No More Learning

. Scott

Horatius . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Macaulay

Alice Brand . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Scott

The Solitary Reaper . . . . . . . . . . . . . Wordsworth

The Island of the Scots . . . . . . . . . . . . . Aytoun

Dickens in Camp . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Harte

A Musical Instrument . . . . . . . . . . . . Mrs. Browning

Gradatim . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Holland

The Battle of the Lake Regillus . . . . . . . . Macaulay

The Vision of Sir Launfal . . . . . . . . . . . . Lowell

The Builders . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Longfellow

British Freedom . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Wordsworth

The Courtship of Miles Standish . . . . . . . . Longfellow

Sohrab and Rustum . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Arnold




NARRATIVE AND LYRIC POEMS



THE MEETING OF THE WATERS.

There is not in the wide world a valley so sweet
As that vale in whose bosom the bright waters meet!
Oh! the last rays of feeling and life must depart
Ere the bloom of that valley shall fade from my heart.
Yet it _was_ not that nature had shed o'er the scene 5
Her purest of crystal and brightest of green;
'Twas _not_ the soft magic of streamlet or hill,
Oh! no--it was something more exquisite still.

'Twas that friends, the beloved of my bosom, were near,
Who made every dear scene of enchantment more dear, 10
And who felt how the best charms of nature improve,
When we see them reflected from looks that we love.

Sweet vale of Avoca! [1] how calm could I rest
In thy bosom of shade with the friends I love best,
Where the storms that we feel in this cold world should cease, 15
And our hearts, like thy waters, be mingled in peace!

--_Moore_.

[1] Avoca. A valley and river in the County of Wicklow, Ireland. The
name signifies "The Meeting of the Waters. "




JOCK O' HAZELDEAN.

"Why weep ye by the tide, ladie?
Why weep ye by the tide?
I'll wed ye to my youngest son,
And ye sall[1] be his bride:
And ye sall be his bride, ladie, 5
Sae comely to be seen"--
But aye she loot[2] the tears down fa'
For Jock o' Hazeldean.

"Now let this wilfu' grief be done,
And dry that cheek so pale; 10
Young Frank is chief of Errington,
And lord of Langley-dale;
His step is first in peaceful ha',
His sword in battle keen"--
But aye she loot the tears down fa' 15
For Jock o' Hazeldean.

"A chain of gold ye sall not lack,
Nor braid to bind your hair;
Nor mettled hound, nor managed[3] hawk,
Nor palfrey fresh and fair; 20
And you, the foremost o' them a'
Shall ride our forest-queen"--
But aye she loot the tears down fa'
For Jock o' Hazeldean.

The kirk was deck'd at morning-tide, 25
The tapers glimmer'd fair;
The priest and bridegroom wait the bride,
And dame and knight are there.
They sought her baith by bower and ha'.
The ladie was not seen! 30
She's o'er the border, and awa'
Wi' Jock o' Hazeldean!

--_Scott_

[1] sall. shall.

[2] loot. let.

[3] managed. trained.




HORATIUS.

A LAY MADE ABOUT THE YEAR OF THE CITY CCCLX.

According to legend, Tarquinius Superbus, or Tarquin the Proud, the
last of the early kings of Rome, was driven out of the city, partly
on account of his own tyranny, and partly because of the misdeeds of
his son Sextus Tarquin. The immediate cause of the expulsion of the
Tarquins was "the deed of shame," committed by Sextus against
Lucretia, the wife of one of the Roman governors. After two
unsuccessful attempts to regain the throne, Tarquinius Superbus
sought the aid of the Etruscans and Latins, and under the leadership
of Lars Porsena, the head of the Etruscan League, the combined forces
marched upon Rome. It was then that the incident recorded in the
story of _Horatius_ is supposed to have taken place. After the
defence of the bridge by Horatius, Lars Porsena laid siege to the
city and at last reduced it to submission. He did not, however,
insist upon the reinstatement of the Tarquins. A fourth and last
attempt was made by Tarquin the Proud to regain the throne, by the
aid of his Latin allies, under Mamilius of Tusculum. The story of
this expedition forms the subject of _The Battle of Lake Regulus_.


