Never so much as now was Miles
Standish
the friend of John Alden.
Narrative and Lyric Poems (first series) for use in the Lower School by Stevenson
Yours is the greater treason, for yours is a treason to friendship!
You, who lived under my roof, whom I cherished and loved as a brother;
You, who have fed at my board, and drunk at my cup, to whose keeping
I have intrusted my honor, my thoughts the most sacred
and secret,-- 420
You, too, Brutus! ah, woe to the name of friendship hereafter!
Brutus was Caesar's friend, and you were mine, but hence-forward
Let there be nothing between us save war, and implacable hatred! "
So spake the Captain of Plymouth, and strode about in the chamber,
Chafing and choking with rage, like cords were the veins
on his temples. 425
But in the midst of his anger a man appeared at the doorway,
Bringing in uttermost haste a message of urgent importance,
Rumors of danger and war and hostile incursions of Indians!
Straightway the Captain paused, and, without further question
or parley,
Took from the nail on the wall his sword with its scabbard of iron, 430
Buckled the belt round his waist, and, frowning fiercely, departed.
Alden was left alone. He heard the clank of the scabbard
Growing fainter and fainter, and dying away in the distance.
Then he arose from his seat, and looked forth into the darkness,
Felt the cool air blow on his cheek, that was hot with the insult, 435
Lifted his eyes to the heavens, and, folding his hands as in childhood,
Prayed in the silence of night to the Father who seeth in secret.
Meanwhile the choleric Captain strode wrathful away to the council,
Found it already assembled, impatiently waiting his coming;
Men in the middle of life, austere and grave in deportment, 440
Only one of them old, the hill that was nearest to heaven,
Covered with snow, but erect, the excellent Elder of Plymouth. [33]
God had sifted three kingdoms to find the wheat for this planning,
Then had sifted the wheat, as the living seed of a nation;
So say the chronicles' old, and such is the faith of the people! 445
Near them was standing an Indian, in attitude stern and defiant,
Naked down to the waist, and grim and ferocious in aspect;
While on the table before them was lying unopened a Bible,
Ponderous, bound in leather, brass-studded, printed in Holland,
And beside it outstretched the skin of a rattlesnake glittered, 450
Filled, like a quiver, with arrows: a signal and challenge of warfare,
Brought by the Indian, and speaking with arrowy tongues of defiance.
This Miles Standish beheld, as he entered, and heard them debating
What were an answer befitting the hostile message and menace,
Talking of tins and of that, contriving, suggesting, objecting; 455
One voice only for peace, and that the voice of the Elder,
Judging it wise and well that some at least were converted,
Rather than any were slain, for this was but Christian behavior!
Then out spake Miles Standish, the stalwart Captain of Plymouth,
Muttering deep in his throat, for his voice was husky with anger, 460
"What! do you mean to make war with milk and the water of roses?
Is it to shoot red squirrels you have your howitzer planted
There on the roof of the church, or is it to shoot red devils?
Truly the only tongue that is understood by a savage
Must be the tongue of fire that speaks from the mouth of
the cannon! " 465
Thereupon answered and said the excellent Elder of Plymouth,
Somewhat amazed and alarmed at this irreverent language:
"Not so thought Saint Paul, nor yet the other Apostles;
Not from the cannon's mouth were the tongues of fire they
spake with! "[34]
But unheeded fell this mild rebuke on the Captain, 470
Who had advanced to the table, and thus continued discoursing:
"Leave this matter to me, for to me by right it pertaineth.
War is a terrible trade; but in the cause that is righteous,
Sweet is the smell of powder, and thus I answer the challenge! "
Then from the rattlesnake's skin, with a sudden, contemptuous
gesture, 475
Jerking the Indian arrows, he filled it with powder and bullets
Full to the very jaws, and handed it back to the savage,
Saying, in thundering tones; "Here, take it! this is your answer! "
Silently out of the room then glided the glistening savage,
Bearing the serpent's skin, and seeming himself like a serpent, 480
Winding his sinuous way in the dark to the depths of the forest.
V
THE SAILING OF THE MAYFLOWER.
Just in the gray of the dawn, as the mists uprose from the meadows,
There was a stir and a sound in the slumbering village of Plymouth;
Clanging and clicking of arms, and the order imperative, "Forward! "
Given in tone suppressed, a tramp of feet, and then silence. 485
Figures ten, in the mist, marched slowly out of the village.
Standish the stalwart it was, with eight of his valorous army,
Led by their Indian guide, by Hobomok, friend of the white men,
Northward marching to quell the sudden revolt of the savage.
Giants they seemed in the mist, or the mighty men of King David; 490
Giants in heart they were, who believed in God and the Bible,--
Ay, who believed in the smiting of Midianites and Philistines,
Over them gleamed far off the crimson banners of morning;
Under them loud on the sands, the serried billows, advancing,
Fired along the line, and in regular order retreated. 495
Many a mile had they marched, when at length the village of Plymouth
Woke from its sleep, and arose, intent on its manifold labors.
Sweet was the air and soft; and slowly the smoke from the chimneys
Rose over roofs of thatch, and pointed steadily eastward;
Men came forth from the doors, and paused and talked of the weather, 500
Said that the wind had changed, and was blowing fair for the Mayflower;
Talked of their Captain's departure, and all the dangers that menaced,
He being gone, the town, and what should be done in his absence.
Merrily sang the birds, and the tender voices of women
Consecrated with hymns the common cares of the household. 505
Out of the sea rose the sun, and the billows rejoiced at his coming;
Beautiful were his feet on the purple tops of the mountains,
Beautiful on the sails of the Mayflower riding at anchor,
Battered and blackened and worn by all the storms of the winter.
Loosely against her masts was hanging and flapping her canvas, 510
Rent by so many gales, and patched by the hands of the sailors.
Suddenly from her side, as the sun rose over the ocean,
Darted a puff of smoke, and floated seaward; anon rang
Loud over field and forest the cannon's roar, and the echoes
Heard and repeated the sound, the signal-gun of departure! 515
Ah! but with louder echoes replied the hearts of the people!
Meekly, in voices subdued, the chapter was read from the Bible,
Meekly the prayer was begun, but ended in fervent entreaty!
Then from their houses in haste came forth the Pilgrims of Plymouth,
Men and women and children, all hurrying down to the seashore, 520
Eager, with tearful eyes, to say farewell to the Mayflower,
Homeward bound o'er the sea, and leaving them here in the
desert.
Foremost among them was Alden. All night he had lain without slumber,
Turning and tossing about in the heat and unrest of his fever.
