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 By THOMAS TAPPER, Litt,D» 
 
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THE PIED PIPER OT HAMELIN 
 
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 YOUNG FOLKS 
 BROWNING 
 
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 Selected from the Poems 
 of 
 
 ROBERT BROWNING 
 
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 With Introduction and Notes by 
 THOMAS TAPPER, Litt. D. 
 Lecturer in New York University and in the Insti- 
 tute of Musical Art of the City of New York 
 
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 Illustrated by 
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 Copyright, 1919 
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INTRODUCTION 
 I 
 
 Robert Browning was born May 7, 1812, in Cam- 
 berwell, a suburb of London. To his father, who was 
 a lover of books, the poet owed the early forming of 
 a taste for reading and the acquirement of a keen 
 appreciation in literary values. 
 
 As a boy, and in fact throughout his life of seventy- 
 seven years, BroA\Tiing was robust, vigorous, exuber- 
 ant of mind and body. His father, who, it is said, 
 never suffered a day's illness, blessed the boy with 
 more than a taste for good books. He gave him a 
 sound body as a fitting mansion for a sane and opulent 
 mind. ' ' How glad, ' ' the poet says, in Saul, 
 
 " Is man's life, the mere living! How fit to employ 
 All the heart and soul and the senses forever in joy." 
 
 Under the guidance of the father the boy's educa- 
 tion continued to his matriculation in University 
 College, London, in 1829. He therefore attended no 
 famous school, nor did he pass through Oxford or 
 Cambridge, as most sons of the better families have 
 done for centuries, for the attainment of that culture 
 held to be indispensable in the life of an English 
 
vi INTRODUCTION 
 
 gentleman. But he attained, through the capable and 
 watchful oversight of his parents, and, in a measure, 
 through his own unerring instinct for proper in- 
 fluence, a substantial education that was broadened 
 and deepened by travel and the best of social inter- 
 course. In Italy, whither Browning went for the 
 first time in 1838, he found a land to which he gave 
 all the warmth of his love and affection. The tablet 
 on a wall of the Rezzonico Palace in Venice, where 
 Browning died in 1889, bears these words from Be 
 Gustihus: 
 
 " Open my heart and you will see 
 Graved inside of it, ' Italy.' " 
 
 II 
 
 From 1833, when Pauline was published, to 1889, 
 when the last poem, Asolando, was issued. Browning 
 devoted his life to expressing in verse the richness of 
 a mind that teemed with marvellous imagery, an im- 
 agery that sprang from an intellect which was ever 
 the handmaid of pure spiritual perception. The 
 reader of the selections in this little volume will not 
 fail to perceive beneath all the dramatic incident that 
 moves across the stage of the mind the strong spirit- 
 ual appeal that is made to the deeper self. Even in 
 his early poem Paracelsus there was so much not alone 
 of diction but of thought and feeling that Macready, 
 the actor, recorded in his diary this conviction: 
 
INTRODUCTION vii 
 
 ''The writer can scarcely fail to be a leading spirit of 
 
 his time." 
 
 Browning became that in the broadest sense ; work- 
 ing faithfully and joyously in the apprentice years; 
 working with even more abundant life and deeper 
 joy from 1846, when he married Elizabeth Barrett, 
 and on through the fifteen years of their life of love 
 and the understanding heart. 
 
 Mrs. Browning died in 1861. Browning returned 
 to England from Italy, where he and his wife "had 
 lived almost constantly at Casa Guidi, Florence. 
 Henceforth he made his home in London. His works 
 were beginning to find greater favor with the public. 
 In 1868-69 The Ring and Booh appeared, character- 
 ized by Thomas Carlyle as the most wonderful of all 
 
 poems. 
 
 Mrs. Browning's last poems were published in 1862. 
 A complete edition of Robert Browning's poems ap- 
 peared the following year. In 1867 Oxford bestowed 
 upon the poet the Degree of Master of Arts. Many 
 new works appeared from this time to 1889, among 
 them Herve Biel (1871), Fifine at the Fair (1872), 
 Aristophanes' Apology, Pacchiarotto, Agamemnon of 
 Aeschylus, Dramatic Idylls, Jocoseria and Parleyings 
 with Certain People. His last poem, Asolando, was 
 issued in London on the day of the poet's death in 
 Venice, Dec. 12, 1889. 
 
 Browning has been characterized from many points 
 of view. One quality, however, stands out in emphatic 
 
viii INTRODUCTION 
 
 prominence: it is his pronounced optimism. Count- 
 less lines bear tribute to a faith in God that was held 
 in serene joy. Thus from Andrea del Sarto: 
 
 "Ah, but a man's reach should exceed his grasp, 
 Or what's a heaven for.? " 
 
 Then from Pippa's Song: 
 
 " The year's at the spring 
 And day's at the morn; 
 Morning's at seven; 
 The hillside's dew-pearled; 
 The lark's on the wing; 
 The snail's on the thorn: 
 God's in his heaven — 
 All's right with the world! " 
 
 And from The Statue and the Bust: 
 
 " Where is the use of the lip's red charm, 
 The heaven of hair, the pride of the brow, 
 And the blood that blues the inside arm — 
 Unless we turn, as the soul knows how, 
 The earthly gift to an end divine." 
 
CONTENTS. 
 
 PAGB 
 
 The Pied Piper of Hamelin 11 
 
 Herve Riel 24 
 
 Cavalier Tunes 31 
 
 " How They Brought the Good News from 
 
 Ghent to Aix " 34 
 
 Through the Metidja to Abd-el-kadr ... 37 
 
 Incident of the French Camp .... 39 
 
 Clive 41 
 
 Mul^ykeh 59 
 
 Tray 68 
 
 A Tale 70 
 
 Gold Hair 75 
 
 Donald 82 
 
 The Glove . . . . » , « . . 90 
 
 Notes 97 
 
LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS. 
 
 -♦ 
 
 PAGK 
 
 The Pied Piper of Hamelin . . . Frontispiece ^ 
 
 " ' Leave to go and see my wife, whom I call the 
 
 Belle Aurore * " 80 
 
 " i galloped, dirck galloped, we galloped all 
 
 THREE '* 34 - 
 
 " a rider bound on bound full galloping, nor 
 
 bridle drew until he reached the mound " . 39 
 
 " Hair, such a wonder of flix and floss '* . .75 
 
 « And full in the face of its owner flung the 
 
 glove " 95 
 
THE YOUNG FOLKS' BROWNING 
 
 THE PIED PIPER OF HAMELINi* 
 A child's story. 
 
 I. 
 
 Hamelin Town's in Brunswick? 
 By famous Hanover city ; 
 
 The river Weser, deep and wide, 
 
 Washes its wall on the southern side ; 
 
 A pleasanter spot you never spied ; 
 But, when begins my ditty. 
 
 Almost five hundred years ago^ 
 
 To see the townsfolk suffer so 
 From vermin, was a pity. 
 
 II. 
 Rats! 
 They fought the dogs and killed the cats, 
 
 And bit the babies in the cradles, 
 And ate the cheeses out of the vats, 
 
 And licked the soup from the cooks' own 
 ladles, 
 
 * The Notes will be found at the end of the book. 
 
12 THE YOUNG FOLKS' BROWNING. 
 
 Split open the kegs of salted sprats, 
 Made nests inside men's Sunday hats, 
 And even spoiled the women's chats 
 By drowning their speaking 
 With shrieking and squeaking 
 In fifty different sharps and flatsJ 
 
 III. 
 
 At last the people in a body 
 
 To the Town Hall came flocking : 
 " 'Tis clear," cried they, " our Mayor's a 
 noddy ; 
 And as for our Corporation — shocking 
 To think we buy gowns lined with ermine 
 For dolts that can't or won't determine 
 What's best to rid us of our vermin ! 
 You hope, because you're old and obese, 
 To find in the furry civic robe ease ? 
 Rouse up, sirs ! Give your brains a racking 
 To find the remedy we're lacking. 
 Or, sure as fate, we'll send you packing ! " 
 At this the Mayor and Corporation 
 Quaked with a mighty consternation. 
 
 IV. 
 
 An hour they sat in council ; 
 
 At length the Mayor broke silence : 
 " For a guilder I'd my ermine gown seU, 
 
 I wish I were a mile hence ! 
 
THE PIED PIPER OF RAMELIN. 13 
 
 It's easy to bid one rack one's brain — 
 
 I'm sure my poor head aches again, 
 
 I've scratched it so, and all in vain. 
 
 Oh, for a trap, a trap, a trap ! " 
 
 Just as he said this, what should hap 
 
 At the chamber-door but a gentle tap ? 
 
