No More Learning

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.

[19] tale. (A. S. _talian_, "to reckon". ) number.

[20] Sutrium. Sutri, a city about thirty miles from Rome.

[21] Tusculan Mamilius. Tusculum is the modern Frascati, a city about
twelve miles from Rome. Mamilius was the son-in-law of Tarquin.

[22] Latium was a province in central Italy, inhabited by the Latins.
It was conquered by Rome in the fourth century B. C.

[23] Tarpeian. The Tarpeian Rock was a cliff on one side of the
Capitoline Hill in Rome. Tarpeia, from whom the cliff took its name,
was the daughter of Tarpeius, the governor of the citadel, on this
hill. She betrayed the fortress to the Sabines, but as they entered,
they threw their shields upon her and she was crushed to death.

[24] Fathers of the City. The senators.

[25] Crustumerium. A Latin city a few miles from Rome.

[26] Ostia. A city at the mouth of the Tiber, fifteen miles from Rome.

[27] Janiculum. A hill on the right bank of the Tiber.

[28] I wis. See H. S. Grammar, p. 176.

[29] Consul. After the expulsion of the Tarquin kings, Rome was
governed by two chief magistrates, known as consuls.

[30] the River-Gate. The gate facing the Janiculum hill.

[31] bridge. The Sublician bridge, which connected Rome with
Janiculum.

[32] twelve fair cities. The Etruscan confederacy was composed of
twelve cities.

[33] Umbrian. Umbria was a division of Italy.

[34] the Gaul. The Gauls were beginning to invade Italy from the
north.

[35] port and vest. Bearing and dress.

[36] Lucumo. Etruscan chief.

[37] roan. A roan horse is of a reddish colour, with white hairs
thickly interspersed.

[38] fourfold. With four thicknesses of leather.

[39] Thrasymene. Lake Trasimenus (modern Lake of Perugia). It is
only about twenty feet deep.

[40] holy maidens. The vestal virgins, whose duty it was to keep the
fire burning on the altar in the temple of Vesta. Vesta was the
goddess of the home, and the vestal virgins were bound by oath never
to marry.

[41] Ramnian. The Ramnes were one of the three tribes of which the
Roman people were mainly comprised; the Tities were a second of these
tribes; Horatius himself belonged to the Luceres, the third tribe, so
that in the defence of the bridge all three tribes were represented.

[42] The story is supposed to be told by one of the plebeians, or
common people in Rome, about 120 years after the event took place.

[43] The speaker voices the grievances of the Plebeians against the
Patricians.

[44] Tribunes. The officers appointed to defend the rights of the
Plebeians against the encroachments of the Patricians.

[45] beard. openly defy.

[46] harness. armour.

[47] Tifernum. A town on the river Tiber.

[48] Ilva. Elba, an island in the Mediterranean, on the coast of
Italy.

[49] Nequinum. Narni, on the Nar, which is a tributary of the Tiber.

[50] Falerii. One of the twelve Etruscan cities.

[51] Urgo. An island in the Mediterranean.

[52] rover of the sea. pirate.

[53] Cosa. A town on the sea-coast.

[54] Albinia. A river in Etruria.

[55] Campania. A district along the sea-coast.

[56] hinds. peasants.

[57] The she-wolf's litter. A reference to the legend, of Romulus and
Remus, the mythical founders of Rome, who were said to have been
suckled by a she-wolf.

[58] Palatinus. The Palatine Hill, one of the seven hills of Rome.

[59] changing. exchanging.

[60] ween. think, fancy.

[61] of public right. Belonging to the state.

[62] Comitium.
That part of the Roman forum, or public square, where
the Patricians were accustomed to meet.

[63] To charge the Volscian home. The Volsciana lived in the southern
part of Latium. They were constantly at war with the Romans. _Home_
is here an adverb strengthening the meaning of _charge_.

[64] Juno. Wife of Jupiter, and queen of heaven.

[65] Algidus. A hill about twelve miles from Rome.




ALICE BRAND.

Merry it is in the good greenwood,
When the mavis and merle[1] are singing,
When the deer sweeps by and the hounds are in cry,
And the hunter's horn is ringing.

