No More Learning

And there are many other liquids that are nutritious, such as
milk, barleywater, and wine. At all events, animals at the breast
are nourished by milk; and there are many nations who drink
nothing but milk. And it is said that Democritus, the philosopher
of Abdera, after he had determined to rid himself of life on


## p. 928 (#350) ############################################

928
ATHENÆUS
account of his extreme old age, and after he had begun to dimin-
ish his food day by day, when the day of the Thesmophorian fes-
tival came round, and the women of his household besought him
not to die during the festival, in order that they might not be
debarred from their share in the festivities, was persuaded, and
ordered a vessel full of honey to be set near him: and in this
way he lived many days with no other support than honey; and
then some days after, when the honey had been taken away, he
died. But Democritus had always been fond of honey; and he
once answered a man, who asked him how he could live in the
enjoyment of the best health, that he might do so if he con-
stantly moistened his inward parts with honey, and the outer man
with oil. And bread and honey was the chief food of the Pytha-
goreans, according to the statement of Aristoxenus, who says
that those who eat this for breakfast were free from disease all
their lives. And Lycus says that the Cyrneans (a people who
live near Sardinia) are very long-lived, because they are contin-
ually eating honey; and it is produced in great quantities among
them.
AN ACCOUNT OF SOME GREAT EATERS
From the Deipnosophistæ
Η
ERACLITUS, in his 'Entertainer of Strangers,' says that there
was a woman named Helena who ate more than any other
woman ever did. And Posidippus, in his 'Epigrams,' says
that Phuromachus was a great eater, on whom he wrote this
epigram:-
"This lowly ditch now holds Phuromachus,
Who used to swallow everything he saw,
Like a fierce carrion crow who roams all night.
Now here he lies wrapped in a ragged cloak.
But, O Athenian, whosoe'er you are,
Anoint this tomb and crown it with a wreath,
If ever in old times he feasted with you.
At last he came sans teeth, with eyes worn out,
And livid, swollen eyelids; clothed in skins,
With but one single cruse, and that scarce full;
Far from the gay Lenæan Games he came,
Descending humbly to Calliope. "


## p. 929 (#351) ############################################

ATHENAEUS
929
Amarantus of Alexandria, in his treatise on the Stage, says
that Herodorus, the Megarian trumpeter, was a man three cubits
and a half in height; and that he had great strength in his chest,
and that he could eat six pounds of bread, and twenty litræ of
meat, of whatever sort was provided for him, and that he could
drink two choes of wine; and that he could play on two trumpets
at once; and that it was his habit to sleep on only a lion's skin,
and when playing on the trumpet he made a vast noise. Accord-
ingly, when Demetrius the son of Antigonus was besieging Argos,
and when his troops could not bring the battering ram against
the walls on account of its weight, he, giving the signal with his
two trumpets at once, by the great volume of sound which he
poured forth, instigated the soldiers to move forward the engine
with great zeal and earnestness; and he gained the prize in all
the games ten times; and he used to eat sitting down, as Nestor
tells us in his Theatrical Reminiscences. ' And there was a
woman, too, named Aglais, who played on the trumpet, the
daughter of Megacles, who, in the first great procession which
took place in Alexandria, played a processional piece of music;
having a head-dress of false hair on, and a crest upon her head,
as Posidippus proves by his epigrams on her. And she too could
eat twelve litre of meat and four chanixes of bread, and drink
a chanus of wine, at one sitting.
There was besides a man of the name of Lityerses, a bastard
son of Midas, the King of Celænæ, in Phrygia, a man of a sav-
age and fierce aspect, and an enormous glutton. He is mentioned
by Sositheus, the tragic poet, in his play called 'Daphnis' or
'Lityersa'; where he says:-
"He'll eat three asses' panniers, freight and all,
Three times in one brief day; and what he calls
A measure of wine is a ten-amphoræ cask;
And this he drinks all at a single draught. "
And the man mentioned by Pherecrates, or Strattis, whichever
was the author of the play called 'The Good Men,' was much
such another; the author says:-
"A. -I scarcely in one day, unless I'm forced,
Can eat two bushels and a half of food.
B. -A most unhappy man! how have you lost
Your appetite, so as now to be content
With the scant rations of one ship of war? »
11-59


## p. 930 (#352) ############################################

930
ATHENÆUS
And Xanthus, in his 'Account of Lydia,' says that Cambles,
who was the king of the Lydians, was a great eater and drinker,
and also an exceeding epicure; and accordingly, that he one
night cut up his own wife into joints and ate her; and then, in
the morning, finding the hand of his wife still sticking in his
mouth, he slew himself, as his act began to get notorious. And
we have already mentioned Thys, the king of the Paphlagoni-
ans, saying that he too was man of vast appetite, quoting
Theopompus, who speaks of him in the thirty-fifth book of his
'History'; and Archilochus, in his 'Tetrameters,' has accused
Charilas of the same fault, as the comic poets have attacked
Cleonymus and Pisander. And Phoenicides mentions Charippus
in his 'Phylarchus' in the following terms:—
"And next to them I place Chærippus third;
He, as you know, will without ceasing eat
As long as any one will give him food,
Or till he bursts, such stowage vast has he,
Like any house. "
And Nicolaus the Peripatetic, in the hundred and third book
of his History,' says that Mithridates, the king of Pontus, once
proposed a contest in great eating and great drinking (the prize
was a talent of silver), and that he himself gained the victory.
in both; but he yielded the prize to the man who was judged
to be second to him, namely, Calomodrys, the athlete of Cyzicus.
And Timocreon the Rhodian, a poet and an athlete who had
gained the victory in the pentathlum, ate and drank a great deal,
as the epigram on his tomb shows:-
"Much did I eat, much did I drink, and much
Did I abuse all men; now here I lie:-
My name Timocreon, my country Rhodes. "
And Thrasymachus of Chalcedon, in one of his prefaces, says
that Timocreon came to the great king of Persia, and being
entertained by him, did eat an immense quantity of food; and
when the king asked him, What he would do on the strength
of it? he said that he would beat a great many Persians; and
the next day having vanquished a great many, one after another,
taking them one by one, after this he beat the air with his
hands; and when they asked him what he wanted, he said that
he had all those blows left in him if any one was inclined to


