|
Citation |
- Permanent Link:
- https://ufdc.ufl.edu/UF00028399/00001
Material Information
- Title:
- Marcus Ward's golden picture book of lays and legends : containing the authentic versions of Lady Ouncèbelle and Lord Lovelle; King Alfred and Othere; Pocahontas, or, La Belle Sauvage; and The Sleeping Beauty, or, The Enchanted Palace
- Added title page title:
- Lady Ouncèbelle and Lord Lovelle
- Added title page title:
- King Alfred and Othere
- Added title page title:
- Pocahontas, or, La Belle Sauvage
- Added title page title:
- Sleeping Beauty
- Creator:
- Marcus Ward & Co ( Publisher )
Royal Ulster Works ( Publisher )
- Place of Publication:
- London
Belfast
- Publisher:
- Marcus Ward & Co.
Royal Ulster Works
- Publication Date:
- c1876
- Language:
- English
- Physical Description:
- 1 vol. (unpaged) : col. ill., music ; 21 x 30 cm.
Subjects
- Subjects / Keywords:
- Children's poetry ( lcsh )
Knights and knighthood -- Juvenile poetry ( lcsh ) Indians of North America -- Juvenile poetry ( lcsh ) Kings and rulers -- Juvenile poetry ( lcsh ) Children's poetry -- 1876 ( lcsh ) Fairy tales -- 1876 ( rbgenr ) Baldwin -- 1876
- Genre:
- Children's poetry ( lcsh )
Fairy tales ( rbgenr ) poetry ( marcgt )
- Spatial Coverage:
- England -- London
Northern Ireland -- Belfast
- Target Audience:
- juvenile ( marctarget )
Notes
- General Note:
- Date of publication from inscription.
- Funding:
- Preservation and Access for American and British Children's Literature, 1870-1889 (NEH PA-50860-00).
- Statement of Responsibility:
- told in verse and set to appropriate music ; twenty-four plates in colors and gold.
Record Information
- Source Institution:
- University of Florida
- Holding Location:
- Baldwin Library of Historical Children's Literature in the Department of Special Collections and Area Studies, George A. Smathers Libraries, University of Florida
- Rights Management:
- This item is presumed to be in the public domain. The University of Florida George A. Smathers Libraries respect the intellectual property rights of others and do not claim any copyright interest in this item. Users of this work have responsibility for determining copyright status prior to reusing, publishing or reproducing this item for purposes other than what is allowed by fair use or other copyright exemptions. Any reuse of this item in excess of fair use or other copyright exemptions may require permission of the copyright holder. The Smathers Libraries would like to learn more about this item and invite individuals or organizations to contact The Department of Special and Area Studies Collections (special@uflib.ufl.edu) with any additional information they can provide.
- Resource Identifier:
- 026639165 ( ALEPH )
ALG4413 ( NOTIS ) 61250504 ( OCLC )
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AYS AND LEGEN DS:
CONTAINING THE AUTHENTIC VERSIONS OF
Lady Ounctdelte and Lord Lovelle, King Alfred and-
Othere Pocahontas, or La Belle Sauvage; ana Lhe
Sleeping Beauty, or The Enchanted Patace.
Told in Verse, and
set to appropriate Music.
Twenty-four Plates,
in Colors and Gold.
LONDON: MARCUS WARD & CO., 67, CHANDOS STREET, COVENT GARDEN ;
Anp ROYAL ULSTER WORKS, BELFAST.
ENGRAVED AND PRINTED
By MARCUS WARD AND CO,,
ROYAL ULSTER WORKS,
BELFAST.
PARTICULARS OF THE PLATES.
oo rec iec-:
Lay Ouneebelle
Plate 1.—So fare-thee-well, Ladye Ouncébelle,
For I must needs be gone.
Plate 2.—The ace of hearts, like an hundred darts,
One night went through his brain.
Plate 3.—Then he called unto his little black dwarf,
To saddle his milk-white steed.
Plate 4.—“ Why sittest thou there, thou grave old man,
When the bells have such a tone ?â€
Plate 5.—Lord Lovel then drew his rapier bright,
And his true heart through did run !
Plate 6.—There ever a weeping waif he sat,
When the old King came that way.
Ring Alfred and Othere,
Plate 1.—Othere, the old sea-captain,
Who dwelt in Helgoland.
Plate 2.—I ploughed the land with horses,
But my heart was ill at ease.
Plate 3.—So at last I sallied forth.
Plate 4.—Round in a fiery ring
Went the great sun, O, King.
Plate 5.—And there we hunted the walrus,
The narwhale, and the seal.
Plate 6.—We killed of them threescore,
And dragged them to the strand.
Pocahontas.
Plate 1.— Our Captain’s on a visit gone !â€
Quoth he, “ And, by Pshaw.â€
Plate 2.—Beside him sits his friend, a White,
*Tis Captain Smith, we know.
Plate 3.—But here is blood shall not be spilt—
The white man’s heart is red !
Plate 4.—For trees, as well as walls, have ears.
Plate 5.—She telleth of the angry bands,
About to storm the hold.
Plate 6.—From early morn till late at night,
They frisked it heel and toe.
The Aleening WGeauty.
Plate 1.—He comes, scarce knowing what he seeks ;
He breaks the hedge: he enters there.
Plate 2.—The page has caught her hand in his :
Her lips are'sever’d as to speak.
Plate 3.—His spirit flutters like a lark,
He stoops—to kiss her—on his knee.
Plate 4.—A touch, a kiss! the charm was snapt.
There rose a noise of striking clocks.
Plate 5.—And last with these the King awoke,
And in his chair himself uprear’d.
Plate 6.—Beyond the night, across the day,
Thro’ all the world she follow’d him.
The Pathetic Ballad of
LADY OUNCEBELLE
And Toya Lovel
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Plustec arranged by Bs.
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Vearcus iiards Koyal.Muminated Legends.
LADY OUNCEBELLE AND LORD LOVEL,
I.
Lorp Lovet, a gay and comely knight,
Of Roxburgshire was he;
Oh, the feet were light of his steed so white,
As, singing, he crossed the lea :
II.
“ Fair, fair are the dames of London town,
Full many a knight doth tell ;
But a fairer, far, is my own true love—
She’s the Ladye Ouncébelle!â€
III.
Then out bespoke his little black dwarf,
Who followed through thick and thin,
“If none be so fair in London town,
They’d, maybe, be worse to win!â€
IV.
“ Now, hold thy tongue, thou little black
dwarf,
For when I have crossed the lea,
And bidden farewell to my Ouncébelle,
These London dames we'll see.â€
Vv.
So he rode, and rode, and ever he rode,
Till the Pentland hills, so high,
Then the castle of Ladye Ouncébelle
He clearly did espy.
VI.
The Ladye Ouncébelle looked forth,
From her gay, green bower looked she;
“ Oh, yonder’s my own true love,†she said,
« And he’s coming to marry me!â€
VII.
Lord Lovel said unto his little black dwarf,
“Comb thou my white steed’s mane,
And give him breath, with a loosened graith,
- Until I come back again.â€
Marcus Ward’s Royal Illuminated Legends.]
TOLD ANEW IN VERSE BY Francis Davis.
VIII.
Lord Lovel has kissed his own true love,
Till the tear stood in her eye;
For, with every kiss, he lightly said,
““Ladye Ouncébelle, good-bye !â€
IX.
“Oh, where art thou going â€â€”she sighed
and said—
“ My dearest one, tell to me ?â€
“ Oh, a far, far journey I must go,
Some countries strange to see!
X.
“So fare-thee-well, Ladye Ouncébelle,
For I must needs be gone;
This time two years, we'll meet again,
When our partings shall be done.
XI.
“Oh,that’salong time, Lord Lovel,†she said,
“To leave a poor Ladye alone!â€
“So it is—so it is—Lady Ouncébelle ;
But, then, I must needs be gone!â€
XII.
Then, a jewel she loosed from her snow-
white neck,
"Twas of gold and diamond shine—
“Take this little heart, Lord Lovel,†she said,
“ And, seeing it, think on mine!â€
XIII.
Then called he unto his little black dwarf,
To saddle his milk-white steed—
Hey down, hey down, hey derry, hey down—
I wish my Lord Lovel good speed!
XIV.
So he rode, and rode, and ever he rode,
The Fells o’ Westmoreland through ;
Nor ever he staid till in London town
His white steed’s rein he drew.
XV.
Oh, he had not been in fair London town
For more than half a year,
Till his cards and wine and the London
dames
Were his only pleasant cheer.
XVI.
And his cheek grew thin, and his gold took
wings,
And his midnight mates the gain,
Till the ace of hearts, like an hundred darts,
One night went through his brain.
XVII.
For he thought of the diamond heart she
gave
To keep her own in his mind—
“Oh, that diamond heart I have lost,†he
sighed,
“ But a better hath she behind!â€
XVIII.
And the little black dwarf began to muse
On his master’s altered air ;
And the queerest thoughts came into his
A-back o’ Lord Lovel’s chair. [| mind,
XIX.