 " Bless us," cried the Mayor, " what's that ? " 
 
 (With the Corporation as he sat. 
 
 Looking little though wondrous fat ; 
 
 Nor brighter was his eye, nor moister 
 
 Than a too-long-opened oyster. 
 
 Save when at noon his paunch grew mutinous 
 
 For a plate of turtle green and glutinous) 
 
 '< Only a scraping of shoes on the mat ? 
 
 Anything like the sound of a rat 
 
 Makes my heart go pit-a-pat ! " 
 
 V. 
 
 '• Come in ! " — the Mayor cried, looking 
 
 bigger : 
 And in did come the strangest figure ! ^ 
 His queer long coat from heel to head 
 Y/as half of yellow and half of red, 
 And he himself was tall and thin, 
 With sharp blue eyes, each like a pin, 
 And light loose hair, yet swarthy skin. 
 No tuft on cheek nor beard on chin, 
 But lips where smiles went out and in ; 
 There was no guessing his kith and kin : 
 
14 THE YOUNG FOLKS' BROWNING. 
 
 And nobody could enough admire 
 The tall man and his quaint attire. 
 Quoth one : " It's as my great-grandsire, 
 Starting up at the Trump of Doom's tone, 
 Had walked this way from his painted 
 tombstone ! " 
 
 VI. 
 
 He advanced to the council-table : 
 
 And, " Please your honours," said he, " I'm 
 
 able. 
 By means of a secret charm, to draw 
 All creatures living beneath the sun, 
 That creep or swim or fly or run, 
 After me so as you never saw ! 
 And I chiefly use my charm 
 On creatures that do people harm. 
 The mole and toad and newt and viper ; 
 And people call me the Pied Piper." 
 (And here they noticed round his neck 
 A scarf of red and yellow stripe. 
 To match with his coat of the self-same 
 
 cheque ; 
 And at the scarf's end hung a pipe ; 
 And his fingers, they noticed, were ever 
 
 straying 
 As if impatient to be playing 
 Upon this pipe, as low it dangled 
 Over his vesture so old-fangled.) 
 
THE PIED PIPEB OF HAMELIN, 15 
 
 " Yet," said he, " poor piper as I am, 
 In Tartary I freed the Cham} 
 Last June, from his huge swarms of gnats ; 
 I eased in Asia the ^izam^ 
 Of a monstrous brood of vampire-bats : 
 And as for what your brain bewilders, 
 If I can rid your town of rats 
 Will you give me a thousand guilders ? " 
 " One ? fifty thousand ! " — was the excla- 
 mation 
 Of the astonished Mayor and Corporation. 
 
 VII. 
 
 Into the street the Piper stept, 
 
 Smiling first a little smile, 
 As if he knew what magic slept 
 
 In his quiet pipe the while ; 
 Then, like a musical adept. 
 To blow the pipe his lips he wrinkled. 
 And green and blue^his sharp eyes twinkled, 
 Like a candle-flame where salt is sprinkled ; 
 And ere three shrill notes the pipe uttered, 
 You heard as if an army muttered ; 
 And the muttering grew to a grumbling ; 
 And the grumbling grew to a mighty rum- 
 bling ; 
 And out of the houses the rats came tum- 
 bling. 
 
16 THE YOUNG FOLKS' BROWNING. 
 
 Great rats, small rats, lean rats, brawny rats, 
 Brown rats, black rats, gray rats, tawny rats. 
 Grave old plodders, gay young friskers. 
 
 Fathers, mothers, uncles, cousins, 
 Cocking tails and pricking whiskers, 
 
 Families by tens and dozens. 
 Brothers, sisters, husbands, wives — 
 Followed the Piper for their lives. 
 From street to street he piped advancing, 
 And step for step they followed dancing, 
 Until they came to the river Weser, 
 Wherein all plunged and perished ! 
 — Save one who, stout as Julius Caesar, 
 Swam across and lived to carry 
 (As he, the manuscript he cherished) 
 To Rat-land home his commentary : 
 Which was, " At the first shrill notes of 
 
 the pipe, 
 I heard a sound as of scraping tripe, 
 And putting apples, wondrous ripe. 
 Into a cider-press's gripe : 
 And a moving away of pickle-tub-boards. 
 And a leaving ajar of conserve-cupboards, 
 And a drawing the corks of train-oil-flasks. 
 And a breaking the hoops of butter-casks . 
 And it seemed as if a voice 
 (Sweeter far than by harp or by psaltery 
 Is breathed) called out, ' Oh, rats, rejoice ! 
 The world is grown to one vast drysaltery ! 
 
THE PIED PIPER OF BAMELIN. 17 
 
 So munch on, crunch on, take your nuncheon*, 
 
 Breakfast, supper, dinner, luncheon ! ' 
 
 And just as a bulky sugar-puncheon. 
 
 All ready staved, like a great sun shone 
 
 Glorious scarce an inch before me. 
 
 Just as methought it said, ' Come, bore me 1 ' 
 
 — I found the Weser rolling o'er me." 
 
 VIII. 
 
 You should have heard the Hamelin people 
 Ringing the bells till they rocked the steeple. 
 " Go," cried the Mayor, " and get long poles, 
 Poke out the nests and block up the holes ! 
 Consult with carpenters and builders, 
 And leave in our town not even a trace 
 Of the rats ! " — when suddenly, up the face 
 Of the Piper perked in the market-place. 
 With a, " First, if you please, my thousand 
 guilders ! '' 
 
 IX. 
 
 A thousand guilders ! The Mayor looked blue ; 
 
 So did the Corporation, too. 
 
 For council dinners made rare havoc 
 
 With Claret, Moselle, Yin-de-Grave, Hock ;' 
 
 And half the money would replenish 
 
 Their cellar's biggest butt with Rhenish. 
 
 To pay this sum to a wandering fellow 
 
 With a gypsy coat of red and yellow ! 
 
18 THE YOUNG FOLKS' BROWNING. 
 
 " Beside," quoth the Mayor with a knowing 
 
 wink, 
 " Our business was done at the river's brink ; 
 We saw with our eyes the vermin sink, 
 And what's dead can't come to life, I think. 
 So, friend, we're not the folks to shrink 
 From the duty of giving you something for drink, 
 And a matter of money to put in your poke ; 
 But as for the guilders, what we spoke 
 Of them, as you very well know, was in joke. 
 Beside, our losses have made us thrifty. 
 A thousand guilders ! Come, take fifty ! " 
 
 X. 
 
 The Piper's face fell, and he cried, 
 
 " No trifling ! I can't wait, beside ! 
 
 I've promised to visit by dinner-time 
 
 Bagdat^, and accept the prime 
 
 Of the Head-Cook's pottage, all he's rich in, 
 
 For having left, in the Caliph's^kitchen, 
 
 Of a nest of scorpions no survivor : 
 
 With him I proved no bargain-driver. 
 
 With you, don't think I'll bate a stiver ! 
 
 And folks who put me in a passion 
 
 May find me pipe after another fashion." 
 
 XI. 
 
 " How ? " cried the Mayor, " d'ye think I brook 
 Being worse treated than a Cook ? 
 
tb:e pied piper of hamelin. 19 
 
 Insulted by a lazy ribald 
 With idle pipe and vesture piebald ? 
 You threaten us, fellow ? Do your worst, 
 Blow your pipe there till you burst ! " 
 
 XII. 
 
 Once more he stept into the street, 
 And to his lips again 
 
 Laid his long pipe of smooth straight cane ; 
 And ere he blew three notes (such sweet 
 
 Soft notes as yet musician's cunning 
 Never gave the enraptured air) 
 
 There was a rustling that seemed like a 
 bustling 
 
 Of merry crowds justling^t pitching and 
 hustling ; 
 
 Small feet were pattering, wooden shoes clat- 
 tering, 
 
 Little hands clapping and little tongues chat- 
 tering. 
 
 And, like fowls in a farmyard when barley 
 is scattering, 
 
 Out came the children running. 
 
 All the little boys and girls. 
 
 With rosy cheeks and flaxen curls, 
 
 And sparkling eyes and teeth like pearls, 
 
 Tripping and skipping, ran merrily after 
 
 The wonderful music with shouting and 
 laughter. 
 
20 THE YOUNG FOLKS' BROWNING. 
 
 XIII. 
 
 The Mayor was dumb, and the Council stood 
 
 As if they were changed into blocks of wood, 
 
 Unable to move a step, or cry 
 
 To the children merrily skipping by, 
 
 — Could only follow with the eye 
 
 That joyous crowd at the Piper's back. 
 