## p. 931 (#353) ############################################

ATHENAEUS
931
come on. And Clearchus, in the fifth book of his 'Lives,' says
that Cantibaris the Persian, whenever his jaws were weary with
eating, had his slaves to pour food into his mouth, which he
kept open as if they were pouring it into an empty vessel. But
Hellanicus, in the first book of his Deucalionea, says that Ery-
sichthon, the son of Myrmidon, being a man perfectly insatiable
in respect of food, was called Ethon. Also Polemo, in the first
book of his Treatise addressed to Timæus,' says that among the
Sicilians there was a temple consecrated to gluttony, and an
image of Demeter Sito; near which also there was a statue of
Himalis, as there is at Delphi one of Hermuchus, and as at
Scolum in Boeotia there are statues of Megalartus and Megalo--
mazus.
THE LOVE OF ANIMALS FOR MAN
From the Deipnosophistæ
A
ND even dumb animals have fallen in love with men; for there
was a cock who took a fancy to a man of the name of Secun-
dus, a cupbearer of the king; and the cock was nicknamed
"the Centaur. " This Secundus was a slave of Nicomedes, the
king of Bithynia; as Nicander informs us in the sixth book of
his essay on The Revolutions of Fortune. ' And at Ægium, a
goose took a fancy to a boy; as Clearchus relates in the first
book of his 'Amatory Anecdotes. ' And Theophrastus, in his
essay On Love,' says that the name of this boy was Amphilo-
chus, and that he was a native of Olenus. And Hermeas the
son of Hermodorus, who was a Samian by birth, says that a
goose also took a fancy to Lacydes the philosopher. And in
Leucadia (according to a story told by Clearchus), a peacock fell
so in love with a maiden there that when she died, the bird died
too. There is a story also that at Iasus a dolphin took a fancy
to a boy, and this story is told by Duris, in the ninth book of
his 'History'; and the subject of that book is the history of
Alexander, and the historian's words are these:-
"He likewise sent for the boy from Iasus. For near Iasus
there was a boy whose name was Dionysius, and he once, when
leaving the palæstra with the rest of the boys, went down to the
sea and bathed; and a dolphin came forward out of the deep-
water to meet him, and taking him on his back, swam away


## p. 932 (#354) ############################################

ATHENÆUS
932
with him a considerable distance into the open sea, and then
brought him back again to land. "
The dolphin is in fact an animal which is very fond of
men, and very intelligent, and one very susceptible of gratitude.
Accordingly, Phylarchus, in his twelfth book, says: -
"Coiranus the Milesian, when he saw some fishermen who
had caught a dolphin in a net, and who were about to cut it up,
gave them some money and bought the fish, and took it down
and put it back in the sea again. And after this it happened to
him to be shipwrecked near Myconos, and while every one else
perished, Coiranus alone was saved by a dolphin. And when
at last he died of old age in his native country, as it so happened
that his funeral procession passed along the seashore close to
Miletus, a great shoal of dolphins appeared on that day in the
harbor, keeping only a very little distance from those who were
attending the funeral of Coiranus, as if they also were joining
in the procession and sharing in their grief. ”
The same Phylarchus also relates, in the twentieth book of
his 'History,' the great affection which was once displayed by
an elephant for a boy. And his words are these:-
-
"Now there was a female elephant kept with this elephant,
and the name of the female elephant was Nicæa; and to her the
wife of the king of India, when dying, intrusted her child, which
was just a month old. And when the woman did die, the affec-
tion for the child displayed by the beast was most extraordinary;
for it could not endure the child to be away; and whenever it
did not see him, it was out of spirits. And so, whenever the
nurse fed the infant with milk, she placed it in its cradle
between the feet of the beast; and if she had not done so, the
elephant would not take any food; and after this, it would take.
whatever reeds and grass there were near, and, while the child
was sleeping, beat away the flies with the bundle. And when-
ever the child wept, it would rock the cradle with its trunk, and
lull it to sleep. And very often the male elephant did the same. ”


## p. 933 (#355) ############################################

933
PER DANIEL AMADEUS ATTERBOM
(1790-1855)
MONG the leaders of the romantic movement which affected
Swedish literature in the earlier half of the nineteenth cen-
tury was P. D. A. Atterbom, one of the greatest lyric poets
of his country. He was born in Ostergöthland, in 1790, and at the
age of fifteen was already so advanced in his studies that he entered
the University of Upsala. There in 1807 he helped to found the
"Musis Amici," a students' society of literature and art; its member-
ship included Hedbom, who is remembered for his beautiful hymns,
and the able and laborious Palmblad,-author of several popular
books, including the well-known novel 'Aurora Königsmark. ' This
society soon assumed the name of the Aurora League, and set itself
to free Swedish literature from French influence. The means chosen
were the study of German romanticism, and a treatment of the higher
branches of literature in direct opposition to the course decreed by
the Academical school. The leaders of this revolution were Atterbom,
eighteen years old, and Palmblad, twenty!
The first organ of the League was the Polyfem, soon replaced by
the Phosphorus (1810-1813), from which the young enthusiasts received
their sobriquet of "Phosphorists. " Theoretically this sheet was given.
to the discussion of Schelling's philosophy, and of metaphysical prob-
lems in general; practically, to the publication of the original poetry
of the new school. The Phosphorists did a good work in calling
attention to the old Swedish folk-lore, and awakening a new interest
in its imaginative treasures. But their best service lay in their forci-
ble and earnest treatment of religious questions, which at that time
were most superficially dealt with.
When the 'Phosphorus' was in its third year the Romanticists
united in bringing out two new organs: the Poetical Calendar
(1812-1822), which published poetry only, and the Swedish Literary
News (1813-1824), containing critical essays of great scientific value.
The Phosphorists, who had shown themselves ardent but not always
sagacious fighters, now appeared at their best, and dashed into the
controversy which was engaging the attention of the Swedish reading
public. This included not only literature, but philosophy and reli-
gion, as well as art. The odds were now on one side, now on the
other. The Academicians might easily have conquered their youth-
ful opponents, however, had not their bitterness continually forged
new weapons against themselves. In 1820 the Phosphorists wrote the