He had beheld Miles Standish, who came back late from the council, 535
Stalking into the room, and heard him mutter and murmur,
Sometimes it seemed a prayer, and sometimes it sounded like swearing.
Once he had come to the bed, and stood there a moment in silence;
Then he had turned away, and said: "I will not awake him;
Let him sleep on, it is best; for what is the use of more talking! " 530
Then he extinguished the light, and threw himself down on his pallet,
Dressed as he was, and ready to start at the break of the morning,--
Covered himself with the cloak he had worn in his campaigns
in Flanders,--
Slept as a soldier sleeps in his bivouac, ready for action.
But with the dawn he arose; in the twilight Alden beheld him 535
Put on his corselet of steel, and all the rest of his armor,
Buckle about his waist his trusty blade of Damascus,
Take from the corner his musket, and so stride out of the chamber.
Often the heart of the youth had burned and yearned to embrace him,
Often his lips had essayed to speak, imploring for pardon; 540
All the old friendship came back with its tender and grateful emotions;
But his pride overmastered the nobler nature within him,--
Pride, and the sense of his wrong, and the burning fire of the insult.
So he beheld his friend departing in anger, but spake not,
Saw him go forth to danger, perhaps to death, and he spake not! 545
Then he arose from his bed, and heard what the people were saying,
Joined in the talk at the door, with Stephen and Richard and
Gilbert,[35]
Joined in the morning prayer, and in the reading of Scripture,
And, with the others, in haste went hurrying down to the sea-shore,
Down to the Plymouth Rock, that had been to their feet as
a doorstep 550
Into a world unknown,--the corner-stone of a nation!
There with his boat was the Master, already a little impatient
Lest he should lose the tide, or the wind might shift to the eastward,
Square-built, hearty, and strong, with an odor of ocean about him,
Speaking with this one and that, and cramming letters and parcels 555
Into his pockets capacious, and messages mingled together
Into his narrow brain, till at last he was wholly bewildered.
Nearer the boat stood Alden, with one foot placed on the gunwale,[36]
One still firm on the rock, and talking at times with the sailors,
Seated erect on the thwarts,[37] all ready and eager for starting, 560
He too was eager to go, and thus put an end to his anguish,
Thinking to fly from despair, that swifter than keel is or canvas,
Thinking to drown in the sea the ghost that would rise and pursue him.
But as he gazed on the crowd, he beheld the form of Priscilla
Standing dejected among them, unconscious of all that was passing. 565
Fixed were her eyes upon his, as if she divined his intention,
Fixed with a look so sad, so reproachful, imploring, and patient,
That with a sudden revulsion his heart recoiled from its purpose,
As from the verge of a crag, where one step more is destruction.
Strange is the heart of man, with its quick, mysterious instincts! 570
Strange is the life of man, and fatal or fated are moments,
Whereupon turn, as on hinges, the gates of the wall adamantine[38]
"Here I remain! " he exclaimed, as he looked at the heavens above him,
Thanking the Lord whose breath had scattered the mist and the madness,
Wherein, blind and lost, to death he was staggering headlong. 575
"Yonder snow-white cloud, that floats in the ether above me,
Seems like a hand that is pointing, and beckoning over the ocean.
There is another hand, that is not so spectral and ghost-like,
Holding me, drawing me back, and clasping mine for protection.
Float, O hand of cloud, and vanish away in the ether! 580
Roll thyself up like a fist, to threaten, and daunt me; I heed not
Either your warning or menace, or any omen of evil!
There is no land so sacred, no air so pure and so wholesome,
As is the air she breathes, and the soil that is pressed
by her footsteps.
Here for her sake will I stay, and like an invisible presence 585
Hover around her forever, protecting, supporting her weakness;
Yes! as my foot was the first that stepped on this rock at the landing,
So, with the blessing of God, shall it be the last at the leaving! "
Meanwhile the Master alert, but with dignified air and important,
Scanning with watchful eye the tide and the wind and the weather, 590
Walked about on the sands, and the people crowded around him
Saying a few last words, and enforcing his careful remembrance.
Then, taking each by the hand, as if he were grasping a tiller,
Into the boat he sprang, and in haste shoved off to his vessel,
Glad in his heart to get rid of all this worry and flurry, 595
Glad to be gone from a land of sand and sickness and sorrow,
Short allowance of victual, and plenty of nothing but Gospel!
Lost in the sound of the oars was the last farewell of the Pilgrims.
O strong hearts and true! not one went back in the Mayflower!
No, not one looked back, who had set his hand to this ploughing! 600
Soon we heard on board the shouts and songs of the sailors
Heaving the windlass round, and hoisting the ponderous anchor.
Then the yards[39] were braced, and all sails set to the west-wind,
Blowing steady and strong, and the Mayflower sailed from the harbor,
Rounded the point of the Gurnet,[40] and leaving far to
the southward 605
Island and cape of sand, and the Field of the First Encounter,[41]
Took the wind on her quarter, and stood for the open Atlantic,
Borne on the sand of the sea, and the swelling hearts of the Pilgrims.
Long in silence they watched, the receding sail of the vessel,
Much endeared to them all, as something living and human; 610
Then, as it filled with the spirit, and wrapped in a vision prophetic,
Baring his hoary head, the excellent Elder of Plymouth.
Said, "Let us pray! " and they prayed, and thanked the Lord and
took courage.
Mournfully sobbed the waves at the base of the rock, and above them
Bowed and whispered the wheat on the hill of death, and
their kindred 615
Seemed to awake in their graves, and to join in the prayer that
they uttered.
Sun-illumined and white, on the eastern verge of the ocean
Gleamed the departing sail, like a marble slab in a graveyard;
Buried beneath it lay forever all hope of escaping,
Lo! as they turned to depart, they saw the form of an Indian, 620
Watching them from the hill; but while they spake with each other,
Pointing with outstretched hands, and saying, "Look! " he had vanished.
So they returned to their homes; but Alden lingered a little,
Musing alone on the shore, and watching the wash of the billows
Round the base of the rock, and the sparkle and flash
of the sunshine, 625
Like the spirit of God, moving visibly over the waters. [42]
VI
PRISCILLA.
Thus for a while he stood, and mused by the shore of the ocean,
Thinking of many things, and most of all of Priscilla;
And as if thought had the power to draw to itself, like the loadstone,
Whatsoever it touches, by subtile laws of its nature, 630
Lo! as he turned to depart, Priscilla was standing beside him.
"Are you so much offended, you will not speak to me? " said she.