And “TI wonder,†he said, as he hugged his
“Tf this jolliment every night, —_[head,
With thecards and wine, since it pales himso,
Wouldn’t turn a poor darkie white ?â€
LADY OUNCEBELLE AND LORD LOVEL—Continued.
XX.
But that little black dwarf grew blacker, I
ween,
And with more of a wondering air,
When Lord Lovel arose, at that long night’s
And whispereda drunken pray’r; _[close,
XI.
For he saw, in his mind, old Roxburghshire,
With each beautiful dale and dell ;
And his thoughts flew over the Selkirk braes
To the Ladye Ouncebelle!
XXII.
So he had not been in London town
Much more than half a year,
When a longing wish he felt to see
The Ladye without a peer.
XXIII.
Then he called unto his little black dwarf,
To saddle his milk-white steed—
Hey down, hey down, hey derry, hey down—
I wish my Lord Lovel good speed!
XXIV.
So he rode, and rode, and ever he rode,
Till Carlisle he was fairly through ;
Nor ever he staid till among the hills
Where the heather of Scotland grew.
XXV.
Oh, in Scotland fair he had not been
For more than half a day, [ring,
‘Till he heard the bells of the High Church
And they rung with a great affray.
XXVI.
Then he turned to a grave, old gentleman
Who sat there all alone— |man,
“Why sittest thou there, thou grave old
When the bells have such a tone ?â€
Marcus Ward's Royal Iluminated Legends.}
ToLD ANEW IN VERSE BY Francis Davis.
XXVIL
“Why, marrie,†quoth he, “I sit because
I’m attached to my ‘ Easy Chair,
Where cattle and cabbage I’ve ever at hand
That there’s manya knight should share!â€
XXVIII.
“ Now, woe be to thee, thou vile old man,
For this thy reckless tone;
But why do the High Church bells ring so,
And the ladies make such a moan ?â€
;
XXIX.
“The King’s fayre daughter is dead,†said
he—
“Her name, Ladye Ouncébelle :
. She died for love of a false, false Knight,
His name it was Lord Lovelle.â€
XXX,
Lord Lovel he groaned, and he smote his
brow,
And with death-pale cheek sped he,
Till he knelt by the Ladye’s bier, ’mong all
That sorrowful companie !
XXXII.
The lid of the coffin he opened up,
And the linens that wrapt her roun’;
And ever he kissed her pale, pale lips,
While the tears came tumbling down.
XXXII.
“Oh, well may I kiss those pale, pale lips,
For they'll never kiss mine, or me;
But I'll make a vow, and I'll keep it true,
That Tl never kiss one but thee !
XXXIIL
“We've met—we ve met, Ladye Ouncébelle,
And our parting shall be done!â€
Lord Lovel then drew his rapier bright,
And his true heart through did run!
XXXIV. :
Ladye Ouncébelle died on the yesterday,
Lord Lovel died on the morrow ;
Ladye Ouncébelle died of pure, true love,
Lord Lovel of true heart-sorrow.
XXXV.
Ladye Ouncébelle she in the High Church
Lord Lovel he lies in the choir; __[lies,
Ladye Ouncébelle’s tomb, from it sprang a
white rose,
From Lord Lovel’s a branch of sweet-
brier.
XXXVI.
They grew, they grew to the top of the
church,
And when they no higher could grow,
There twined they into a true lover's knot,
And, joined together, grew so! |
XXXVI.
And when long, long years were past and
gone,
And the little black dwarf was grey,
There ever a weeping waif he sat
When the old King came that way.
XXXVIII.
And ever he hummed in a rueful tone,
With his knee drawn near his chin—
“Woe, woe to the day when of London
dames
I said they’d be hard to win!â€
LADY OUN CEBELLE. } | fare-thee-well, Ladye Ouncibelle Fug I must ised be Bye
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LADY OUNCEBELLE.
LADY OUNCEBELLE. oe | 0) jen he called unto his little black dwarf, To saddle his milk-white steed,
LADY OUNCEBELLE. “Why settest thou there, thou grave old man, When the bells have such a tone ?â€
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Lord Lovel then drew his rapier bright, and his true heart through did run !
LADY OUNCEBELLE.
DY OUNCEBELLE. There ever a weeping waif he sat, When the old King came that way.
KING ALFRED AND OTHERE
(The Discoverer of the North Cape).
By H. W. LONGFELLOW,
Issued in the United States by kind permission of Messrs. J. R. Oscoop & Co., Publishers.
Moderato.
Music composed by B. Hobson Carroll.
Poetry by Longfellow.
Fine.
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Marcus Ward’s Royal Illuminated Legends.]
KING ALFRED AND OTHERE. THE DISCOVERER OF THE NORTH CAPE.
BY H. W. LONGFELLOW.
Issued in the United States by kind permission of Messrs. ¥. R. Osgood & Co., Publishers.
I.
OTHERE, the old sea-captain,
Who dwelt in Helgoland,
To King Alfred, the Lover of Truth,
Brought a snow-white walrus-tooth,
Which he held in his brown right hand.
IT.
His figure was tall and stately,
Like a boy’s his eye appeared ;
His hair was yellow as hay,
But threads of a silvery grey
Gleamed in his tawny beard,
III.
Hearty and hale was Othere,
His cheek had the colour of oak;
With a kind ‘of laugh in his speech,
Like the sea-tide on a beach,
As unto the King he spoke.
IV.
And Alfred, King of the Saxons,
Had a book upon his knees,
And wrote down the wondrous tale
Of him who was first to sail
Into the Arctic seas.
V.
“So far I live to the northward,
No man lives north of me;
To the east are wild mountain-chains,
And beyond them meres and plains ;
To the westward all is sea.
VI.
“So far I live to the northward,
From the harbour of Skeringes-hale,
If you only sailed by day,
With a fair wind all the way,
More than a month would you sail.
VII.
*T own six hundred rein-deer,
With sheep and swine beside;
I have tribute from the Finns,
Whalebone and reindeer-skins,
And ropes of walrus-hide.
Vil.
“TI ploughed the land with horses,
But my heart was ill at ease,
For the old seafaring men
Came to me now and then,
With their sagas of the seas ;—
IX.
“ Of Iceland and of Greenland,
And the stormy Hebrides,
And the undiscovered deep ;—
I could not eat nor sleep
For thinking of those seas.
X.
“To the northward stretched the desert,
How far I fain would know;
So at last I sallied forth,
And three days sailed due north,
As far as the whale-ships go.
XI.
“To the west of me was the ocean,
To the right the desolate shore,
But I did not slacken sail
For the walrus or the whale,
Till after three days more.
XII.
“The days grew longer and longer,
Till they became as one,
And southward through the haze
I saw the sullen blaze
Of the red midnight sun.
KING ALFRED AND OTHERE, THE DISCOVERER OF THE NORTH CAPE—Continued.
BY H. W. LONGFELLOW.
Issued tn the United States by kind permission of Messrs. $. R. Osgood & Co., Publishers.
XIII.
“ And then uprose before me,
Upon the water’s edge,
The huge and haggard shape
Of that unknown North Cape,
Whose form is like a wedge.
XIV.
“The sea was rough and stormy,
The tempest howled and wailed,
And the sea-fog, like a ghost,
Haunted that dreary coast,
But onward still I sailed.
XV.
“Four days I steered to eastward—
Four days without a night:
Round in a fiery ring
Went the great sun, O, King,
With red and lurid light.â€
XVI.
Here Alfred, King of the Saxons,
Ceased writing for a while;
And raised his eyes from his book,
With a strange and puzzled look
And an incredulous smile.
XVII.
But Othere, the old sea-captain,
He neither paused nor stirred,
Till the King listened, and then
Once more took up his pen
And wrote down every word.
XVIII.
* And now the land,†said Othere,
“ Bent southward suddenly,
And I followed the curving shore,
And ever southward bore
Into a nameless sea.
XIX,
“ And there we hunted the walrus,
The narwhale, and the seal ;
Ha! ’twas a noble game!
And like the lightning’s flame
Flew our harpoons of steel.
XX.
“ There were six of us altogether,
Norsemen of Helgoland ;
In two days and no more
We killed of them threescore,
And dragged them to the strand.
XXI.
Here Alfred, the Truth-Teller,
Suddenly closed his book,
And lifted his blue eyes,
With doubt and strange surmise
Depicted in their look.
XXII
And Othere, the old sea-captain,
Stared at him wild and weird,
Then smiled, till his shining teeth
Gleamed white from underneath
His tawny, quivering beard.
XXIII.
And to the King of the Saxons,
In witness of the truth,
Raising his noble head,
He stretched his brown hand, and said,
“ Behold this walrus-tooth !â€
ALFRED & OTHERE. Othere, the old sea-captain, Who dwelt in Helgoland.
ALFRED & OTHERE. l ploughed the land with horses, But my heart was ill at ease.
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ALFRED & OTHERE. So at last [ sallied forth.
ALFRED & OTHERE.
ALFRED & OTHERE. , And there we hunted the walrus, The narwhale, and the seal.
ADERED & OTHERE, We killed of them threescore, And dragged them to the strand.
POCA UN. LAS.