## p. 934 (#356) ############################################

PER DANIEL AMADEUS ATTERBOM
:
934
excellent satire, Marskall's Sleepless Nights,' aimed at Wallmark,
leader of the Academicians. Gradually the strife died out, and the
man who carried off the palm, and for a time became the leader of
Swedish poetry, was Tegnèr, who was hardly a partisan of either
side.
In 1817 Atterbom had gone abroad, broken down in health by his
uninterrupted studies. While in Germany he entered into a warm
friendship with Schelling and Steffens, and in Naples he met the
Danish sculptor Thorwaldsen, to whose circle of friends he became
attached. On his return he was made tutor of German and literature
to the Crown Prince. In 1828 the Chair of Logics and Metaphysics
at Upsala was offered him, and he held this for seven years, when
he exchanged it for that of Esthetics. In 1839 he was elected a
member of the Academy whose bitterest enemy he had been, and so
the peace was signed.
Atterbom is undoubtedly the greatest lyrical poet in the ranks of
the Phosphorists. His verses are wonderfully melodious and full of
charm, in spite of the fact that his tendency to the mystical at times
makes him obscure. Among the best of his productions are a cycle
of lyrics entitled 'The Flowers'; 'The Isle of Blessedness,' a roman-
tic drama of great beauty, published in 1823; and a fragment of a
fairy drama, 'The Blue Bird. ' He introduced the sonnet into Swedish
poetry, and did a great service to the national literature by his criti-
cal work, 'Swedish Seers and Poets,' a collection of biographies and
criticisms of poets and philosophers before and during the reign of
Gustavus III. Atterbom's life may be accounted long in the way of
service, though he died at the age of sixty-five.
THE GENIUS OF THE NORTH
Its
IT
T IS true that our Northern nature is lofty and strong.
characteristics may well awaken deep meditation and emotion.
When the Goddess of Song has grown up in these surround-
ings, her view of life is like that mirrored in our lakes, where,
between the dark shadows of mountain and trees on the shore, a
light-blue sky looks down. Over this mirror the Northern morn-
ing and the Northern day, the Northern evening and the North-
ern night, rise in a glorious beauty. Our Muse kindles a lofty
hero's flame, a lofty seer's flame, and always the flame of a lofty
immortality. In this sombre North we experience an immense
joyousness and an immense melancholy, moods of earth-coveting
and of earth-renunciation. With equal mind we behold the fleet,


## p. 935 (#357) ############################################

PER DANIEL AMADEUS ATTERBOM
935
charming dream of her summers, her early harvest with its
quickly falling splendor, and the darkness and silence of the long
winter's sleep. For if the gem-like green of the verdure pro-
claims its short life, it proclaims at the same time its richness,-
and in winter the very darkness seems made to let the starry
vault shine through with a glory of Valhalla and Gimle. Indeed,
in our North, the winter possesses an impressiveness, a freshness,
which only we Norsemen understand. Add to these strong
effects of nature the loneliness of life in a wide tract of land,
sparingly populated by a still sparingly educated people, and then
think of the poet's soul which must beat against these barriers of
circumstance and barriers of spirit! Yet the barriers that hold
him in as often help as hinder his striving. These conditions
explain what our literature amply proves; that so far, the only
poetical form which has reached perfection in Sweden is the lyr-
ical. This will be otherwise only as the northern mind, through
a growing familiarity with contemporaneous Europe, will consent
to be drawn from its forest solitude into the whirl of the motley
World's Fair outside its boundaries. It is probable that the lyrical
gift will always be the true possession of the Swedish poet. His
genius is such that it needs only a beautiful moment's exaltation
(blissful, whether the experience be called joy or sorrow) to rise
on full, free wings, suddenly singing out his very inmost being.
Whether the poet makes this inmost being his subject, or quite
forgets himself in a richer and higher theme, is of little conse-
quence.
If, again, no true lyric can express a narrow egoism, least of
all could the Swedish, in spite of the indivisible relation between
nature and man. The entire Sämunds-Edda shows us that Scan-
dinavian poetry was originally lyrical-didactic, as much religious
as heroic. Not only in lyrical impression, but also in lyrical con-
templation and lyrical expression, will the Swedish heroic poem
still follow its earliest trend. Yes, let us believe that this impulse
will some day lead Swedish poetry into the only path of true
progress, to the point where dramatic expression will attain perfec-
tion of artistic form. This development is foreshadowed already
in the high tragic drama, in the view of the world taken by the
old Swedish didactic poem; and in some of the songs of the
Edda, as well as in many an old folk-song and folk-play. ·