"Am I so much to blame, that yesterday, when you were pleading
Warmly the cause of another, my heart, impulsive and wayward,
Pleaded your own, and spake out, forgetful perhaps of decorum? 635
Certainly you can forgive me for speaking so frankly, for saying
What I ought not to have said, yet now I can never unsay it;
For there are moments in life, when the heart is so full of emotion,
That if by chance it be shaken, or into its depths like a pebble
Drops some careless word, it overflows, and its secret, 640
Spilt on the ground like water, can never be gathered together.
Yesterday I was shocked, when I heard you speak of Miles Standish,
Praising his virtues, transforming his very defects into virtues,
Praising his courage and strength, and even his fighting in Flanders,
As if by fighting alone you could win the heart of a woman, 645
Quite overlooking yourself and the rest, in exalting your hero.
Therefore I spake as I did, by an irresistible impulse.
You will forgive me, I hope, for the sake of the friendship between us,
Which is too true and too sacred to be so easily broken! "
Thereupon answered John Alden, the scholar, the friend
of Miles Standish: 650
"I was not angry with you, with myself alone I was angry,
Seeing how badly I managed the matter I had in my keeping. "
"No! " interrupted the maiden, with answer prompt, and decisive;
"No; you were angry with me, for speaking so frankly and freely.
I was wrong, I acknowledge; for it is the fate of a woman 655
Long to be patient and silent, to wait like a ghost that is speechless,
Till some questioning voice dissolves the spell of its silence.
Hence is the inner life of so many suffering women
Sunless and silent and deep, like subterranean rivers
Running through caverns of darkness, unheard, unseen,
and unfruitful, 660
Chafing their channels of stone, with endless and profitless murmurs. "
Thereupon answered John Alden, the young man, the lover of women:
"Heaven forbid it, Priscilla; and truly they seem to me always
More like the beautiful rivers that watered the garden of Eden,[43]
More like the river Euphrates, through deserts of Havilah flowing, 665
Filling the land with delight, and memories sweet of the garden! "
"Ah, by these words, I can see," again interrupted the maiden,
"How very little you prize me, or care for what I am saying.
When from the depths of my heart, in pain and with secret misgiving,
Frankly I speak to you, asking for sympathy only and kindness, 670
Straightway you take up my words, that are plain and direct
and in earnest,
Turn them away from their meaning, and answer with flattering phrases.
This is not right, is not just, is not true to the best that is in you;
For I know and esteem you, and feel that your nature is noble,
Lifting mine up to a higher, a more ethereal level. 675
Therefore I value your friendship, and feel it perhaps the more keenly
If you say aught that implies I am only as one among many,
If you make use of those common and complimentary phrases
Most men think so fine, in dealing and speaking with women,
But which women reject as insipid, if not as insulting. " 680
Mute and amazed was Alden; and listened and looked at Priscilla,
Thinking he never had seen her more fair, more divine in her beauty.
He who but yesterday pleaded so glibly the cause of another,
Stood there embarrassed and silent, and seeking in vain for an answer.
So the maiden went on, and little divined or imagined 685
What was at work in his heart, that made him so awkward and speechless.
"Let us, then, be what we are, and speak what we think, and
in all things
Keep ourselves loyal to truth, and the sacred professions
of friendship.
It is no secret I tell you, nor am I ashamed to declare it:
I have liked to be with you, to see you, to speak with you always. 690
So I was hurt at your words, and a little affronted to hear you
Urge me to marry your friend, though he were the Captain
Miles Standish.
For I must tell you the truth: much more to me is our friendship
Than all the love he could give, were he twice the hero you think him. "
Then she extended her hand, and Alden, who eagerly grasped it, 695
Felt all the wounds in his heart, that were aching and bleeding
so sorely,
Healed by the touch of that hand, and he said, with a voice
full of feeling:
"Yes, we must ever be friends; and of all who offer you friendship
Let me be ever the first, the truest, the nearest and dearest! "
Casting a farewell look at the glimmering sail of the Mayflower 700
Distant, but still in sight, and sinking below the horizon,
Homeward together they walked, with a strange, indefinite feeling,
That all the rest had departed and left them alone in the desert.
But, as they went through the fields in the blessing and smile
of the sunshine,
Lighter grew their hearts, and Priscilla said very archly: 705
"Now that our terrible Captain has gone in pursuit of the Indians,
Where he is happier far than he would be commanding a household,
You may speak boldly, and tell me of all that happened between you,
When you returned last night, and said how ungrateful you found me. "
Thereupon answered John Alden, and told her the whole
of the story,-- 710
Told her his own despair, and the direful wrath of Miles Standish.
Whereat the maiden smiled, and said between laughing and earnest,
"He is a little chimney, and heated hot in a moment! "
But as he gently rebuked her, and told her how he had suffered,--
How he had even determined to sail that day in the Mayflower, 715
And had remained for her sake, on hearing the dangers
that threatened,--
All her manner was changed, and she said with a faltering accent,
"Truly I thank you for this: how good you have been to me always! "
Thus, as a pilgrim devout, who toward Jerusalem journeys,
Taking three steps in advance, and one reluctantly backward, 730
Urged by importunate zeal, and withheld by pangs of contrition;
Slowly but steadily onward, receding yet ever advancing,
Journeyed this Puritan youth to the Holy Land of his longings,
Urged by the fervor of love, and withheld by remorseful misgivings.
VII
THE MARCH OF MILES STANDISH. [44]
Meanwhile the stalwart Miles Standish was marching steadily
northward, 725
Winding through forest and swamp, and along the trend of the sea-shore,
All day long, with hardly a halt, the fire of his anger
Burning and crackling within, and the sulphurous odor of powder
Seeming more sweet to his nostrils than all the scents of the forest.
Silent and moody he went, and much he revolved his discomfort; 730
He who was used to success, and to easy victories always,
Thus to be flouted, rejected, and laughed to scorn by a maiden,
Thus to be mocked and betrayed by the friend whom most he had trusted!
Ah! 't was too much to be borne, and he fretted and chafed
in his armor!
"I alone am to blame," he muttered, "for mine was the folly. 735
What has a rough old soldier, grown grim and gray in the harness,
Used to the camp and its ways, to do with the wooing of maidens?
'T was but a dream,--let it pass,--let it vanish like so many others!
"What I thought was a flower, is only a weed, and is worthless;
Out of my heart will I pluck it, and throw it away, and
henceforward 740
Be but a fighter of battles, a lover and wooer of dangers. "
Thus he revolved in his mind his sorry defeat and discomfort,
While he was marching by day or lying at night in the forest,
Looking up at the trees and the constellations beyond them.