A Late of Old birgmue.
The Antient music, arranged by B. Hobson Carroll.
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Come hither thou, our wing-édsteed, And fit thee for a _ flight, We meanto blow our oat -en reed On Yan-kee land to - night, To
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match in roy -al rhyming foot Where Raleigh learned, they say, Tosmoke the weed and rear the root We prize so high to - day.
Maycus Ward’s Royal Illuminated Legends.]
I
Come hither, thou, our wingéd steed,
And fit thee for a flight,
We mean to blow our oaten reed
On Yankee land to-night.
To march with royal rhyming foot,
Where Raleigh learned, they say,
To whiff the weed and raise the root
We prize so high to-day !
II.
Where all for her, his Virgin Queen,
The lands he called and claimed,—
Poor Raleigh !—how he closed his scene,
Needs hardly here be named!
He had his day, for good or ill,
Whereof remains, we know,
For good or ill, a remnant still—
Eh, pipe of mine ?—heigh-ho!
III.
Enough !—from him and his we pass,
Premising, by the way,
We're in the land where he, I guess,
Had been as safe to stay !
And from what’s “ ole Virginie,†now,
We pluck the veiling years,
Till young Virginia's savage brow
With all its scars appears!
IV.
And Jamestown Fort, and Captain Smith,
Arise upon our view,
Where English lads, of pluck and pith,
At times look rather blue!
For cold and want, and petty feuds,
And Indian treacherie,
Cut up with bloody interludes,
That infant colonie.
V.
Till, like some streak of tinted light,
That sheds a soothing sheen,
Where all is drear, or almost night,
An Indian maid is seen!
Young Pocahontas, she whose name
Like sunlight sheets our song—
I wot, along the aisles of Fame
That name hath journey’d long!
POCAHONTAS:
A TALE OF OLD VIRGINIE.
TOLD IN VERSE BY FRANCIS DAVIS.
VI.
A princess she, the fav’rite child
Of mighty Powhattan ;
Oh, ne’er, where flowers were bright as wild,
Was brighter seen by man!
But, Powhattan —ah, well ! we know,
From many a scraggy tree,
A pleasant bough, at times may grow
And blossom fair to see!
VII.
Old Pow kad ways, if one must tell,
“Good Templars†wont admire :
In sooth, such streams he loved too well
As largely smacked of fire !
Some other weaknesses he showed—
We call them such !—in fine,
He loved a vow; and, when he could,
On some fat friend to dine!
VIII.
In sooth, his love for human ham,
And morsels in that way,
Was such, or half we say’s but sham,
As, sometimes, stept astray—
And yet, as oft regained its feet,
By logic which implied,
That friendship never tastes so sweet,
As when the friend is fried /—
IX.
Which learntd view still suits a few,
In fifty forms to-day!
But, Jamestown Fort we've here anew,
Let’s view it on our way !
A rugged spot, this, sure enough,
And colonized, we see,
With smoother some, and some as rough
As soldiers well can be.
xX.
Brave fellows, though!—that Sergeant
A hero without guile, [Swaggs,
Though “not a man of boasts or brags !â€
Doth swear—right Flanders’ style!
“ Our Captain’s on a visit gone !â€
Quoth he, “ And, by—Pshaw !
If bring he not old ’Powhattan,
A pris’ner, beak and claw,
XI.
“Here’s Swaggs, to squelch the varmint
Whatever hour ye will !— [breed,
Ye know one, Swaggs? /Vot ye, indeed—
His courage or his skill!
Why, see, my mates! by all—well, no!
You're right ! I shall not swear!
But when in Holland—tally-ho !—
Ha! Swaggs was KNOWN ow/ there !â€
XII.
Well, valour is a gift, no doubt,
And easy to be borne ;
But if we wait to hear this out,
Our patience might be worn.
So, we the Indian village seek,
Where, lo! in his wig-wam,
The grand old chief, serene and sleek,
Hath dreams of human ham!
XIII.
Beside him sits his friend, a WHITE,
Tis Captain Smith, we know ;
And Pocahontas, young and bright,
There glideth to and fro!
Without, and red as rising day,
An Indian youth appears,
Who, by the way, in love, they say,
Is over head and ears.
XIV.
A fearful way, ’twould seem, to die ;
But taste, of course, is all!
J think, with Smith, we still should try
To give this Love the wall !
For oft gives he, with foul intent,
As to this youth we’ve seen,
Such sight as sees—if not askant—.
What poets mean by “green!†|
XV.
He seeth Smith, and, right or wrong,
His eye this green assumes,
Poor Smith ! for you it wont be long,
His Prairie Flower blooms!
He knows the tastes of Powhattan,
Of Pocahontas, too,—
He knows himself not quite the man
To suit the maiden’s view;
XVI.
And so he contemplates a roast
Of what, however good
As living man, when done as toast,
Should still be doubtful food.
So, Powhattan he whistles on—
“T’ll tell you what,†said he,
“T think we should link on the pan—
The fire’s not bad, I see!
XVII.
“For me, in fact, the thing is this—
I feel I need a snack ;
And think I see one, not amiss,
Along that white man’s neck !â€
“Qh, happy thought !†said Powhattan,
Be scorned, the recreant day,
When Powhattan shall, as a man,
Say ‘No!’ unto his ‘ Tay!â€
XVIII.
So, straightway, on his braves he calls,
And, closing half an eye,
“T think, if nicely done, in smalls,
Yon friend of ours should fry !â€
His braves a most approving nod
Upon their chief bestow,
And soon poor Smith, along the sod
Lies, waiting for the blow.
XIX,
And now, the clubs and tomahawks
Hang o’er the poor white man,
While, arms a-kimbo, stands or stalks,
Beside them, Powhattan.
The moment comes—the club is swung—
Is just about to fall,
When Pocahontas—oh, that tongue !
That bound—that maid—that all!
XX.
She flees, she shrieks, and shrieking flees,
And o’er the victim bends ;
And, shielding him, upon her knees,
Her arm the maid extends.
“With Pocahontas, as thou wilt,
Be done !†she sternly said ;
“But here is blood shall zot be spilt—
This white man’s heart is red /â€
POCAHONTAS: A TALE OF OLD VIRGINIE—Continued.
TOLD IN VERSE BY FRANCIS DAVIS.
XXI.
Poor girl! and could it be she loved
This haughty English knight?
If so, what then? hath he been proved
More lovely, in God’s sight ?
A knight was he !—an English knight!
God bless the mark—'tis grand !
But who was sHE? In her own light,
A Princess of the land !
XXII.
Away, away, with “if†and “and,â€
We hold that man is man,
Nor more, nor less, howe’er he stand,
With knight or Powhattan !
And so, old Pow—who loved his child,
Besides a friend, to grill,
With appetite a little wild—
Was somewhat human still.
XXIII.
“ Away !†said he, “we grant his life
To your misguided voice ;
You yet may be a white man’s wife—
To, maybe, rue your choice !â€
Thus sentimental Pow had grown 3
For us, we're not of mind,
In sentimental chat, alone,
To waste our honest wind!
XXIV.
So, turn to Jamestown Fort, I pray—
We can’t forget our friends !
Though on our way, I grieve to say,
Are awkward odds and ends.
For instance, Smith set free, we find,
Has wrought the Aeas despair:
They'll storm the Fort! Well, never mind,
One Sergeant Swaggs is there !
XXV.
We know he’ll meet them, one for ten,
At least, he swore he would ; f
And surely we, as trustful men,
Believe whate’er we should!
A noble night for war or spree!
The moon is out, and lo!
A silver punch-bow! might she be,
For aught our neighbours know—
XXVI.
She shines so bright—so silvery white,
While stars of richest sheen,
Like golden goblets, left and right,
Complete the jovial scene !
Less bright beneath, the Council sits,
But wheels the bottle, free,
’Mong chiefs and braves, while rolls, by fits,
Some huge-voiced melodie !
XXVII.
And though the chiefs had dressed in haste,
Each brain its worth made clear,
And not alone its worth, but ¢as¢e,
By aptly-regal gear !
And if some tastes dissentious be,
Our scullery bear the braid:
It aped to them our armourie,
On their most recent raid !
XXVIII.
Howe’er they’re there, in royal state,
As, witness their attire:
Their very helms—like one, of late—
Have been baptized with fire !
One brow from ’neath a saucepan beams,
Whose handle brooks it well ;
If z¢ but act the horn it seems,
Queer news it yet may tell !
XXIX.
Another wears what horns he may ;
But royal Powhattan—
A broth-pot, grandly stuffed with hay,
Reveals the kingly man !
Well, what are they—or what are we—
As shaped by time and tide?
Oh, could we see through wall or tree,
There might be less to chide!
XXX.
For trees, as well as wad/s, have ears ;
And every evil vow,
Perhaps, some Pocahontas hears,
As doth that maiden now!
But strangers we to King and Court,
*Twere best to move our legs ;
And, now behold, we're at the Fort,
And here’s our noble Swaggs !
XXXI.
He sniffs a something in the wind—
Ah, well, he’s well prepared ;
O’er one to fear so bravely blind,
Our pity may be spared !