## p. 936 (#358) ############################################

936
PER DANIEL AMADEUS ATTERBOM
O
THE LILY OF THE VALLEY
'ER hill and dale the welcome news is flying
That summer's drawing near;
Out of my thicket cool, my cranny hidden,
Around I shyly peer.
He will not notice me, this guest resplendent,
Unseen I shall remain,
Content to live if of his banquet royal
Some glimpses I may gain.
Behold! Behold! His banquet hall's before me,
Pillared with forest trees;
Lo! as he feasts, a thousand sunbeams sparkle,
His gracious smiles are these.
Hail to thee, brilliant world! Ye heavens fretted
With clouds of silver hue!
Ye waves of mighty ocean, tossing, tossing,
Fair in my sight as new!
Far in the past (if years my life has numbered,
Ghost-like in thought they drift),
Came to me silently the truth eternal-
Joy is life's richest gift.
Thus, in return for life's abundant dower,
A gift have I: I bear
A spotless soul, from whose unseen recesses
Exhales a fragrance rare.
Strong is the power in gentle souls indwelling,
Born of a joy divine;
Theirs is a sphere untrod by creatures earthly,
By beings gross, supine.
Fragile and small, and set in quiet places,
My worth should I forget?
Some one who seeks friend, counselor, or lover,
Will find and prize me yet.
Thou lovely maid, through mossy pathways straying,
Striving to make thy choice,
Hearing the while the brook which downward leaping,
Lifts up its merry voice,


## p. 937 (#359) ############################################

PER DANIEL AMADEUS ATTERBOM
Pluck me; and as a rich reward I'll whisper
Things thou wilt love to hear:
The name of him who comes to win thy favor
I'll whisper in thine ear!
SVANHVIT'S COLLOQUY
From The Islands of the Blest'
SVANHVIT (alone in her chamber)
N°
o ASDOLF yet,-in vain and everywhere
Hath he been sought for, since his foaming steed,
At morn, with vacant saddle, stood before
The lofty staircase in the castle yard.
His drooping crest and wildly rolling eye,
And limbs with frenzied terror quivering,
All seemed as though the midnight fiends had urged
His swiftest flight through many a wood and plain.
O Lord, that know'st what he hath witnessed there'
Wouldst thou but give one single speaking sound.
Unto the faithful creature's silent tongue,
That momentary voice would be, for me,
A call to life or summons to the grave.
[She goes to the window. ]
And yet what childish fears are these! How oft
Hath not my Asdolf boldest feats achieved
And aye returned, unharmed and beautiful!
Yes, beautiful, alas! like this cold flower
That proudly glances on the frosty pane.
Short is the violet's, short the cowslip's spring;-
The frost-flowers live far longer: cold as they
The beautiful should be, that it may share
The splendor of the light without its heat;
For else the sun of life must soon dissolve
The hard, cold, shining pearls to liquid tears;
And tears-flow fast away.
937
[She breathes on the window. ]
Become transparent, thou fair Asdolf flower,
That I may look into the vale beneath!
There lies the city, - Asdolf's capital:
How wondrously the spotless vest of snow


## p. 938 (#360) ############################################

938
PER DANIEL AMADEUS ATTERBOM
:
On roof, on mount, on market-place now smiles
A glittering welcome to the morning sun,
Whose blood-red beams shed beauty on the earth!
The Bride of Sacrifice makes no lament,
But smiles in silence, knowing sadly well
That she is slighted, and that he, who could
Call forth her spring, doth not, but rather dwells
In other climes, where lavishly he pours
His fond embracing beams, while she, alas!
In wintry shade and lengthened loneliness
Cold on the solitary couch reclines. -
[After a pause. ]
What countless paths wind down, from divers points,
To yonder city gates! -Oh, wilt not thou,
My star, appear to me on one of them?
Whate'er I said,-thou art my worshiped sun.
Then pardon me;-thou art not cold; oh, no!
Too warm, too glowing warm, art thou for me.
Yet thus it is! Thy being's music has
A thousand chords with thousand varying tones,
Whilst I but one poor sound can offer thee
Of tenderness and truth. At times, indeed,
This too may have its power,- but then it lasts
One and the same forever, sounding still
Unalterably like itself alone;
A wordless prayer to God for what we love,
'Tis more a whisper than a sound, and charms
Like new-mown meadows, when the grass exhales
Sweet fragrance to the foot that tramples it.
Kings, heroes, towering spirits among men,
Rush to their aim on wild and stormy wings,
And far beneath them view the world, whose form
For ever varies on from hour to hour.
What would they ask of love? That, volatile,
In changeful freshness it may charm their ears
With proud, triumphant songs, when high in air
Victorious banners wave; or sweetly lull
To rapturous repose, when round them roars
The awful thunder's everlasting voice!
Mute, mean, and spiritless to them must seem
The maid who is no more than woman. How
Should she o'er-sound the storm their wings have raised?