After a three days' march he came to an Indian encampment 745
Pitched on the edge of a meadow, between the sea and the forest;
Women at work by the tents, and warriors, horrid with war-paint,
Seated about a fire and smoking and talking together;
Who, when they saw from afar the sudden approach of the white men,
Saw the flash of the sun on breastplate and sabre and musket, 750
Straightway leaped to their feet, and two, from among them advancing,
Came to parley with Standish, and offer him furs as a present;
Friendship was in their looks, but in their hearts there was hatred.
Braves of the tribe were these, and brothers, gigantic in stature,
Huge as Goliath of Gath, or the terrible Og, king of Bashan;[45] 755
One was Pecksuot named, and the other was called Wattawamat.
Round their necks were suspended their knives in scabbards
of wampum,[46]
Two-edged, trenchant knives, with points as sharp as a needle.
Other arms had they none, for they were running and crafty.
"Welcome, English! " they said,--these words they had learned
from the traders 760
Touching at times on the coast, to barter, and chaffer
for peltries. [47]
Then in their native tongue they began to parley with Standish,
Through his guide and interpreter, Hoborook, friend of the white man,
Begging for blankets and knives, but mostly for muskets and powder,
Kept by the white man, they said, concealed, with the plague,
in his cellars, 765
Ready to be let loose, and destroy his brother the red man!
But when Standish refused, and said he would give them the Bible,
Suddenly changing their tone, they began to boast and to bluster.
Then Wattawamat advanced with a stride in front of the other,
And, with a lofty demeanor, thus vauntingly spake to the Captain: 770
"Now Wattawamat can see, by the fiery eyes of the Captain,
Angry is he in his heart; but the heart of the brave Wattawamat
Is not afraid at the sight. He was not born of a woman
But on a mountain, at night, from an oak-tree riven by lightning,
Forth he sprang at a bound, with all his weapons about him, 775
Shouting, 'Who is there here to fight with the brave Wattawamat? '"
Then he unsheathed his knife, and, whetting the blade on his left hand,
Held it aloft and displayed a woman's face on the handle,
Saying, with bitter expression and look of sinister meaning:
"I have another at home, with the face of a man on the handle, 780
By and by they shall marry; and there will be plenty of children! "
Then stood Pecksuot forth, self-vaunting, insulting Miles Standish;
While with his fingers he patted the knife that hung at his bosom,
Drawing it half from his sheath, and plunging it back, as he muttered,
"By and by it shall see; it shall eat; ah, ha! but shall speak not! 785
This is the mighty Captain the white men have sent to destroy us!
He is a little man; let him go and work with the women! "
Meanwhile Standish had noted the faces and figures of Indians
Peeping and creeping about from bush to tree in the forest,
Feigning to look for game, with arrows set on their bowstrings, 790
Drawing about him still closer and closer the net of their ambush.
But undaunted he stood, and dissembled and treated them smoothly;
So the old chronicles say, that were writ in the days of the fathers.
But when he heard their defiance, the boast, the taunt and the insult,
All the hot blood of his race, of Sir Hugh and of Thurston
de Standish, 795
Boiled and beat in his heart, and swelled in the veins of his temples.
Headlong he leaped on the boaster, and, snatching his knife
from its scabbard,
Plunged it into his heart, and, reeling backward, the savage
Fell with his face to the sky, and a fiendlike fierceness upon it.
Straight there arose from the forest the awful sound of the
war-whoop, 800
And, like a flurry of snow on the whistling wind of December,
Swift and sudden and keen came a flight of feathery arrows.
Then came a cloud of smoke, and out of the cloud came the lightning,
Out of the lightning thunder; and death unseen ran before it.
Frightened the savages fled for shelter in swamp and in thicket, 805
Hotly pursued and beset; but their sachem, the brave Wattawamat,
Fled not; he was dead. Unswerving and swift had a bullet
Passed through his brain, and he fell with both hands clutching
the greensward,
Seeming in death to hold back from his foe the land of his fathers.
There on the flowers of the meadow the warriors lay, and
above them, 810
Silent, with folded arms, stood Hobomok, friend of the white man.
Smiling at length he exclaimed to the stalwart Captain of Plymouth:
"Pecksuot bragged very loud, of his courage, his strength
and his stature,--
Mocked the great Captain, and called him a little man; but I see now
Big enough have you been to lay him speechless before you! " 815
Thus the first battle was fought, and won by the stalwart
Miles Standish.
When the tidings thereof were brought to the village of Plymouth,
And as a trophy of war the head of the brave Wattawamat
Scowled from the roof of the fort, which at once was a church
and a fortress,
All who beheld it rejoiced, and praised the Lord, and took courage. 820
Only Priscilla averted her face from this spectre of terror,
Thanking God in her heart that she had not married Miles Standish;
Shrinking, fearing almost, lest, coming home from his battles,
He should lay claim to her hand, as the prize and reward of his valor.
VIII
THE SPINNING WHEEL.
Month after month passed away, and in, autumn the ships
of the merchants 825
Game with kindred and friends, with cattle and corn for the Pilgrims.
All in the village was peace; the men were intent on their labors,
Busy with hewing and building, with garden-plot and with merestead,[48]
Busy with breaking the glebe, and mowing the grass in the meadows,
Searching the sea for its fish, and hunting the deer in the forest. 830
All in the village was peace; but at times the rumor of warfare
Filled the air with alarm, and the apprehension of danger.
Bravely the stalwart Standish was scouring the land with his forces,
Waxing valiant in fight and defeating the alien armies,
Till his name had become a sound of fear to the nations. 835
Anger was still in his heart, but at times the remorse and contrition
Which in all noble natures succeed the passionate outbreak,
Came like a rising tide, that encounters the rush of a river,
Staying its current awhile, but making it bitter and brackish. [49]
Meanwhile Alden at home had built him a new habitation, 840
Solid, substantial, of timber rough-hewn from the firs of the forest.
Wooden-barred was the door, and the roof was covered with rushes;
Latticed the windows were, and the window-panes were of paper,
Oiled to admit the light, while wind and rain were excluded.
There too he dug a well, and around it planted an orchard: 845
Still may be seen to this day some trace of the well and the orchard.
Close to the house was the stall, where, safe and secure
from annoyance,
Raghorn, the snow-white bull, that had fallen to Alden's allotment
In the division of cattle, might ruminate in the night-time
Over the pastures he cropped, made fragrant by sweet pennyroyal. 850
Oft when his labor was finished, with eager feet would the dreamer
Follow the pathway that ran through the woods to the house
of Priscilla,
Led by illusions romantic and subtile deceptions of fancy,
Pleasure disguised as duty, and love in the semblance of friendship.