And still he straineth with those eyes,
Whene’er the branches shake,
Ye’d think his hair had tried to rise,
To keep itself awake !
XXXII.
A sound there steals along the gale—
The sound of sudden feet—
I did not think this Swaggs so pale,
When first our fate to meet!
Ah, well, at night, these northern airs
Are bleaching things, we know,
But Courage kills a thousand cares—
Now, Swaggs !—Ho-ho ! Ho-ho !
XXXIII.
In vain—in vain ! he’s down like lead,
His feet are in the air ;
The man—he surely is not dead !
Whatever dropped him there ?
Behold, a red-skinned face there nears
The Fort, or outer wall—
*Tis Pocahontas’ self appears—
A maiden, after all !
XXXIV.
Brave Swages he saw, and bravely thought
The Indians were around,
And how they might be better fought,
He'd gather from the ground.
Well, poets, some, I’ve heard them say,
Their jingles string in bed ;
And may not Swaggs, as érave as they,
For study plank his head ?
XXXV.
I know not did he e’er explain
What form of fight he planned ;
But if he did my craven brain
Could hardly understand !
I only know, had / been Swaggs,
And dreams of danger there,
Td, likely, too, have used my legs,
But—scarce so high in air!
XXXVL
Howe'er, ’tis Pocahontas stands,
And soon her tale is told :
She telleth of the angry bands
About to storm the hold ;
But Smith was not to be outdone
By Indian craft or guile—
The tale through many a stave might run—
Alternate tear and smile !
XXXVII.
But many staves, like many books,
Are weariness of brain ;
So, many moons have crossed the brooks,
Yet Jamestown doth remain.
Yea, more, one eve, it looked as bright
As any English scene—
For Pocahontas, to a WHITE,
That morning wed had been!
XXXVIII.
And many a reeking pipe and dram
Went round both maid and man,
With never a sigh for human ham
From crump, old Powhattan !
From early morn till late at night,
They frisked it, heel and toe—
The bride, to Sergeant Swaggs’ delight,
Still timing with her bow.
XXXIX.
But Smith’s not there—some English bow’r
For him some white rose bore ;
Though well he knew our prairie flow’r
Had loved him in her core !
And lo! in London when they met,
In long, long after years,
How oft her paling bloom was wet,
With true soul’s chastest tears !
XL.
For though our tale, from Fancy’s wing,
Some tinted down displays,
The beauteous Indian maid we sing,
Once charmed the London gaze !
Ta Belle Sauvage !†there found she rest,
Oh, softly sleep may she!
And, radiant as the golden west,
Be flower’d her memorie !
POCAHONTAS. “Our Captain's on a visit gone!†Quoth he, “And, by
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POCAHONTAS. But here is blood shalt not be sprli— The white man’s heart ts red!
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POCAHONTAS. They frisked it heel and toe,
THE
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Or the Enchanted Palace.
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Marcus Wirds KoyalMuminated Legends.
THE SLEEPING BEAUTY; OR, THE ENCHANTED PALACE.
BY ALFRED TENNYSON.
Printed by permission of the Publishers, Messrs. Strahan & Co.
Tue SLEepinc Pavace.
THE varying year with blade and sheaf
Clothes and reclothes the happy plains ;
Here rests the sap within the leaf,
Here stays the blood along the veins.
Faint shadows, vapours lightly curl’d,
Faint murmurs from the meadows come,
Like hints and echoes of the world
To spirits folded in the womb.
Soft lustre bathes the range of urns
On every slanting terrace-lawn.
The fountain to his place returns,
Deep in the garden lake withdrawn.
Here droops the banner on the tower,
On the hall-hearths the festal fires,
The peacock in his laurel bower,
The parrot in his gilded wires.
Roof-haunting martins warm their eggs:
In these, in those the life is stay’d,
The mantles from the golden pegs
Droop sleepily : no sound is made,
Not even of a gnat that sings.
More like a picture seemeth all
Than those old portraits of old kings,
That watch the sleepers from the wall.
Here sits the butler with a flask
Between his knees, half drain’d; and there
The wrinkled steward at his task,
The maid-of-honour blooming fair :
Marcus Warad’s Royal Illuminated Legends.]
The page has caught her hand in his:
Her lips are sever’d as to speak :
His own are pouted to a kiss:
The blush is fix’d upon her cheek.
Till all the hundred summers pass,
The beams, that thro’ the Oriel shine,
Make prisms in every carven glass,
And beaker brimm’d with noble wine.
Each baron at the banquet sleeps,
Grave faces gather’d in a ring.
His state the king reposing keeps.
He must have been a jovial king.
All round a hedge upshoots and shows
At distance like a little wood ;
Thorns, ivies, woodbine, misletoes,
And grapes with bunches red as blood;
All creeping plants, a wall of green
Close-matted, bur and brake and brier,
And glimpsing over these, just seen,
High up, the topmost palace-spire.
When will the hundred summers die,
And thought and time be born again,
And newer knowledge, drawing nigh,
Bring truth that sways the soul of men ?
Here all things in their place remain,
As all were order’d, ages since.
Come, Care and Pleasure, Hope and Pain,
And bring the fated fairy Prince.
Tue SLEEPING BEauty.
Year after year unto her feet,
She lying on her couch alone,
Across the purpled coverlet,
The maiden’s jet-black hair has grown,
On either side her tranced form
Forth streaming from a braid of pearl:
The slumbrous light is rich and warm, .
And moves not on the rounded curi.,
The silk star-broider’d coverlid
Unto her limbs itself doth mould
Languidly ever; and, amid
Her full black ringlets downward roll’d,
Glows forth each softly-shadow’d arm
With bracelets of the diamond bright:
Her constant beauty doth inform
Stillness with love, and day with light. |
She sleeps: her breathings are not heard
In palace chambers far apart.
The fragrant tresses are not stirred
That lie upon her charmed heart:
She sleeps: on either hand upswells
The gold fringed pillow lightly prest :
She sleeps, nor dreams, but ever dwells
A perfect form in perfect rest.
THE SLEEPING BEAUTY; OR, THE ENCHANTED PALACE—Continued,
BY ALFRED TENNYSON.
Printed by permission of the Publishers, Messrs. Strahan & Co,
Tue ARRIVAL.
All precious things, discover’d late,
To those that seek them issue forth ;
For love in sequel works with fate,
And draws the veil from hidden worth.
He travels far from other skies—
His mantle glitters on the rocks—
A Fairy Prince with joyful eyes,
And lighter-footed than the fox.
The bodies and the bones of those
That strove in other days to pass,
Are wither’d in the thorny close,
Or scatter’d blanching on the grass.
He gazes on the silent dead:
“ They perish’d in their daring deeds.â€
This proverb flashes thro’ his head,
“The many fail: the one succeeds.â€
He comes, scarce knowing what he seeks:
He breaks the hedge: he enters there:
The colour flies into his cheeks :
He trusts to light on something fair ;
For all his life the charm did talk
About his path, and hover near
With words of promise in his walk,
And whisper’d voices at his ear.
More close and close his footsteps wind :
The Magic Music in his heart
Beats quick and quicker, till he find
The quiet chamber far apart.
His spirit flutters like a lark,
He stoops—to kiss her—on his knee.
“ Love, if thy tresses be so dark,
How dark those hidden eyes must be
Marcus Ward's Royal IMlumtnated Legends.]
?
Tue ReEvIvAL.
A touch, a kiss! the charm was snapt.
There rose a noise of striking clocks,
And feet that ran, and doors that clapt,
And barking dogs, and crowing cocks ;
A fuller light illumined all,
A breeze thro’ all the garden swept,
A sudden hubbub shook the hall,
And sixty feet the fountain leapt.
The hedge broke in, the banner blew,
The butler drank, the steward scrawl’d,
The fire shot up, the martin flew,
The parrot scream’d, the peacock squall’d,
The maid and page renew’d their strife,
The palace bang’d, and buzz’d, and clackt,
And all the long-pent stream of life
Dash’d downward in a cataract.
_ And last with these the king awoke,
And in his chair himself uprear’d,
And yawn’d, and rubb’d his face, and spoke,
“ By holy rood, a royal beard!
How say you ? we have slept, my lords,
My beard has grown into my lap.â€
The barons swore, with many words,
*T was but an after-dinner’s nap.
“ Pardy,†return’d the king, “but still
My joints are something stiff or so.
My lord, and shall we pass the bill
I mention’d half an hour ago ?â€
The chancellor, sedate and vain,
In courteous words return’d reply:
But dallied with his golden chain,
And, smiling, put the question by.
Tue DEPARTURE.
And on her lover’s arm she leant,
And round her waist she felt it fold,
And far across the hills they went
In that new world which is the old:
Across the hills, and far away
Beyond their utmost purple rim,
And deep into the dying day
The happy Princess follow’d him.
“I'd sleep another hundred years,
O, love, for such another kiss ;â€
“O wake for ever, love,†she hears,
“QO, love, ’twas such as this and this.â€
And o’er them many a sliding star,
And many a merry wind was borne,
And, stream’d through many a golden bar,
The twilight melted into morn.