## p. 939 (#361) ############################################

PER DANIEL AMADEUS ATTERBOM
939
[Sitting down. ]
Great Lord! how lonely I become within
These now uncheerful towers! O'er all the earth
No shield have I,-no mutual feeling left!
'Tis true that those around me all are kind,
And well I know they love me,-more, indeed,
Than my poor merits claim. Yet, even though
They raised me to my Asdolf's royal throne,
As being the last of all his line,-ah me!
No solace could it bring;-for then far less
Might I reveal the sorrow of my soul!
A helpless maiden's tears like raindrops fall,
Which in a July night, ere harvest-time,
Bedew the flowers, and, trembling, stand within
Their half-closed eyes unnumbered and unknown.
[She rises. ]
-
Yet One there is, who counts the maiden's tears; -
But when will their sad number be fulfilled? —
[Walking to and fro. ]
How calm was I in former days! — I now
Am so no more! My heart beats heavily,
Oppressed within its prison-cave. Ah! fain
Would I that it might burst its bonds, so that
'Twere conscious, Asdolf, I sometimes had seemed
Not all unworthy in thine eyes.
[She takes the guitar. ]
A gentle friend - the Master from Vallandia-
Has taught me how I may converse with thee,
Thou cherished token of my Asdolf's love!
I have been told of far-off lakes, around
Whose shores the cypress and the willow wave,
And make a mournful shade above the stream,
Which, dark, and narrow on the surface, swells
Broad and unfathomably deep below:-
From these dark lakes at certain times, and most
On Sabbath morns and eves of festivals,
Uprising from the depths, is heard a sound
Most strange and wild, as of the tuneful bells
Of churches and of castles long since sunk;
And as the wanderer's steps approach the shore,
He hears more plainly the lamenting tone


## p. 940 (#362) ############################################

PER DANIEL AMADEUS ATTERBOM
940
Of the dark waters, whilst the surface still
Continues motionless and calm, and seems
To listen with a melancholy joy,
While thus the dim mysterious depths resound;
So let me strive to soften and subdue
My heart's dark swelling with a soothful song.
[She plays and sings. ]
The maiden bound her hunting-net
At morning fresh and fair —
Ah, no! that lay doth ever make me grieve.
Another, then! that of the hapless flower,
Surprised by frost and snow in early spring.
[Sings. ]
Hush thee, oh, hush thee,
Slumber from snow and stormy sky,
Lovely and lone one!
Now is the time for thee to die,
When vale and streamlet frozen lie.
Hush thee, oh, hush thee!
Hours hasten onward;-
For thee the last will soon be o'er.
Rest thee, oh, rest thee!
Flowers have withered thus before,-
And, my poor heart, what wouldst thou more?
Rest thee, oh, rest thee!
Shadows should darkly
Enveil thy past delights and woes.
Forget, oh, forget them!
'Tis thus that eve its shadows throws;
But now, in noiseless night's repose,
Forget, oh, forget them!
Slumber, oh, slumber!
No friend hast thou like kindly snow;
Sleep is well for thee,
For whom no second spring will blow;
Then why, poor heart, still beating so?
Slumber, oh, slumber!
Hush thee, oh, hush thee!
Resign thy life-breath in a sigh,
Listen no longer,
Life bids farewell to thee. - then die!
Sad one, good night! -in sweet sleep lie!
Hush thee, oh, hush thee!


## p. 941 (#363) ############################################

PER DANIEL AMADEUS ATTERBOM
941
[She bursts into tears. ]
Would now that I might bid adieu to life;
But, ah! no voice to me replies, "Sleep well! "
THE MERMAID
L
EAVING the sea, the pale moon lights the strand.
Tracing old runes, a youth inscribes the sand.
And by the rune-ring waits a woman fair,
Down to her feet extends her dripping hair.
Woven of lustrous pearls her robes appear,
Thin as the air and as the water clear.
Lifting her veil with milk-white hand she shows
Eyes in whose deeps a deadly fire glows.
Blue are her eyes: she looks upon him- bound,
As by a spell, he views their gulf profound.
Heaven and death are there: in his desire,
He feels the chill of ice, the heat of fire.
Graciously smiling, now she whispers low:-
"The runes are dark, would you their meaning know?
Follow! my dwelling is as dark and deep;
You, you alone, its treasure vast shall keep! "
"Where is your dwelling, charming maid, now say! "
"Built on a coral island far away,
Crystalline, golden, floats that castle free,
Meet for a lovely daughter of the sea! "
Still he delays and muses, on the strand;
Now the alluring maiden grasps his hand.
"Ah! Do you tremble, you who were so bold? "
"Yes, for the heaving breakers are so cold! "
"Let not the mounting waves your spirit change!
Take, as a charm, my ring with sea-runes strange.
Here is my crown of water-lilies white,
Here is my harp, with human bones bedight. "
"What say my Father and my Mother dear?
What says my God, who bends from heaven to hear? »
"Father and Mother in the churchyard lie.
As for thy God, he deigns not to reply. "


## p. 942 (#364) ############################################

942
PER DANIEL AMADEUS ATTERBOM
Blithely she dances on the pearl-strewn sand,
Smiting the bone-harp with her graceful hand.
Fair is her bosom, through her thin robe seen,
White as a swan beheld through rushes green.
"Follow me, youth! through ocean deeps we'll rove;
There is my castle in its coral grove;
There the red branches purple shadows throw,
There the green waves, like grass, sway to and fro.
"I have a thousand sisters; none so fair.
He whom I wed receives my sceptre rare.
Wisdom occult my mother will impart.
Granting his slightest wish, I'll cheer his heart. "
"Heaven and earth to win you I abjure!
Child of the ocean, is your promise sure? "
"Heaven and earth abjuring, great's your gain,
Throned with the ancient gods, a king to reign! "
Lo, as she speaks, a thousand starlights gleam,
Lighted for Heaven's Christmas day they seem.
Sighing, he swears the oath,- the die is cast;
Into the mermaid's arms he sinks at last.
High on the shore the rushing waves roll in.
"Why does the color vary on your skin?
What! From your waist a fish's tail depends! »
"Worn for the dances of my sea-maid friends. "
High overhead, the stars, like torches, burn:
"Haste! to my golden castle I return.
Save me, ye runes! "-"Yes, try them now; they fail.
Pupil of heathen men, my spells prevail! »
Proudly she turns; her sceptre strikes the wave,
Roaring, it parts; the ocean yawns, a grave.
Mermaid and youth go down; the gulf is deep.
Over their heads the surging waters sweep.
Often, on moonlight nights, when bluebells ring,
When for their sports the elves are gathering,
Out of the waves the youth appears, and plays
Tunes that are merry, mournful, like his days.


