
Nor breath to murmur blame.
They haled us to a prison high,
Where all day long thick shadows lie,
And in broad daylight we shall die,
Basile Renaud!
But I had vengeance! though there be
Only one sister left of three—
Angelique in the nunnery—
Basile Renaud!
Where all day long thick shadows lie,
And in broad daylight we shall die,
Basile Renaud!
But I had vengeance! though there be
Only one sister left of three—
Angelique in the nunnery—
Basile Renaud!
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THE DEATH OF TANKERFIELD.
The death of holy Tankerfield,
That martyr of the Lord's,
And his great worth I do set forth
As seasonable words.
That martyr of the Lord's,
And his great worth I do set forth
As seasonable words.
In young King Edward's blessed time,
A Papist vile was he;
Uncleansèd from the filthy slime
Of vain idolatry.
A Papist vile was he;
Uncleansèd from the filthy slime
Of vain idolatry.
But when it pleased the Lord most high
To take the king away,
Unto his everlasting rest,
To be with him alway,—
To take the king away,
Unto his everlasting rest,
To be with him alway,—
When bloody Mary's reign began,
Wherein the flock of Christ
Did wander through the valleys low,
And stumble in the mist,—
Wherein the flock of Christ
Did wander through the valleys low,
And stumble in the mist,—
Then, as he saw what cruel pains
From men they did endure,
And suffered pangs of many deaths
To make their glory sure—
From men they did endure,
And suffered pangs of many deaths
To make their glory sure—
340
His heart was moved and stirred within
To see their evil tide,
And that foul church which wrought the sin
He might no more abide.
To see their evil tide,
And that foul church which wrought the sin
He might no more abide.
But turned unto the sacred Word,
To light his darksome soul;
And learned to leave that faith abhorred
That would his mind control.
To light his darksome soul;
And learned to leave that faith abhorred
That would his mind control.
And did his feeble voice uplift
To make a protest bold,—
Renouncing all the devil's works,
To which he clave of old.
To make a protest bold,—
Renouncing all the devil's works,
To which he clave of old.
Thereat unto his house there came
A man of cruel mind,
By name one Byrd, who thought no shame
This godly youth to bind.
A man of cruel mind,
By name one Byrd, who thought no shame
This godly youth to bind.
Before the judge they haled him then,
Who sent him back apace,
Unto a doleful prison-cell,
Where he remained a space.
Who sent him back apace,
Unto a doleful prison-cell,
Where he remained a space.
But when before the court he came,
To answer for his faith,
Of Christ the Lord he was not shamed,
But owned him unto death.
To answer for his faith,
Of Christ the Lord he was not shamed,
But owned him unto death.
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So, when the summer-tide was come,
And all the fields were green,
And flowers upon the dewy meads
Were joyful to be seen,
And all the fields were green,
And flowers upon the dewy meads
Were joyful to be seen,
They brought him from his dungeon-cell
Unto a certain Inn,
And bade him to remember well
The wages of his sin.
Unto a certain Inn,
And bade him to remember well
The wages of his sin.
For that he never more should see
The rising of the sun.
“Then,” with a cheerful voice, quoth he,
“Good Lord, thy will be done!
The rising of the sun.
“Then,” with a cheerful voice, quoth he,
“Good Lord, thy will be done!
“Now, bring me here a cup of wine,
Withal a wheaten cake,
To keep the Supper of the Lord,
Ere I my end do make.
Withal a wheaten cake,
To keep the Supper of the Lord,
Ere I my end do make.
“I may not have a minister
To break this bread to me,
But by thy passion, gracious Lord,
Lay not the sin to me!
To break this bread to me,
But by thy passion, gracious Lord,
Lay not the sin to me!
“I fain would keep thy feast again
Before I drink it new,
To aid my flesh in deathly pain,
And keep my spirit true.”
Before I drink it new,
To aid my flesh in deathly pain,
And keep my spirit true.”
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So, giving thanks, he took the bread,
And drank the sacred wine,
Which now in heaven he doth partake
From chalices divine.
And drank the sacred wine,
Which now in heaven he doth partake
From chalices divine.
Then prayed he them to light a fire,
That he his strength might try;
The host did grant him his desire,
And stood amazèd by:
That he his strength might try;
The host did grant him his desire,
And stood amazèd by:
For, lo! he stretched his naked foot
Into the scorching flame,
But bone and sinew quivering shrank,
And loud he spake in pain:—
Into the scorching flame,
But bone and sinew quivering shrank,
And loud he spake in pain:—
“Ho, flesh! thou wilt not gladly burn,
But spirit shall endure;
Ho, sense! thou wouldst from glory turn,
But soul thou shalt make sure!”
But spirit shall endure;
Ho, sense! thou wouldst from glory turn,
But soul thou shalt make sure!”
Then, as the time drew on apace
That he by fire should die,
He kneeled again and prayed for grace
To bear his agony.
That he by fire should die,
He kneeled again and prayed for grace
To bear his agony.
Then, with a calm and pleasant smile,
Saith he,—“However long
The day may seem, yet at the last
It rings for even-song.”
Saith he,—“However long
The day may seem, yet at the last
It rings for even-song.”
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The sheriffs brought him to a green,
Hard by the abbey-wall,
And seeing there the fagots piled,
They spake aloud to all.
Hard by the abbey-wall,
And seeing there the fagots piled,
They spake aloud to all.
“A dinner sharp is mine to-day,”
Quoth he, with joyful faith,
“But I shall sup on heavenly cates,
And triumph over death.”
Quoth he, with joyful faith,
“But I shall sup on heavenly cates,
And triumph over death.”
When he was fettered to the stake,
They heaped the pile full high,
And called a priest, with subtle words
To shake his constancy.
They heaped the pile full high,
And called a priest, with subtle words
To shake his constancy.
But loudly he denied the mass
And all the works of Rome,
So might not Babylonish tricks
Delay his passage home.
And all the works of Rome,
So might not Babylonish tricks
Delay his passage home.
A certain knight, who stood thereby,
Laid hold upon his hand.
Quoth he, “Good brother in the Lord,
Be strong in Christ, and stand.”
Laid hold upon his hand.
Quoth he, “Good brother in the Lord,
Be strong in Christ, and stand.”
“Oh, sir!” the martyr made reply,
“I give you thanks indeed.
May God be lauded, I am strong!”
With that they bade him heed.
“I give you thanks indeed.
May God be lauded, I am strong!”
With that they bade him heed.
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And set the fire unto the pile:
When, as the flame shot high,
Unto the strong and mighty One
He powerfully did cry.
When, as the flame shot high,
Unto the strong and mighty One
He powerfully did cry.
Yea, from the depths uplifted he
A cry for help to God,
And homeward then, on fiery wings,
Right joyfully he rode.
A cry for help to God,
And homeward then, on fiery wings,
Right joyfully he rode.
GENEVIÈVE.
A LEGEND OF THE MORVAN.
Geneviève the Nivernaise
Fell upon her evil days:
Seven children to be fed,
Only two to find them bread.
Sometimes in her heart she said,
“Would that I had never wed;
Would that some of these were dead!”
Geneviève! oh, Geneviève!
Fell upon her evil days:
Seven children to be fed,
Only two to find them bread.
Sometimes in her heart she said,
“Would that I had never wed;
Would that some of these were dead!”
Geneviève! oh, Geneviève!
345
Wearily the days went by.
Drooping head and languid eye,
Crying babes and hungry sire,
Meagre food and scanty fire—
Life was torment drear and dire;
Riches were her heart's desire.
Geneviève! oh, Geneviève!
Drooping head and languid eye,
Crying babes and hungry sire,
Meagre food and scanty fire—
Life was torment drear and dire;
Riches were her heart's desire.
Geneviève! oh, Geneviève!
Fête-Dieu dawned serene and still.
Forth she wandered to the hill—
Wandered up the Fairy Way,
Carrying baby Désirée.
In the village church to-day
All the rest have gone to pray;
Blessed words she could not say.
Geneviève! oh, Geneviève!
Forth she wandered to the hill—
Wandered up the Fairy Way,
Carrying baby Désirée.
