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Who gave me the goods that went since? 5

THE LOST LEADER Who raised me the house that sank once? Who helped me to gold I spent since? Just for a handful of silver he left us, Who found me in' wine you drank once? Just for a riband to stick in his coatCho.-King Charles, and who'll do him Found the one gift of which fortune bereft right now?

us, King Charles, and who's ripe for Lost all the others she lets us devote; fight now?

They, with the gold to give, doled him out Give a rouse: here's, in hell's de


5 spite now,

So much was theirs who so little allowed: King Charles!

How all our copper had gone for his serv

ice! To whom used my boy George quaff else, Rags—were they purple, his heart had By the old fool's side that begot him?

been proud! For whom did he cheer and laugh else, 15 We that had loved him so, followed him, While Noll’sdamned troopers shot him? honored him, Cho.-King Charles, and who'll do him

Lived in his mild and magnificent eye, 10 right now?

Learned his great language, caught his King Charles, and who's ripe for

clear accents, fight now?

Made him our pattern to live and to die! Give a rouse: here's, in hell's de- Shakespeare was of us, Milton was for us, spite now,

Burns, Shelley, were with us,-they King Charles!

watch from their graves!

He alone breaks from the van and the freeIII. BOOT AND SADDLE

15 Boot, saddle, to horse and away!

-He alone sinks to the rear and the Rescue my castle before the hot day

slaves! Brightens to blue from its silvery gray. Cho.-Boot, saddle, to horse and away! We shall march prospering,—not through

his presence; Ride past the suburbs, asleep as you'd say; Songs may inspirit us, -not from his lyre; Many's the friend there, will listen and Deeds will be done,—while he boasts his pray

quiescence, “God's luck to gallants that strike up the Still bidding crouch whom the rest bade lay

aspire; Cho.-Boot, saddle, to horse, and

Blot out his name, then, record one lost away!"

One task more declined, one more footForty miles off, like a roebuck at bay,

path untrod, Flouts Castle Brancepeth the Roundheads' | One more devil's-triumph and sorrow for array:

angels, Who laughs, "Good fellows ere this, by One wrong more to man, one more insult my fay,

to God! Cho.-Boot, saddle, to horse, and Life's night begins: let him never come away!”

back to us!


There would be doubt, hesitation and Who? My wife Gertrude; that, honest pain,

Forced praise on our part-the glimmer of Laughs when you talk of surrendering, twilight, “Nay!

Never glad confident morning again! I've better counsellors; what counsel they? | Best fight on well, for we taught himCHO.-Boot, saddle, to horse, and

strike gallantly, away!"


Menace our heart ere we master his I supplied me with.

2 Oliver Cromwell's.




soul more,

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and gay,


Then let him receive the new knowledge With resolute shoulders, each butting and wait us,

away Pardoned in heaven, the first by the The haze, as some bluff river headland its throne!



And his low head and crest, just one sharp ear bent back

25 HOW THEY BROUGHT THE GOOD For my voice, and the other pricked out NEWS FROM GHENT TO AIX

on his track;

And one eye's black intelligence,-ever I sprang to the stirrup, and Joris, and he;

that glance I galloped, Dirck galloped, we galloped all O'er its white edge at me,

his own master, three;

askance! “Good speed!” cried the watch, as the And the thick heavy spume-flakes which gate-bolts undrew;

aye and anon

29 "Speed!" echoed the wall to us galloping His fierce lips shook upwards in galloping on.

through; Behind shut the postern, the lights sank By Hasselt, Dirck groaned; and cried to rest,

5 Joris, "Stay spur! And into the midnight we galloped abreast. Your Roos galloped bravely, the fault's

not in her. Not a word to each other; we kept the We'll remember at Aix”—for one heard great pace

the quick wheeze Neck by neck, stride by stride, never Of her chest, saw the stretched neck and changing our place;

staggering knees, I turned in my saddle and made its And sunk tail, and horrible heave of the girths tight,


35 Then shortened each stirrup, and set the As down on her haunches she shuddered pique' right,

and sank. Rebuckled the cheek-strap, chained slacker the bit,

So, we were left galloping, Joris and I, Nor galloped less steadily Roland a whit. Past Looz and past Tongres, no cloud in

the sky; 'Twas moonset at starting; but while The broad sun above laughed a pitiless we drew near

laugh, Lokeren, the cocks crew and twilight | ’Neath our feet broke the brittle bright dawned clear;

stubble like chaff;

40 At Boom, a great yellow star came out Till over by Dalhem a dome-spire sprang


white, At Düffeld, 'twas morning as plain as And “Gallop," gasped Joris, "for Aix is in could be;

sight!” And from Mecheln church-steeple we heard the half-chime,

“How they'll greet us!”—and all in a So Joris broke silence with, “Yet there moment his roan is time!”