## p. 943 (#365) ############################################

943
AUCASSIN AND NICOLETTE
(Twelfth Century)
BY FREDERICK MORRIS WARREN
HIS charming tale of mediæval France has reached modern
times in but one manuscript, which is now in the National
Library at Paris. It gives us no hint as to the time and
place of the author, but its linguistic forms would indicate for local-
ity the borderland of Champagne and Picardy, while the fact that the
verse of the story is in assonance would point to the later twelfth
century as the date of the original draft. It would thus be contem-
poraneous with the last poems of Chrétien de Troyes (1170-80). The
author was probably a minstrel by profession, but one of more than
ordinary taste and talent. For, evidently skilled in both song and
recitation, he so divided his narrative between poetry and prose that
he gave himself ample opportunity to display his powers, while at the
same time he retained more easily, by this variety, the attention of
his audience. He calls his invention - if his invention it be—a "song-
story. " The subject he drew probably from reminiscences of the
widely known story of Floire and Blanchefleur; reversing the parts,
so that here it is the hero who is the Christian, while the heroine is
a Saracen captive baptized in her early years. The general outline
of the plot also resembles indistinctly the plot of Floire and Blanche-
fleur, though its topography is somewhat indefinite, and a certain
amount of absurd adventure in strange lands is interwoven with it.
With these exceptions, however, few literary productions of the Mid-
dle Ages can rival Aucassin and Nicolette' in graceful sentiment
and sympathetic description.
The Paris manuscript gives the music for the poetical parts,-
music that is little more than a modulation. There is a different
notation for the first two lines, but for the other lines this notation
is repeated in couplets, except that the last line of each song or
laisse-being a half-line- has a cadence of its own. The lines are
all seven syllables in length, save the final half-lines, and the asso-
nance, which all but the half-lines observe, tends somewhat towards
rhyme.
The story begins with a song which serves as prologue; and
then its prose takes up the narrative, telling how Aucassin, son of
Garin, Count of Beaucaire, so loved Nicolette, a Saracen maiden,
who had been sold to the Viscount of Beaucaire, baptized and
adopted by him, that he had forsaken knighthood and chivalry and


## p. 944 (#366) ############################################

944
AUCASSIN AND NICOLETTE
even refused to defend his father's territories against Count Bougart
of Valence. Accordingly his father ordered the Viscount to send
away Nicolette, and he walled her up in a tower of his palace.
Later, Aucassin is imprisoned by his father. But Nicolette escapes,
hears him lamenting in his cell, and comforts him until the warden
on the tower warns her of the approach of the town watch. She
flees to the forest outside the gates, and there, in order to test
Aucassin's fidelity, builds a rustic tower. When he is released from
prison, Aucassin hears from shepherd lads of Nicolette's hiding-place,
and seeks her bower. The lovers, united, resolve to leave the coun-
try. They take ship and are driven to the kingdom of Torelore,
whose queen they find in child-bed, while the king is with the army.
After a three years' stay in Torelore they are captured by Saracen
pirates and separated. Contrary winds blow Aucassin's boat to Beau-
caire, where he succeeds to Garin's estate, while Nicolette is carried
to Carthage. The sight of the city reminds her that she is the
daughter of its king, and a royal marriage is planned for her. But
she avoids this by assuming a minstrel's garb, and setting sail for
Beaucaire. There, before Aucassin, she sings of her own adventures,
and in due time makes herself known to him. Now in one last
strain our story-teller celebrates the lovers' meeting, concluding
with-
"Our song-story comes to an end,
I know no more to tell. »
And thus he takes leave of the gentle and courageous maiden.
The whole account of these trials and reunions does not occupy
over forty pages of the original French, which has been best edited
by H. Suchier at Paderborn (second edition, 1881). In 1878, A. Bida
published, with illustrations, a modern French version of the story
at Paris, accompanied by the original text and a preface by Gaston
Paris. This version was translated into English by A. Rodney Mac-
donough under the title of The Lovers of Provence: Aucassin and
Nicolette (New York, 1880). Additional illustrations by American
artists found place in this edition. F. W. Bourdillon has published
the original text and an English version, together with an exhaustive
introduction, bibliography, notes, and glossary (London, 1887), and,
later in the same year, Andrew Lang wrote out another translation,
accompanied by an introduction and notes: Aucassin and Nicolette'
(London). The extracts given below are from Lang's version, with
occasional slight alterations.
L. M Warren.


## p. 945 (#367) ############################################

AUCASSIN AND NICOLETTE
'TIS OF AUCASSIN AND NICOLETTE
WHOG
HO would list to the good lay,
Gladness of the captive gray?
'Tis how two young lovers met,
Aucassin and Nicolette;
Of the pains the lover bore,
And the perils he outwore,
For the goodness and the grace
Of his love, so fair of face.
Sweet the song, the story sweet,
There is no man hearkens it,
No man living 'neath the sun,
So outwearied, so fordone,
Sick and woful, worn and sad,
But is healed, but is glad,
'Tis so sweet.
945
So say they, speak they, tell they The Tale,
How the Count Bougart of Valence made war on Count Garin of
Beaucaire, war so great, so marvelous, and so mortal that never
a day dawned but alway he was there, by the gates and walls and
barriers of the town, with a hundred knights, and ten thousand
men-at-arms, horsemen and footmen: so burned he the Count's
land, and spoiled his country, and slew his men. Now, the Count
Garin of Beaucaire was old and frail, and his good days were
gone over. No heir had he, neither son nor daughter, save one
young man only; such an one as I shall tell you. Aucassin was
the name of the damoiseau: fair was he, goodly, and great, and
featly fashioned of his body and limbs. His hair was yellow, in
little curls, his eyes blue-gray and laughing, his face beautiful
and shapely, his nose high and well set, and so richly seen was
he in all things good, that in him was none evil at all.
But so
suddenly was he overtaken of Love, who is a great master, that
he would not, of his will, be a knight, nor take arms, nor follow
tourneys, nor do whatsoever him beseemed. Therefore his father
and mother said to him:
"Son, go take thine arms, mount thine horse, and hold thy
land, and help thy men, for if they see thee among them, more
stoutly will they keep in battle their lives and lands, and thine
and mine. "
11-60