In the village church to-day
All the rest have gone to pray;
Blessed words she could not say.
Geneviève! oh, Geneviève!
Pink and sweet the roses wave,
Wreathed above the Fairy Cave.
'Tis to-day the fated hour
Fairy fetters lose their power.
Open door and haunted bower
Tempt her in to seek their dower
Geneviève! oh, Geneviève!
Wreathed above the Fairy Cave.
'Tis to-day the fated hour
Fairy fetters lose their power.
Open door and haunted bower
Tempt her in to seek their dower
Geneviève! oh, Geneviève!
From her arms the child she set
On a table carved of jet,
With an apple in her hold;
For the floor was strewed with gold
Gold and gems of price untold,
Gems and jewels manifold,
At her feet like pebbles rolled.
Geneviève! oh, Geneviève!
On a table carved of jet,
With an apple in her hold;
For the floor was strewed with gold
Gold and gems of price untold,
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At her feet like pebbles rolled.
Geneviève! oh, Geneviève!
Suddenly she heard a knell.
Could it be the compline bell?
Ah! if once those rites were o'er,
Fairy spells would close the door;
She should never find it more.
Out she rushed with all her store.
Geneviève! oh, Geneviève!
Could it be the compline bell?
Ah! if once those rites were o'er,
Fairy spells would close the door;
She should never find it more.
Out she rushed with all her store.
Geneviève! oh, Geneviève!
Loud the bell for complines rung;
Loud the doors together swung.
“Ah, my baby! left behind!”
Nothing answered but the wind.
Key nor latchet could she find:
Then what anguish tore her mind!
Loud she raved at fate unkind
Geneviève! oh, Geneviève!
Loud the doors together swung.
“Ah, my baby! left behind!”
Nothing answered but the wind.
Key nor latchet could she find:
Then what anguish tore her mind!
Loud she raved at fate unkind
Geneviève! oh, Geneviève!
From her garments' weighted fold
Down she scattered gems and gold.
“Oh, the little baby face!
Oh, the tender baby grace!
Evil soul, distract and base:
Worthless jewels in her place!”
Geneviève! oh, Geneviève!
Down she scattered gems and gold.
“Oh, the little baby face!
Oh, the tender baby grace!
Evil soul, distract and base:
Worthless jewels in her place!”
Geneviève! oh, Geneviève!
Sore she wept and loud did pray,
Till the priest came up that way.
“Father! father! pray for me;
Bid the saints look down to see
All my dreadful misery;
Curst my wish comes back to me.
Cry for help, if help there be!”
Geneviève! oh, Geneviève!
Till the priest came up that way.
347
Bid the saints look down to see
All my dreadful misery;
Curst my wish comes back to me.
Cry for help, if help there be!”
Geneviève! oh, Geneviève!
“Mary, Mother, help!” he said;
“Give thee both thy babe and bread.
Seek the treasure night and day.
When thou findest waif and stray,
In the cave thy burden lay:
So thy curse shall pass away.”
Geneviève! oh, Geneviève!
“Give thee both thy babe and bread.
Seek the treasure night and day.
When thou findest waif and stray,
In the cave thy burden lay:
So thy curse shall pass away.”
Geneviève! oh, Geneviève!
Moonlit midnight, noon and morn
Saw her at her search forlorn:
On her knees in patient pain,
Through the forest, brake, and plain,
Now in snow, and now in rain—
Never did she seek in vain;
All at length she found again.
Geneviève! oh, Geneviève!
Saw her at her search forlorn:
On her knees in patient pain,
Through the forest, brake, and plain,
Now in snow, and now in rain—
Never did she seek in vain;
All at length she found again.
Geneviève! oh, Geneviève!
Now the Fête-Dieu comes once more,
And beside the cavern door
With the treasure doth she wait,
As a soul at heaven's dear gate,
Meek, repentant, desolate;
But one gift she asks of fate.
Geneviève! oh, Geneviève!
And beside the cavern door
With the treasure doth she wait,
As a soul at heaven's dear gate,
Meek, repentant, desolate;
But one gift she asks of fate.
Geneviève! oh, Geneviève!
348
Suddenly the doors unclose.
Blooming like a tiny rose,
As the year were but a day,
On the table Désirée
With her apple sits at play.
Ah! who tears the child away!
Flings the treasure where it lay,
With but one wild word to say—
“Désirée! my Désirée!”
Geneviève! oh, Geneviève!
Blooming like a tiny rose,
As the year were but a day,
On the table Désirée
With her apple sits at play.
Ah! who tears the child away!
Flings the treasure where it lay,
With but one wild word to say—
“Désirée! my Désirée!”
Geneviève! oh, Geneviève!
PENNA'S DAUGHTER.
A CORNISH LEGEND.
I took my baby to the sands,
Undid her coats and swaddling bands;
I held her tight in tender hands
And dipped her in the sea:
Ah me! how pink her fair face showed!
Her ivory body blushed and glowed,
Her dimpled legs my arm bestrode,
She screamed with baby glee.
Undid her coats and swaddling bands;
I held her tight in tender hands
And dipped her in the sea:
Ah me! how pink her fair face showed!
Her ivory body blushed and glowed,
Her dimpled legs my arm bestrode,
She screamed with baby glee.
349
That summer sea, how soft it laves
The long and lonely shore of graves!
Her eyes were bluer than its waves,
Her yellow curls flew free.
I looked at her with lips apart,
I kissed her with a hungry heart;
Out of my arms with sudden dart
She leapt into the sea.
The long and lonely shore of graves!
Her eyes were bluer than its waves,
Her yellow curls flew free.
I looked at her with lips apart,
I kissed her with a hungry heart;
Out of my arms with sudden dart
She leapt into the sea.
My voice died out, I could not shriek,
My helpless hands hung cold and weak;
Before my stiffened lips could speak
The child came back to me!
Like any dancing spray of foam
That on the billows loves to roam,
She floated back to me and home,
This baby of the sea.
My helpless hands hung cold and weak;
Before my stiffened lips could speak
The child came back to me!
Like any dancing spray of foam
That on the billows loves to roam,
She floated back to me and home,
This baby of the sea.
Oh is she mine, or is she thine?
The lapping water made no sign.
She grew like rose-trees straight and fine,
This creature from the sea.
Her hair was gay as golden thread;
From off her fair and haughty head,
Down to the ground it waved and spread,
As bright as sunbeams be.
The lapping water made no sign.
She grew like rose-trees straight and fine,
This creature from the sea.
Her hair was gay as golden thread;
From off her fair and haughty head,
Down to the ground it waved and spread,
As bright as sunbeams be.
She grew to be a dainty maid,
But never in the church she prayed,
And never in her home she stayed,
To rock the babes for me.
But night and day, and day and night,
When morn was red or stars were bright,
She strayed beside her sole delight,
The moaning, glittering sea.
But never in the church she prayed,
And never in her home she stayed,
To rock the babes for me.
350
When morn was red or stars were bright,
She strayed beside her sole delight,
The moaning, glittering sea.
Sometimes she smiled, sometimes she sung;
No laugh went rippling from her tongue;
As light from stone to stone she sprung
As plovers flit and flee;
Or on a rock, with hair outspread
And lips like coral wet and red,
She bent to see her shining head
Glassed in the shining sea.
No laugh went rippling from her tongue;
As light from stone to stone she sprung
As plovers flit and flee;
Or on a rock, with hair outspread
And lips like coral wet and red,
She bent to see her shining head
Glassed in the shining sea.
Alas! alas! the day is long,
But dew-fall brings to even-song.
The squire's young heir was tall and strong,
And well he loved the sea.
You saw his pinnace, when the gale
Went howling by through shroud and sail,
Fly o'er the billows fiery pale,
As over blooms the bee.
But dew-fall brings to even-song.
The squire's young heir was tall and strong,
And well he loved the sea.
You saw his pinnace, when the gale
Went howling by through shroud and sail,
Fly o'er the billows fiery pale,
As over blooms the bee.
Where wild and white the breakers pour,
His cheery shout above the roar
Came ringing to the frighted shore
Like bells across the lea.
