COUNTY GUY. WALTER SCOTT. Ah, County Guy! the hour is nigh, The orange flower perfumes the bower, The lark, his lay who trilled all day, Breeze, bird and flower confess the hour The village maid steals through the shade, To beauty shy, by lattice high, The star of Love, all stars above, Now reigns o'er earth and sky; And high and low the influence know But where is County Guy? THE OLD SWORD. ALFRED TENNYSON. Old Sword! tho' dim and rusted With cankers Time hath made; Tho' age hath past upon thee Old Sword! what arm hath wielded The maidens of their land? And who hath cloven his foes in wrath With thy puissant fire, And scattered in his perilous path Old Sword! whose fingers clasped thee And with that hand which grasped thee Old Sword! I would not burnish Nor sweep away the tarnish Of darkness and of dust! The relic of a former day, A wreck of ancient time! HOW THEY BROUGHT THE GOOD NEWS FROM GHENT TO AIX. ROBERT BROWNING. 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 drew; "Speed!" echoed the wall to us galloping through; Behind shut the postern, the lights sank to rest, And into the midnight we galloped abreast. 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 And from Mecheln church-steeple we heard the halfchime, So Joris broke silence with, "Yet there is time!" At Aerschot, up leaped of a sudden the sun, And his low head and crest, just one sharp ear bent back 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, Past Looz and past Tongres, no cloud in the sky; 'Neath our feet broke the brittle bright stubble like chaff; Till over by Dalhem a dome-spire sprang white, And "Gallop," cries Joris, "for Aix is in sight!" "How they'll greet us!" and all in a moment his roan Rolled neck and croup over, lay dead as a stone; And there was my Roland, to bear the whole weight Then I cast my 'loose buff-coat, each holster let fall, Called my Roland his pet name, my horse without peer; Clapped my hands, laughed and sang, any noise, bad or good, Till at length into Aix Roland galloped and stood. And all I remember is, friends flocking round RIDING TOGETHER. WILLIAM MORRIS. 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; We saw the trees in the hot, bright weather, As freely we rode on together 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, Our spears stood bright and thick together, Down sank our threescore spears together, Up the sweep of the bridge we dashed together, There, as we rolled and writhed together, For close by my side, in the lovely weather, 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; The pagans drowned, as in stormy weather, They bound my blood-stained hands together, We ride no more, no more together; The sweet Saints grant I live not long. |