## p. 946 (#368) ############################################

946
AUCASSIN AND NICOLETTE
"Father," answered Aucassin, "what are you saying now?
Never may God give me aught of my desire, if I be a knight,
or mount my horse, or face stour and battle wherein knights
smite and are smitten again, unless thou give me Nicolette, my
true love, that I love so well. "
"Son," said the father, "this may not be. Let Nicolette go.
A slave girl is she, out of a strange land, and the viscount of
this town bought her of the Saracens, and carried her hither, and
hath reared her and had her christened, and made her his god-
daughter, and one day will find a young man for her, to win her
bread honorably. Herein hast thou naught to make nor mend;
but if a wife thou wilt have, I will give thee the daughter of a
king, or a count. There is no man so rich in France, but if
thou desire his daughter, thou shall have her. "
"Faith! my father," said Aucassin, "tell me where is the
place so high in all the world, that Nicolette, my sweet lady and
love, would not grace it well? If she were Empress of Constan-
tinople or of Germany, or Queen of France or England, it were
little enough for her; so gentle is she and courteous, and debon-
naire, and compact of all good qualities. "
IMPRISONMENT OF NICOLETTE
When Count Garin of Beaucaire knew that he would not avail
to withdraw Aucassin, his son, from the love of Nicolette, he
went to the viscount of the city, who was his man, and spake
to him saying:-"Sir Count: away with Nicolette, thy daughter
in God; cursed be the land whence she was brought into this
country, for by reason of her do I lose Aucassin, that will
neither be a knight, nor do aught of the things that fall to him
to be done. And wit ye well," he said, "that if I might have
her at my will, I would burn her in a fire, and yourself might
well be sore adread. "
"Sir," said the Viscount, "this is grievous to me that he
comes and goes and hath speech with her. I had bought the
maid at mine own charges, and nourished her, and baptized, and
made her my daughter in God. Yea, I would have given her to
a young man that should win her bread honorably. With this
had Aucassin, thy son, naught to make or mend. But sith it is
thy will and thy pleasure, I will send her into that land and that
country where never will he see her with his eyes. "


## p. 947 (#369) ############################################

AUCASSIN AND NICOLETTE
947
"Have a heed to thyself," said the Count Garin: "thence
might great evil come on thee. "
So parted they each from the other. Now the Viscount was
a right rich man: so had he a rich palace with a garden in face
of it; in an upper chamber thereof he had Nicolette placed, with
one old woman to keep her company, and in that chamber put
bread and meat and wine and such things as were needful.
Then he had the door sealed, that none might come in or go
forth, save that there was one window, over against the garden,
and quite strait, through which came to them a little air.
Here singeth one : —
Nicolette as ye heard tell
Prisoned is within a cell
That is painted wondrously
With colors of a far countrie.
At the window of marble wrought,
There the maiden stood in thought,
With straight brows and yellow hair,
Never saw ye fairer fair!
On the wood she gazed below,
And she saw the roses blow,
Heard the birds sing loud and low,
Therefore spoke she wofully:
"Ah me, wherefore do I lie
Here in prison wrongfully?
Aucassin, my love, my knight,
Am I not thy heart's delight?
Thou that lovest me aright!
'Tis for thee that I must dwell
In this vaulted chamber cell,
Hard beset and all alone!
By our Lady Mary's Son
Here no longer will I wonn,
If I may flee! "
AUCASSIN AND THE VISCOUNT
[The Viscount speaks first]
"PLENTIFUL lack of comfort hadst thou got thereby; for in Hell
would thy soul have lain while the world endures, and into Para-
dise wouldst thou have entered never. "
"In Paradise what have I to win? Therein I seek not to en-
ter, but only to have Nicolette, my sweet lady that I love so well.


## p. 948 (#370) ############################################

948
AUCASSIN AND NICOLETTE
For into Paradise go none but such folk as I shall tell thee now:
Thither go these same old priests, and halt old men and maimed,
who all day and night cower continually before the altars, and in
these old crypts; and such folks as wear old amices, and old
clouted frocks, and naked folks and shoeless, and those covered
with sores, who perish of hunger and thirst, and of cold, and of
wretchedness. These be they that go into Paradise; with them
have I naught to make. But into Hell would I fain go; for into
Hell fare the goodly clerks, and goodly knights that fall in tour-
neys and great wars, and stout men-at-arms, and the free men.
With these would I liefly go. And thither pass the sweet ladies
and courteous, that have two lovers, or three, and their lords
also thereto. Thither goes the gold, and the silver, and fur of
vair, and fur of gris; and there too go the harpers, and min-
strels, and the kings of this world. With these I would gladly
go, let me but have with me Nicolette, my sweetest lady. "
AUCASSIN CAPTURES COUNT BOUGART
THE damoiseau was tall and strong, and the horse whereon he
sat was right eager. And he laid hand to sword, and fell a-smit-
ing to right and left, and smote through helm and nasal, and
arm, and clenched hand, making a murder about him, like a wild
boar when hounds fall on him in the forest, even till he struck
down ten knights, and seven he hurt; and straightway he hurled
out of the press, and rode back again at full speed, sword in
hand. Count Bougart of Valence heard it said that they were to
hang Aucassin, his enemy, so he came into that place and Aucas-
sin was ware of him. He gat his sword into his hand, and
struck at his helm with such a stroke that it drave it down on
his head, and he being stunned, fell groveling. And Aucassin
laid hands on him, and caught him by the nasal of his helmet,
and gave him up to his father.
"Father," quoth Aucassin, "lo, here is your mortal foe, who
hath so warred on you and done you such evil. Full twenty
months did this war endure, and might not be ended by man. "
"Fair son," said his father, "thy feats of youth shouldst thou
do, and not seek after folly. "
"Father," saith Aucassin, sermon me no sermons, but ful-
fill my covenant. "
«< Ha! what covenant, fair son? "
«<
"What, father! hast thou forgotten it?
whosoever forgets, will I not forget it, so
By mine own head,
much it hath me at