He saw my lass upon the beach,
He made good speed her side to reach,
He wiled her well with guileful speech,
He whispered like the sea.
His cheery shout above the roar
Came ringing to the frighted shore
Like bells across the lea.
He saw my lass upon the beach,
He made good speed her side to reach,
He wiled her well with guileful speech,
He whispered like the sea.
351
Oh saddest heart! oh tale to tell!
My gold and milk-white lily-bell,
Before the blast it bowed and fell,
It fell and died by me.
Her father's heart was hard and old,
Her lover's lips were sneering cold;
I wrapped her shroud in fold on fold
And laid her by the sea.
My gold and milk-white lily-bell,
Before the blast it bowed and fell,
It fell and died by me.
Her father's heart was hard and old,
Her lover's lips were sneering cold;
I wrapped her shroud in fold on fold
And laid her by the sea.
Oh was she mine, or was she thine?
The awful water gave no sign.
I kissed the clay, my love was mine;
The child was child to me.
And he who killed her sailed away;
He stayed a year, he stayed a day,—
From God he could no longer stay,
Nor from the hungry sea.
The awful water gave no sign.
I kissed the clay, my love was mine;
The child was child to me.
And he who killed her sailed away;
He stayed a year, he stayed a day,—
From God he could no longer stay,
Nor from the hungry sea.
The revel lights had long been out,
The revel songsters ceased to shout;
He lost his path, he strayed about,
And on the rock sat she.
Her long hair in the moonlight shone,
She called to him with piteous moan,
“Ah love! my love! I weep alone.
Come down beside the sea.”
The revel songsters ceased to shout;
He lost his path, he strayed about,
And on the rock sat she.
Her long hair in the moonlight shone,
She called to him with piteous moan,
“Ah love! my love! I weep alone.
Come down beside the sea.”
She clasped him close, she clasped him tight,
She wrapped him in her tresses bright:
“My breast shall be thy bed to-night,
Thy curfew-bell the sea.
If Penna's daughter drooped and died,
Her tale is told; behold thy bride.”
She clasped him to her icy side,
Nor sign nor sound made he.
She wrapped him in her tresses bright:
“My breast shall be thy bed to-night,
Thy curfew-bell the sea.
352
Her tale is told; behold thy bride.”
She clasped him to her icy side,
Nor sign nor sound made he.
When clouded red with blood and flame
The dawning day in tempest came,
In vain they called Lord Walter's name;
From tower nor town came he:
At night he tossed, a broken thing,
Flapped by the screaming sea-bird's wing,
Where sullen waters heave and swing,
Cast from the scornful sea.
The dawning day in tempest came,
In vain they called Lord Walter's name;
From tower nor town came he:
At night he tossed, a broken thing,
Flapped by the screaming sea-bird's wing,
Where sullen waters heave and swing,
Cast from the scornful sea.
THE LADY'S GHOST.
The sweetest lady in the land
She sailed away from Britain's isle,
And kissed and waved her lily hand,
And sent across the waves a smile.
She sailed away from Britain's isle,
And kissed and waved her lily hand,
And sent across the waves a smile.
Ah woe is me! to sail the sea
This lovely dame was borne away,
With pipers piping merrily,
And silken pennons floating gay.
This lovely dame was borne away,
With pipers piping merrily,
And silken pennons floating gay.
353
The wind blew high, the wind blew low
It lashed the sea to many a wave;
But fast of flight, a deadlier foe,
Before the howling tempest drave.
It lashed the sea to many a wave;
But fast of flight, a deadlier foe,
Before the howling tempest drave.
A day and year, yet there nor here
The Dian touched at pier or shore,
No tidings came of hope nor fear,
Alas! that lady came no more.
The Dian touched at pier or shore,
No tidings came of hope nor fear,
Alas! that lady came no more.
“Arise! arise! my brother's son
Go forth and search by sea and land,
My heart is dead my life is done
Unless I touch my lady's hand.
Go forth and search by sea and land,
My heart is dead my life is done
Unless I touch my lady's hand.
“Ah woe is me! how sweet to see
She waved to me her fond farewells;
Her bride-ring glittered fair and free,
Her voice rang out like wedding-bells.
She waved to me her fond farewells;
Her bride-ring glittered fair and free,
Her voice rang out like wedding-bells.
“Oh dreadful doom! oh woeful fate!
Oh cruel wreck of wounds and war!
That here I lie all desolate,
While she is tossed on seas afar.
Oh cruel wreck of wounds and war!
That here I lie all desolate,
While she is tossed on seas afar.
“Go forth, my brother's sturdy son!
Go take my ship beside the pier,
Take knights and sailors many a one,
And fetch my lovely lady here.”
Go take my ship beside the pier,
Take knights and sailors many a one,
And fetch my lovely lady here.”
354
The wind blew low, the wind blew high,
When young Sir Roger sailed the sea
A whirling tempest blurred the sky
And fast the gallant ship did flee.
When young Sir Roger sailed the sea
A whirling tempest blurred the sky
And fast the gallant ship did flee.
On Sable's isle the breakers pile,
They heap and fall and rave amain
The ship that sailed a thousand mile
Shall never sail a rood again.
They heap and fall and rave amain
The ship that sailed a thousand mile
Shall never sail a rood again.
The valiant knights, the goodly crew,
Lie deep asleep 'neath ocean's roar:
But one alone the billows threw
A living man, along the shore.
Lie deep asleep 'neath ocean's roar:
But one alone the billows threw
A living man, along the shore.
He dragged him to a lonesome hut
A weary wight, to pray for sleep,
But scarce his heavy eyes were shut
Before he heard a lady weep.
A weary wight, to pray for sleep,
But scarce his heavy eyes were shut
Before he heard a lady weep.
With horrid chill his marrow crept,
But brave spoke out his heart so stout:
“'Twas but the winds the roof that swept,
The storm is wild and fierce without!”
But brave spoke out his heart so stout:
“'Twas but the winds the roof that swept,
The storm is wild and fierce without!”
He saw the glimmer of a veil,
The waving of a garment white,
A face looked in most fair and pale,
And swift he followed through the night.
The waving of a garment white,
A face looked in most fair and pale,
And swift he followed through the night.
355
And follow, follow, through the sand,
And follow through the midnight drear;
Behold that bleeding beckoning hand
Those eyes of dread, that face of fear!
And follow through the midnight drear;
Behold that bleeding beckoning hand
Those eyes of dread, that face of fear!
In Sable's isle a lake there lies,
A gloomy lake with desert shore,
Above, the sea-gull screams and flies;
Beyond, the angry breakers roar.
A gloomy lake with desert shore,
Above, the sea-gull screams and flies;
Beyond, the angry breakers roar.
Straight on and on that dame has gone
And plunged beneath the sullen wave,
The sight has passed, the dream is done,
He only heard the tempest rave.
And plunged beneath the sullen wave,
The sight has passed, the dream is done,
He only heard the tempest rave.
But lo! within the lonesome cot
Again he saw that pallid face
It waved him from the haunted spot;
But now the knight took heart of grace.
Again he saw that pallid face
It waved him from the haunted spot;
But now the knight took heart of grace.
“Speak out! speak out! my uncle's wife!
Why dost thou like a spectre stand?
Say! wert thou slain in mortal strife,
And who hath torn thy bleeding hand?”
Why dost thou like a spectre stand?
Say! wert thou slain in mortal strife,
And who hath torn thy bleeding hand?”
As hollow as the mournful moan
That cries and creeps in ocean shell;
As faint and far, as sad and lone,
As over seas a tolling bell.
That cries and creeps in ocean shell;
As faint and far, as sad and lone,
As over seas a tolling bell.
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So sounds the voice Sir Roger knows,
The voice that once rang sweet and clear,—
“My bones beneath this sand repose,
My soul is spelled to wander here.
The voice that once rang sweet and clear,—
“My bones beneath this sand repose,
My soul is spelled to wander here.
“Alas! alas! woe worth the day,
I sailed away from Britain's shore,
Along the dreadful seas to stray,
To see my lord, my home, no more.
I sailed away from Britain's shore,
Along the dreadful seas to stray,
To see my lord, my home, no more.