Ever of her he thought, when he fashioned the walls of his
dwelling; 855
Ever of her he thought, when he delved in the soil of his garden;
Ever of her he thought, when he read in his Bible on Sunday
Praise of the virtuous woman, as she is described in the Proverbs,--
How the heart of her husband doth safely trust in her always,
How all the days of her life she will do him good, and not evil, 860
How she seeketh the wool and the flax and worketh with gladness,
How she layeth her hand to the spindle and holdeth the distaff,
How she is not afraid of the snow for herself or her household,
Knowing her household are clothed with the scarlet cloth
of her weaving!
So as she sat at her wheel one afternoon in the Autumn, 865
Alden, who opposite sat, and was watching her dexterous fingers,
As if the thread she was spinning were that of his life
and his fortune,
After a pause in their talk, thus spake to the sound of the spindle.
"Truly, Priscilla," he said, "when I see you spinning and spinning,
Never idle a moment, but thrifty and thoughtful of others, 870
Suddenly you are transformed, are visibly changed in a moment;
You are no longer Priscilla, but Bertha the Beautiful Spinner. "[50]
Here the light foot on the treadle grew swifter and swifter;
the spindle
Uttered an angry snarl, and the thread snapped short in her fingers;
While the impetuous speaker, not heeding the mischief, continued 875
"You are the beautiful Bertha; the spinner, the queen of Helvetia;[51]
She whose story I read at a stall[52] in the streets of Southampton,
Who, as she rode on her palfrey, o'er valley and meadow and mountain,
Ever was spinning her thread from a distaff[52] fixed to her saddle.
She was so thrifty and good, that her name passed into a proverb. 880
So shall it be with your own, when the spinning-wheel shall no longer
Hum in the house of the farmer, and fill its chambers with music.
Then shall the mothers, reproving, relate how it was
in their childhood,
Praising the good old times, and the days of Priscilla the spinner! "
Straight uprose from her wheel the beautiful Puritan maiden, 885
Pleased with the praise of her thrift from him whose praise
was the sweetest,
Drew from the reel on the table a snowy skein of her spinning,
Thus making answer, meanwhile, to the flattering phrases of Alden:
"Come, you must not be idle; if I am a pattern for housewives,
Show yourself equally worthy of being the model of husbands. 890
Hold this skein on your hands, while I wind it, ready for knitting;
Then who knows but hereafter, when fashions have changed
and the manners,
Fathers may talk to their sons of the good old times of John Alden! "
Thus, with a jest and a laugh, the skein on his hands she adjusted,
He sitting awkwardly there, with his arms extended before him, 895
She standing graceful, erect, and winding the thread from his fingers,
Sometimes chiding a little his clumsy manner of holding,
Sometimes touching his hands, as she disentangled expertly
Twist or knot in the yarn, unawares--for how could she help it? --
Sending electrical thrills through every nerve in his body. 900
Lo! in the midst of this scene, a breathless messenger entered,
Bringing in hurry and heat the terrible news from the village.
Yes; Miles Standish was dead! --an Indian had brought them
the tidings,--
Slain by a poisoned arrow, shot down in the front of the battle,
Into an ambush beguiled, cut off with the whole of his forces; 905
All the town would be burned, and all the people be murdered!
Such were the tidings of evil that burst on the hearts of the hearers.
Silent and statue-like stood Priscilla, her face looking backward
Still at the face of the speaker, her arms uplifted in horror;
But John Alden upstarting, as if the barb of the arrow 910
Piercing the heart of his friend had struck his own, and sundered
Once and forever the bonds that held him bound as a captive,
Wild with excess of sensation, the awful delight of his freedom,
Mingled with pain and regret, unconscious of what he was doing,
Clasped, almost with a groan, the motionless form of Priscilla, 915
Pressing her close to his heart, as forever his own, and exclaiming:
"Those whom the Lord hath united, let no man put them asunder! "
Even as rivulets twain, from distant and separate sources,
Seeing each other afar, as they leap from the rocks, and pursuing,
Each one its devious path, but drawing nearer and hearer, 930
Rush together at last, at their trysting-place in the forest;
So these lives that had run thus far in separate channels,
Coming in sight of each other, then swerving and flowing asunder,
Parted by barriers strong, but drawing nearer and nearer,
Rushed together at last, and one was lost in the other. 925
IX
THE WEDDING-DAY.
Forth from the curtain of clouds, from the tent of purple and scarlet,
Issued the sun, the great High-Priest,[54] in his garments resplendent,
Holiness unto the Lord, in letters of light, on his forehead,
Round the hem of his robe the golden bells and pomegranates.
Blessing the world he came, and the bars of vapor beneath him 930
Gleamed like a grate of brass, and the sea at his feet was a laver! [55]
This was the wedding morn of Priscilla the Puritan maiden.
Friends were assembled together; the Elder and Magistrate also
Graced the scene with their presence, and stood like the Law
and the Gospel,
One with the sanction of earth and one with the blessing of heaven. 935
Simple and brief was the wedding as that of Ruth and of Boaz. [56]
Softly the youth and the maiden repeated the words of betrothal,
Taking each other for husband and wife in the Magistrate's presence,
After the Puritan way, and the laudable custom of Holland,
Fervently then and devoutly, the excellent Elder of Plymouth 940
Prayed for the hearth and the home, that were founded that day
in affection,
Speaking of life and of death and imploring Divine benedictions.
Lo! when the service was ended, a form appeared on the threshold,
Clad in armor of steel, a sombre and sorrowful figure!
Why does the bridegroom start and stare at the strange apparition? 945
Why does the bride turn pale, and hide her face on his shoulder?
Is it a phantom of air,--a bodiless, spectral illusion?
Is it a ghost from the grave, that has come to forbid the betrothal?
Long had it stood there unseen, a guest uninvited, unwelcomed;
Over its clouded eyes there had passed at times an expression 950
Softening the gloom and revealing the warm heart hidden beneath them,
As when across the sky the driving rack[57] of the rain cloud
Grows for a moment thin, and betrays the sun by its brightness.
Once it had lifted its hand, and moved its lips, but was silent,
As if an iron will had mastered the fleeting intention. 955
But when were ended the troth and the prayer and the last benediction,
Into the room it strode, and the people beheld, with amazement
Bodily there in his armor, Miles Standish, the Captain of Plymouth!
Grasping the bridegroom's hand, he said with emotion, "Forgive me!