“ O, eyes long laid in happy sleep!â€
“QO, happy sleep, that lightly fled!â€
“O, happy kiss, that woke thy sleep!â€
“O, love, thy kiss would wake the dead!â€
And o’er them many a flowing range
Of vapour buoy’d the crescent bark,
And, rapt thro’ many a rosy change,
~The twilight died into the dark,
“ A hundred summers! can it be ?
And whither goest thou, tell me where?â€
“O seek my father’s court with me,
For there are greater wonders there.â€
And o’er the hills, and far away
Beyond their utmost purple rim,
Beyond the night, across the day,
Thro’ all the world she follow’d him.
THE SLEEPING BEAUTY.
THE SLEEPING BEAUTY. The page has caught her hand in his: Her lips are sever'd as to speak.
THE SLEEPING BEAUTY. lis ie flutters like a lark, He stoops—to kiss her—on his knee.
A touch, a kiss! the charm was snapt. There rose a nowse of striking clocks.
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THE SLEEPING BEAUTY. And last with these the king awoke, And in his chair himself uprear'd.
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AYS AND LEGEN DS:
CONTAINING THE AUTHENTIC VERSIONS OF
Lady Ounctdelte and Lord Lovelle, King Alfred and-
Othere Pocahontas, or La Belle Sauvage; ana Lhe
Sleeping Beauty, or The Enchanted Patace.
Told in Verse, and
set to appropriate Music.
Twenty-four Plates,
in Colors and Gold.
LONDON: MARCUS WARD & CO., 67, CHANDOS STREET, COVENT GARDEN ;
Anp ROYAL ULSTER WORKS, BELFAST.
ENGRAVED AND PRINTED
By MARCUS WARD AND CO,,
ROYAL ULSTER WORKS,
BELFAST.
PARTICULARS OF THE PLATES.
oo rec iec-:
Lay Ouneebelle
Plate 1.—So fare-thee-well, Ladye Ouncébelle,
For I must needs be gone.
Plate 2.—The ace of hearts, like an hundred darts,
One night went through his brain.
Plate 3.—Then he called unto his little black dwarf,
To saddle his milk-white steed.
Plate 4.—“ Why sittest thou there, thou grave old man,
When the bells have such a tone ?â€
Plate 5.—Lord Lovel then drew his rapier bright,
And his true heart through did run !
Plate 6.—There ever a weeping waif he sat,
When the old King came that way.
Ring Alfred and Othere,
Plate 1.—Othere, the old sea-captain,
Who dwelt in Helgoland.
Plate 2.—I ploughed the land with horses,
But my heart was ill at ease.
Plate 3.—So at last I sallied forth.
Plate 4.—Round in a fiery ring
Went the great sun, O, King.
Plate 5.—And there we hunted the walrus,
The narwhale, and the seal.
Plate 6.—We killed of them threescore,
And dragged them to the strand.
Pocahontas.
Plate 1.— Our Captain’s on a visit gone !â€
Quoth he, “ And, by Pshaw.â€
Plate 2.—Beside him sits his friend, a White,
*Tis Captain Smith, we know.
Plate 3.—But here is blood shall not be spilt—
The white man’s heart is red !
Plate 4.—For trees, as well as walls, have ears.
Plate 5.—She telleth of the angry bands,
About to storm the hold.
Plate 6.—From early morn till late at night,
They frisked it heel and toe.
The Aleening WGeauty.
Plate 1.—He comes, scarce knowing what he seeks ;
He breaks the hedge: he enters there.
Plate 2.—The page has caught her hand in his :
Her lips are'sever’d as to speak.
Plate 3.—His spirit flutters like a lark,
He stoops—to kiss her—on his knee.
Plate 4.—A touch, a kiss! the charm was snapt.
There rose a noise of striking clocks.
Plate 5.—And last with these the King awoke,
And in his chair himself uprear’d.
Plate 6.—Beyond the night, across the day,
Thro’ all the world she follow’d him.
The Pathetic Ballad of
LADY OUNCEBELLE
And Toya Lovel
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Vearcus iiards Koyal.Muminated Legends.
LADY OUNCEBELLE AND LORD LOVEL,
I.
Lorp Lovet, a gay and comely knight,
Of Roxburgshire was he;
Oh, the feet were light of his steed so white,
As, singing, he crossed the lea :
II.
“ Fair, fair are the dames of London town,
Full many a knight doth tell ;
But a fairer, far, is my own true love—
She’s the Ladye Ouncébelle!â€
III.
Then out bespoke his little black dwarf,
Who followed through thick and thin,
“If none be so fair in London town,
They’d, maybe, be worse to win!â€
IV.
“ Now, hold thy tongue, thou little black
dwarf,
For when I have crossed the lea,
And bidden farewell to my Ouncébelle,
These London dames we'll see.â€
Vv.
So he rode, and rode, and ever he rode,
Till the Pentland hills, so high,
Then the castle of Ladye Ouncébelle
He clearly did espy.
VI.
The Ladye Ouncébelle looked forth,
From her gay, green bower looked she;
“ Oh, yonder’s my own true love,†she said,
« And he’s coming to marry me!â€
VII.
Lord Lovel said unto his little black dwarf,
“Comb thou my white steed’s mane,
And give him breath, with a loosened graith,
- Until I come back again.â€
Marcus Ward’s Royal Illuminated Legends.]
TOLD ANEW IN VERSE BY Francis Davis.
VIII.
Lord Lovel has kissed his own true love,
Till the tear stood in her eye;
For, with every kiss, he lightly said,
““Ladye Ouncébelle, good-bye !â€
IX.
“Oh, where art thou going â€â€”she sighed
and said—
“ My dearest one, tell to me ?â€
“ Oh, a far, far journey I must go,
Some countries strange to see!
X.
“So fare-thee-well, Ladye Ouncébelle,
For I must needs be gone;
This time two years, we'll meet again,
When our partings shall be done.
XI.
“Oh,that’salong time, Lord Lovel,†she said,
“To leave a poor Ladye alone!â€
“So it is—so it is—Lady Ouncébelle ;
But, then, I must needs be gone!â€
XII.
Then, a jewel she loosed from her snow-
white neck,
"Twas of gold and diamond shine—
“Take this little heart, Lord Lovel,†she said,
“ And, seeing it, think on mine!â€
XIII.
Then called he unto his little black dwarf,
To saddle his milk-white steed—
Hey down, hey down, hey derry, hey down—
I wish my Lord Lovel good speed!
XIV.
So he rode, and rode, and ever he rode,
The Fells o’ Westmoreland through ;
Nor ever he staid till in London town
His white steed’s rein he drew.
XV.
Oh, he had not been in fair London town
For more than half a year,
Till his cards and wine and the London
dames
Were his only pleasant cheer.
XVI.
And his cheek grew thin, and his gold took
wings,
And his midnight mates the gain,
Till the ace of hearts, like an hundred darts,
One night went through his brain.
XVII.
For he thought of the diamond heart she
gave
To keep her own in his mind—
“Oh, that diamond heart I have lost,†he
sighed,
“ But a better hath she behind!â€
XVIII.
And the little black dwarf began to muse
On his master’s altered air ;
And the queerest thoughts came into his
A-back o’ Lord Lovel’s chair. [| mind,
XIX.
And “TI wonder,†he said, as he hugged his
“Tf this jolliment every night, —_[head,
With thecards and wine, since it pales himso,
Wouldn’t turn a poor darkie white ?â€
LADY OUNCEBELLE AND LORD LOVEL—Continued.
XX.
But that little black dwarf grew blacker, I
ween,
And with more of a wondering air,
When Lord Lovel arose, at that long night’s
And whispereda drunken pray’r; _[close,
XI.
For he saw, in his mind, old Roxburghshire,
With each beautiful dale and dell ;
And his thoughts flew over the Selkirk braes
To the Ladye Ouncebelle!
XXII.
So he had not been in London town
Much more than half a year,
When a longing wish he felt to see
The Ladye without a peer.
XXIII.
Then he called unto his little black dwarf,
To saddle his milk-white steed—
Hey down, hey down, hey derry, hey down—
I wish my Lord Lovel good speed!
XXIV.
So he rode, and rode, and ever he rode,
Till Carlisle he was fairly through ;
Nor ever he staid till among the hills
Where the heather of Scotland grew.
XXV.
Oh, in Scotland fair he had not been
For more than half a day, [ring,
‘Till he heard the bells of the High Church
And they rung with a great affray.
XXVI.
Then he turned to a grave, old gentleman
Who sat there all alone— |man,
“Why sittest thou there, thou grave old
When the bells have such a tone ?â€
Marcus Ward's Royal Iluminated Legends.}
ToLD ANEW IN VERSE BY Francis Davis.
XXVIL
“Why, marrie,†quoth he, “I sit because
I’m attached to my ‘ Easy Chair,
Where cattle and cabbage I’ve ever at hand
That there’s manya knight should share!â€
XXVIII.
“ Now, woe be to thee, thou vile old man,
For this thy reckless tone;
But why do the High Church bells ring so,
And the ladies make such a moan ?â€
;
XXIX.