“A pirate ship behind us came
With flying sails and fiends for crew;
The Dian sank in blood and flame
The gold they took the men they slew.
With flying sails and fiends for crew;
The Dian sank in blood and flame
The gold they took the men they slew.
“Then rose a storm full loud and strong,
Their ship they lost, they saved their men;
No tongue can tell what shame and wrong
They wrought within this dreadful den.
Their ship they lost, they saved their men;
No tongue can tell what shame and wrong
They wrought within this dreadful den.
“They tore away my bridal ring,
They mocked my cries of woe and fear,
A foul, dismayed, dishonored thing,
I plunged beneath the waters here.
They mocked my cries of woe and fear,
A foul, dismayed, dishonored thing,
I plunged beneath the waters here.
“My tale is done, my rest is won;
Go range and rage across the sea
Till every pirate's race be run,
Avenge with blood my lord and me!”
Go range and rage across the sea
Till every pirate's race be run,
Avenge with blood my lord and me!”
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She faded like the fading stars.
Full chill and wild the dawn wind blew
Along the horizon's level bars
The north-lights' quivering lances flew.
Full chill and wild the dawn wind blew
Along the horizon's level bars
The north-lights' quivering lances flew.
Sir Roger swore an oath of might
Before her fair and fading ghost.
To be that lady's loyal knight
To spoil and slay the pirate's host.
Before her fair and fading ghost.
To be that lady's loyal knight
To spoil and slay the pirate's host.
And far away in Britain's isle
The bells were knelled the death-mass said
For in the castle chapel's aisle
That night her lord lay cold and dead.
The bells were knelled the death-mass said
For in the castle chapel's aisle
That night her lord lay cold and dead.
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THE BRIDES OF FIRE.
A SYRIAN LEGEND.
Dark are the vaults of Istakhar;
Of onyx black and porphyry,
Their lofty caverns rise so far
No eye the rock-ribbed roof may see.
Deep in the mountain's heart they be;
So deep that never sun nor star,
Illumes their awful mystery.
Wall over wall, and cell on cell,
The Afreets, slaved by mighty spell,
Toiled ages long to hollow them;
And ages more to hew the walls
Like facets of some precious gem.
But in those wide and lofty halls
No quivering splendors of the air,
No fiery spark, or moon-lit ray
Lit up the arches vast and bare;
Till Zohank, Giamschid's dreadful son,
Made league and covenant with hell
That Eblis should uphold his throne,
Yield him the caves of Istakhar,
And grant him power of sign and spell,
To work perpetual miracle,
Deep hid where men nor angels are.
But from the blackness of his soul,
The price and penance of his sin,
Twin monsters of a dragon brood,
Fed day by day with human blood,
Sprang up those secret vaults within,
And mocked at Zohank's vain control,
Year after year, through all the land,
Were sire, and son, and wife, and maid,
And crying children hand in hand,
And infants smiling undismayed,
Borne to the Mount of Misery's breast
To still those serpents' fierce unrest.
Of onyx black and porphyry,
Their lofty caverns rise so far
No eye the rock-ribbed roof may see.
Deep in the mountain's heart they be;
So deep that never sun nor star,
Illumes their awful mystery.
Wall over wall, and cell on cell,
The Afreets, slaved by mighty spell,
Toiled ages long to hollow them;
And ages more to hew the walls
Like facets of some precious gem.
But in those wide and lofty halls
No quivering splendors of the air,
No fiery spark, or moon-lit ray
Lit up the arches vast and bare;
Till Zohank, Giamschid's dreadful son,
Made league and covenant with hell
That Eblis should uphold his throne,
Yield him the caves of Istakhar,
And grant him power of sign and spell,
To work perpetual miracle,
Deep hid where men nor angels are.
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The price and penance of his sin,
Twin monsters of a dragon brood,
Fed day by day with human blood,
Sprang up those secret vaults within,
And mocked at Zohank's vain control,
Year after year, through all the land,
Were sire, and son, and wife, and maid,
And crying children hand in hand,
And infants smiling undismayed,
Borne to the Mount of Misery's breast
To still those serpents' fierce unrest.
Merab, the wondrous Persian sage,
Rose up at dawn from his divan.
His mighty beard was white with age,
But down its silvery fleeces ran
Tears that had shamed a younger man;
For hurrying slaves, with shrieks and cries,
Told how his daughters, sore bestead,
The light and glory of his eyes,
Were Zohank's prey. Oh! worse than dead,
Rapt to the vaults of Istakhar!
Seven sweet fair maids as e'er the moon
Kissed with her tranquil virgin ray
At night's serene and silent noon;
And pure as heaven at dawning day.
Rose up at dawn from his divan.
His mighty beard was white with age,
But down its silvery fleeces ran
Tears that had shamed a younger man;
For hurrying slaves, with shrieks and cries,
Told how his daughters, sore bestead,
The light and glory of his eyes,
Were Zohank's prey. Oh! worse than dead,
Rapt to the vaults of Istakhar!
Seven sweet fair maids as e'er the moon
Kissed with her tranquil virgin ray
At night's serene and silent noon;
And pure as heaven at dawning day.
Too true the tale; that sister crowd,
With clinging arms, and faces bowed,
Shivering and cringing in despair
With tangled clouds of yellow hair
About their ivory shoulders falling;
And voices low as ring-doves calling,
Or as a child in sleep that speaks:
And dark eyes, soft as violets are:
Stood in the vaults of Istakhar,
Each like to each as star to star:
And down on every white cymar,
Sole garment of their loveliness,
The tears dripped fast o'er pallid cheeks,
That once were like the almond's bloom:
And sobbing breaths with faint perfume
Filled all the lofty darkened room:
Dark, yet alight with wavering glow.
Dark to such light were happiness,
That light from such dread source did flow.
With clinging arms, and faces bowed,
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With tangled clouds of yellow hair
About their ivory shoulders falling;
And voices low as ring-doves calling,
Or as a child in sleep that speaks:
And dark eyes, soft as violets are:
Stood in the vaults of Istakhar,
Each like to each as star to star:
And down on every white cymar,
Sole garment of their loveliness,
The tears dripped fast o'er pallid cheeks,
That once were like the almond's bloom:
And sobbing breaths with faint perfume
Filled all the lofty darkened room:
Dark, yet alight with wavering glow.
Dark to such light were happiness,
That light from such dread source did flow.
For one vast sheet of adamant,
Thin as a rose-leaf's petal fine,
Clear as the clearness of the air,
Yet harder than the primal rock
Whose peaks a thousand tempests mock,
Kept guard before the serpents' haunt
And held them in their secret lair.
Secret no more, for every crest
Glowed with a tongue of lurid fire,
And coil on coil, both back and breast,
Gleamed with the gleam of torch-lit wine;
And, stirred with hunger or with ire
On every scale a diamond burned,
Till light in waves, like storm-tossed ocean,
Followed where'er they writhed and turned;
Fires that with every sinuous motion
Faded, and flashed, and died again,
And flamed anew, and still displayed
Their horrid jaws, and tongues that quiver
To lap the hot and scarlet river
Throbbing in every maiden vein.
Thin as a rose-leaf's petal fine,
Clear as the clearness of the air,
Yet harder than the primal rock
Whose peaks a thousand tempests mock,
Kept guard before the serpents' haunt
And held them in their secret lair.
Secret no more, for every crest
Glowed with a tongue of lurid fire,
And coil on coil, both back and breast,
Gleamed with the gleam of torch-lit wine;
And, stirred with hunger or with ire
361
Till light in waves, like storm-tossed ocean,
Followed where'er they writhed and turned;
Fires that with every sinuous motion
Faded, and flashed, and died again,
And flamed anew, and still displayed
Their horrid jaws, and tongues that quiver
To lap the hot and scarlet river
Throbbing in every maiden vein.
Wild with the sight, of death afraid,
Yet calling Azrael to their aid,
So might they such a death evade,
And swoon in terror's ecstasy
Unto the nether world of shade
E'er each the other's fate should see;—
Twined in themselves, like clustered flowers
A sudden tempest beats together,
Or doves that some sharp stress of weather
Drives to the dove-cot in a crowd,
They dare not lift those faces, cowed
Before the terrors of their cell,
But waited silently and sad
As for some subtly working spell;
For grief and agony were spent.