I

Lars[1] Porsena of Clusium[2]
By the Nine Gods[3] he swore
That the great house of Tarquin
Should suffer wrong no more.
By the Nine Gods he swore it, 5
And named a trysting day,[4]
And bade his messengers ride forth,
East and west and south and north,
To summon his array.


II

East and west and south and north 10
The messengers ride fast,
And tower and town and cottage
Have heard the trumpet's blast.
Shame on the false Etruscan,
Who lingers in his home, 15
When Porsena of Clusium
Is on the march to Rome.


III

The horsemen and the footmen
Are pouring in amain
From many a stately market-place, 20
From many a fruitful plain,
From many a lonely hamlet,
Which, hid by beech and pine,
Like an eagle's nest, hangs on the crest
Of purple Apennine; 25


IV

From lordly Volaterrae,[5]
Where scowls the far-famed hold
Piled by the hands of giants
For godlike kings of old;
From seagirt Populonia, 30
Whose sentinels descry
Sardinia's snowy mountain-tops
Fringing the southern sky;


V

From the proud mart of Pisse,[6]
Queen of the western waves, 35
Where ride Massilia's triremes[7]
Heavy with fair-haired slaves,
From where sweet Olanis[8] wanders
Through corn and vines and flowers,
From where Cortona lifts to heaven 40
Her diadem of towers.


VI

Tall are the oaks whose acorns
Drop in dark Auser's[9] rill;
Fat are the stags that champ the boughs
Of the Ciminian hill;[10] 45
Beyond all streams Clitumnus[11]
Is to the herdsman dear;
Best of all pools the fowler loves
The great Volsinian mere. [12]


VII

But now no stroke of woodman 50
Is heard by Auser's rill;
No hunter tracks the stag's green path
Up the Ciminian hill;
Unwatched along Clitumnus
Grazes the milk-white steer; 55
Unharmed the waterfowl may dip
In the Volsinian mere.


VIII

The harvests of Arretium,[13]
This year, old men shall reap,
This year, young boys in Umbro[14] 60
Shall plunge the struggling sheep;
And in the vats of Luna,
This year, the must[15] shall foam
Round the white feet of laughing girls
Whose sires have marched to Rome.


IX

There be thirty chosen prophets,
The wisest of the land,
Who alway by Lars Porsena
Both morn and evening stand:
Evening and morn the Thirty 70
Have turned the verses o'er,
Traced from the right[16] on linen white
By mighty seers of yore,


X

And with one voice the Thirty
Have their glad answer given: 75
"Go forth, go forth, Lars Porsena;
Go forth, beloved of Heaven:
Go, and return in glory
To Clusium's royal dome;
And hang round Nurscia's[17] altars 80
The golden shields[18] of Rome. "


XI

And now hath every city
Sent up her tale[19] of men:
The foot are fourscore thousand,
The horse are thousands ten. 85
Before the gates of Sutrium[20]
Is met the great array.
A proud man was Lars Porsena
Upon the trysting day.


XII

For all the Etruscan armies 90
Were ranged beneath his eye
And many a banished Roman,
And many a stout ally;
And with a mighty following
To join the muster came 95
The Tusculan Mamilius,[21]
Prince of the Latian[22] name.


XIII

But by the yellow Tiber
Was tumult and affright:
From all the spacious champaign 100
To Rome men took their flight.
A mile around the city,
The throng stopped up the ways;
A fearful sight it was to see
Through two long nights and days. 105


XIV

For aged folks on crutches,
And women great with child,
And mothers sobbing over babes
That clung to them and smiled,
And sick men borne in litters 110
High on the necks of slaves,
And troops of sunburnt husbandmen
With reaping-hooks and staves,


XV

And droves of mules and asses
Laden with skins of wine, 115
And endless flocks of goats and sheep,
And endless herds of kine,
And endless trains of wagons
That creaked beneath the weight
Of corn-sacks and of household goods, 120
Choked every roaring gate.


XVI

Now, from the rock Tarpeian,[23]
Could the wan burghers spy
The line of blazing villages
Red in the midnight sky. 125
The Fathers[24] of the City,
They sat all night and day,
For every hour some horseman came
With tidings of dismay.