“The King’s fayre daughter is dead,†said
he—
“Her name, Ladye Ouncébelle :
. She died for love of a false, false Knight,
His name it was Lord Lovelle.â€
XXX,
Lord Lovel he groaned, and he smote his
brow,
And with death-pale cheek sped he,
Till he knelt by the Ladye’s bier, ’mong all
That sorrowful companie !
XXXII.
The lid of the coffin he opened up,
And the linens that wrapt her roun’;
And ever he kissed her pale, pale lips,
While the tears came tumbling down.
XXXII.
“Oh, well may I kiss those pale, pale lips,
For they'll never kiss mine, or me;
But I'll make a vow, and I'll keep it true,
That Tl never kiss one but thee !
XXXIIL
“We've met—we ve met, Ladye Ouncébelle,
And our parting shall be done!â€
Lord Lovel then drew his rapier bright,
And his true heart through did run!
XXXIV. :
Ladye Ouncébelle died on the yesterday,
Lord Lovel died on the morrow ;
Ladye Ouncébelle died of pure, true love,
Lord Lovel of true heart-sorrow.
XXXV.
Ladye Ouncébelle she in the High Church
Lord Lovel he lies in the choir; __[lies,
Ladye Ouncébelle’s tomb, from it sprang a
white rose,
From Lord Lovel’s a branch of sweet-
brier.
XXXVI.
They grew, they grew to the top of the
church,
And when they no higher could grow,
There twined they into a true lover's knot,
And, joined together, grew so! |
XXXVI.
And when long, long years were past and
gone,
And the little black dwarf was grey,
There ever a weeping waif he sat
When the old King came that way.
XXXVIII.
And ever he hummed in a rueful tone,
With his knee drawn near his chin—
“Woe, woe to the day when of London
dames
I said they’d be hard to win!â€
LADY OUN CEBELLE. } | fare-thee-well, Ladye Ouncibelle Fug I must ised be Bye
ht went through his brain.
One ni
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LADY OUNCEBELLE.
LADY OUNCEBELLE. oe | 0) jen he called unto his little black dwarf, To saddle his milk-white steed,
LADY OUNCEBELLE. “Why settest thou there, thou grave old man, When the bells have such a tone ?â€
/
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Lord Lovel then drew his rapier bright, and his true heart through did run !
LADY OUNCEBELLE.
DY OUNCEBELLE. There ever a weeping waif he sat, When the old King came that way.
KING ALFRED AND OTHERE
(The Discoverer of the North Cape).
By H. W. LONGFELLOW,
Issued in the United States by kind permission of Messrs. J. R. Oscoop & Co., Publishers.
Moderato.
Music composed by B. Hobson Carroll.
Poetry by Longfellow.
Fine.
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To King Al- fred, the Lov-er of Truth,
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Marcus Ward’s Royal Illuminated Legends.]
KING ALFRED AND OTHERE. THE DISCOVERER OF THE NORTH CAPE.
BY H. W. LONGFELLOW.
Issued in the United States by kind permission of Messrs. ¥. R. Osgood & Co., Publishers.
I.
OTHERE, the old sea-captain,
Who dwelt in Helgoland,
To King Alfred, the Lover of Truth,
Brought a snow-white walrus-tooth,
Which he held in his brown right hand.
IT.
His figure was tall and stately,
Like a boy’s his eye appeared ;
His hair was yellow as hay,
But threads of a silvery grey
Gleamed in his tawny beard,
III.
Hearty and hale was Othere,
His cheek had the colour of oak;
With a kind ‘of laugh in his speech,
Like the sea-tide on a beach,
As unto the King he spoke.
IV.
And Alfred, King of the Saxons,
Had a book upon his knees,
And wrote down the wondrous tale
Of him who was first to sail
Into the Arctic seas.
V.
“So far I live to the northward,
No man lives north of me;
To the east are wild mountain-chains,
And beyond them meres and plains ;
To the westward all is sea.
VI.
“So far I live to the northward,
From the harbour of Skeringes-hale,
If you only sailed by day,
With a fair wind all the way,
More than a month would you sail.
VII.
*T own six hundred rein-deer,
With sheep and swine beside;
I have tribute from the Finns,
Whalebone and reindeer-skins,
And ropes of walrus-hide.
Vil.
“TI ploughed the land with horses,
But my heart was ill at ease,
For the old seafaring men
Came to me now and then,
With their sagas of the seas ;—
IX.
“ Of Iceland and of Greenland,
And the stormy Hebrides,
And the undiscovered deep ;—
I could not eat nor sleep
For thinking of those seas.
X.
“To the northward stretched the desert,
How far I fain would know;
So at last I sallied forth,
And three days sailed due north,
As far as the whale-ships go.
XI.
“To the west of me was the ocean,
To the right the desolate shore,
But I did not slacken sail
For the walrus or the whale,
Till after three days more.
XII.
“The days grew longer and longer,
Till they became as one,
And southward through the haze
I saw the sullen blaze
Of the red midnight sun.
KING ALFRED AND OTHERE, THE DISCOVERER OF THE NORTH CAPE—Continued.
BY H. W. LONGFELLOW.
Issued tn the United States by kind permission of Messrs. $. R. Osgood & Co., Publishers.
XIII.
“ And then uprose before me,
Upon the water’s edge,
The huge and haggard shape
Of that unknown North Cape,
Whose form is like a wedge.
XIV.
“The sea was rough and stormy,
The tempest howled and wailed,
And the sea-fog, like a ghost,
Haunted that dreary coast,
But onward still I sailed.
XV.
“Four days I steered to eastward—
Four days without a night:
Round in a fiery ring
Went the great sun, O, King,
With red and lurid light.â€
XVI.
Here Alfred, King of the Saxons,
Ceased writing for a while;
And raised his eyes from his book,
With a strange and puzzled look
And an incredulous smile.
XVII.
But Othere, the old sea-captain,
He neither paused nor stirred,
Till the King listened, and then
Once more took up his pen
And wrote down every word.
XVIII.
* And now the land,†said Othere,
“ Bent southward suddenly,
And I followed the curving shore,
And ever southward bore
Into a nameless sea.
XIX,
“ And there we hunted the walrus,
The narwhale, and the seal ;
Ha! ’twas a noble game!
And like the lightning’s flame
Flew our harpoons of steel.
XX.
“ There were six of us altogether,
Norsemen of Helgoland ;
In two days and no more
We killed of them threescore,
And dragged them to the strand.
XXI.
Here Alfred, the Truth-Teller,
Suddenly closed his book,
And lifted his blue eyes,
With doubt and strange surmise
Depicted in their look.
XXII
And Othere, the old sea-captain,
Stared at him wild and weird,
Then smiled, till his shining teeth
Gleamed white from underneath
His tawny, quivering beard.
XXIII.
And to the King of the Saxons,
In witness of the truth,
Raising his noble head,
He stretched his brown hand, and said,
“ Behold this walrus-tooth !â€
ALFRED & OTHERE. Othere, the old sea-captain, Who dwelt in Helgoland.
ALFRED & OTHERE. l ploughed the land with horses, But my heart was ill at ease.
ae ea
/ INS
ALFRED & OTHERE. So at last [ sallied forth.
ALFRED & OTHERE.
ALFRED & OTHERE. , And there we hunted the walrus, The narwhale, and the seal.
ADERED & OTHERE, We killed of them threescore, And dragged them to the strand.
POCA UN. LAS.
A Late of Old birgmue.
The Antient music, arranged by B. Hobson Carroll.
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Come hither thou, our wing-édsteed, And fit thee for a _ flight, We meanto blow our oat -en reed On Yan-kee land to - night, To
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match in roy -al rhyming foot Where Raleigh learned, they say, Tosmoke the weed and rear the root We prize so high to - day.
Maycus Ward’s Royal Illuminated Legends.]
I
Come hither, thou, our wingéd steed,
And fit thee for a flight,
We mean to blow our oaten reed
On Yankee land to-night.
To march with royal rhyming foot,
Where Raleigh learned, they say,
To whiff the weed and raise the root
We prize so high to-day !
II.
Where all for her, his Virgin Queen,
The lands he called and claimed,—
Poor Raleigh !—how he closed his scene,
Needs hardly here be named!
He had his day, for good or ill,
Whereof remains, we know,
For good or ill, a remnant still—
Eh, pipe of mine ?—heigh-ho!
III.
Enough !—from him and his we pass,
Premising, by the way,
We're in the land where he, I guess,
Had been as safe to stay !
And from what’s “ ole Virginie,†now,
We pluck the veiling years,
Till young Virginia's savage brow
With all its scars appears!
IV.
And Jamestown Fort, and Captain Smith,
Arise upon our view,
Where English lads, of pluck and pith,
At times look rather blue!
For cold and want, and petty feuds,
And Indian treacherie,
Cut up with bloody interludes,
That infant colonie.
V.
Till, like some streak of tinted light,
That sheds a soothing sheen,
Where all is drear, or almost night,
An Indian maid is seen!
