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Ah, County Guy! the hour is nigh,
The sun has left the lea,
The breeze is on the sea.
Sits hushed his partner nigh;
But where is County Guy ?
Her shepherd's suit to hear;
Sings high-born Cavalier.
Now reigns o'er earth and sky;
But where is County Guy?
THE OLD SWORD.
Old Sword ! tho' dim and rusted
Be now thy sheeny blade,
With cankers Time hath made;
Of triumph's fierce delight,
The thunders of the fight!
Tho' age hath past upon thee
With still corroding breath, Yet once streamed redly on thee
The purpling tide of death: What time amid the war of foes
The dastard's cheek grew pale, As through the feudal field arose
The ringing of the mail.
Old Sword ! what arm hath wielded
Thy richly gleaming brand,
The maidens of their land?
With thy puissant fire,
The victims of his ire ?
Old Sword! whose fingers clasped thee
Around thy carved hilt?
What heroes' blood was spilt;
And lance to lance opposed,
The dark-eyed warriors closed
Old Sword ! I would not burnish
Thy venerable rust,
Of darkness and of dust!
Unfamed in olden rhyine,
A wreck of ancient time!
HOW THEY BROUGHT THE GOOD NEWS
FROM GHENT TO AIX.
This spirited poem is said to have no foundation in fact, I sprang to the stirrup, and Joris, and he;
I galloped, Dirck galloped, we galloped all three; “Good speed !” cried the watch, as the gate-bolts un
Behind shut the postern, the lights sank to rest,
80 How They Brought the Good News from Ghent.
Not a word to each other; we kept the great pace
'Twas moonset at starting; but while we drew near
At Aerschot, up leaped of a sudden the sun,
And his low head and crest, just one sharp ear bent back For my voice, and the other pricked out on his track; And one eye's black intelligence,
,-ever that glance O’er its white edge at me, his own master, askance! And the thick heavy spume-flakes which aye and anon His fierce lips shook upwards in galloping on.
By Hasselt, Dirck groaned; and cried Joris, “Stay spur!
wheeze Of her chest, saw the stretched neck, and staggering
knees, And sunk tail, and horrible heave of the flank, As down on her haunches she shuddered and sank.
So we were left galloping, Joris and I,
“How they'll greet us !” and all in a moment his roan
Rolled neck and croup over, lay dead as a stone;
For many, many days together
The wind blew steady from the east; For many days hot grew the weather,
About the time of our Lady's feast. For many days we rode together,
Yet met we neither friend nor foe;
Steadily did the east-wind blow.
Clear-cut, with shadows very black,
With helms unlaced and bridles slack.
And often as we rode together,
We, looking down the green-banked stream, Saw flowers in the sunny weather,
And saw the bubble-making bream.
And in the night lay down together,
And hung above our heads the rood,
The while the moon did watch the wood.
Our spears stood bright and thick together,
Straight out the banners streamed behind, As we galloped on in the sunny weather,
With faces turned towards the wind.
Down sank our threescore spears together,
As thick we saw the pagans ride;
Shone out that last time by my side.
Up the sweep of the bridge we dashed together,
It rocked to the crash of the meeting spears, Down rained the buds of the dear spring weather, The elm-tree flowers fell like tears.
There, as we rolled and writhed together,
I threw my arms above my head,
I saw him reel and fall back dead.
I and the slayer met together,
He waited the death-stroke there in his place, With thoughts of death, in the lovely weather
Gapingly mazed at my maddened face.
Madly I fought as we fought together;
In vain: the little Christian band The
pagans drowned, as in stormy weather, The river drowns low-lying land.
They bound my blood-stained hands together,
They bound his corpse to nod by my side: Then on we rode, in the bright March weather,
With clash of cymbals did we ride.
We ride no more, no more together;
My prison-bars are thick and strong, I take no heed of any weather,
The sweet Saints grant I live not long.