XVII

To eastward and to westward 130
Have spread the Tuscan bands;
Nor house nor fence nor dovecote
In Crustumerium[25] stands.
Verbenna down to Ostia[26]
Hath wasted all the plain; 135
Astur hath stormed Janiculum,[27]
And the stout guards are slain.


XVIII

I wis,[28] in all the Senate,
There was no heart so bold,
But sore it ached, and fast it beat; 140
When that ill news was told.
Forthwith up rose the Consul,
Up rose the Fathers all;
In haste they girded up their gowns,
And hied them to the wall. 145


XIX

They held a council standing
Before the River-Gate[30];
Short time was there, ye well may guess,
For musing or debate.
Out spake the Consul roundly: 150
"The bridge[31] must straight go down;
For, since Janiculum is lost,
Naught else can save the town. "

XX

Just then a scout came flying,
All wild with haste and fear; 155
"To arms! to arms! Sir Consul:
Lars Porsena is here. "
On the low hills to westward
The Consul fixed his eye,
And saw the swarthy storm of dust 160
Rise fast along the sky.


XXI

And nearer fast and nearer
Doth the red whirlwind come;
And louder still and still more loud,
From underneath that rolling cloud, 165
Is heard the trumpet's war-note proud,
The trampling, and the hum.
And plainly and more plainly
Now through the gloom appears,
Far to left and far to right, 170
In broken gleams of dark-blue light,
The long array of helmets bright,
The long array of spears.


XXII

And plainly, and more plainly
Above that glimmering line, 175
Now might ye see the banners
Of twelve fair cities[32] shine;
But the banner of proud Clusium
Was highest of them all,
The terror of the Umbrian,[33] 180
The terror of the Gaul. [34]


XXIII

And plainly and more plainly
Now might the burghers know,
By port and vest,[35] by horse and crest,
Each warlike Lucumo. [36] 185
There Cilnius of Arretium
On his fleet roan[37] was seen;
And Astur of the fourfold shield,[38]
Girt with the brand none else may wield;
Tolumnius with the belt of gold, 190
And dark Verbenna from the hold
By reedy Thrasymene. [39]


XXIV

Fast by the royal standard,
O'erlooking all the war,
Lars Porsena of Clusium 195
Sat in his ivory car.
By the right wheel rode Mamilius,
Prince of the Latian name;
And by the left false Sextus,
That wrought the deed of shame. 200


XXV

But when the face of Sextus
Was seen among the foes,
A yell that rent the firmament
From all the town arose.
On the house-tops was no woman 205
But spat towards him and hissed,
No child but screamed out curses,
And shook its little fist.


XXVI

But the Consul's brow was sad,
And the Consul's speech was low. 210
And darkly looked he at the wall,
And darkly at the foe.
"Their van will be upon us
Before the bridge goes down;
And if they once may win the bridge, 215
What hope to save the town? "


XXVII

Then out spake brave Horatius,
The Captain of the Gate:
"To every man upon this earth
Death cometh soon or late, 220
And how can man die better
Than facing fearful odds,
For the ashes of his fathers,
And the temples of his Gods,


XXVIII

And for the tender mother 225
Who dandled him to rest,
And for the wife that nurses
His baby at her breast,
And for the holy maidens[40]
Who feed the eternal flame, 230
To save them from false Sextus
That wrought the deed of shame? "


XXIX

"Hew down the bridge, Sir Consul,
With all the speed ye may,
I, with two more to help me, 235
Will hold the foe in play.
In yon strait path a thousand
May well be stopped by three.
Now who will stand on either hand,
And keep the bridge with me? " 240


XXX

Then out spake Spurius Lartius;
A Ramnian[41] proud was he:
"Lo, I will stand at thy right hand,
And keep the bridge with thee. "
And out spake strong Herminius; 245
Of Titian blood was he:
"I will abide on thy left side,
And keep the bridge with thee. "


XXXI

"Horatius," quoth the Consul,
"As thou sayest, so let it be," 250
And straight against that great array
Forth went the dauntless Three.
For Romans in Rome's quarrel
Spared neither land nor gold,
Nor son nor wife, nor limb nor life, 255
In the brave days of old. [42]


XXXII

Then none was for a party;
Then all were for the state;
Then the great man helped the poor.
And the poor man loved the great, 260
Then lands were fairly portioned,
Then spoils were fairly sold:[43]
The Romans were like brothers
In the brave days of old.