"O Alice Brand, my native land 5
Is lost for love of you;
And we must hold by wood and wold,[2]
As outlaws wont to do.

"O Alice, 'twas all for thy locks so bright,
And 'twas all for thine eyes so blue, 10
That on the night of our luckless flight
Thy brother bold I slew.

"Now must I teach to hew the beech
The hand that held the glaive,[3]
For leaves to spread our lowly bed, 15
And stakes to fence our cave.

"And for vest of pall,[4] thy fingers small,
That wont on harp to stray,
A cloak must shear from the slaughtered deer,
To keep the cold away. " 20

"O Richard! if my brother died,
Twas but a fatal chance;
For darkling[5] was the battle tried,
And fortune sped the lance.

"If pall and vair[6] no more I wear, 25
Nor thou the crimson sheen,
As warm, we 'll say, is the russet gray,
As gay the forest-green.

"And, Richard, if our lot be hard,
And lost thy native land, 30
Still Alice has her own Richard,
And he his Alice Brand. "

'T is merry, 't is merry, in good greenwood
So blithe Lady Alice is singing;
On the beech's pride, and oak's brown side, 35
Lord Richard's axe is ringing.

Up spoke the moody Elfin King,[7]
Who woned[8] within the hill,--
Like wind in the porch of a ruined church,
His voice was ghostly shrill. 40

"Why sounds yon stroke on beech and oak,
Our moonlight circle's[9] screen?
Or who comes here to chase the deer,
Beloved of our Elfin Queen?
Or who may dare on wold to wear 45
The fairies' fatal green? [10]

"Up, Urgan, up! to yon mortal hie,
For thou wert christened[11] man;
For cross or sign thou wilt not fly,
For muttered word or ban. [12] 50

"Lay on him the curse of the withered heart,
The curse of the sleepless eye
Till he wish and pray that his life would part,
Nor yet find leave to die. "

Tis merry, 'tis merry, in good greenwood 55
Though the birds have stilled their singing,
The evening blaze doth Alice raise,
And Richard is fagots bringing.

Up Urgan starts, that hideous dwarf,
Before Lord Richard stands, 60
And, as he crossed and blessed himself,
"I fear not sign," quoth the grisly[13] elf,
"That is made with bloody hands. "

But out then spoke she, Alice Brand,
That woman void of fear,-- 65
"And if there's blood upon his hand,
'Tis but the blood of deer. "

"Now loud thou liest, thou bold of mood!
It cleaves unto his hand,
The stain of thine own kindly blood,[14] 70
The blood of Ethert Brand. "

Then forward stepped she, Alice Brand,
And made the holy sign,--
"And if there's blood on Richard's hand,
A spotless hand is mine. 75

"And I conjure[15] thee, demon elf,
By Him whom demons fear,
To show us whence thou art thyself,
And what thine errand here? "

"'Tis merry, 'tis merry, in Fairy-land, 80
When fairy birds are singing,
When the court doth ride by their monarch's side,
With bit and bridle ringing:

"And gayly shines the Fairy-land--
But all is glistening show 85
Like the idle gleam that December's beam
Can dart on ice and snow.

"And fading, like that varied gleam,
Is our inconstant shape,
"Who now like knight and lady seem, 90
And now like dwarf and ape.

"It was between the night and day,
When the Fairy King has power,
That I sunk down in a sinful fray,
And 'twixt life and death was snatched away 95
To the joyless Elfin bower.

"But wist[16] I of a woman bold,
Who thrice my brow durst sign,[17]
I might regain my mortal mould,
As fair a form as thine. " 100

She crossed him once--she crossed him twice---
That lady was so brave;
The fouler grew his goblin hue,
The darker grew the cave.

She crossed him thrice, that lady bold, 105
He rose beneath her hand,
The fairest knight on Scottish mould,
Her brother, Ethert Brand!

Merry it is in good greenwood,
When the mavis and merle are singing, 110
But merrier were they in Dunfermline[18] gray,
When all the bells were ringing.

--_Scott_


[1] mavis and merle. thrush and blackbird.

[2] wold. hilly, open country.

[3] glaive. sword.