I have been angry and hurt,--too long have I cherished the feeling; 960
I have been cruel and hard, but now, thank God! it is ended.
Mine is the same hot blood that leaped in the veins of Hugh Standish,
Sensitive, swift to resent, but as swift in atoning for error.
Never so much as now was Miles Standish the friend of John Alden. "
Thereupon answered the bridegroom: "Let all be forgotten
between us,-- 965
All save the dear old friendship, and that shall grow older
and dearer! "
Then the Captain advanced, and, bowing, saluted Priscilla,
Gravely, and after the manner of old-fashioned gentry in England,
Something of camp and of court, of town and of country, commingled,
Wishing her joy of her wedding, and loudly lauding her husband. 970
Then he said with a smile: "I should have remembered the adage,--
If you would be well served, you must serve yourself; and moreover,
No man can gather cherries in Kent at the season of Christmas! "[58]
Great was the people's amazement, and greater yet their rejoicing,
Thus to behold once more the sunburnt face of their Captain, 975
Whom they had mourned as dead, and they gathered and crowded about him,
Eager to see him, and hear him, forgetful of bride and of bridegroom,
Questioning, answering, laughing, and each interrupting the other,
Till the good Captain declared, being quite overpowered and bewildered,
He had rather by far break into an Indian encampment, 980
Than come again to a wedding to which he had not been invited.
Meanwhile the bridegroom went forth and stood with the bride
at the doorway,
Breathing the perfumed air of that warm and beautiful morning.
Touched with autumnal tints, but lonely and sad in the sunshine,
Lay extended before them the land of toil and privation; 985
There were the graves of the dead, and the barren waste
of the sea-shore.
There the familiar fields, the groves of pine, and the meadows;
But to their eyes transfigured, it seemed as the Garden of Eden,
Filled with the presence of God, whose voice was the sound
of the ocean.
Soon was their vision disturbed by the noise and stir of departure, 990
Friends coming forth from the house, and impatient of longer delaying,
Each with his plan for the day, and the work that was left uncompleted.
Then from a stall near at hand, amid exclamations of wonder,
Alden the thoughtful, the careful, so happy, so proud of Priscilla,
Brought out his snow-white bull, obeying the hand of its master. 995
Led by a cord that was tied to an iron ring in its nostrils,
Covered with crimson cloth, and a cushion placed for a saddle.
She should not walk, he said, through the dust and heat of the noonday;
Nay, she should ride like a queen, not plod along like a peasant.
Somewhat alarmed at first, but reassured by the others, 1000
Placing her hand on the cushion, her foot in the hand of her husband,
Gayly, with joyous laugh, Priscilla mounted her palfrey.
"Nothing is wanting now," he said with a smile, "but the distaff;
Then you would be in truth my queen, my beautiful Bertha! "
Onward the bridal procession now moved to their new habitation, 1005
Happy husband and wife, and friends conversing together.
Pleasantly murmured the brook, as they crossed the ford in the forest,
Pleased with the image that passed, like a dream of love through
its bosom,
Tremulous, floating in air, o'er the depths of the azure abysses.
Down through the golden leaves the sun was pouring his splendors, 1010
Gleaming on purple grapes, that, from branches above them suspended,
Mingled their odorous breath with the balm of the pine and
the fir-tree.
Wild and sweet as the clusters that grew in the valley of Eshcol. [59]
Like a picture it seemed of the primitive, pastoral ages,
Fresh with the youth of the world, and recalling Rebecca
and Isaac,[60] 1015
Old and yet ever new, and simple and beautiful always,
Love immortal and young in the endless succession of lovers.
So through the Plymouth woods passed onward the bridal procession.
--Longfellow.
[1] Miles Standish was born about 1580, the son of a Lancashire
gentleman of a large estate. He entered the army of Queen
Elizabeth and served for some time in the Netherlands.
There he met the congregation of English Puritans with
their pastor, Robinson, and although he did not
become a member of their Church, he sailed with them
in the Mayflower
in 1620. He was entrusted with the defence of the new colony,
and held, besides, other offices of trust in the community.
In 1830 he removed from Plymouth and settled in Duxbury,
where he died in 1656.
[2] The Mayflower, in which the Pilgrim Fathers set sail
for America,
reached Cape Cod in November, 1620. Some weeks were spent
in exploring the coast, but finally, towards the end
of December, the Mayflower
anchored in Plymouth Harbour, and it was decided that
they should
make a landing and found a settlement there. The name
of "Old
Colony" was for a long time applied to the settlement
about Plymouth.
[3] doublet. A close-fitting garment for men, covering
the body from the neck to the waist.
[4] Cordovan leather. A goatskin leather, prepared
in Cordova, Spain.
[5] Cutlass. A short curved sword used by sailors.
corselet. Armour for the body; breastplate.
[6] Damascus. A city in Syria, famous for its steel blades.
[7] mystical. Obscure and mysterious in meaning.
[8] fowling-piece. A light gun used for shooting birds.
matchlock.
An old-fashioned gun, fired by means of a match. This
"match" was
generally made of twisted cord which would hold the flame.
[9] John Alden had been taken aboard the vessel at
Southampton, as a
cooper. He was free to return to England on the Mayflower,
but decided
to share the fortunes of the Puritans.
[10] A monk named Gregory, in the sixth century, seeing
some fair-haired
youths in the slave market at Rome, enquired as to
their nationality.
He was told that they were Angles. "Non Angli,
sed Angeli," said
Gregory. "They have the faces of Angels, not of Angles. "
[11] Flanders, part of the Netherlands, in Europe.
[12] arcabucero. Literally, archer; here, musketeer,
[13] howitzer. A small cannon.
[14] The following is from an account
of Plymouth Colony in 1627:
"Upon the hill they have a large square house
with a flat roof stayed
with oak beams, upon the top of which they
have six cannons, commanding the surrounding country.
The lower part they use for their Church,
where they preach on Sundays and the usual holidays.
They assemble
by beat of drum, each with his musket or firelock,
in front of the
Captain's door; they have their cloaks on
and place themselves in order
three abreast, and are led by a sergeant
without beat of drum. Behind
comes the Governor in a long robe;
beside him on the right hand comes
the preacher, and on the left hand the Captain,
and so they march in
good order, and each sets his arms down near him.
Thus they are constantly on their guard night and day. "
[15] sagamore. An Indian chief of the second rank;
sachem, a chief
of the first rank; pow-wow, a conjurer or medicine-man.
[16] Goldinge. A well-known translator of the Elizabethan age.
[17] The Mayflower set sail for England on April 5, 1621.