 But how the Mayor was on the rack, 
 
 And the wretched Council's bosoms beat, 
 
 As the Piper turned from the High Street 
 
 To where the Weser rolled its waters 
 
 Right in the way of their sons and daughters ! 
 
 However, he turned from South to West, 
 
 And to Koppelberg Hill his steps addressed, 
 
 And after him the children pressed ; 
 
 Great was the joy in every breast. 
 
 " He never can cross that mighty top ! 
 
 He's forced to let the piping drop. 
 
 And we shall see our children stop ! " 
 
 When, lo, as they reached the mountainside, 
 
 A wondrous portal opened wide. 
 
 As if a cavern was suddenly hollowed ; 
 
 And the Piper advanced and the children 
 
 followed. 
 And when all were in to the very last. 
 The door in the mountainside shut fast. 
 Did I say, all ? No ! One was lame. 
 And could not dance the whole of the way ; 
 
TBE PIED PIPER OF HAMELIN. 21 
 
 And in after years, if you would blame 
 
 His sadness, he was used to say, — 
 
 " It's dull in our town since my playmates 
 
 left! 
 I can't forget that I'm bereft 
 Of all the pleasant sights they see, 
 Which the Piper also promised me. 
 For he led us, he said, to a joyous land, 
 Joining the town and just at hand. 
 Where waters gushed and fruit-trees grew 
 And flowers put forth a fairer hue. 
 And everything was strange and new ; 
 The sparrows were brighter than peacocks here. 
 And their dogs outran our fallow deer. 
 And honey-bees had lost their stings. 
 And horses were born with eagles' wings : 
 And just as I became assured 
 My lame foot would be speedily cured, 
 The music stopped and I stood still. 
 And found myself outside the hill, 
 Left alone against my will, 
 To go now limping as before, 
 And never hear of that country more ! " 
 
 XIV. 
 
 Alas, alas for Hamelin ! 
 
 There came into many a burgher's pate 
 A text which says that heaven's gate 
 Opes to the rich at as easy rate 
 
22 THE YOUNG FOLKS' BROWNING. 
 
 As the needle's eye takes a camel in ! 
 The Mayor sent East, West, North, and 
 
 South, 
 To offer the Piper, by word of mouth, 
 
 Wherever it was men's lot to find him. 
 Silver and gold to his heart's content. 
 If he'd only return the way he went. 
 
 And bring the children behind him. 
 But when they saw 'twas a lost endeavour, 
 And Piper and dancers were gone for ever, 
 They made a decree that lawyers never 
 
 Should think their records dated duly 
 If, after the day of the month and year. 
 These words did not as well appear, 
 " And so long after what happened here 
 
 On the Twenty-second of July, 
 Thirteen hundred and seventy-six : " 
 And the better in memory to fix 
 The place of the children's last retreat, 
 They called it, the Pied Piper's Street — 
 Where any one playing on pipe or tabour 
 Was sure for the future to lose his labour. 
 Nor suffered they hostelry or tavern 
 
 To shock with mirth a street so solemn ; 
 But opposite the place of the cavern 
 
 They wrote the story on a column. 
 And on the great church- window painted 
 The same, to make the world acquainted 
 How their children were stolen away, 
 
THE PIED PIPER OF HAMELIN. 23 
 
 And there it stands to this very day. 
 
 And I must not omit to say 
 
 That in TransylvaniaHhere's a tribe 
 
 Of alien people who ascribe 
 
 The outlandish ways and dress 
 
 On which their neighbours lay such stress, 
 
 To their fathers and mothers having risen 
 
 Out of some subterraneous prison 
 
 Into which they were trepanned 
 
 Long time ago in a mighty band 
 
 Out of Hamelin town in Brunswick land, 
 
 But how or why, they don't understand. 
 
 XV. 
 
 So, Willy, let me and you be wipers 
 
 Of scores out with all men — especially 
 
 pipers ! 
 And, whether they pipe us free fr6m rats 
 
 or fr6m mice. 
 If we've promised them aught, let us keep 
 our promise ! 
 
24 THE YOUNG FOLKS* BROWNING. 
 
 HERVE RIELJ 
 
 I. 
 
 On the sea and at the Hogue, sixteen hundred ninety- 
 two, 
 Did the English fight the French, — woe to France ! 
 
 And, the thirty-first of May, helter-skelter through 
 the blue. 
 
 Like a crowd of frightened porpoises a shoal of sharks 
 pursue. 
 Came crowding ship on ship to Saint Malo on the 
 Rance^ 
 
 With the English fleet in view. 
 
 n. 
 
 *Twas the squadron that escaped, with the victor in 
 full chase ; 
 First and foremost of the drove, in his great ship, 
 Damfreville ; 
 
 Close on him fled, great and small, 
 Twenty-two good ships in all ; 
 And they signalled to the place 
 " Help the winners of a race ! 
 
 Get us guidance, give us harbour, take us quick — 
 
 or, quicker still. 
 Here's the English can and will 1 " 
 
HERVE EIEL. 25 
 
 III. 
 
 Then the pilots of the place put out brisk and leapt 
 on board ; 
 " Why, what hope or chance have ships like these 
 to pass ? " laughed they : 
 "Eocks to starboard, rocks to port, all the passage 
 
 scarred and scored. 
 Shall the Formidable here with her twelve and eighty 
 guns 
 Think to make the river-mouth by the single nar- 
 row way, 
 Trust to enter where 'tis ticklish for a craft of twenty 
 tons, 
 
 And with flow at full beside ? 
 Now, 'tis slackest ebb of tide. 
 Reach the mooring ? Rather say, 
 While rock stands or water runs, 
 Not a ship will leave the bay ! " 
 
 IV. 
 
 Then was called a council straight. 
 
 Brief and bitter the debate : 
 
 " Here's the English at our heels ; would you have 
 
 them take in tow 
 All that's left us of the fleet, linked together stern 
 
 and bow. 
 For a prize to Plymouth^ Sound ? 
 Better run the ships aground ! " 
 (Ended Damfreville his speech.) 
 
26 THE YOUNG FOLKS' BROWNING. 
 
 " Not a minute more to wait ! 
 
 Let the Captains all and each 
 
 Shove ashore, then blow up, burn the vessels on 
 the beach 1 
 France must undergo her fate. 
 
 V. 
 
 " Give the word ! " But no such word 
 
 Was ever spoke or heard ; 
 
 For up stood, for out stepped, for in struck amid all 
 
 these 
 — A Captain? A Lieutenant? A Mate — first, 
 second, third ? 
 No such man of mark, and meet 
 With his betters to compete ! 
 
 But a simple Breton sailor pressed by Tourville for 
 the fleet, 
 A poor coasting-pilot he, Herve Riel the Croisickese^ 
 
 VI. 
 
 And " What mockery or malice have we here ? '^ cries 
 Herv^ Riel : 
 " Are you mad, you Malouins P Are you cowards, 
 fools, or rogues ? 
 Talk to me of rocks and shoals, me who took the 
 
 soundings, tell 
 On my fingers every bank, every shallow, every swell 
 'Twixt the offing here and Greve^ where the river 
 disembogues ?* 
 
HERV:^ EIEL. 27 
 
 Are you bought by English gold ? Is it love the 
 lying's for ? 
 
 Morn and eve, night and day, 
 Have I piloted your bay. 
 Entered free and anchored fast at the foot of SolidorJ 
 Burn the fleet and ruin France ? That were worse 
 
 than fifty Hogues ! 
 Sirs, they know I speak the truth ! Sirs, believe 
 me there's a way ! 
 Only let me lead the line, 
 
 Have the biggest ship to steer, 
 Get this Formidable clear. 
 Make the others follow mine. 
 
 And I lead them, most and least, by a passage I know 
 well, 
 Right to Solidor past Greve, 
 
 And there lay them safe and sound ; 
 And if one ship misbehave, 
 — Keel so much as grate the ground. 
 Why, I've nothing but my life, — here's my head ! " 
 cries Herv^ Riel. 
 
 VII. 
 
 Not a minute more to wait. 
 
 " Steer us in, then, small and great ! 
 
 Take the helm, lead the line, save the squadron ! " 
 cried its chief. 
 Captains, give the sailor place ! 
 
 He is Admiral, in brief. 
 
28 THE YOUNG FOLKS' BROWNING. 
 
 Still the north wind, by God's grace ! 
 See the noble fellow's face 
 As the big ship, with a bound, 
 Clears the entry like a hound, 
 
 Keeps the passage as its inch of way were the wide 
 sea's profound ! 
 