[4] pall. A rich cloth from which mantles of noblemen were made.

[5] darkling. In the dark.

[6] vair. The fur of the squirrel.

[7] Elfin King. King of the fairies.

[8] woned. dwelt.

[9] circle. dance.

[10] fairies' fatal green. The dress of the fairies was green and
they were angered when mortals dared to wear garments of that colour.

[11] christened. Those who had been baptized were, according to
mediaeval belief, supposed to enjoy special advantages or privileges.

[12] ban. curse.

[13] grisly. horrible; hideous.

[14] kindly blood. The blood of your kindred.

[15] conjure. Call upon by oath. Distinguished from conjure, meaning
"to influence by magic. "

[16] wist. See High School Grammar, p. 176.

[17] sign. Make the sign of the cross upon ray brow.

[18] Dunfermline. A town, about twenty miles from Edinburgh.

THE SOLITARY REAPER.

Behold her, single in the field,
Yon solitary Highland lass!
Reaping and singing by herself,
Stop here, or gently pass!
Alone she cuts and binds the grain 5
And sings a melancholy strain.
Oh, listen! for the vale profound
Is overflowing with the sound.

No nightingale did ever chant
So sweetly to reposing bands 10
Of travellers in some shady haunt
Among Arabian sands:
No sweeter voice was ever heard
In spring time from the cuckoo-bird
Breaking the silence of the seas 15
Among the farthest Hebrides.

"Will no one tell me what she sings?
Perhaps the plaintive numbers now
For old, unhappy, far-off things,
And battles long ago. 20
Or is it some more humble lay,
Familiar matter of to-day?
Some natural sorrow, loss, or pain,
That has been, and may be again?

"Whate'er the theme, the maiden sang 25
As if her song could have no ending;
I saw her singing at her work,
And o'er the sickle bending;--
I listen'd motionless and still;
And, as I mounted up the hill, 30
The music in my heart I bore,
Long after it was heard no more.

--_Wordsworth_.




THE ISLAND OF THE SCOTS.

The Rhine is running deep and red, the island lies before,--
"Now is there one of all the host will dare to venture o'er?
For not alone the river's sweep might make a brave man quail;
The foe are on the further side, their shot comes fast as hail.
God help us, if the middle isle we may not hope to win; 5
Now is there any of the host will dare to venture in? "
"The ford is deep, the banks are steep, the island-shore lies wide;
Nor man nor horse could stem its force, or reach the further side.
See there! amidst the willow-boughs the serried[1] bayonets gleam,
They've flung their bridge,--they've won the isle; the foe
have cross'd the stream! 10
Their volley flashes sharp and strong,--by all the saints!
I trow
There never yet was soldier born could force that passage now! "

So spoke the bold French Mareschal[2] with him who led the van,
Whilst, rough and red before their view the turbid river ran.
Nor bridge nor boat had they to cross the wild and swollen Rhine, 15
And thundering on the other bank far stretch'd the German line.
Hard by there stood a swarthy man, was leaning on his sword,
And a sadden'd smile lit up his face as he heard the Captain's word.
"I've seen a wilder stream ere now than that which rushes there;
I've stemm'd a heavier torrent yet and never thought to dare. 20
If German steel be sharp and keen, is ours not strong and true?
There may be danger in the deed, but there is honour too. "

The old lord in his saddle turn'd, and hastily he said,
"Hath bold Duguesclin's[3] fiery heart awaken'd from the dead?
Thou art the leader of the Scots,--now well and sure I know, 25
That gentle blood in dangerous hour ne'er yet ran cold nor slow;
And I have seen ye in the fight do all that mortal may:
If honour is the boon ye seek, it may be won this day,--
The prize is in the middle isle, there lies the adventurous way,
And armies twain are on the plain, the daring deed to see,-- 30
Now ask thy gallant company if they will follow thee! "

Right gladsome look'd the Captain then, and nothing did he say,
But he turn'd him to his little band, O, few, I ween, were they!
The relics of the bravest force that ever fought in fray.
No one of all that company but bore a gentle name, 35
Not one whose fathers had not stood in Scotland's fields of fame.
All they had march'd with great Dundee[4] to where he fought and fell,
And in the deadly battle-strife had venged their leader well;

And they had bent the knee to earth when every eye was dim,
As o'er their hero's buried corpse they sang the funeral hymn; 40
And they had trod the Pass[5] once more, and stoop'd on either side.
To pluck the heather from the spot where he had dropp'd and died,
And they had bound it next their hearts, and ta'en a last farewell
Of Scottish earth and Scottish sky, where Scotland's glory fell.
Then went they forth to foreign lands like bent and broken men, 45
Who leave their dearest hope behind, and may not turn again.