And now despair its stupor lent.
Not always breaks the thunder-cloud
On him who heavenly wrath awaiteth;
There are no voices, low or loud,
But Allah hears. His head is bowed,
The prayer of faith His stroke abateth;
Whereat all Paradise is glad.
Yet calling Azrael to their aid,
So might they such a death evade,
And swoon in terror's ecstasy
Unto the nether world of shade
E'er each the other's fate should see;—
Twined in themselves, like clustered flowers
A sudden tempest beats together,
Or doves that some sharp stress of weather
Drives to the dove-cot in a crowd,
They dare not lift those faces, cowed
Before the terrors of their cell,
But waited silently and sad
As for some subtly working spell;
For grief and agony were spent.
And now despair its stupor lent.
Not always breaks the thunder-cloud
On him who heavenly wrath awaiteth;
There are no voices, low or loud,
But Allah hears. His head is bowed,
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Whereat all Paradise is glad.
Soft rustling through that darkened prison
A stir of wings, a sudden bloom,
Dawned on the terrors of their doom.
Ah! were they Azrael's footsteps fleet?
That stealing light the daybreak sweet
Of heaven beyond the tomb?
“Leila, arise!” a voice,—a sigh,—
A subtle breath of destiny
Smote on her ear; her face uplifting
The maid arose, and overhead
Like motes across a sun-ray drifting
Saw, in the far dim air, a head,
Dark gleaming wings, a shape of splendor,
Eyes bent on hers, serene and tender,
As planets on the night arisen.
The spirit spake.—“Sweet mortal maid,
Be not of spirit sight afraid.
Azel am I, a Prince of Fire;
The king and lord of Ginnistan.
I would not own the rule of man,
Poor clay-born toy! Far rather reign
O'er realms beneath his tiny world;
Therefore by Allah was I hurled
Down the deep spaces of the air
To taste the depths of my desire.
Lo! Merab makes his daily prayer
Alike to Allah and to me,
Both rulers of man's destiny;
Wherefore I heard him sore complain,
And Azel heareth not in vain,
Arise from death, fair maiden train,
Here is your aid!”
Behind, beyond,
Like ripples circling in a pond
With serious brows and eyes of light,
And rainbow wings half furled from flight,
And kingly foreheads crowned with flame,
And haughty lips, his brethren came.
A stir of wings, a sudden bloom,
Dawned on the terrors of their doom.
Ah! were they Azrael's footsteps fleet?
That stealing light the daybreak sweet
Of heaven beyond the tomb?
“Leila, arise!” a voice,—a sigh,—
A subtle breath of destiny
Smote on her ear; her face uplifting
The maid arose, and overhead
Like motes across a sun-ray drifting
Saw, in the far dim air, a head,
Dark gleaming wings, a shape of splendor,
Eyes bent on hers, serene and tender,
As planets on the night arisen.
The spirit spake.—“Sweet mortal maid,
Be not of spirit sight afraid.
Azel am I, a Prince of Fire;
The king and lord of Ginnistan.
I would not own the rule of man,
Poor clay-born toy! Far rather reign
O'er realms beneath his tiny world;
Therefore by Allah was I hurled
Down the deep spaces of the air
To taste the depths of my desire.
Lo! Merab makes his daily prayer
Alike to Allah and to me,
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Wherefore I heard him sore complain,
And Azel heareth not in vain,
Arise from death, fair maiden train,
Here is your aid!”
Behind, beyond,
Like ripples circling in a pond
With serious brows and eyes of light,
And rainbow wings half furled from flight,
And kingly foreheads crowned with flame,
And haughty lips, his brethren came.
Well might those maids the cohort dread!
Well shiver with a terror new:
But dread is death. He sayeth true
Who likens it to Haroun's rod,
That prophet of the mighty God
Whose serpent wand devoured the rest.
New life sprang up in every breast
When that almighty terror fled.
And as toward heaven's arching blue
The tall white daisies turn and smile,
When summer on the land is spread,
Those maidens raised their dewy eyes,
And held their white hands up in prayer,
As offering some dread sacrifice
The wrath of Allah to beguile.
No pleading looks of love were there,
A mortal terror moved them only.
But Azel gathered them aloft
Even as sunshine drinks the dew;
And on those pinions broad and soft
The Prince and peers of Ginnistan
Bore far from home or haunt of man
Their fair young brides, to regions lonely
Lovelier than Eden, safe and far
From the dark vaults of Istakhar.
Well shiver with a terror new:
But dread is death. He sayeth true
Who likens it to Haroun's rod,
That prophet of the mighty God
Whose serpent wand devoured the rest.
New life sprang up in every breast
When that almighty terror fled.
And as toward heaven's arching blue
The tall white daisies turn and smile,
When summer on the land is spread,
Those maidens raised their dewy eyes,
And held their white hands up in prayer,
As offering some dread sacrifice
The wrath of Allah to beguile.
No pleading looks of love were there,
A mortal terror moved them only.
But Azel gathered them aloft
364
And on those pinions broad and soft
The Prince and peers of Ginnistan
Bore far from home or haunt of man
Their fair young brides, to regions lonely
Lovelier than Eden, safe and far
From the dark vaults of Istakhar.
And as the years of Allah ran
Tireless and true, to Zohank's sway
Brave Feridoun put timely end,
And in the caves of Demavend
Prisoned him howling evermore:
And all the land from shore to shore
Clamored with joy.
Then Kurdistan
Fell to new rule: from Tugrut's towers
Seven mighty youths as hunters came
With swarthy locks, and eyes of flame,
And ruled the land with equal powers,
And old-time Syrian legends say
Their mothers went from Persia's bowers
Through Istakhar to Ginnistan,
Brides to no sons of mortal man,
But wedded to the Kings of Fire
Who baffled Zohank's fell desire.
Tireless and true, to Zohank's sway
Brave Feridoun put timely end,
And in the caves of Demavend
Prisoned him howling evermore:
And all the land from shore to shore
Clamored with joy.
Then Kurdistan
Fell to new rule: from Tugrut's towers
Seven mighty youths as hunters came
With swarthy locks, and eyes of flame,
And ruled the land with equal powers,
And old-time Syrian legends say
Their mothers went from Persia's bowers
Through Istakhar to Ginnistan,
Brides to no sons of mortal man,
But wedded to the Kings of Fire
Who baffled Zohank's fell desire.
365
THE SQUIRE'S BOAR HUNT.
Come, gallop my masters! Come gallop my men!
There's roaring and routing in Enderby Fen,
Hark! hear the hounds' music! the boar is at bay.
There'll be fun in the Fen before curfew to-day.
There's roaring and routing in Enderby Fen,
Hark! hear the hounds' music! the boar is at bay.
There'll be fun in the Fen before curfew to-day.
A squeal? there's the brood with the sow at their head.
Hola! through the osiers how fleet they have fled!
But the lord of the lair is not trotting beside.—
Ride faster! spur deeper! the boar will abide.
Hola! through the osiers how fleet they have fled!
But the lord of the lair is not trotting beside.—
Ride faster! spur deeper! the boar will abide.
Whoop! down in yon sallets his holt is. I see
The glint of his eye past that pollarded tree.
Now Ripper! Now Bolder! down! down from the bank!
Now Brave, to his ear, sir! Now Stark to his flank!
The glint of his eye past that pollarded tree.
Now Ripper! Now Bolder! down! down from the bank!
Now Brave, to his ear, sir! Now Stark to his flank!
Spur John o' the Garner. Rush on with your spear!
The dogs will hold firm. Holy saints! he is clear!
He has ripped up old Bolder from muzzle to stern,
And Brave lies behind him; and Stark has his turn.
The dogs will hold firm. Holy saints! he is clear!
He has ripped up old Bolder from muzzle to stern,
And Brave lies behind him; and Stark has his turn.
Loose Vixen and Badger! a sanglier is he
Set the hounds on at force; send the relays to me!
Am I hunting the boar like a damsel at play?