 See, safe through shoal and rock, 
 
 How they follow in a flock. 
 Not a ship that misbehaves, not a keel that grates the 
 ground. 
 
 Not a spar that comes to grief ! 
 The peril, see, is past. 
 All are harboured to the last, 
 And just as Herv^ Riel hollas " Anchor ! " — sure as 
 
 fate, 
 Up the English come — too late ! 
 
 VIII. 
 
 So, the storm subsides to calm : 
 
 They see the green trees wave 
 
 On the heights o'erlooking Gr^ve. 
 Hearts that bled are stanched with balm. 
 " Just our rapture to enhance, 
 
 Let the English rake the bay, 
 Gnash their teeth and glare askance 
 
 As they cannonade away ! 
 'Neath rampired Solidor pleasant riding on the Ranee ! " 
 How hope succeeds despair on each Captain's counte- 
 nance ! 
 
BEBV^ BIEL. 29 
 
 Out burst all with one accord, 
 
 " This is Paradise for Hell ! 
 Let France, let France's King 
 Thank the man that did the thing ! " 
 What a shout, and all one word, 
 
 " Herv^ Kiel ! " 
 As he stepped in front once more, 
 
 Not a symptom of surprise 
 
 In the frank blue Breton eyes, 
 Just the same man as before. 
 
 IX. 
 
 Then said Damfreville, " My friend, 
 I must speak out at the end, 
 
 Though I find the speaking hard. 
 Praise is deeper than the lips : 
 You have saved the King his ships, 
 
 You must name your own reward. 
 'Faith, our sun was near eclipse ! 
 Demand whatever you will, 
 France remains your debtor still. 
 Ask to heart's content and have ! or my name's not 
 Damfreville." 
 
 X. 
 
 Then a beam of fun outbroke 
 On the bearded mouth that spoke, 
 As the honest heart laughed through 
 Those frank eyes of Breton blue : 
 " Since I needs must say my say, 
 
30 THE YOUNG FOLKS' BROWNING. 
 
 Since on board the duty's done, 
 And from Malo Roads to Croisic Point, what is it 
 but a run ? — 
 Since 'tis ask and have, I may — 
 
 Since the others go ashore — 
 Come ! A good whole holiday ! 
 
 Leave to go and see my wife, whom I call the Belle 
 
 Aurore ! '' 
 That he asked and that he got, — nothing more. 
 
 XI. 
 
 Name and deed alike are lost : 
 Not a pillar nor a post 
 
 In his Croisic keeps alive the feat as it befell ; 
 Not a head in white and black 
 On a single fishing-smack, 
 In memory of the man but for whom had gone to wrack 
 
 All that France saved from the fight whence Eng- 
 land bore the bell. 
 Go to Paris : rank on rank 
 
 Search the heroes flung pell-mell 
 On the Louvre} face and flank ! 
 
 You shall look long enough ere you come to Herv^ 
 Kiel. 
 So, for better and for worse, 
 Herv^ Riel, accept my verse ! 
 In my verse, Herv^ Riel, do thou once more 
 Save the squadron, honour France, love thy wife the 
 Belle Aurore ! 
 
r 
 
 "'LEAVE TO GO AND SEE MY WIFE, WHOM 1 CALL THE 
 BELLE AURORE.'" 
 
CAVALIER TUNES. 31 
 
 CAVALIER tunes! 
 
 I. MARCHING ALONG. 
 
 Kentish Sir Byng stood for his King, 
 
 Bidding the crop-headed^ Parliament swing : 
 
 And, pressing a troop unable to stoop 
 
 And see the rogues flourish and honest folk droop, 
 
 Marched them along, fifty-score strong. 
 
 Great-hearted gentlemen, singing this song. 
 
 God for King Charles ! Pym and such carles^ 
 
 To the Devil that prompts 'em their treasonous 
 
 paries t^ 
 Cavaliers, up ! Lips from the cup. 
 Hands from the pasty, nor bite take nor sup 
 Till you're — 
 
 Chorus. : — Marching along, fifty-score strong. 
 
 Great-hearted gentlemen, singing this song. 
 
 Hampden to hell, and his obsequies' knell. 
 Serve Hazelrig, Fiennes, and young Harry as well ! 
 England, good cheer ! Rupert is near ! 
 Kentish and loyalists, keep we not here, 
 
 Cho. — Marching along, fifty-score strong. 
 
 Great-hearted gentlemen, singing this soDg ? 
 
32 THE YOUNG FOLKS' BROWNING. 
 
 Then, God for King Charles ! Pym and his snarls 
 To the Devil that pricks on such pestilent carles ! 
 Hold by the right, you double your might ; 
 So, onward to Nottingham, fresh for the fight, 
 
 Cho. — March we along, fifty-score strong. 
 
 Great-hearted gentlemen, singing this song ! 
 
 II. GIVE A ROUSE.* 
 
 King Charles, and who'll do him right now ? 
 King Charles, and who's ripe for fight now ? 
 Give a rouse : here's, in hell's despite now, 
 King Charles ! 
 
 Who gave me the goods that went since ? 
 Who raised me the house that sank once ? 
 Who helped me to gold I spent since ? 
 Who found me in wine you drank once ? 
 
 Cho. — King Charles, and who'll do him right now ? 
 King Charles, and who's ripe for fight now ? 
 Give a rouse : here's, in hell's despite now, 
 King Charles ! 
 
 To whom used my boy George quaff else, 
 By the old fool's side that begot him ? 
 For whom did he cheer and laugh else. 
 While Noll's damned troopers^ shot him ? 
 
CAVALIER TUNES. 33 
 
 Cho. — King Charles, and who'll do him right now ? 
 King Charles, and who's ripe for fight now ? 
 Give a rouse : here's, in hell's despite now, 
 King Charles ! 
 
 III. BOOT AND SADDLE. 
 
 Boot, saddle, to horse, and away ! 
 Rescue my castle before the hot day 
 Brightens to blue from its silvery gray. 
 
 Cho. — Boot, saddle, to horse, and away ! " 
 
 Eide past the suburbs, asleep as you'd say ; 
 
 Many's the friend there, will listen and pray 
 
 " God's luck to gallants that strike up the lay — 
 
 Cho. — " Boot, saddle, to horse, and away ! " 
 
 Forty miles off, like a roebuck at bay, 
 
 Flouts Castle Brancepeth the Roundheads'^ array : 
 
 Who laughs, " Good fellows ere this, by my fay, 
 
 Cho. — " Boot, saddle, to horse, and away ! " 
 
 Who ? My wife Gertrude ; that, honest and gay. 
 Laughs when you talk of surrendering, " Nay ! 
 I've better counsellors ; what counsel they ? 
 
 Cho. — " Boot, saddle, to horse and away ! " 
 
34 THE YOUNG FOLKS' BROWNING. 
 
 "HOW THEY BROUGHT THE GOOD NEWS 
 FROM GHENT TO AIX.''^ 
 
 I SPRANG to the stirrup, and Joris, and be ; 
 
 I galloped, Dirck galloped, we galloped all three ; 
 
 " Good speed ! " cried the watch^ as the gate-bolts 
 
 undrew ; 
 " Speed ! " echoed the wall to us galloping through ; 
 Behind shut the postern^, the lights sank to rest, 
 And into the midnight we galloped abreast. 
 
 Not a word to each other ; we kept the great pace 
 Neck by neck, stride by stride, never changing our 
 
 place ; 
 I turned in my saddle and made its girths tight. 
 Then shortened each stirrup, and set the pique^ 
 
 right, 
 Rebuckled the cheek-strap, chained slacker the bit, 
 Nor galloped less steadily Roland a whit. 
 
 'Twas moonset at starting ; but while we drew near 
 Lokeren, the cocks crew and twilight dawned clear ; 
 At Boom, a great yellow star came out to see ; 
 At Diiffeld, 'twas morning as plain as could be ; 
 And from Mecheln church-steeple we heard the half- 
 chime. 
 So Joris broke silence with, " Yet there is time ! " 
 

 "I GALLOPED, DIRCK GALLOPED, WE GALLOPED ALL 
 
 THREE." 
 
THE GOOD NEWS FROM GHENT. 35 
 
 At Aershot, up leaped of a sudden the sun, 
 And against him the cattle stood black every one, 
 To stare through the mist at us galloping past. 
 And I saw my stout galloper Roland at last. 
 With resolute shoulders, each butting away 
 The haze, as some bluff river headland its spray : 
 
 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 ! 
 Your Roos galloped bravely, the fault's not in her. 
 We'll remember at Aix " — for one heard the quick 
 
 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 ; 
 The broad sun above laughed a pitiless laugh, 
 'Neath our feet broke the brittle bright stubble like 
 
 chaff; 
 
36 THE YOUNG FOLKS' BROWNING. 
 
 Till over by Dalhem a dome-spire sprang white, 
 And " Gallop," gasped 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 
 Of the news which alone could save Aix from her 
 
 fate, 
 With his nostrils like pits full of blood to the brim, 
 And with circles of red for his eye-sockets' rim. 
 