XXXIII

Now Roman is to Roman 265
More hateful than a foe,
And the Tribunes[44] beard[45] the high,
And the Fathers grind the low.
As we wax hot in faction,
In battle we wax cold: 270
Wherefore men fight not as they fought
In the brave days of old.


XXXIV

Now while the Three were tightening
Their harness[46] on their backs,
The Consul was the foremost man 275
To take in hand an axe:
And Fathers mixed with Commons
Seized hatchet, bar, and crow,
And smote upon the planks above,
And loosed the props below. 280


XXXV

Meanwhile the Tuscan army,
Right glorious to behold,
Came flashing back the noonday light,
Rank behind rank, like surges bright
Of a broad sea of gold. 285
Four hundred trumpets sounded
A peal of warlike glee,
As that great host, with measured tread,
And spears advanced, and ensigns spread,
Rolled slowly towards the bridge's head, 290
Where stood the dauntless Three.


XXXVI

The Three stood calm and silent,
And looked upon the foes,
And a great shout of laughter
From all the vanguard rose; 295
And forth three chiefs came spurring
Before that deep array;
To earth they sprang, their swords they drew,
And lifted high their shields, and flew
To win the narrow way; 300


XXXVII

Aunus from green Tifernum,[47]
Lord of the Hill of Vines;
And Seius, whose eight hundred slaves
Sicken in Ilva's[48] mines;
And Picus, long to Clusium 305
Vassal in peace and war,
Who led to fight his Umbrian powers
From that gray crag where, girt with towers,
The fortress of Nequinum[49] lowers
O'er the pale waves of Nar. 310


XXXVIII

Stout Lartius hurled down Aunus
Into the stream beneath:
Herminius struck at Seius,
And clove him to the teeth:
At Picus brave Horatius 315
Darted one fiery thrust;
And the proud Umbrian's gilded arms
Clashed in the bloody dust.


XXXIX

Then Ocnus of Palerii[50]
Rushed on the Roman Three; 320
And Lausulus of Urgo,[51]
The rover of the sea;[52]
And Aruns of Volsinium,
Who slew the great wild boar,
The great wild boar that had his den 325
Amidst the reeds of Cosa's[53] fen
And wasted fields, and slaughtered men,
Along Albinia's[54] shore.


XL

Herminius smote down Aruns:
Lartius laid Ocnus low: 330
Right to the heart of Lausulus
Horatius sent a blow.
"Lie there," he cried, "fell pirate!
No more, aghast and pale,
From Ostia's walls the crowd shall mark 335
The track of thy destroying bark.
No more Campania's[55] hinds[56] shall fly
To woods and caverns when they spy
Thy thrice accursed sail. "


XLI

But now no sound of laughter 340
Was heard among the foes.
A wild and wrathful clamor
From all the vanguard rose.
Six spears' lengths from the entrance
Halted that deep array, 345
And for a space no man came forth
To win the narrow way.


XLII

But hark! the cry is Astur:
And lo! the ranks divide;
And the great Lord of Luna
Comes with his stately stride. 350
Upon his ample shoulders
Clangs loud the fourfold shield,
And in his hand he shakes the brand
Which none but he can wield. 355


XLIII

He smiled on those bold Romans
A smile serene and high;
He eyed the flinching Tuscans,
And scorn was in his eye.
Quoth he, "The she-wolf's litter[57] 360
Stand savagely at bay:
But will ye dare to follow,
If Astur clears the way? "


XLIV

Then, whirling up his broadsword
With both hands to the height, 365
He rushed against Horatius,
And smote with all his might.
With shield and blade Horatius,
Right deftly turned the blow.
The blow, though turned, came yet too nigh: 370
It missed his helm, but gashed his thigh:
The Tuscans raised a joyful cry
To see the red blood flow.