Young Pocahontas, she whose name
Like sunlight sheets our song—
I wot, along the aisles of Fame
That name hath journey’d long!
POCAHONTAS:
A TALE OF OLD VIRGINIE.
TOLD IN VERSE BY FRANCIS DAVIS.
VI.
A princess she, the fav’rite child
Of mighty Powhattan ;
Oh, ne’er, where flowers were bright as wild,
Was brighter seen by man!
But, Powhattan —ah, well ! we know,
From many a scraggy tree,
A pleasant bough, at times may grow
And blossom fair to see!
VII.
Old Pow kad ways, if one must tell,
“Good Templars†wont admire :
In sooth, such streams he loved too well
As largely smacked of fire !
Some other weaknesses he showed—
We call them such !—in fine,
He loved a vow; and, when he could,
On some fat friend to dine!
VIII.
In sooth, his love for human ham,
And morsels in that way,
Was such, or half we say’s but sham,
As, sometimes, stept astray—
And yet, as oft regained its feet,
By logic which implied,
That friendship never tastes so sweet,
As when the friend is fried /—
IX.
Which learntd view still suits a few,
In fifty forms to-day!
But, Jamestown Fort we've here anew,
Let’s view it on our way !
A rugged spot, this, sure enough,
And colonized, we see,
With smoother some, and some as rough
As soldiers well can be.
xX.
Brave fellows, though!—that Sergeant
A hero without guile, [Swaggs,
Though “not a man of boasts or brags !â€
Doth swear—right Flanders’ style!
“ Our Captain’s on a visit gone !â€
Quoth he, “ And, by—Pshaw !
If bring he not old ’Powhattan,
A pris’ner, beak and claw,
XI.
“Here’s Swaggs, to squelch the varmint
Whatever hour ye will !— [breed,
Ye know one, Swaggs? /Vot ye, indeed—
His courage or his skill!
Why, see, my mates! by all—well, no!
You're right ! I shall not swear!
But when in Holland—tally-ho !—
Ha! Swaggs was KNOWN ow/ there !â€
XII.
Well, valour is a gift, no doubt,
And easy to be borne ;
But if we wait to hear this out,
Our patience might be worn.
So, we the Indian village seek,
Where, lo! in his wig-wam,
The grand old chief, serene and sleek,
Hath dreams of human ham!
XIII.
Beside him sits his friend, a WHITE,
Tis Captain Smith, we know ;
And Pocahontas, young and bright,
There glideth to and fro!
Without, and red as rising day,
An Indian youth appears,
Who, by the way, in love, they say,
Is over head and ears.
XIV.
A fearful way, ’twould seem, to die ;
But taste, of course, is all!
J think, with Smith, we still should try
To give this Love the wall !
For oft gives he, with foul intent,
As to this youth we’ve seen,
Such sight as sees—if not askant—.
What poets mean by “green!†|
XV.
He seeth Smith, and, right or wrong,
His eye this green assumes,
Poor Smith ! for you it wont be long,
His Prairie Flower blooms!
He knows the tastes of Powhattan,
Of Pocahontas, too,—
He knows himself not quite the man
To suit the maiden’s view;
XVI.
And so he contemplates a roast
Of what, however good
As living man, when done as toast,
Should still be doubtful food.
So, Powhattan he whistles on—
“T’ll tell you what,†said he,
“T think we should link on the pan—
The fire’s not bad, I see!
XVII.
“For me, in fact, the thing is this—
I feel I need a snack ;
And think I see one, not amiss,
Along that white man’s neck !â€
“Qh, happy thought !†said Powhattan,
Be scorned, the recreant day,
When Powhattan shall, as a man,
Say ‘No!’ unto his ‘ Tay!â€
XVIII.
So, straightway, on his braves he calls,
And, closing half an eye,
“T think, if nicely done, in smalls,
Yon friend of ours should fry !â€
His braves a most approving nod
Upon their chief bestow,
And soon poor Smith, along the sod
Lies, waiting for the blow.
XIX,
And now, the clubs and tomahawks
Hang o’er the poor white man,
While, arms a-kimbo, stands or stalks,
Beside them, Powhattan.
The moment comes—the club is swung—
Is just about to fall,
When Pocahontas—oh, that tongue !
That bound—that maid—that all!
XX.
She flees, she shrieks, and shrieking flees,
And o’er the victim bends ;
And, shielding him, upon her knees,
Her arm the maid extends.
“With Pocahontas, as thou wilt,
Be done !†she sternly said ;
“But here is blood shall zot be spilt—
This white man’s heart is red /â€
POCAHONTAS: A TALE OF OLD VIRGINIE—Continued.
TOLD IN VERSE BY FRANCIS DAVIS.
XXI.
Poor girl! and could it be she loved
This haughty English knight?
If so, what then? hath he been proved
More lovely, in God’s sight ?
A knight was he !—an English knight!
God bless the mark—'tis grand !
But who was sHE? In her own light,
A Princess of the land !
XXII.
Away, away, with “if†and “and,â€
We hold that man is man,
Nor more, nor less, howe’er he stand,
With knight or Powhattan !
And so, old Pow—who loved his child,
Besides a friend, to grill,
With appetite a little wild—
Was somewhat human still.
XXIII.
“ Away !†said he, “we grant his life
To your misguided voice ;
You yet may be a white man’s wife—
To, maybe, rue your choice !â€
Thus sentimental Pow had grown 3
For us, we're not of mind,
In sentimental chat, alone,
To waste our honest wind!
XXIV.
So, turn to Jamestown Fort, I pray—
We can’t forget our friends !
Though on our way, I grieve to say,
Are awkward odds and ends.
For instance, Smith set free, we find,
Has wrought the Aeas despair:
They'll storm the Fort! Well, never mind,
One Sergeant Swaggs is there !
XXV.
We know he’ll meet them, one for ten,
At least, he swore he would ; f
And surely we, as trustful men,
Believe whate’er we should!
A noble night for war or spree!
The moon is out, and lo!
A silver punch-bow! might she be,
For aught our neighbours know—
XXVI.
She shines so bright—so silvery white,
While stars of richest sheen,
Like golden goblets, left and right,
Complete the jovial scene !
Less bright beneath, the Council sits,
But wheels the bottle, free,
’Mong chiefs and braves, while rolls, by fits,
Some huge-voiced melodie !
XXVII.
And though the chiefs had dressed in haste,
Each brain its worth made clear,
And not alone its worth, but ¢as¢e,
By aptly-regal gear !
And if some tastes dissentious be,
Our scullery bear the braid:
It aped to them our armourie,
On their most recent raid !
XXVIII.
Howe’er they’re there, in royal state,
As, witness their attire:
Their very helms—like one, of late—
Have been baptized with fire !
One brow from ’neath a saucepan beams,
Whose handle brooks it well ;
If z¢ but act the horn it seems,
Queer news it yet may tell !
XXIX.
Another wears what horns he may ;
But royal Powhattan—
A broth-pot, grandly stuffed with hay,
Reveals the kingly man !
Well, what are they—or what are we—
As shaped by time and tide?
Oh, could we see through wall or tree,
There might be less to chide!
XXX.
For trees, as well as wad/s, have ears ;
And every evil vow,
Perhaps, some Pocahontas hears,
As doth that maiden now!
But strangers we to King and Court,
*Twere best to move our legs ;
And, now behold, we're at the Fort,
And here’s our noble Swaggs !
XXXI.
He sniffs a something in the wind—
Ah, well, he’s well prepared ;
O’er one to fear so bravely blind,
Our pity may be spared !
And still he straineth with those eyes,
Whene’er the branches shake,
Ye’d think his hair had tried to rise,
To keep itself awake !
XXXII.
A sound there steals along the gale—
The sound of sudden feet—
I did not think this Swaggs so pale,
When first our fate to meet!
Ah, well, at night, these northern airs
Are bleaching things, we know,
But Courage kills a thousand cares—
Now, Swaggs !—Ho-ho ! Ho-ho !
XXXIII.
In vain—in vain ! he’s down like lead,
His feet are in the air ;
The man—he surely is not dead !
Whatever dropped him there ?
Behold, a red-skinned face there nears
The Fort, or outer wall—
*Tis Pocahontas’ self appears—
A maiden, after all !
XXXIV.
Brave Swages he saw, and bravely thought
The Indians were around,
And how they might be better fought,
He'd gather from the ground.
Well, poets, some, I’ve heard them say,
Their jingles string in bed ;
And may not Swaggs, as érave as they,
For study plank his head ?
XXXV.
I know not did he e’er explain
What form of fight he planned ;
But if he did my craven brain
Could hardly understand !
I only know, had / been Swaggs,
And dreams of danger there,
Td, likely, too, have used my legs,
But—scarce so high in air!
XXXVL
Howe'er, ’tis Pocahontas stands,
And soon her tale is told :
She telleth of the angry bands
About to storm the hold ;
But Smith was not to be outdone
By Indian craft or guile—
The tale through many a stave might run—
Alternate tear and smile !
XXXVII.
But many staves, like many books,
Are weariness of brain ;
So, many moons have crossed the brooks,
Yet Jamestown doth remain.