 Then I cast loose my buffcoat, each holster let fall, 
 Shook off both my jack-boots, let go belt and all. 
 Stood up in the stirrup, leaned, patted his ear. 
 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 
 As I sat with his head 'twixt my knees on the ground ; 
 And no voice but was praising this Roland of mine, 
 As I poured down his throat our last measure of wine. 
 Which (the burgesses^ voted by common consent) 
 Was no more than his due who brought good news 
 from Ghent. 
 
THE O UGH THE METIDJA TO ABB - EL - KADE. 3 7 
 
 THROUGH THE METIDJA TO ABD-EL 
 
 KADR.' 
 
 As I ride, as I ride, 
 
 With a full heart for my guide, 
 
 So its tide rocks my side. 
 
 As I ride, as I ride, 
 
 That, as I were double-eyed, 
 
 He, in whom our Tribes confide, 
 
 Is descried, ways untried, 
 
 As I ride, as I ride. 
 
 As I ride, as I ride 
 
 To our Chief and his Allied, 
 
 Who dares chide my heart's pride 
 
 As I ride, as I ride ? 
 
 Or are witnesses denied — 
 
 Through the desert waste and wide 
 
 Do I glide unespied 
 
 As I ride, as I ride ? 
 
 As I ride, as I ride. 
 
 When an inner voice has cried, 
 
 The sands slide, nor abide 
 
 (As I ride, as I ride) 
 
 O'er each visioned homicide 
 
 That came vaunting (has he lied ?) 
 
38 THE YOUNG FOLKS' BROWNING. 
 
 To reside — where he died, 
 As I ride, as I ride. 
 
 As I ride, as I ride, 
 
 Ne'er has spur my swift horse plied. 
 
 Yet his hide, streaked and pied. 
 
 As I ride, as I ride, 
 
 Shows where sweat has sprung and dried, 
 
 — Zebra-footed, ostrich-thighed — 
 
 How has vied stride with stride 
 
 As I ride, as I ride ! 
 
 As I ride, as I ride. 
 
 Could I loose what Fate has tied, 
 
 Ere I pried, she should hide 
 
 (As I ride, as I ride) 
 
 All that's meant me — satisfied 
 
 When the Prophet and the Bride 
 
 Stop veins I'd have subside 
 
 As I ride, as I ride ! 
 
"A RIDER BOUND ON BOUND FULL GALLOPING, NOR 
 BRIDLE DREW UNTIL HE REACHED THE MOUND." 
 
INCIDENT OF THE FRENCH CAMP. 
 
 INCIDENT OF THE FRENCH CAMP: 
 
 You know, we French stormed Ratisbon :^ 
 
 A mile or so away, 
 On a little mound. Napoleon 
 
 Stood on our storming-day ; 
 With neck out-thrust, you fancy how, 
 
 Legs wide, arms locked behind, 
 As if to balance the prone brow, 
 
 Oppressive with its mind. 
 
 Just as perhaps he mused " My plans 
 
 That soar, to earth may fall, 
 Let once my army-leader, Lannes, 
 
 Waver at yonder wall, — " 
 Out 'twixt the battery-smokes there flew 
 
 A rider, bound on bound 
 Full-galloping ; nor bridle drew 
 
 Until he reached the mound. 
 
 Then off there flung in smiling joy, 
 
 And held himself erect 
 By just his horse's mane, a boy : 
 
 You hardly could suspect — 
 (So tight he kept his lips compressed. 
 
 Scarce any blood came through) 
 You looked twice ere you saw his breast 
 
 Was all but shot in two. 
 
 39 
 
40 THE YOUNG FOLKS* BROWNING. 
 
 " Well," cried he, " Emperor, by God's grace 
 
 We've got you Ratisbon ! 
 The Marshal's in the market-place, 
 
 And you'll be there anon 
 To see your flag-bird flap his vans 
 
 Where I, to heart's desire, 
 Perched him ! " The chief's eye flashed ; 
 his plans 
 
 Soared up again like fire. 
 
 The chiefs eye flashed ; but presently 
 
 Softened itself, as sheathes 
 A film the mother-eagle's eye 
 
 When her bruised eaglet breathes ; 
 " You're wounded ! " " Nay," the soldier's 
 pride 
 Touched to the quick, he said : 
 " I'm killed, Sire ! " and his chief beside, 
 Smiling the boy fell dead. 
 
CLIYE. 
 
 CLIYE? 
 
 41 
 
 I AND Clive were friends — and why not ? Friends ! 
 
 I think you laugh, my lad. 
 Clive it was gave England India, while your father 
 
 gives — egad, 
 England nothing but the graceless boy who lures him 
 
 on to speak — 
 " Well, Sir, you and Clive were comrades — " with a 
 
 tongue thrust in your cheek ! 
 Very true : in my eyes, your eyes, all the worid's eye^, 
 
 Clive was man, 
 I was, am, and ever shall be — mouse, nay, mouse of 
 
 all its clan 
 Sorriest sample, if you take the kitchen's estimate for 
 
 fame; 
 While the man Clive — he fought Plassy, spoiled the 
 
 clever foreign game. 
 Conquered and annexed and Englished ! 
 
 Never mind ! As o'er my punch 
 (You away) I sit of evenings, — silence, save for bis- 
 cuit crunch. 
 Black, unbroken, — thought grows busy, thrids^each 
 
 pathway of old years. 
 Notes this forthright^ that meander^ till the long past 
 life appears 
 
42 THE YOUNG FOLKS' BROWNING. 
 
 Like an outspread map of country plodded through, 
 
 each mile and rood, 
 Once, and well remembered still, — Fm startled in 
 
 my solitude 
 Ever and anon by — what's the sudden mocking light 
 
 that breaks 
 On me as I slap the table till no rummer-glass but shakes 
 While I ask — aloud, I do believe, God help me ! — 
 
 « Was it thus ? 
 Can it be that so I faltered, stopped when just one 
 
 step for us — '* 
 (Us, — you were not born, I grant, but surely some 
 
 day born would be) 
 « — One bold step had gained a province " (figurative 
 
 talk, you see) 
 " Got no end of wealth and honour, — yet I stood 
 
 stock-still no less ? " 
 — " For I was not Olive," you comment : but it needs 
 
 no Olive to guess 
 Wealth were handy, honour ticklish, did no writing on 
 
 the wall 
 Warn me " Trespasser, 'ware man-traps ! " Him who 
 
 braves that notice — call 
 Hero ! None of such heroics suit myself who read 
 
 plain words. 
 Doff my hat, and leap no barrier. Scripture says, the 
 
 land's the Lord's : 
 Louts then — what avail the thousand, noisy in a 
 
 smock-frocked ring, 
 
CLIVE. 43 
 
 All-agog to have me trespass, clear the fence, be Clive 
 
 their king ? 
 Higher warrant must you show me ere I set one foot 
 
 before 
 T'other in that dark direction, though I stand for ever- 
 more 
 Poor as Job and meek as Moses. Evermore ? No ! 
 
 By and by 
 Job grows rich and Moses valiant, Clive turns out less 
 
 wise than I. 
 Don't object " Why call him friend, then ? " Power 
 
 is power, my boy, and still 
 Marks a man, — God's gift magnific, exercised for 
 
 good or ill. 
 You've your boot now on my hearth-rug, tread what 
 
 was a tiger's skin ; 
 Rarely such a royal monster as I lodged the bullet 
 
 in! 
 True, he murdered half a village, so his own death 
 
 came to pass ; 
 Still, for size and beauty, cunning, courage — ah, the 
 
 brute he was ! 
 Why, that Clive, — that youth, that greenhorn, that 
 
 quill-driving clerk, in fine, — 
 He sustained a siege in Arcot . . . But the world 
 
 knows ! Pass the wine. 
 
 Where did I break off at ? How bring Clive in ? Oh, 
 you mentioned " fear ! " 
 
44 THE YOUNG FOLKS' BROWNING. 
 
 Just SO : and, said I, that minds me of a story you 
 shall hear. 
 