XLV

He reeled, and on Herminius
He leaned one breathing-space; 375
Then, like a wild-cat mad with wounds,
Sprang right at Astur's face.
Through teeth, and skull, and helmet
So fierce a thrust he sped
The good sword stood a hand-breadth out 380
Behind the Tuscan's head.


XLVI

And the great Lord of Luna
Fell at that deadly stroke,
As falls on Mount Alvernus
A thunder-smitten oak. 385
Far o'er the crashing forest
The giant arms lie spread;
And the pale augurs, muttering low,
Gaze on the blasted head.


XLVII

On Astur's throat Horatius 390
Right firmly pressed his heel;
And thrice and four times tugged amain,
Ere be wrenched out the steel.
"And see," he cried, "the welcome,
Fair guests, that waits you here! 395
What noble Lucumo comes next
To taste our Roman cheer? "


XLVI

But at his haughty challenge
A sullen murmur ran,
Mingled of wrath, and shame, and dread, 400
Along that glittering van.
There lacked not men of prowess,
Nor men of lordly race,
For all Etruria's noblest
Were round the fatal place. 405


XLIX

But all Etruria's noblest
Felt their hearts sink to see
On the earth the bloody corpses,
In the path the dauntless Three:
And from the ghastly entrance 410
Where those bold Romans stood,
All shrank, like boys who unaware,
Ranging the woods to start a hare,
Come to the mouth of the dark lair,
Where, growling low, a fierce old bear 415
Lies amidst bones and blood.


L

Was none who would be foremost
To lead such dire attack;
But those behind cried, "Forward! "
And those before cried, "Back! " 420
And backward now and forward
Wavers the deep array;
And on the tossing sea of steel,
To and fro the standards reel;
And the victorious trumpet-peal 425
Dies fitfully away.


LI

Yet one man for one moment
Stood out before the crowd;
Well known was he to all the Three,
And they gave him greeting loud. 430
"Now welcome, welcome, Sextus!
Now welcome to thy home!
Why dost thou stay, and turn away?
Here lies the road to Rome. "


LII

Thrice looked he at the city; 435
Thrice looked he at the dead
And thrice came on in fury,
And thrice turned back in dread:
And, white with fear and hatred,
Scowled at the narrow way 440
Where, wallowing in a pool of blood,
The bravest Tuscans lay.


LIII

But meanwhile axe and lever
Have manfully been plied;
And now the bridge hangs tottering 445
Above the boiling tide.
"Come back, come back, Horatius! "
Loud cried the Fathers all.
"Back, Lartius! back, Herminius!
Back, ere the ruin fall! " 450


LIV

Back darted Spurius Lartius,
Herminius darted back:
And, as they passed, beneath their feet
They felt the timbers crack.
But when they turned their faces, 455
And on the farther shore
Saw brave Horatius stand alone,
They would have crossed once more.


LV

But with a crash like thunder
Fell every loosened beam, 460
And, like a dam, the mighty wreck
Lay right athwart the stream;
And a long shout of triumph
Rose from the walls of Rome,
As to the highest turret-tops 465
Was splashed the yellow foam.


LVI

And like a horse unbroken
When first he feels the rein,
The furious river struggled hard,
And tossed his tawny mane, 470
And burst the curb, and bounded,
Rejoicing to be free,
And whirling down, in fierce career,
Battlement, and plank, and pier,
Rushed headlong to the sea. 475


LVII

Alone stood brave Horatius,
But constant still in mind;
Thrice thirty thousand foes before,
And the broad flood behind.
"Down with him! " cried false Sextus, 480
With a smile on his pale face.
"Now yield thee," cried Lars Porsena,
"Now yield thee to our grace. "


LVIII

Round turned he, as not deigning
Those craven ranks to see; 485
Nought spake he to Lars Porsena,
To Sextus nought spake he;
But he saw on Palatinus[58]
The white porch of his home;
And he spake to the noble river 490
That rolls by the towers of Rome.


LIX

"Oh, Tiber! father Tiber!
To whom the Romans pray,
A Roman's life, a Roman's arms,
Take thou in charge this day. " 495
So he spake, and speaking sheathed
The good sword by his side,
And with his harness on his back,
Plunged headlong in the tide.