"The stream," he said, "is broad and deep, and stubborn is the foe,--
Yon island-strength is guarded well,--say, brothers, will ye go?
From home and kin for many a year our steps have wander'd wide,
And never may our bones be laid our fathers' graves beside. 50
No children have we to lament, no wives to wail our fall;
The traitor's and the spoiler's hand have reft our hearths of all.
But we have hearts, and we have arms, as strong to will and dare
As when our ancient banners flew within the northern air.
Come, brothers! let me name a spell, shall rouse your souls again, 55
And send the old blood bounding free through pulse and heart and vein.
Call back the days of bygone years,--be young and strong once more;
Think yonder stream, so stark and red, is one we've cross'd before.

Rise, hill and glen! rise, crag and wood! rise up on either hand,--
Again upon the Garry's[6] banks, on Scottish soil we stand! 60
Again I see the tartans[7] wave, again the trumpets ring;
Again I hear our leader's call; 'Upon them for the King! '
Stay'd we behind that glorious day for roaring flood or linn? [8]
The soul of Graeme is with us still,--now, brothers, will ye in? "
No stay,--no pause. With one accord, they grasp'd each
other's hand, 65
Then plunged into the angry flood, that bold and dauntless band.
High flew the spray above their heads, yet onward still they bore,
Midst cheer, and shout, and answering yell, and shot, and cannon-roar,--
"Now, by the Holy Cross! I swear, since earth and sea began,
Was never such a daring deed essay'd by mortal man! " 70

Thick blew the smoke across the stream, and faster flash'd the flame:
The water plash'd in hissing jets as ball and bullet came.
Yet onward push'd the Cavaliers all stern and undismay'd,
With thousand armed foes before, and none behind to aid.
Once, as they near'd the middle stream, so strong the torrent swept, 75
That scarce that long and living wall their dangerous footing kept.
Then rose a warning cry behind, a joyous shout before:
"The current's strong,--the way is long,--they'll never reach
the shore!
See, see! they stagger in the midst, they waver in their line!
Fire on the madmen! break their ranks, and whelm them in the Rhine! " 80

Have you seen the tall trees swaying when the blast is sounding shrill,
And the whirlwind reels in fury down the gorges to the hill?
How they toss their mighty branches, struggling with the
temper's shock;
How they keep their place of vantage, cleaving firmly to the rock?
Even so the Scottish warriors held their own against the river. 85
Though the water flashed around them, not an eye was seen to quiver;
Though the shot flew sharp and deadly, not a man relax'd his hold;
For their hearts were big and thrilling with the mighty thoughts
of old.
One word was spoken among them, and through the ranks it spread,--
"Remember our dead Claverhouse! " was all the Captain said. 90
Then, sternly bending forward, they wrestled on a while,
Until they clear'd the heavy stream, then rush'd toward the isle.

The German heart is stout and true, the German arm is strong;
The German foot goes seldom back where armed foemen throng.
But never bad they faced in field so stern a charge before, 95
And never had they felt the sweep of Scotland's broad claymore. [9]
Not fiercer pours the avalanche adown the steep incline,
That rises o'er the parent springs of rough and rapid Rhine,--
Scarce swifter shoots the bolt from heaven, than came the Scottish band
Right up against the guarded trench, and o'er it, sword in hand. 100
In vain their leaders forward press,--they meet the deadly brand!

O lonely island of the Rhine,--Where seed was never sown,
What harvest lay upon thy sands, by those strong reapers thrown?
What saw the winter moon that night, as, struggling through the rain,
She pour'd a wan and fitful light on marsh, and stream, and plain? 105
A dreary spot with corpses strewn, and bayonets glistening round;
A broken bridge, a stranded boat, a bare and batter'd mound;
And one huge watch-fire's kindled pile, that sent its quivering glare
To tell the leaders of the host the conquering Scots were there.