 We were friends then, Clive and I: so, when the 
 clouds, about the orb 
 
 Late supreme, encroaching slowly, surely threaten to 
 absorb 
 
 Ray by ray its noontide brilliance, — friendship might, 
 with steadier eye 
 
 Drawing near, bear what had burned else, now no 
 blaze — all majesty. 
 
 Too much bee's-wing floats my figure? Well, sup- 
 pose a castle's new : 
 
 None presume to climb its ramparts, none find foot- 
 hold sure for shoe 
 
 'Twixt those squares and squares of granite plating 
 the impervious pile 
 
 As his scale-mail's warty iron cuirasses a croco- 
 dile. 
 
 Reels that castle thunder-smitten, storm-dismantled ? 
 From without 
 
 Scrambling up by crack and crevice, every cockney 
 prates about 
 
 Towers — the heap he kicks now ! Turrets — just 
 the measure of his cane ! 
 
 Will that do ? Observe moreover — (same similitude 
 again) — 
 
 Such a castle seldom crumbles by sheer stress of 
 cannonade : 
 
CLIVE. 45 
 
 'Tis when foes are foiled, and fighting's finished that 
 vile rains invade, 
 
 Grass o'ergrows, o'ergrows till night-birds congregat- 
 ing find no holes 
 
 Fit to build like the topmost sockets made for banner- 
 poles. 
 
 So Olive crumbled slow in London, crashed at last. 
 
 A week before. 
 Dining with him, — after trying churchyard chat of 
 
 days of yore, — 
 Both of us stopped, tired as tombstones, head-piece, 
 
 foot-piece, when they lean 
 Each to other, drowsed in fog-smoke, o'er a coffined 
 
 Past between. 
 As I saw his head sink heavy, guessed the soul's ex- 
 tinguishment 
 By the glazing eyeball, noticed how the furtive fingers 
 
 went 
 Where a drug-box skulked behind the honest liquor, 
 
 — " One more throw 
 Try for Clive ! " thought I : " Let's venture some good 
 
 rattling question ! " So — 
 " Come Clive, tell us " — out I blurted — " what to 
 
 tell in turn, years hence. 
 When my boy — suppose I have one — asks me on 
 
 what evidence 
 I maintain my friend of Plassy proved a warrior every 
 
 whit 
 
46 THE YOUNG FOLKS' BROWNING. 
 
 Worth your Alexanders, Caesars, Marlboroughs, and 
 
 — what said Pitt ? — 
 
 Frederick the Fierce himself! Clive told me once" 
 
 — I want to say — 
 
 " Which feat out of all those famous doings bore the 
 bell away 
 
 — In his own calm estimation, mark you, not the 
 mob's rough guess — 
 
 Which stood foremost as evincing what Clive called 
 courageousness ! 
 
 Come ! What moment of the minute, what speck- 
 centre in the wide 
 
 Circle of the action saw your mortal fairly deified ? 
 
 (Let alone that filthy sleep-stuff, swallow bold this 
 wholesome Port !) 
 
 If a friend has leave to question, — when were you 
 most brave, in short ? " 
 
 Up he arched his brows o' the instant — formidably 
 Clive again. 
 
 " When was I most brave ? I'd answer, were the in- 
 stance half as plain 
 
 As another instance that's a brain-lodged crystal — 
 curse it ! — here 
 
 Freezing when my memory touches — ugh ! — the time 
 I felt most fear. 
 
 Ugh ! I cannot say for certain if I showed fear — any- 
 how, 
 
CLIVE. 
 
 47 
 
 Fear I felt, and, very likely, shuddered, since I shiver 
 
 now." 
 
 " Fear ! " smiled I. " Well, that's the rarer : that's a 
 
 specimen to seek, 
 Ticket up in one's museum, Mind-Freaks, Lord Olive's 
 
 Fear, Unique!'^ 
 
 Down his brows dropped. On the table painfully he 
 pored as though 
 
 Tracing, in the stains and streaks there, thoughts en- 
 crusted long ago. 
 
 When he spoke 'twas like a lawyer reading word by 
 word some will. 
 
 Some blind jungle of a statement, — beating on and 
 on until 
 
 Out there leaps fierce life to fight with. 
 
 " This fell in my factor-days. 
 Desk-drudge, slaving at Saint David's, one must game, 
 
 or drink, or craze. 
 I chose gaming: and, — because your high-flown 
 
 gamesters hardly take 
 Umbrage at a factor's elbow, if the factor pays his 
 
 stake, — 
 I was winked at in a circle where the company was 
 
 choice. 
 Captain This and Major That, men high of colour, loud 
 
 of voice. 
 
48 THE YOUNG FOLKS' BROWNING. 
 
 Yet indulgent, condescending to the modest juvenile 
 Who not merely risked, but lost his hard-earned 
 guineas with a smile. 
 
 "Down I sat to cards, one evening, — had for my 
 
 antagonist 
 Somebody whose name's a secret — you'll know why 
 
 — so, if you list, 
 Call him Cock o' the Walk, my scarlet son of Mars 
 
 from head to heel ! 
 Play commenced : and, whether Cocky fancied that a 
 
 clerk must feel 
 Quite sufficient honour came of bending over one green 
 
 baize, 
 I the scribe with him the warrior, guessed no penman 
 
 dared to raise 
 Shadow of objection should the honour stay but play- 
 ing end 
 More or less abruptly, — whether disinclined he grew 
 
 to spend 
 Practice strictly scientific on a booby born to stare 
 At — not ask of — lace-and-ruffles if the hand they 
 
 hide plays fair, — 
 Anyhow, I marked a movement when he bade me 
 
 'Cut!' 
 
 " I rose. 
 ' Such the new manceuvre, Captain ? I'm a novice : 
 
 knowledge grows. 
 What, you force a card, you cheat, Sir ? ' 
 
CLIVE. 49 
 
 " Never did a thunder-clap 
 Cause emotion, startle Thyrsis locked with Chloe^ in 
 
 his lap, 
 As my word and gesture (down I flung my cards to 
 
 join the pack) 
 Fired the man of arms, whose visage, simply red 
 
 before, turned black. 
 
 " When he found his voice, he stammered ' That ex- 
 pression once again ! ' 
 
 " ' Well, you forced a card and cheated ! ' 
 
 " < Possibly a factor's brain. 
 Busied with his all -important balance of accounts, 
 
 may deem 
 Weighing words superfluous trouble : cheat to clerkly 
 
 ears may seem 
 Just the joke for friends to venture : but we are not 
 
 friends, you see ! 
 When a gentleman is joked with, — if he's good at 
 
 repartee. 
 He rejoins, as do I — Sirrah, on your knees, withdraw 
 
 in full ! 
 Beg my pardon, or be sure a kindly bullet through 
 
 your skull 
 LBts in light and teaches manner to what brain it 
 
 finds! Choose quick — 
 Have your life snuffed out or, kneeling, pray me trim 
 
 yon candle-wick ! ' 
 
50 THE YOUNG FOLKS' BROWNING, 
 
 " ' Well, you cheated ! ' 
 
 " Then outbroke a howl from all the friends around. 
 To his feet sprang each in fury, fists were clenched 
 
 and teeth were ground. 
 'End it! no time like the present! Captain, yours 
 
 were our disgrace ! 
 No delay, begin and finish ! Stand back, leave the 
 
 pair a space ! 
 Let civilians be instructed : henceforth simply ply the 
 
 pen. 
 Fly the sword ! This clerk's no swordsman ? Suit 
 
 him with a pistol, then ! 
 Even odds ! A dozen paces 'twixt the most and least 
 
 expert 
 Make a dwarf a giant's equal : nay, the dwarf, if he's 
 
 alert. 
 Likelier hits the broader target ! ' 
 
 " Up we stood accordingly. 
 As they handed me the weapon, such was my soul's 
 
 thirst to try 
 Then and there conclusions with this bully, tread on 
 
 and stamp out 
 Every spark of his existence, that, — crept close to, 
 
 curled about 
 By that toying, tempting, teasing, fool-forefinger's 
 
 middle joint, — 
 
CLIVE. 61 
 
 Don't you guess ? — the trigger yielded. Gone my 
 
 chance ! and at the point 
 Of such prime success moreover : scarce an inch 
 
 above his head 
 Went my ball to hit the wainscot. He was living, I 
 
 was dead. 
 