Yea, more, one eve, it looked as bright
As any English scene—
For Pocahontas, to a WHITE,
That morning wed had been!
XXXVIII.
And many a reeking pipe and dram
Went round both maid and man,
With never a sigh for human ham
From crump, old Powhattan !
From early morn till late at night,
They frisked it, heel and toe—
The bride, to Sergeant Swaggs’ delight,
Still timing with her bow.
XXXIX.
But Smith’s not there—some English bow’r
For him some white rose bore ;
Though well he knew our prairie flow’r
Had loved him in her core !
And lo! in London when they met,
In long, long after years,
How oft her paling bloom was wet,
With true soul’s chastest tears !
XL.
For though our tale, from Fancy’s wing,
Some tinted down displays,
The beauteous Indian maid we sing,
Once charmed the London gaze !
Ta Belle Sauvage !†there found she rest,
Oh, softly sleep may she!
And, radiant as the golden west,
Be flower’d her memorie !
POCAHONTAS. “Our Captain's on a visit gone!†Quoth he, “And, by
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Beside him sits his friend, a White,’ Tis Captain Smith, we know.
POCAHONTAS.
POCAHONTAS. But here is blood shalt not be sprli— The white man’s heart ts red!
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- POCAHONTAS She telleth of the angry bands, About to storm the hold.
POCAHONTAS. They frisked it heel and toe,
THE
se ih PNG BEAUTY:
Or the Enchanted Palace.
MWlustc Cnposed by 3B. Hobson Croll,
Ardante Sostenuto Celrds by Alfred Sennyson
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Tun watying year with blade and sheaf Clothes and reclothes the happy plains; = Here rests the sap within the leaf....., Here stays the blood along the
Marcus Wirds KoyalMuminated Legends.
THE SLEEPING BEAUTY; OR, THE ENCHANTED PALACE.
BY ALFRED TENNYSON.
Printed by permission of the Publishers, Messrs. Strahan & Co.
Tue SLEepinc Pavace.
THE varying year with blade and sheaf
Clothes and reclothes the happy plains ;
Here rests the sap within the leaf,
Here stays the blood along the veins.
Faint shadows, vapours lightly curl’d,
Faint murmurs from the meadows come,
Like hints and echoes of the world
To spirits folded in the womb.
Soft lustre bathes the range of urns
On every slanting terrace-lawn.
The fountain to his place returns,
Deep in the garden lake withdrawn.
Here droops the banner on the tower,
On the hall-hearths the festal fires,
The peacock in his laurel bower,
The parrot in his gilded wires.
Roof-haunting martins warm their eggs:
In these, in those the life is stay’d,
The mantles from the golden pegs
Droop sleepily : no sound is made,
Not even of a gnat that sings.
More like a picture seemeth all
Than those old portraits of old kings,
That watch the sleepers from the wall.
Here sits the butler with a flask
Between his knees, half drain’d; and there
The wrinkled steward at his task,
The maid-of-honour blooming fair :
Marcus Warad’s Royal Illuminated Legends.]
The page has caught her hand in his:
Her lips are sever’d as to speak :
His own are pouted to a kiss:
The blush is fix’d upon her cheek.
Till all the hundred summers pass,
The beams, that thro’ the Oriel shine,
Make prisms in every carven glass,
And beaker brimm’d with noble wine.
Each baron at the banquet sleeps,
Grave faces gather’d in a ring.
His state the king reposing keeps.
He must have been a jovial king.
All round a hedge upshoots and shows
At distance like a little wood ;
Thorns, ivies, woodbine, misletoes,
And grapes with bunches red as blood;
All creeping plants, a wall of green
Close-matted, bur and brake and brier,
And glimpsing over these, just seen,
High up, the topmost palace-spire.
When will the hundred summers die,
And thought and time be born again,
And newer knowledge, drawing nigh,
Bring truth that sways the soul of men ?
Here all things in their place remain,
As all were order’d, ages since.
Come, Care and Pleasure, Hope and Pain,
And bring the fated fairy Prince.
Tue SLEEPING BEauty.
Year after year unto her feet,
She lying on her couch alone,
Across the purpled coverlet,
The maiden’s jet-black hair has grown,
On either side her tranced form
Forth streaming from a braid of pearl:
The slumbrous light is rich and warm, .
And moves not on the rounded curi.,
The silk star-broider’d coverlid
Unto her limbs itself doth mould
Languidly ever; and, amid
Her full black ringlets downward roll’d,
Glows forth each softly-shadow’d arm
With bracelets of the diamond bright:
Her constant beauty doth inform
Stillness with love, and day with light. |
She sleeps: her breathings are not heard
In palace chambers far apart.
The fragrant tresses are not stirred
That lie upon her charmed heart:
She sleeps: on either hand upswells
The gold fringed pillow lightly prest :
She sleeps, nor dreams, but ever dwells
A perfect form in perfect rest.
THE SLEEPING BEAUTY; OR, THE ENCHANTED PALACE—Continued,
BY ALFRED TENNYSON.
Printed by permission of the Publishers, Messrs. Strahan & Co,
Tue ARRIVAL.
All precious things, discover’d late,
To those that seek them issue forth ;
For love in sequel works with fate,
And draws the veil from hidden worth.
He travels far from other skies—
His mantle glitters on the rocks—
A Fairy Prince with joyful eyes,
And lighter-footed than the fox.
The bodies and the bones of those
That strove in other days to pass,
Are wither’d in the thorny close,
Or scatter’d blanching on the grass.
He gazes on the silent dead:
“ They perish’d in their daring deeds.â€
This proverb flashes thro’ his head,
“The many fail: the one succeeds.â€
He comes, scarce knowing what he seeks:
He breaks the hedge: he enters there:
The colour flies into his cheeks :
He trusts to light on something fair ;
For all his life the charm did talk
About his path, and hover near
With words of promise in his walk,
And whisper’d voices at his ear.
More close and close his footsteps wind :
The Magic Music in his heart
Beats quick and quicker, till he find
The quiet chamber far apart.
His spirit flutters like a lark,
He stoops—to kiss her—on his knee.
“ Love, if thy tresses be so dark,
How dark those hidden eyes must be
Marcus Ward's Royal IMlumtnated Legends.]
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Tue ReEvIvAL.
A touch, a kiss! the charm was snapt.
There rose a noise of striking clocks,
And feet that ran, and doors that clapt,
And barking dogs, and crowing cocks ;
A fuller light illumined all,
A breeze thro’ all the garden swept,
A sudden hubbub shook the hall,
And sixty feet the fountain leapt.
The hedge broke in, the banner blew,
The butler drank, the steward scrawl’d,
The fire shot up, the martin flew,
The parrot scream’d, the peacock squall’d,
The maid and page renew’d their strife,
The palace bang’d, and buzz’d, and clackt,
And all the long-pent stream of life
Dash’d downward in a cataract.
_ And last with these the king awoke,
And in his chair himself uprear’d,
And yawn’d, and rubb’d his face, and spoke,
“ By holy rood, a royal beard!
How say you ? we have slept, my lords,
My beard has grown into my lap.â€
The barons swore, with many words,
*T was but an after-dinner’s nap.
“ Pardy,†return’d the king, “but still
My joints are something stiff or so.
My lord, and shall we pass the bill
I mention’d half an hour ago ?â€
The chancellor, sedate and vain,
In courteous words return’d reply:
But dallied with his golden chain,
And, smiling, put the question by.
Tue DEPARTURE.
And on her lover’s arm she leant,
And round her waist she felt it fold,
And far across the hills they went
In that new world which is the old:
Across the hills, and far away
Beyond their utmost purple rim,
And deep into the dying day
The happy Princess follow’d him.
“I'd sleep another hundred years,
O, love, for such another kiss ;â€
“O wake for ever, love,†she hears,
“QO, love, ’twas such as this and this.â€
And o’er them many a sliding star,
And many a merry wind was borne,
And, stream’d through many a golden bar,
The twilight melted into morn.
“ O, eyes long laid in happy sleep!â€
“QO, happy sleep, that lightly fled!â€
“O, happy kiss, that woke thy sleep!â€
“O, love, thy kiss would wake the dead!â€
And o’er them many a flowing range
Of vapour buoy’d the crescent bark,
And, rapt thro’ many a rosy change,
~The twilight died into the dark,
“ A hundred summers! can it be ?
And whither goest thou, tell me where?â€
“O seek my father’s court with me,
For there are greater wonders there.â€
And o’er the hills, and far away
Beyond their utmost purple rim,
Beyond the night, across the day,
Thro’ all the world she follow’d him.
THE SLEEPING BEAUTY.
THE SLEEPING BEAUTY. The page has caught her hand in his: Her lips are sever'd as to speak.
THE SLEEPING BEAUTY. lis ie flutters like a lark, He stoops—to kiss her—on his knee.
A touch, a kiss! the charm was snapt. There rose a nowse of striking clocks.
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THE SLEEPING BEAUTY. And last with these the king awoke, And in his chair himself uprear'd.
SLEEPING BEAUTY. | Leyond the night, across the day, Thro’ all the world she follow d him.
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