Gogs ounds! shall he daunt me and 'scape me to-day?
Set the hounds on at force; send the relays to me!
Am I hunting the boar like a damsel at play?
Gogs ounds! shall he daunt me and 'scape me to-day?
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Ho! Vixen hath seized him. Pst! to him, my lass!
Here comes the fresh relay. Now guard the morass!
Will he fight? will he flee? Holy Hubert! look here,
He's routing! he's charging! he's snapped my good spear!
Here comes the fresh relay. Now guard the morass!
Will he fight? will he flee? Holy Hubert! look here,
He's routing! he's charging! he's snapped my good spear!
Well done! John o' Garner. I pattered a prayer,
Sure thought I he had me; and but you were there
I too had been slashed with the rip of his tusk.
Bless the rood! it is over. We're home-set by dusk.
Sure thought I he had me; and but you were there
I too had been slashed with the rip of his tusk.
Bless the rood! it is over. We're home-set by dusk.
Ha! here's my young master. Yes, look you, that boar
Had nigh served your Dad that you had me no more.
But John o' the Garner like fire-flaught came on,
Upright in the stirrup, his spear-point borne down;
Had nigh served your Dad that you had me no more.
But John o' the Garner like fire-flaught came on,
Upright in the stirrup, his spear-point borne down;
His good charger volted; his stout arm made thrust;
Pricked right twixt the shoulders my lord tasted dust!
Look ye there, at those tushes! that wicked red eye!
That ear that Brave tore, when he tossed him to die!
Pricked right twixt the shoulders my lord tasted dust!
Look ye there, at those tushes! that wicked red eye!
That ear that Brave tore, when he tossed him to die!
A sanglier of hundreds! have off with his head!
Full nobly and bravely our hunting hath sped.
Come! Up from the Fen, and away o'er the moor!
We'll end with high revel this hunt of the boar.
Full nobly and bravely our hunting hath sped.
Come! Up from the Fen, and away o'er the moor!
We'll end with high revel this hunt of the boar.
367
MARY OF SCOTLAND.
“Allons donc!” she then said. “Let us go!” and leaning on the arm of an officer of the guard she descended the great staircase to the hall.—
Froude's History.
“Go on!” To that imperial throne
She made a glory and a shame?
No. Mary Stuart stood alone,
Her queenly crown an empty name.
She made a glory and a shame?
No. Mary Stuart stood alone,
Her queenly crown an empty name.
“Go on!” She waved her royal hand.
Go where? to that dear distant France
The loved, the lost, the joyous land
Where once she led the song and dance?
Go where? to that dear distant France
The loved, the lost, the joyous land
Where once she led the song and dance?
On to that home where once her child,
Born to her grief, the heir of tears,
Looked in his mother's face and smiled,
Unconscious of her foes and fears?
Born to her grief, the heir of tears,
Looked in his mother's face and smiled,
Unconscious of her foes and fears?
Ah, no! her youth, her hope, were dead:
Her boy a stranger, far away:
The glamor of a crown was fled,
This was her last, her dying day.
Her boy a stranger, far away:
The glamor of a crown was fled,
This was her last, her dying day.
She stood so calm, so still, so proud,
So firm amid a hundred foes,
So careless of that eager crowd,
So crowned anew with fatal woes,
So firm amid a hundred foes,
368
So crowned anew with fatal woes,
So scornful of the cruel death
That waited, crouched beyond the door,
The ruthless jailors held their breath,
The mail-clad warriors spake no more.
That waited, crouched beyond the door,
The ruthless jailors held their breath,
The mail-clad warriors spake no more.
“Go on!”—and on the grim Earls went.
There was the scaffold,—there the block;
The murderous axe against it leant.
They moved her not; her heart was rock.
There was the scaffold,—there the block;
The murderous axe against it leant.
They moved her not; her heart was rock.
The spirit of her kingly race
Inspired her soul and fired her eye;
A smile lit up her tranquil face
“You thought a queen would fear to die?”
Inspired her soul and fired her eye;
A smile lit up her tranquil face
“You thought a queen would fear to die?”
She clasped the cross against her breast
“Oh Lord! thine arms upon the tree
Spread for the world; now give me rest:
Forgive! Redeem! I come to Thee.”
“Oh Lord! thine arms upon the tree
Spread for the world; now give me rest:
Forgive! Redeem! I come to Thee.”
The maidens loosed her widow's veil
And laid the sable robe aside;
Their cheeks were wet, their lips were pale,
But hers were red with scorn and pride.
And laid the sable robe aside;
Their cheeks were wet, their lips were pale,
But hers were red with scorn and pride.
Fair in her blood-red gown she stood;
A rose against the stormy skies,
That in some garden solitude
Uplifts its stately head,—and dies!
A rose against the stormy skies,
369
Uplifts its stately head,—and dies!
“Weep not my Ladies; weep no more.
Farewell; farewell! we meet again.
Oh Lord amid my troubles sore
I trust in Thee, nor trust in vain.”
Farewell; farewell! we meet again.
Oh Lord amid my troubles sore
I trust in Thee, nor trust in vain.”
She laid her head upon the block,
And murmured low—“In Thee I trust.”
Down fell the axe with thundering shock,
Mary the Queen was common dust.
And murmured low—“In Thee I trust.”
Down fell the axe with thundering shock,
Mary the Queen was common dust.
The beauteous face, the smiling lips,
Wrinkled and set in aged gloom!
So from some tree a tempest strips
In one brief gust, its leaf and bloom.
Wrinkled and set in aged gloom!
So from some tree a tempest strips
In one brief gust, its leaf and bloom.
Leave her the peace that life denied:
Her sins and follies all are o'er;
A Queen she lived, a Queen she died,
Peace to her ashes! ask no more.
Her sins and follies all are o'er;
A Queen she lived, a Queen she died,
Peace to her ashes! ask no more.
370
THE HONOR OF GUZMAN EL BUENO.
Don Guzman in Tarifa, heard Moorish cymbals sound;
He saw the host advancing fast that compassed him around;
The swarthy lips that cursed him, the red eyes fired with hate,
The voices hoarse that cried on him to open wide the gate.
He saw the host advancing fast that compassed him around;
The swarthy lips that cursed him, the red eyes fired with hate,
The voices hoarse that cried on him to open wide the gate.
He saw the turbaned army with banners floating far,
The green flag of Mahomet, the flag of ruthless war,
He saw the crescent glittering high, the tossing crowds below,
And smote upon his mighty breast, like one in mortal woe.
The green flag of Mahomet, the flag of ruthless war,
He saw the crescent glittering high, the tossing crowds below,
And smote upon his mighty breast, like one in mortal woe.
“Come down, thou boasting Spaniard! come down and meet the Moor!
Yield up Tarifa's fortress, unbar that frowning door!
Look! countless as the sea-sand our angry millions wait,
To raze thy lofty castle, and slay thee at the gate.”
Yield up Tarifa's fortress, unbar that frowning door!
Look! countless as the sea-sand our angry millions wait,
To raze thy lofty castle, and slay thee at the gate.”
371
“I will not yield Tarifa!” His voice rung like a horn,
That challenges the breezes through wild sierras borne.
Above the battlements he rose and showed his stately height,
Tall as a pine-tree on the plain that mocks the tempest's might.
That challenges the breezes through wild sierras borne.
Above the battlements he rose and showed his stately height,
Tall as a pine-tree on the plain that mocks the tempest's might.
“I will not yield Tarifa though all the Moors in Spain
Set on me with their scimitars, as reapers cut the grain:
No Moslem hound shall enter here; no crescent, soon or late,
Float over old Tarifa. I will not yield the gate!”
Set on me with their scimitars, as reapers cut the grain:
No Moslem hound shall enter here; no crescent, soon or late,
Float over old Tarifa. I will not yield the gate!”
“Ha! ha! thou valiant Spaniard; thou'rt scant of courtesy;
Look outward from thy turret, behold yon furious sea!
Its waves are like our mighty host; thy fortress like the sand,
By Allah! we will sweep it clean from off the Spanish land!
Look outward from thy turret, behold yon furious sea!