And did they twine the laurel-wreath,[10] for those who fought
so well 110
And did they honour those who liv'd, and weep for those who fell?
What meed of thanks was given to them let aged annals tell.
Why should they bring the laurel-wreath,--why crown the cup with wine?
It was not Frenchmen's blood that flow'd so freely on the Rhine,--
A stranger band of beggar'd men had done the venturous deed; 115
The glory was to France alone, the danger was their meed,
And what cared they for idle thanks from foreign prince and peer?
What virtue had such honey'd words the exiled heart to cheer?
What matter'd it that men should vaunt, and loud and fondly swear
That higher feat of chivalry was never wrought elsewhere? 120
They bore within their breast the grief that fame can never heal,--
The deep, unutterable woe which none save exiles feel.
Their hearts were yearning for the land they ne'er might see again,--
For Scotland's high and heather'd hills, for mountains, loch and glen--
For those who haply lay at rest beyond the distant sea, 125
Beneath the green and daisied turf where they would gladly be!

Long years went by. The lonely isle in Rhine's tempestuous flood
Has ta'en another name from those who bought it with their blood:
And, though the legend does not live,--for legends lightly die--
The peasant, as he sees the stream in winter rolling by, 130
And foaming o'er its channel-bed between him and the spot
Won by the warriors of the sword, still calls that deep
and dangerous ford
The Passage of the Scot.

--_Aytoun_.


[1] serried. crowded.

[2] Mareschal. Marshal, an officer of the highest rank in the French
army.

[3] Duguesclin. A noted French commander, famous for his campaigns
against the English in the 14th century.

[4] Dundee. John Graham of Claverhouse, Viscount Dundee, a Scottish
soldier. He raised a body of Highlanders in 1689 to fight for James
II against William of Orange. At the battle of Killecrankie (1689)
he was mortally wounded.

[5] The Pass. The Pass of Killecrankie.

[6] Garry. A river in Perthshire, Scotland.

[7] tartan. A Scotch plaid

[8] linn. A waterfall.

[9] claymore. The heavy broadsword used by the Highlanders.

[10] laurel-wreath. The laurel is an evergreen shrub found in parts
of Europe. A wreath of laurel was a mark of distinction or honour.




DICKENS IN CAMP.

Above the pines the moon was slowly drifting,
The river sang below,
The dim Sierras,[1] far beyond, uplifting
Their minarets of snow.

The roaring camp-fire, with rude humor, painted 5
The ruddy tints of health
On haggard face and form that drooped and fainted
In the fierce race for wealth;

Till one arose, and from his pack's scant treasure
A hoarded volume drew, 10
And cards were dropped from hands of listless leisure,
To hear the tale anew;

And then, while round them shadows gathered faster,
And as the firelight fell,
He read aloud the book wherein the Master[2] 15
Had writ of "Little Nell. "[3]

Perhaps 'twas boyish fancy,--for the reader
Was youngest of them all,--
But, as he read, from clustering pine and cedar
A silence seemed to fall; 20

The fir-trees, gathering closer in the shadows,
Listened in every spray,
While the whole camp, with "Nell," on English meadows
Wandered and lost their way.

And so in mountain solitudes--o'ertaken 25
As by some spell divine--
Their cares dropped from them like the needles shaken
From out the gusty pine.

Lost is that camp, and wasted all its fire:
And he who wrought that spell? -- 30
Ah, towering pine and stately Kentish spire,[4]
Ye have one tale[5] to tell!

Lost is that camp! but let its fragrant story[6]
Blend with the breath that thrills
With hop-vines' incense[7] all the pensive glory 35
That fills the Kentish hills.

And on that grave where English oak and holly
And laurel wreaths intwine,[8]
Deem it not all a too presumptuous folly,--
This spray of Western pine. 40

--Harte.


[1] Sierra. A Spanish term, meaning a mountain range. The name
Sierra was applied, of course, to a great many different ranges.