Rolled neck and croup over, lay dead as a

stone; At Aershot, up leaped of a sudden the sun, And there was my Roland to bear the And against him the cattle stood black whole weight

45 every one,

Of the news which alone could save Aix To stare through the mist at us gallop- from her fate, ing past,

With his nostrils like pits full of blood And I saw my stout galloper Roland at to the brim, last,

And with circles of red for his eye-sockets' peak, pommel.


to see;


his ear,


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Then I cast loose my buffcoat, each SOLILOQUY OF THE SPANISH holster let fall,

CLOISTER Shook off both my jack-boots, let go belt and all

50 Gr-r-r—there go, my heart's abhorrence! Stood up in the stirrup, leaned, patted Water your damned flower-pots, do!

If hate killed men, Brother Lawrence, Called my Roland his pet-name, my God's blood, would not mine kill you! horse without peer;

What? your myrtle-bush wants trimming? Clapped my hands, laughed and sang, Oh, that rose has prior claimsany noise, bad or good,

Needs its leaden vase filled brimming? Till at length into Aix Roland galloped Hell dry you up with its flames! and stood.

At the meal we sit together: And all I remember is-friends flocking Salve tibi! I must hear round

55 Wise talk of the kind of weather, As I sat with his head 'twixt my knees on Sort of season, time of year: the ground;

Not a plenteous cork-crop: scarcely And no voice but was praising this Roland Dare we hope oak-galls, I doubt: · of mine,

What's the Latin name for "parsley"? 15 As I poured down his throat our last What's the Greek name for Swine's measure of wine,

Snout? Which (the burgesses voted by common consent)

Whew! We'll have our platter burnished, Was no more than his due who brought

Laid with care on our own shelf! good news from Ghent.


With a fire-new spoon we're furnished,

And a goblet for ourself,
Rinsed like something sacrificial

Ere 'tis fit to touch our chaps-

Marked with L for our initial!

(He-he! There his lily snaps!)
The gray sea and the long black land;
And the yellow half-moon large and low;
And the startled little waves that leap

Saint, forsooth! While brown Dolores 25 In fiery ringlets from their sleep,

Squats outside the Convent bank

With Sanchicha, telling stories, As I gain the cove with pushing prow, 5

Steeping tresses in the tank, And quench its speed i’ the slushy sand.

Blue-black, lustrous, thick like horse-hairs,

-Can't I see his dead eye glow, Then a mile of warm sea-scented beach;

30 Three fields to cross till a farm appears;

Bright as 'twere a Barbary corsair's?

(That is, if he'd let it show!) A tap at the pane, the quick sharp scratch And blue spurt of a lighted match, And a voice less loud, through its joys When he finishes refection, and fears,

Knife and fork he never lays Than the two hearts beating each to each! Cross-wise, to my recollection,

As do I, in Jesu's praise.
I the Trinity illustrate,

Drinking watered orange-pulp-
PARTING AT MORNING In three sips the Arian frustrate;

While he drains his at one gulp.

40 Round the cape of a sudden came the sea, And the sun looked over the mountain's Oh, those melons! If he's able rim:

We're to have a feast! so nice! And straight was a path of gold for him, One goes to the Abbot's table, And the need of a world of men for me. All of us get each a slice.





How go on your flowers? None double? 45 That's the wise thrush; he sings each song Not one fruit-sort can you spy?

twice over, Strange!-And I, too, at such trouble Lest should think he never could reKeep them close-nipped on the sly!



The first fine careless rapture! There's a great text in Galatians,

And though the fields look rough with Once you trip on it, entails

50 hoary dew, Twenty-nine distinct damnations, All will be gay when noontide wakes anew One sure, if another fails:

The buttercups, the little children's dower If I trip him just a-dying,

-Far brighter than this gaudy melonSure of heaven as sure can be,

flower! Spin him round and send him flying 55 Off to hell, a Manichee!

HOME-THOUGHTS, FROM THE SEA Or, my scrofulous French novel

On gray paper with blunt type! Nobly, nobly Cape Saint Vincent to the Simply glance at it, you grovel

Northwest died away; Hand and foot in Belial's gripe: 60 Sunset ran, one glorious blood-red, reeking If I double down its pages

into Cadiz Bay; At the woeful sixteenth print,

Bluish 'mid the burning water, full in face When he gathers his greengages,

Trafalgar lay; Ope a sieve and slip it in't?