 " Up he marched in flaming triumph — 'twas his 
 right, mind ! — up, within 
 
 Just an arm's length. ' Now, my clerkling,' chuckled 
 Cocky, with a grin 
 
 As the levelled piece quite touched me, ' Now, Sir 
 Counting-House, repeat 
 
 That expression which I told you proved bad man- 
 ners ! Did I cheat ? ' 
 
 " ' Cheat you did, you knew you cheated, and, this 
 
 moment, know as well. 
 As for me, my homely breeding bids you — fire and 
 
 go to Hell ! ' 
 
 "Twice the muzzle touched my forehead. Heavy 
 
 barrel, flurried wrist. 
 Either spoils a steady lifting. Thrice : then, * Laugh 
 
 at Hell who list, 
 I can't! God's no fable either. Did this boy's eye 
 
 wink once ? No ! 
 There's no standing him and Hell and God all three 
 
 against me, — so, 
 I did cheat!' 
 
52 THE YOUNG FOLKS' BROWNING, 
 
 " And down he threw the pistol, out rushed — by the 
 door 
 
 Possibly, but, as for knowledge if by chimney, roof or 
 floor, 
 
 He effected disappearance — I'll engage no glance was 
 sent 
 
 That way by a single starer, such a blank astonish- 
 ment 
 
 Swallowed up their senses : as for speaking — mute 
 they stood as mice. 
 
 " Mute not long, though ! Such reaction, such a 
 
 hubbub in a trice ! 
 ' Rogue and rascal ! Who'd have thought it ? What's 
 
 to be expected next. 
 When His Majesty's Commission serves a sharper as 
 
 pretext 
 For . . . But Where's the need of wasting time now ? 
 
 Naught requires delay : 
 Punishment the Service cries for: let disgrace be 
 
 wiped away 
 Publicly, in good broad daylight 1 Resignation ? No, 
 
 indeed ! 
 Drum and fife must play the Rogue's-March, rank and 
 
 file be free to speed 
 Tardy marching on the rogue's part by appliance in 
 
 the rear 
 — Kicks administered shall right this wronged civil- 
 ian, — never f ear^ 
 
CLIVE. 
 
 63 
 
 Mister Clive, for — though a clerk — you bore yourself 
 
 — suppose we say — - 
 
 Just as would beseem a soldier ? 
 
 " ' Gentlemen, attention — pray ! 
 First, one word ! ' 
 
 « I passed each speaker severally in review. 
 When I had precise their number, names, and styles, 
 
 and fully knew 
 Over whom my supervision thenceforth must extend, 
 
 — why, then — 
 
 « < Some five minutes since, my life lay — as you all 
 
 saw, gentlemen — 
 At the mer 7 of your friend there. Not a single 
 
 voice was raised 
 In arrest of judgment, not one tongue — before my 
 
 powder blazed — 
 Ventured -' Can it be the youngster plundered, really 
 
 seemed to mark 
 Some irregular proceeding? We conjecture in the 
 
 dark. 
 Guess at random, — still, for sake of fair play — 
 
 what if for a freak, 
 In a fit of absence, — such things have been ! — if our 
 
 friend proved weak 
 — What's the phrase? — corrected fortune! Look 
 
 into the case, at least 1 " 
 
54 THE YOUNG FOLKS' BROWNING. 
 
 Who dared interpose between the altar's victim and 
 
 the priest ? 
 Yet he spared me ! You eleven ! Whosoever, all or 
 
 each, 
 To the disadvantage of the man who spared me, 
 
 utters speech 
 — To his face, behind his back, — that speaker has 
 
 to do with me : 
 Me who promise, if positions change, and mine the 
 
 chance should be. 
 Not to imitate your friend and waive advantage ! ' 
 
 " Twenty-five 
 Years ago this matter happened: and 'tis certain," 
 
 added Clive, 
 "Never, to my knowledge, did Sir Cocky have a 
 
 single breath 
 Breathed against him : lips were closed throughout 
 
 his life, or since his death. 
 For if he be dead or living I can tell no more than 
 
 you. 
 All I know is — Cocky had one chance more ; how he 
 
 used it, — grew 
 Out of such unlucky habits, or relapsed, and back 
 
 again 
 Brought the late-ejected devil with a score more in 
 
 his train, — 
 That's for you to judge. Reprieval I procured, at any 
 
 rate. 
 
CLIVE. 55 
 
 Ugh — the memory of that minute's fear makes 
 
 gooseflesh rise ! Why prate 
 Longer ? You've my story, there's your instance : 
 
 fear I did, you see ! " 
 
 " Well " — I hardly kept from laughing — "if I see 
 
 it, thanks must be 
 Wholly to your Lordship's candour. Not that — in 
 
 a common case — 
 When a bully caught at cheating thrusts a pistol in 
 
 one's face, 
 I should under-rate, believe me, such a trial to the 
 
 nerve ! 
 'Tis no joke, at one-and-twenty, for a youth to stand 
 
 nor swerve. 
 Fear I naturally look for — unless, of all men alive, 
 I am forced to make exception when I come to Robert 
 
 Clive. 
 Since at Arcot, Plassy, elsewhere, he and death — 
 
 the whole world knows — 
 Came to somewhat closer quarters." 
 
 Quarters ? Had we come to blows, 
 Clive and I, you had not wondered — up he sprang 
 
 so, out he rapped 
 Such a round of oaths — no matter ! I'll endeavour to 
 
 adapt 
 To our modern usage words he — well, 't»was friendly 
 
 license — flung 
 
56 THE YOUNG FOLKS' BROWNING. 
 
 At me like so many fire-balls, fast as he could wag 
 his tongue. 
 
 " You — a soldier ? You — at Plassy ? Yours the 
 faculty to nick 
 
 Instantaneously occasion when your foe, if lightning- 
 quick, 
 
 — At his mercy, at his malice, — has you, through 
 
 some stupid inch 
 Undefended in your bulwark ? Thus laid open, — not 
 to flinch 
 
 — That needs courage, you'll concede me. Then, 
 
 look here ! Suppose the man. 
 Checking his advance, his weapon still extended, not 
 
 a span 
 Distant from my temple, — curse him ! — quietly had 
 
 bade me, ' There ! 
 Keep your life, calumniator ! — worthless life I freely 
 
 spare : 
 Mine you freely would have taken — murdered me 
 
 and my good fame 
 Both at once — and all the better ! Go, and thank 
 
 your own bad aim 
 Which permits me to forgive you ! ' "What if, with 
 
 such words as these. 
 He had cast away his weapon ? How should I have 
 
 borne me, please ? 
 Nay, I'll spare you pains and tell you. This, and only 
 
 this, remained — 
 
CLIVE. 57 
 
 Pick his weapon up and use it on myself. If so had 
 gained 
 
 Sleep the earlier, leaving England probably to pay on 
 still 
 
 Rent and taxes for half India, tenant at the French- 
 man's will." 
 
 " Such the turn," said I, " the matter takes with you ? 
 Then I abate 
 
 — No, by not one jot nor tittle, — of your act my 
 
 estimate. 
 Fear — I wish I could detect there : courage fronts me, 
 
 plain enough — 
 Call it desperation, madness — never mind ! for here's 
 
 in rough 
 Why, had mine been such a trial, fear had overcome 
 
 disgrace. 
 True, disgrace were hard to bear: but such a rush 
 
 against God's face 
 
 — None of that for me. Lord Plassy, since I go to 
 
 church at times, 
 Say the creed my mother taught me ! Many years in 
 
 foreign climes 
 Rub some marks away — not all, though! We poor 
 
 sinners reach life's brink. 
 Overlook what rolls beneath it, recklessly enough, but 
 
 think 
 There's advantage in what's left us — ground to stand 
 
 on, time to call 
 
58 THE YOUNG FOLKS' BROWNING. 
 
 < Lord, have mercy ! ' ere we topple over — do not 
 leap, that's all ! " 
 
 Oh, he made no answer, re-absorbed into his cloud. 
 
 I caught 
 Something like " Yes — courage ; only fools will call 
 
 it fear." 
 
 If aught 
 Comfort you, my great unhappy hero Clive, in that 
 
 I heard. 
 Next week, how your own hand dealt you doom, and 
 
 uttered just the word 
 « Fearfully courageous ! " — this, be sure, and nothing 
 
 else I groaned. 
 I'm no Clive, nor parson either : Clive's worst deed — 
 
 we'll hope condoned. 
 
MUL^YKEH. ^^ 
 
 muleykeh! 
 
 If a stranger passed the tent of H6seyn, he cried 
 
 « A churl's ! " 
 Or haply " God help the man who has neither salt nor 
 
 bread!" 
 
 — "Nay," would a friend exclaim, "he needs nor 
 
 pity nor scorn 
 More than who spends small thought on the shore- 
 sand, picking pearls, 
 
 — Holds but in light esteem the seed-sort, bears 
 
 instead .- u f 
 
 On his breast a moon-like prize, some orb which ot 
 
 night makes morn. 
 