[18] Priscilla Mullins (or Molines) was the daughter of William
Mullins, who died in the February following the landing of the
Pilgrims.
[19]"In his journey, as he was crossing the Alps
and passing by a small
village of the barbarians with but few inhabitants,
and those wretchedly
poor, his companions asked the question
among themselves by way of
mockery if there were any canvassing for offices
there; any contention
which should be uppermost, or feuds of great men
one against another.
To which Caesar made answer seriously,
'For my part I had rather be
the first man among these fellows,
than the second man in Rome. '" Plutarch's _Life
of Caesar_, A. H. Clough's translation.
[20] Genesis, ii, 18.
[21] illusion. An illusion is a misleading or
deceptive appearance. The
happiness that he had looked forward to was turning out to be false and unreal.
[22] Baal and Astaroth were the two chief divinities
of the Phoenicians,
male and female respectively.
To worship Baal and Astaroth is to give
oneself up to worldly desires and pleasures.
[23] The Mayflower, in England, is the hawthorn;
in the New England States, the trailing arbutus.
[24] Ainsworth. A clergyman and scholar who was persecuted on
account of his religious belief, and sought refuge in Holland.
[25] Luke, ix, 62.
[26] Terms used in heraldry.
[27] See Revelation, xxi and xxii. An apocalypse
is a revelation, and the
term is generally applied to the Book of Revelation.
[28] dulse. Coarse red seaweed, sometimes used as food.
[29] II Samuel, xii, 3.
[30] Districts of the Netherlands.
[31] hand-grenade. A ball or shell filled with explosives,
and thrown by the hand.
[32] Wat Tyler. The leader of the peasant revolt
in England in 1381.
[33] Elder William Brewster.
[34] See Acts ii, 1-4.
[35] Stephen Hopkins, Richard Warren, Gilbert Winslow.
[36] gunwale. The upper edge of a boat's side.
[37] thwarts. Seats, crossing from one side of the boat
to the other.
[38] adamantine. That cannot be broken;
hence _fate_ is "the wall adamantine. "
[39] yards. The spars supporting the sails.
[40] Gurnet. A headland near Plymouth.
[41] The place where the Pilgrims had their first
encounter with the Indians, December 8, 1620.
[42] See Genesis, i, 2.
[43] See Genesis, ii, 10-14.
[44] The account of the march of Miles Standish
is based on the New England chronicles.
[45] See I Samuel, xvii, and Numbers, xxi.
[46] wampum. Beads made of shells, and used
by the Indians both for money and for ornament.
[47] to chaffer for peltries. To trade in skins or furs.
[48] merestead. A bounded lot.
[49] brackish. saltish.
[50] The chief character in a German legend.
[51] Helvetia. Switzerland
[52] stall. A booth, or shop.
[53] distaff. The staff for holding the flax or wool
from which the thread is spun.
[54] See Exodus xxviii, for the references in this description.
[55] laver. A brazen vessel in the court or a Jewish
tabernacle, where the priests washed their hands and feet.
[56] Book of Ruth, chapter iv.
[57] rack. vapor.
[58] An English proverb.
[59] Eshcol. When Moses sent spies into the land of Canaan,
"they came unto the brook of Eshcol, and cut down from thence
a branch with one cluster of grapes, and they bare it
between two upon a staff. "
[60] See Genesis, xxiv.
SOHRAB AND RUSTUM.
The story of Sohrab and Rustum is based on an episode related in the
Shahnamah, or Book of Kings, by Firdusi, the epic poet of Persia.
The chief hero of the Shahnamah is Rustum, the Hercules of Persian
mythology. Rustum was the son of Zal, a renowned Persian warrior.
When a mere child, he performed many wonderful deeds requiring great
strength and valor. He became the champion of his people, restored
the Persian king to his throne, and defeated Afrasiab, the great
Turanian, or Tartar, leader, who had invaded Persia. During a
hunting expedition in Turan, his renowned horse Ruksh was stolen from
him, and in order to recover it, he was forced to call on the King of
Samangam, a neighbouring city. The king welcomed him, and gave him
his daughter Tahminah, in marriage. Before the birth of his child,
however, Rustum was called back to Persia, but he left with Tahminah
a charm, or amulet, by which he might be able to recognize his
offspring. When Sohrab, the son, was born, the mother, fearing that
Rustum would return and take him away from her to bring him up as a
soldier, sent word that a daughter had been born to him. Rustum,
accordingly, did not return to Samangam, but remained in ignorance of
Sohrab. In the meantime, as Sohrab grew, up he became a great
warrior, and having learned that the renowned Rustum was his father,
he longed to meet him, that he might fight for him and help to make
him king. At length the opportunity came. The army of Afrasiab,
under the command of Peran-Wisa, invaded Persia once more, and Sohrab
accompanied the host. The Persians prepared to meet the invaders,
and the two armies met at the river Oxus, which formed the boundary
between the two kingdoms. It is at this point that the story of
_Sohrab and Rustum_ begins.
[_Sohrab wakes in the early morning, and passes through the sleeping
army to the tent of old Peran-Wisa, his chief. ]
And the first grey of morning fill'd the east,
And the fog rose out of the Oxus[1] stream.
But all the Tartar[2] camp along the stream
Was hush'd, and still the men were plunged in sleep:
Sohrab alone, he slept not: all night long 5
He had lain wakeful, tossing on his bed;
But when the grey dawn stole into his tent,
He rose, and clad himself, and girt his sword,
And took his horseman's cloak, and left his tent,
And went abroad into the cold wet fog, 10
Through the dim camp to Peran-Wisa's[3] tent.
Through the black Tartar tents he pass'd, which stood
Clustering like bee-hives on the low flat strand
Of Oxus, where the summer floods o'erflow
When the sun melts the snows in high Pamere:[4] 15
Through the black tents he pass'd, o'er that low strand,
And to a hillock came a little back
From the stream's brink, the spot where first a boat,
Crossing the stream in summer, scrapes the land.
The men of former times had crown'd the top 20
With a clay fort: but that was fall'n; and now
The Tartars built there Peran-Wisa's tent,
A dome of laths, and o'er it felts were spread.
And Sohrab came there, and went in, and stood
Upon the thick-pil'd carpets in the tent, 25
And found the old man sleeping on his bed
Of rugs and felts, and near him lay his arms.
And Peran-Wisa heard him, though the step
Was dull'd; for he slept light, an old man's sleep;
And he rose quickly on one arm, and said:-- 30
[Peran-Wisa wakes and asks the reason of his coming. Sohrab proposes
to settle the battle by a duel with a champion selected by the
Persians. By this plan Rustum would hear of it, and father and son
meet at last. ]
"Who art thou? for it is not yet clear dawn.