LX

No sound of joy or sorrow 500
Was heard from either bank;
But friends and foes, in dumb surprise,
With parted lips and straining eyes,
Stood gazing where he sank;
And when above the surges 505
They saw his crest appear,
All Rome sent forth a rapturous cry,
And even the ranks of Tuscany
Could scarce forbear to cheer.


LXI

But fiercely ran the current, 510
Swollen high by months of rain:
And fast his blood was flowing,
And he was sore in pain,
And heavy with his armor,
And spent with changing[59] blows: 515
And oft they thought him sinking,
But still again he rose.


LXII

Never, I ween,[80] did swimmer,
In such an evil case,
Struggle through such a raging flood 520
Safe to the landing-place:
But his limbs were borne up bravely
By the brave heart within,
And our good father Tiber
Bore bravely up his chin. 525


LXIII

"Curse on him! " quoth false Sextus,
"Will not the villain drown?
But for this stay, ere close of day
We should have sacked the town! "
"Heaven help him! " quoth Lars Porsena, 530
"And bring him safe to shore;
For such a gallant feat of arms
Was never seen before. "


LXI

And now he feels the bottom;
Now on dry earth he stands; 535
Now round him throng the Fathers
To press his gory hands;
And now, with shouts and clapping,
And noise of weeping loud,
He enters through the River-Gate, 540
Borne by the joyous crowd.


LXV

They gave him of the corn-land,
That was of public right,[81]
As much as two strong oxen
Could plough from morn till night; 545
And they made a molten image,
And set it up on high,
And there it stands unto this, day,
To witness if I lie.


LXVI

It stands in the Comitium,[62] 545
Plain for all folk to see;
Horatius in his harness,
Halting upon one knee:
And underneath is written,
In letters all of gold, 550
How valiantly he kept the bridge,
In the brave days of old.


LXVII

And still his name sounds stirring
Unto the men of Rome,
As the trumpet-blast that cries to them 560
To charge the Volscian home,[63]
And wives still pray to Juno[64]
For boys with hearts as bold
As his who kept the bridge so well,
In the brave days of old. 565


LXVIII

And in the nights of winter,
When the cold north winds blow,
And the long howling of the wolves
Is heard amidst the snow;
When round the lonely cottage 570
Roars loud the tempest's din,
And the good logs of Algidus[65]
Roar louder yet within;


LXIX

When the oldest cask is opened,
And the largest lamp is lit 575
When the chestnuts glow in the embers,
And the kid turns on the spit;
When young and old in circle
Around the firebrands close;
When the girls are weaving baskets, 580
And the lads are shaping bows;


LXX

When the goodman mends his armor,
And trims his helmet's plume;
When the good wife's shuttle merrily
Goes flashing through the loom: 585
With weeping and with laughter
Still is the story told,
How well Horatius kept the bridge
In the brave days of old.

--_Macaulay_


[1] Lars. Lord or Chieftain.

[2] Clusium. The modern Chiusi.

[3] Nine Gods. The chief Gods of the Etruscans were nine in number.

[4] trysting day. A day appointed for meeting.

[5] Volaterrae. The modern Volterra. The walls of the ancient
fortress were built of enormous blocks of stone fitted together
without cement.

[6] Pisse. Pisa

[7] Massilia. The modern Marseilles, originally a Greek colony and a
flourishing commercial centre. triremes. Vessels with three banks
of oars on each side. fair-haired slaves. Slaves from Gaul.

[8] Clanis. The modern river Chiana.

[9] Auser. A tributary of the Anio.

[10] Ciminian hill. A lofty mountain in the northern Apennines.

[11] Clitumnus. The river Clitumno.

[12] Volsinian mere. A lake which took its name from the town of
Volsinii (modern Bolsena) situated on its banks.

[13] Arretium. Arezzo.

[14] Umbro. A river in Etruria,--the modern Ombrone.

[15] must. new wine.

[16] Written from right to left.

[17] Nurscia. The Etruscan goddess of fortune.

[18] golden shields. Twelve golden shields kept in the temple of
Vesta, and believed by the Romans to be bound up with the safety of
their city. See notes on pp. 68 and 71.