Its waves are like our mighty host; thy fortress like the sand,
By Allah! we will sweep it clean from off the Spanish land!
Duke Guzman of Medina whom all men called “the Good,”
Looked down upon the dazzling plain, the surging Moorish brood,
“See yonder!” then he called aloud, “old Calpe's awful rock,
Lo! ever since God made the world it bides the ocean's shock.
Looked down upon the dazzling plain, the surging Moorish brood,
“See yonder!” then he called aloud, “old Calpe's awful rock,
Lo! ever since God made the world it bides the ocean's shock.
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“So standeth here Tarifa in might and majesty:
It laughs to scorn your puny crowds, as Calpe scorns the sea,
God for Castile and Leon! Fling out the cross on high!
I'll hold my tower for all your power; ye hosts of heathenry!”
It laughs to scorn your puny crowds, as Calpe scorns the sea,
God for Castile and Leon! Fling out the cross on high!
I'll hold my tower for all your power; ye hosts of heathenry!”
“Ha!” sneered the Moorish monarch: “we hold him in our grip.
Here, bowmen of the guard, lead out your captive from the ship.
Don Guzman, if the tower withstand, your heart's best blood shall flow.
Look on this fettered stripling! Is that a face you know?”
Here, bowmen of the guard, lead out your captive from the ship.
Don Guzman, if the tower withstand, your heart's best blood shall flow.
Look on this fettered stripling! Is that a face you know?”
As lightning sears the lofty oak so horror seared his brain,
A cloud be-dimmed his vision; Don Guzman looked again;
There stood his son, his fair young son, a hostage to the foe,
Was ever man in such a strait since first the world did grow?
A cloud be-dimmed his vision; Don Guzman looked again;
There stood his son, his fair young son, a hostage to the foe,
Was ever man in such a strait since first the world did grow?
Again fierce Yussuf taunted him. “Come down, or else he dies,
This darling of his mother, this light of Guzman's eyes!
One prick of Moslem dagger, one twang of Moslem bow,
Will mar the beauteous visage and lay those ringlets low!”
This darling of his mother, this light of Guzman's eyes!
One prick of Moslem dagger, one twang of Moslem bow,
Will mar the beauteous visage and lay those ringlets low!”
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Even as a knight his courser reins, when maddened by the fray
With pawing hoofs, and snortings proud, he fain would tear away;
So Guzman set his sturdy will against his rebel heart.
“And dost thou think that Guzman could play a traitor's part?
With pawing hoofs, and snortings proud, he fain would tear away;
So Guzman set his sturdy will against his rebel heart.
“And dost thou think that Guzman could play a traitor's part?
“I fling thee down my dagger, its blade is bright and keen,
Slay thou my boy before my face, but look the thrust is clean!
I will not yield Tarifa!—not though mine eyes behold
The red blood of mine only son spurt on thy mantle's fold!
Slay thou my boy before my face, but look the thrust is clean!
I will not yield Tarifa!—not though mine eyes behold
The red blood of mine only son spurt on thy mantle's fold!
“Thou heathen king! thou paynim Moor! how can thy false heart know
The honor of Medina is more than joy or woe?
The loyalty of Guzman is mightier than his love,
Farewell my boy! Oh! ease the stroke, ye martyr-saints above!”
The honor of Medina is more than joy or woe?
The loyalty of Guzman is mightier than his love,
Farewell my boy! Oh! ease the stroke, ye martyr-saints above!”
Hark! tis the shout of old Castile. “For God and for Saint James!”
The gonfalon of Leon above the Moslem flames,
Alfonso to the rescue! the battle hath begun!
And all the sand runs red with blood before the day is done.
The gonfalon of Leon above the Moslem flames,
Alfonso to the rescue! the battle hath begun!
And all the sand runs red with blood before the day is done.
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Two hundred thousand Moslems strew Tarifa's ruddy plain,
But many a goodly Christian lies cold amid the slain;
And Guzman el Bueno hath lost his fair young son,
But the honor of Medina at a priceless ransom won!
But many a goodly Christian lies cold amid the slain;
And Guzman el Bueno hath lost his fair young son,
But the honor of Medina at a priceless ransom won!
THE SPANIEL'S REVENGE.
“Love me love my dog.”
A LEGEND.
The lady's footsteps fall like snow upon the castle floor,
The lady's fingers, small and white, can scarce unbar the door,
Her light feet falter on the stair, her pulses faintly beat.
Dear heaven above!—or earthly love—send aid to Marguerite!
The lady's fingers, small and white, can scarce unbar the door,
Her light feet falter on the stair, her pulses faintly beat.
Dear heaven above!—or earthly love—send aid to Marguerite!
Lone leaning on the castle wall she looks far out to sea,
Oh for those sailing pinions whereon the sea-gulls flee!
Tear after tear, a torrid shower, in sparkling silence fell,
Seen by one wistful gazer,—her little dog Fidel.
Oh for those sailing pinions whereon the sea-gulls flee!
Tear after tear, a torrid shower, in sparkling silence fell,
Seen by one wistful gazer,—her little dog Fidel.
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A spaniel soft as thistle down, and clouded like the sky,
With hanging ears like silken curls, and fond looks in his eye;
One other thing the lady holds alone as dear as he,
The dread of all the house beside,—her bloodhound Favori.
With hanging ears like silken curls, and fond looks in his eye;
One other thing the lady holds alone as dear as he,
The dread of all the house beside,—her bloodhound Favori.
Fierce as the spotted panther that crouches in the wild,
Yet to the Countess Marguerite as gentle as a child,
The lackeys who purvey his food dare never venture near,
But round his neck her white arms twine without a thought of fear.
Yet to the Countess Marguerite as gentle as a child,
The lackeys who purvey his food dare never venture near,
But round his neck her white arms twine without a thought of fear.
Ah! who will stroke his muzzle now? and feed him from her hand?
In vain at morning and at night with eager eyes he'll stand,
The lady to another bower hath sent her maiden train,
The turrets grey of Chatenaye she'll never see again.
In vain at morning and at night with eager eyes he'll stand,
The lady to another bower hath sent her maiden train,
The turrets grey of Chatenaye she'll never see again.
Before her baby lips could speak her troth-plight had been passed,
For she of all her ancient line was loveliest and last.
Her father on his bed of death has forced from her a vow,
To wed with speed the cruel Count who waits at Crèçy now.
For she of all her ancient line was loveliest and last.
Her father on his bed of death has forced from her a vow,
To wed with speed the cruel Count who waits at Crèçy now.
So she must leave the lordly towers that nursed her gentle life,
To wed a fierce and evil man to be Count Crèçy's wife;
For seven days and nights to dwell beside her lady aunt.
And then to leave for Crèçy's keep each loved and lovely haunt.
To wed a fierce and evil man to be Count Crèçy's wife;
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And then to leave for Crèçy's keep each loved and lovely haunt.
Six sunny days have fled away like blossoms fair and sweet,
Ah! is it so, that heaven nor earth can aid poor Marguerite?
When high above, the summer sun the seventh day did ride
She strayed along the greenwood path, Count Crèçy at her side.
Ah! is it so, that heaven nor earth can aid poor Marguerite?
When high above, the summer sun the seventh day did ride
She strayed along the greenwood path, Count Crèçy at her side.
Out of the thicket as they passed rushed forth a wounded doe,
And after her a little fawn with tottering steps and slow.
The parted hazels close behind, but ere their branches met
A huntsman leapt before them, in liveried gold and jet.
And after her a little fawn with tottering steps and slow.
The parted hazels close behind, but ere their branches met
A huntsman leapt before them, in liveried gold and jet.
The lady knew his colors, and shrieked, “Ah! spare the doe!”
Count Crèçy stretched his gauntlet forth and felled him at a blow.
“Ah cruel!” cried fair Marguerite, “he might have killed the deer
Better than you had slain a man, and slain he is I fear.”
Count Crèçy stretched his gauntlet forth and felled him at a blow.
“Ah cruel!” cried fair Marguerite, “he might have killed the deer
Better than you had slain a man, and slain he is I fear.”