In the dimmest Northeast distance dawned

Gibraltar grand and gray; Or, there's Satan! one might venture 65 "Here and here did England help me: how Pledge one's soul to him, yet leave

can I help England?”-say, Such a flaw in the indenture

Whoso turns as I, this evening, turn to As he'd miss till, past retrieve,

God to praise and pray, Blasted lay that rose-acacia

While Jove's planet rises yonder, silent We're so proud of! Hy, Zy, Hine ...70

over Africa. 'St, there's Vespers! Plena gratid, Ave, Virgol Gr-r-r-you swine!




Said Abner, “At last thou art come! Ere Oh, to be in England

I tell, ere thou speak, Now that April 's there,

Kiss my cheek, wish me well!” Then I And whoever wakes in England

wished it, and did kiss his cheek. Sees, some morning, unaware,

And he: “Since the King, O my friend, for That the lowest boughs and the brush- thy countenance sent, wood sheaf


Neither drunken nor eaten have we; nor Round the elm-tree bole are in tiny leaf, until from his tent While the chaffinch sings on the orchard Thou return with the joyful assurance the bough

King liveth yet,

5 In England-now!

Shall our lip with the honey be bright, with

the water be wet. And after April, when May follows, For out of the black mid-tent's silence, a And the whitethroat builds, and all the space of three days, swallows!

Not a sound hath escaped to thy servants, Hark, where my blossomed pear-tree in the of prayer nor of praise, hedge

To betoken that Saul and the Spirit have Leans to the field and scatters on the clover ended their strife, Blossoms and dewdrops-at the bent | And that, faint in his triumph, the monspray's edge

arch sinks back upon life.





II “Yet now my heart leaps, O beloved! Then I tuned my harp,—took off the lilies

, God's child with his dew

we twine round its chords On thy gracious gold hair, and those lilies Lest they snap 'neath the stress of the noonstill living and blue

tide—those sunbeams like swords! 35 Just broken to twine round thy harp- And I first played the tune all our sheep strings, as if no wild heat

know, as, one after one, Were now raging to torture the desert!” So docile they come to the pen-door till

folding be done.

They are white and untorn by the bushes, III

for lo, they have fed Then I, as was meet,

Where the long grasses stifle the water Knelt down to the God of my fathers, and

within the stream's bed; rose on my feet,

And now one after one seeks its lodging, as

15 And ran o'er the sand burnt to powder.

star follows star

40 The tent was unlooped;

Into eve and the blue far above us,-so I pulled up the spear that obstructed, and

blue and so far! under I stooped; Hands and knees on the slippery grasspatch, all withered and gone,

VI That extends to the second enclosure, I — Then the tune, for which quails on the groped my way on

cornland will each leave his mate Till I felt where the foldskirts fly open. To fly after the player; then, what makes Then once more I prayed,

the crickets elate And opened the foldskirts and entered, Till for boldness they fight one another; and was not afraid

and then, what has weight But spoke, “Here is David, thy servant!” To set the quick jerboa a-musing outside And no voice replied.

his sand-house

45 At the first I saw naught but the black- There are none such as he for a wonder, ness; but soon I descried

half bird and half mouse! A something more black than the black- God made all the creatures and gave them ness—the vast, the upright

our love and our fear, Main prop which sustains the pavilion; To give sign, we and they are his children, and slow into sight

25 one family here. Grew a figure against it, gigantic and

blackest of all. Then a sunbeam, that burst through the tent roof, showed Saul.

Then I played the help-tune of our reapers,

their wine-song, when hand Grasps at hand, eye lights eye in good

friendship, and great hearts expand 50 He stood as erect as that tent-prop, both And grow one in the sense of this world's arms stretched out wide

life.—And then, the last song On the great cross-support in the center, When the dead man is praised on his jourthat goes to each side;

ney—“Bear, bear him along He relaxed not a muscle, but hung there With his few faults shut up like dead as, caught in his pangs

30 flowerets! Are balm-seeds not here And waiting his change, the king serpent to console us? The land has none left

To all heavily hangs,

54 Far away from his kind, in the pine, till de- Oh, would we might keep thee, my liverance come

such as he on the bier.

brother!”-And then, the glad chaunt With the spring-time, so agonized Saul, of the marriage, -first go the young drear and stark, blind and dumb.

maidens, next, she whom we vaunt



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