## p. 949 (#371) ############################################

AUCASSIN AND NICOLETTE
949
heart. Didst thou not covenant with me when I took up arms,
and went into the stour, that if God brought me back safe and
sound, thou wouldst let me see Nicolette, my sweet lady, even
so long that I may have of her two words or three, and one
kiss? So didst thou covenant, and my mind is that thou keep
thy word. "
"I? quoth the father; "God forsake me when I keep this
covenant! Nay, if she were here, I would have burned her in
the fire, and thou thyself shouldst be sore adread. "
THE LOVERS' MEETING
AUCASSIN was cast into prison as ye have heard tell, and Nico-
lette, of her part, was in the chamber. Now it was summer-
time, the month of May, when days are warm, and long, and
clear, and the nights still and serene. Nicolette lay one night
on her bed, and saw the moon shine clear through a window,
and heard the nightingale sing in the garden, and she minded
her of Aucassin her friend, whom she loved so well. Then fell
she to thoughts of Count Garin of Beaucaire, that he hated her
to death; and therefore deemed she that there she would no
longer abide, for that, if she were told of, and the Count knew
where she lay, an ill death he would make her die.
She saw
that the old woman was sleeping who held her company. Then
she arose, and clad her in a mantle of silk she had by her, very
goodly, and took sheets of the bed and towels and knotted one
to the other, and made therewith a cord as long as she might,
and knotted it to a pillar in the window, and let herself slip
down into the garden; then caught up her raiment in both
hands, behind and before, and kilted up her kirtle, because of
the dew that she saw lying deep on the grass, and so went on
her way down through the garden.
Her locks were yellow and curled, her eyes blue-gray and
smiling, her face featly fashioned, the nose high and fairly set,
the lips more red than cherry or rose in time of summer, her
teeth white and small; and her breasts so firm that they bore
up the folds of her bodice as they had been two walnuts; so
slim was she in the waist that your two hands might have
clipped her; and the daisy flowers that brake beneath her as
she went tiptoe, and that bent above her instep, seemed black
against her feet and ankles, so white was the maiden. She
came to the postern-gate, and unbarred it, and went out through


## p. 950 (#372) ############################################

950
AUCASSIN AND NICOLETTE
the streets of Beaucaire, keeping always on the shadowy side,
for the moon was shining right clear, and so wandered she till
she came to the tower where her lover lay. The tower was
flanked with pillars, and she cowered under one of them,
wrapped in her mantle. Then thrust she her head through a
crevice of the tower, that was old and worn, and heard Aucas-
sin, who was weeping within, and making dole and lament for
the sweet friend he loved so well. And when she had listened
to him some time she began to say:-
Here one singeth:
·-
Nicolette, the bright of brow,
On a pillar leanèd now,
All Aucassin's wail did hear
For his love that was so dear,
Then the maid spake low and clear:-
"Gentle knight, withouten fear,
Little good befalleth thee,
Little help of sigh or tear.
Ne'er shalt thou have joy of me.
Never shalt thou win me; still
Am I held in evil will
Of thy father and thy kin.
Therefore must I cross the sea,
And another land must win. "
Then she cut her curls of gold,
Cast them in the dungeon hold,
Aucassin doth clasp them there,
Kiss'th the curls that were so fair,
Them doth in his bosom bear,
Then he wept, e'en as of old,
All for his love!
Thus say they, speak they, tell they The Tale.
When Aucassin heard Nicolette say that she would pass into a
far country, he was all in wrath.
"Fair, sweet friend," quoth he, "thou shalt not go, for then
wouldst thou be my death. And the first man that saw thee and
had the might withal, would take thee straightway into his bed
to be his leman. And once thou camest into a man's bed, and
that bed not mine, wit ye well that I would not tarry till I had
found a knife to pierce my heart and slay myself. Nay, verily,
wait so long I would not; but would hurl myself so far as I


## p. 951 (#373) ############################################

AUCASSIN AND NICOLETTE
951
might see a wall, or a black stone, and I would dash my head
against it so mightily that the eyes would start and my brain
burst. Rather would I die even such a death than know that
thou hadst lain in a man's bed, and that bed not mine. "
"Aucassin," she said, I trow thou lovest me not as much as
thou sayest, but I love thee more than thou lovest me. "
"Ah, fair, sweet friend," said Aucassin, "it may not be that
thou shouldest love me even as I love thee. Woman may not
love man as man loves woman; for a woman's love lies in her
eye, and the bud of her breast, and her foot's tiptoe, but the
love of a man is in his heart planted, whence it can never issue
forth and pass away.