“Hold there!” the rough Count muttered. “I did the serf no harm:
Shall I not kill too, if I will?” and close he grasped her arm,
So close that on the pallid wrist five crimson printings stood,
And more in anger than in pain her cry rang through the wood.
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So close that on the pallid wrist five crimson printings stood,
And more in anger than in pain her cry rang through the wood.
Fidel, the little Spaniel, heard; and for his lady's sake
Sprang upward in a fierce attempt Count Crèçy's throat to take,
But backward to the ground he fell and Crèçy laughed aloud:
“Methinks for such a maiden's pet thine aim is wondrous proud.”
Sprang upward in a fierce attempt Count Crèçy's throat to take,
But backward to the ground he fell and Crèçy laughed aloud:
“Methinks for such a maiden's pet thine aim is wondrous proud.”
Then angrily spake Marguerite—“Ah! might it only be
In thy place, little weak Fidel, my bloodhound Favori,
I promise you, Sir Count, your laugh had been another note,
If those white fangs had glittered keen against your bearded throat!”
In thy place, little weak Fidel, my bloodhound Favori,
I promise you, Sir Count, your laugh had been another note,
If those white fangs had glittered keen against your bearded throat!”
She whistled at her silver call, but nothing stirred beside,
“Fidel, who only loved me!” said to herself the bride.
No glance she gave her bridegroom, but when the chapel
Rang out next morn for matins, it sounded like a knell.
“Fidel, who only loved me!” said to herself the bride.
No glance she gave her bridegroom, but when the chapel
Rang out next morn for matins, it sounded like a knell.
The lady aunt came rustling stiff, and tapping for the maid:
“The Count waits in the chapel, and thou not yet arrayed?”
Right hastily she drew the veil to hide her dropping tears,
And lingered on the winding stair as one oppressed with years.
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Right hastily she drew the veil to hide her dropping tears,
And lingered on the winding stair as one oppressed with years.
She paused beside the oriel: was that a bloodhound's bay?
Hasten sweet lady Marguerite! the guests are on their way;
Rank after rank of knight and dame, but thou must be the first,
And into that old chapel like summer sunshine burst.
Hasten sweet lady Marguerite! the guests are on their way;
Rank after rank of knight and dame, but thou must be the first,
And into that old chapel like summer sunshine burst.
She crossed the hall beside the priest, the portal softly swung,
But ere her eyes could note that plume before the altar flung,
There, trembling in his dumb delight, her little spaniel stood,
And leaping on her bridal dress has marked his paws in blood.
But ere her eyes could note that plume before the altar flung,
There, trembling in his dumb delight, her little spaniel stood,
And leaping on her bridal dress has marked his paws in blood.
Ah me! one step the father took—there lay Count Crèçy, dead.
Thick blood welled on his broidered vest, and dyed his doublet red.
So had he died, before his bride had passed the chapel door,
And Favori who throttled him lay panting on the floor.
Thick blood welled on his broidered vest, and dyed his doublet red.
So had he died, before his bride had passed the chapel door,
And Favori who throttled him lay panting on the floor.
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THE SAFFRON FLY.
A LEGEND OF BRITTANY.
Judock the sorcerer, Kakous born,
Master of magic sign and spell,
Skilled to measure the thought of man,
Wise with the wisdom of lower hell,—
Master of magic sign and spell,
Skilled to measure the thought of man,
Wise with the wisdom of lower hell,—
Judock, hated and mocked and feared,
Hid in the shadow of Mount d'Yvé,
High and scornful to men appeared,
But the soul within him cursed all day.
Hid in the shadow of Mount d'Yvé,
High and scornful to men appeared,
But the soul within him cursed all day.
Mad with the lust of gold was he,
Thirsty for riches as sea for sands;
Long he pondered the mystery
Of hoarding spirits and hiding hands.
Thirsty for riches as sea for sands;
Long he pondered the mystery
Of hoarding spirits and hiding hands.
Morn and midnight he travailed well,
Wrought with signet and spell of power,
Till the Spirit of Sin in the rock that dwells
He bound and tortured in evil hour.
Wrought with signet and spell of power,
Till the Spirit of Sin in the rock that dwells
He bound and tortured in evil hour.
Round and round, and seven times round,
Him he bound with a mighty chain,
Till Debrua howled like a beaten hound,
And shook and shuddered in mortal pain.
Him he bound with a mighty chain,
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And shook and shuddered in mortal pain.
Loud he yelled, “O master of men!
Set me free, and I will not lie!
Gold and jewels his hands shall fill
Who finds and catches the Saffron Fly.
Set me free, and I will not lie!
Gold and jewels his hands shall fill
Who finds and catches the Saffron Fly.
“Weave of thy whitest hair a net,—
Weave it only with three times three;
Soak it in blood and wash in sweat,
So shall the Fly thy captive be.”
Weave it only with three times three;
Soak it in blood and wash in sweat,
So shall the Fly thy captive be.”
Judock severed the mighty chain,
The sword of Solomon cleft it through;
With screech, and laughter, and yell of hate,
Back to the rocks old Debrua flew.
The sword of Solomon cleft it through;
With screech, and laughter, and yell of hate,
Back to the rocks old Debrua flew.
Judock wove the wondrous net,
Hunted the Fly by night and day;
Thorns and briers his path beset,
Tearing the flesh from his bones away.
Hunted the Fly by night and day;
Thorns and briers his path beset,
Tearing the flesh from his bones away.
Wild the black rocks over him frowned,
His blood ran cold, he was like to die,
Or ever above that haunted ground
Danced and glittered the Saffron Fly.
His blood ran cold, he was like to die,
Or ever above that haunted ground
Danced and glittered the Saffron Fly.
Seven long days, through mire and mud,
Well he followed its freakish flight,
Till overhead, on a peasant's hut,
He saw the glimmering wings alight.
Well he followed its freakish flight,
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He saw the glimmering wings alight.
His bones were stiff, his flesh was cold,
He could not climb a fathom higher;
For one more chance at the Fly of gold
He set the peasant's hut on fire.
He could not climb a fathom higher;
For one more chance at the Fly of gold
He set the peasant's hut on fire.
Loud they shrieked who burned within.
What cared he, for the Fly, it flew!
Low he cursed and fast he ran,
Black the cinders after him blew.
What cared he, for the Fly, it flew!
Low he cursed and fast he ran,
Black the cinders after him blew.
Now it lights,—on a fennel-tree!
Flower of fennel no witch abides.
The greedy fingers grew numb and weak;
The Fly of fortune his chase derides.
Flower of fennel no witch abides.
The greedy fingers grew numb and weak;
The Fly of fortune his chase derides.
By there wandered a shepherd lad;
Fair to see was the yellow Fly;
Slowly he reached his slender hand,
And safe within it did fortune lie.
Fair to see was the yellow Fly;
Slowly he reached his slender hand,
And safe within it did fortune lie.
Judock's dagger was keen and fine;
Deep to the shepherd's heart it sped.
Loud he laughed as he caught the Fly
Out of the fingers of the dead.
Deep to the shepherd's heart it sped.
Loud he laughed as he caught the Fly
Out of the fingers of the dead.
Fair is fortune, and evil too;
Close he grasped, and sharp it stung;
The hand that gathers with love nor ruth
Gathers sorrow for old or young!
Close he grasped, and sharp it stung;
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Gathers sorrow for old or young!
Gold like pebbles his coffers filled;
Gorgeous garments and spreading lands,
Gems like the dews of morning spilled,
All were gathered by Judock's hands:
Gorgeous garments and spreading lands,
Gems like the dews of morning spilled,
All were gathered by Judock's hands:
All!—and the blessing of Saint Sequaire;
Cursèd blessing, that dries the heart.
His blood grew thick and his body spare,
He felt the life from his veins depart.
Cursèd blessing, that dries the heart.
His blood grew thick and his body spare,
He felt the life from his veins depart.
Light grew dark to his groping gaze,
Bitter was food, the wine cup dry;
In a year and a day he wasted away,
And his soul died cursing the Saffron Fly.
Bitter was food, the wine cup dry;
In a year and a day he wasted away,
And his soul died cursing the Saffron Fly.
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