Speak! is there news, or any night alarm? "
But Sohrab came to the bedside and said:--
"Thou know'st me, Peran-Wisa: it is I.
The sun is not yet risen, and the foe 35
Sleep; but I sleep not, all night long I lie
Tossing and wakeful, and I come to thee.
For so did King Afrasiab[5] bid me seek
Thy counsel, and to heed thee as thy son,
In Samarcand,[6] before the army march'd, 40
And I will tell thee what my heart desires.
Thou knowest if, since from Ader-baijan[7] first
I came among the Tartars, and bore arms,
I have still serv'd Afrasiab well, and shown,
At my boy's years, the courage of a man. 45
This too thou know'st, that, while I still bear on
The conquering Tartar ensigns through the world,
And beat the Persians back on every field,
I seek one man, one man, and one alone.
Rustum, my father; who, I hop'd should greet, 50
Should one day greet, upon some well-fought field
His not unworthy, not inglorious son.
So I long hop'd, but him I never find.
Come then, hear now, and grant me what I ask,
Let the two armies rest to-day: but I 55
Will challenge forth the bravest Persian lords
To meet me, man to man: if I prevail,
Rustum will surely hear it; if I fall--
Old man, the dead need no one, claim no kin.
Dim is the rumour of a common fight, 60
Where host meets host, and many names are sunk:
But of a single combat Fame speaks clear. "
He spoke: and Peran-Wisa took the hand
Of the young man in his, and sigh'd, and said:--
"O Sohrab, an unquiet heart is thine! 65
Canst thou not rest among the Tartar chiefs,
And share the battle's common chance with us
Who love thee, but must press forever first,
In single fight incurring single risk,
To find a father thou hast never seen? 70
Or, if indeed this one desire rules all,
To seek out Rustum--seek him not through fight:
Seek him in peace, and carry to his arms,
O Sohrab, carry an unwounded son!
But far hence seek him, for he is not here. 75
For now it is not as when I was young,
When Rustum was in front of every fray:
But now he keeps apart, and sits at home,
In Seistan,[8] with Zal, his father old.
Whether that his own mighty strength at last 80
Feels the abhorr'd approaches of old age;
Or in some quarrel with the Persian King. [9]
There go:--Thou wilt not? Yet my heart forebodes
Danger or death awaits thee on this field.
Fain would I know thee safe and well, though lost 85
To us: fain therefore send thee hence, in peace
To seek thy father, not seek single fights
In vain:--but who can keep the lion's cub
From ravening? and who govern Rustum's son?
Go: I will grant thee what thy heart desires. " 90
[_Peran-Wisa fails to dissuade Sohrab. The sun rises, the fog
clears, and the Tartar host gathers_. ]
So said he, and dropp'd Sohrab's hand and left
His bed, and the warm rugs whereon he lay,
And o'er his chilly limbs his woollen coat
He pass'd, and tied his sandals on his feet,
And threw a white cloak round him, and he took 95
In his right hand a ruler's staff, no sword,
And on his head he plac'd his sheep-skin cap,
Black, glossy, curl'd the fleece of Kara-Kill;[10]
And rais'd the curtain of his tent, and call'd
His herald to his side, and went abroad. 100
The sun, by this, had risen, and clear'd the fog
From the broad Oxus and the glittering sands:
And from their tents the Tartar horsemen fil'd,
Into the open plain; so Haman bade;
Haman, who next to Peran-Wisa rul'd 105
The host, and still was in his lusty prime.
From their black tents, long files of horse, they stream'd:
As when, some grey November morn, the files,
In marching order spread, of long-neck'd cranes,
Stream over Casbin,[11] and the southern slopes 110
Of Elburz,[12] from the Aralian estuaries,[13]
Or some frore[14] Caspian reed-bed, southward bound
For the warm Persian sea-board: so they stream'd.
The Tartars of the Oxus, the King's guard,
First with black sheep-skin caps and with long spears; 115
Large men, large steeds, who from Bokhara[15] come
And Khiva, and ferment the milk of mares. [16]
Next the more temperate Toorkmuns of the south,[17]
The Tukas, and the lances of Salore,
And those from Attruck[18] and the Caspian sands; 120
Light men, and on light steeds, who only drink
The acrid milk of camels, and their wells.
And then a swarm of wandering horse, who came
From far, and a more doubtful service[19] own'd;
The Tartars of Ferghana, from the banks 125
Of the Jaxartes, men with scanty beards
And close-set skull-caps; and those wilder hordes
Who roam o'er Kipchak and the northern waste,
Kalmuks and unkemp'd Kuzzaks,[20] tribes who stray
Nearest the Pole, and wandering Kirghizzes, 130
Who come on shaggy ponies from Pamere.
These all fil'd out from camp into the plain,
And on the other side the Persians form'd:
First a light cloud of horse, Tartars they seem'd,
The Ilyats of Khorassan:[21] and behind, 135
The royal troops of Persia, horse and foot,
Marshall'd battalions bright in burnish'd steel.
But Peran-Wisa with his herald came
Threading the Tartar squadrons to the front,
And with his staff kept back the foremost ranks. 140
And when Ferood, who led the Persians, saw
That Peran-Wisa kept the Tartars back,
He took his spear, and to the front he came,
And check'd his ranks, and fix'd them where they stood.
And the old Tartar came upon the sand 145
Betwixt the silent hosts, and spake, and said:--
[_Peran-Wisa calls on the Persians to find a champion, and Gudurz
agrees to do so_. ]
"Ferood, and ye, Persians and Tartars, hear!
Let there be truce between the hosts to-day.
But choose a champion from the Persian lords
To fight our champion Sohrab, man to man. " 150
As, in the country, on a morn in June,
When the dew glistens on the pearled ears,
A shiver runs through the deep corn for Joy---
So, when they heard what Peran-Wisa said,
A thrill through all the Tartar squadrons ran 155
Of pride and hope for Sohrab, whom they lov'd.
But as a troop of pedlars, from Cabool,[22]
Cross underneath the Indian Caucasus,
That vast sky-neighbouring mountain of milk snow;
Winding so high, that, as they mount, they pass 160
Long flocks of travelling birds dead on the snow,
Chok'd by the air, and scarce can they themselves
Slake their parch'd throats with sugar'd mulberries--
In single file they move, and stop their breath,
For fear they should dislodge the o'erhanging snows-- 165
So the pale Persians held their breath with fear.