 "What if no flocks and herds enrich the son of 
 
 Sindn? 
 They went when his tribe was mulct, ten thousand 
 
 camels the due, 
 Blood-value paid perforce for a murder done of old. 
 ' God gave them, let them go ! But never since time 
 
 began, 
 Muleykeh, peerless mare, owned master the match ot 
 
 you, , 
 
 And you are my prize, my Pearl : I laugh at men s 
 
 land and gold ! ' 
 
60 THE YOUNG FOLKS' BROWNING. 
 
 " So in the pride of his soul laughs H6seyn — and 
 
 right, I say. 
 Do the ten steeds run a race of glory ? Outstripping 
 
 all, 
 Ever Muleykeh stands first steed at the victor's staff. 
 Who started, the owner's hope, gets shamed and 
 
 named, that day. 
 ' Silence,' or, last but one, is ' The Cuffed,' as we used 
 
 to call 
 Whom the paddock's lord thrusts forth. Right, H6- 
 
 seyn, I say, to laugh ! " 
 
 " Boasts he Muleykeh the Pearl ? " the stranger replies : 
 
 " Be sure 
 On him I waste nor scorn nor pity, but lavish both 
 On Duhl the son of Sheyban, who withers away in heart 
 For envy of Hdseyn's luck. Such sickness admits no 
 
 cure. 
 A certain poet has sung, and sealed the same with an 
 
 oath, 
 ' For the vulgar — flocks and herds ! The Pearl is a 
 
 prize apart.' " 
 
 Lo, Duhl the son of Sheyban comes riding to H6seyn's 
 
 tent. 
 And he casts his saddle down, and enters and " Peace ! " 
 
 bids he. 
 " You are poor, I know the cause : my plenty shall 
 
 mend the wrong. 
 
MULJ^TKEH. 61 
 
 'Tis said of your Pearl — the price of a hundred cam- 
 els spent 
 
 In her purchase were scarce ill paid : such prudence 
 is far from me 
 
 Who proffer a thousand. Speak ! Long parley may 
 last too long." 
 
 Said H6seyn, " You feed young beasts a many, of fa,- 
 
 mous breed, 
 Slit-eared, unblemished, fat, true offspring of Muzen- 
 
 nem : 
 There stumbles no weak-eyed she in the line as it 
 
 climbs the hill. 
 But I love Mul^ykeh's face: her forefront whitens 
 
 indeed 
 Like a yellowish wave's cream-crest. Your camels — 
 
 go gaze on them ! 
 Her fetlock is foam-splashed too. Myself am the 
 
 richer still." 
 
 A year goes by : lo, back to the tent again rides Duhl. 
 "You are open-hearted, ay — moist-handed, a very 
 
 prince. 
 Why should I speak of sale? Be the mare your 
 
 simple gift ! 
 My son is pined to death for her beauty : my wife 
 
 prompts ' Fool, 
 Beg for his sake the Pearl ! Be God the rewarder, 
 
 since 
 
62 THE YOUNG FOLKS' BROWNING. 
 
 God pays debts seven for one : who squanders on Him 
 shows thrift.' " 
 
 Said H6seyn, " God gives each man one life, like a 
 lamp, then gives 
 
 That lamp due measure of oil : lamp lighted — hold 
 high, wave wide 
 
 Its comfort for others to share ! once quench it, what 
 help is left ? 
 
 The oil of your lamp is your son : I shine while Muley- 
 keh lives. 
 
 Would I beg your son to cheer my dark if Mul^ykeh 
 died? 
 
 It is life against life: what good avails to the life- 
 bereft?" 
 
 Another year, and — hist! What craft is it Duhl 
 designs ? 
 
 He alights not at the door of the tent as he did last 
 time, 
 
 But, creeping behind, he gropes his stealthy way by 
 the trench 
 
 Half-round till he finds the flap in the folding, for 
 night combines 
 
 With the robber — and such is he : Duhl, covetous 
 up to crime. 
 
 Must wring from Hdseyn's grasp the Pearl, by what- 
 ever the wrench. 
 
MULJ^YKEH. 63 
 
 " He was hunger-bitten, I heard : I tempted with half 
 
 my store, 
 And a gibe was all my thanks. Is he generous like 
 
 Spring dew ? 
 Account the fault to me who chaffered with such an 
 
 one ! 
 He has killed, to feast chance comers, the creature he 
 
 rode : nay, more — 
 For a couple of singing-girls his robe has he torn in 
 
 two: 
 I will beg ! Yet I nowise gained by the tale of my 
 
 wife and son. 
 
 " I swear by the Holy House, my head will I never 
 
 wash 
 Till I filch his Pearl away. Fair dealing I tried, then 
 
 guile, 
 And now I resort to force. He said we must live or 
 
 die : 
 Let him die, then, — let me live ! Be bold — but not 
 
 too rash ! 
 I have found me a peeping-place : breast, bury your 
 
 breathing while 
 I explore for myself! Now, breathe! He deceived 
 
 me not, the spy ! 
 
 "As he said — there lies in peace H6seyn — how 
 happy ! Beside 
 
64 THE YOUNG FOLKS' BROWNING. 
 
 Stands tethered the Pearl : thrice winds her headstall 
 about his wrist : 
 
 'Tis therefore he sleeps so sound — the moon through 
 the roof reveals. 
 
 And, loose on his left, stands too that other, known 
 far and wide, 
 
 Buh^yseh, her sister born : fleet is she yet ever missed 
 
 The winning tail's fire-flash a-stream past the thunder- 
 ous heels. 
 
 " No less she stands saddled and bridled, this second, 
 in case some thief 
 
 Should enter and seize and fly with the first, as I 
 mean to do. 
 
 What then ? The Pearl is the Pearl : once mount 
 her we both escape." 
 
 Through the skirt-fold in glides Duhl, — so a serpent 
 disturbs no leaf 
 
 In a bush as he parts the twigs entwining a nest; 
 clean through. 
 
 He is noiselessly at his work : as he planned, he per- 
 forms the rape. 
 
 He has set the tent-door wide, has buckled the girth, 
 
 has clipped 
 The headstall away from the wrist he leaves thrice 
 
 bound as before, 
 He springs on the Pearl, is launched on the desert 
 
 like bolt from bow. 
 
mul:^ykeh. 65 
 
 Up starts our plundered man : from his breast though 
 
 the heart be ripped, 
 Yet his mind has the mastery : behold, in a minute 
 
 more, 
 He is out and off and away on Buh^yseh, whose worth 
 
 we know ! 
 
 And H6seyn — his blood turns flame, he has learned 
 
 long since to ride, 
 And Buh^yseh does her part, — they gain — they are 
 
 gaining fast 
 On the fugitive pair, and Duhl has Ed-Darraj to cross 
 
 and quit. 
 And to reach the ridge El-Sabdn, — no safety till that 
 
 he spied ! 
 And Buh^yseh is, bound by bound, but a horse-length 
 
 off at last. 
 For the Pearl has missed the tap of the heel, the 
 
 touch of the bit. 
 
 She shortens her stride, she chafes at her rider the 
 
 strange and queer : 
 Buheyseh is mad with hope — beat sister she shall 
 
 and must. 
 Though Duhl, of the hand and heel so clumsy, she has 
 
 to thank. 
 She is near now, nose by tail — they are neck by 
 
 croup — joy ! fear ! 
 
66 THE YOUNG FOLKS' BROWNING. 
 
 What folly makes H6seyn shout " Dog Duhl, Damned 
 
 son of the Dust, 
 Touch the right ear and press with your foot my 
 
 Pearl's left flank ! " 
 
 And Duhl was wise at the word, and Mul^ykeh as 
 prompt perceived 
 
 Who was urging redoubled pace, and to hear him was 
 to obey, 
 
 And a leap indeed gave she, and evanished for ever- 
 more. 
 
 And H6seyn looked one long last look as who, all 
 bereaved. 
 
 Looks, fain to follow the dead so far as the living 
 may: 
 
 Then he turned Buh^yseh's neck slow homeward, 
 weeping sore. 
 
 And, lo, in the sunrise, still sat Hdseyn upon the 
 
 ground 
 Weeping : and neighbours came, the tribesmen of B^nu- 
 
 Asdd 
 In the vale of green Er-Rass, and they questioned him 
 
 of his grief ; 
 And he told from first to last how, serpent-like, Duhl 
 
 had wound 
 His way to the nest, and how Duhl rode like an ape, 
 
 so bad ! 
 
MUL^YKEH. 67 
 
 And how Buh^yseh did wonders, yet Pearl remained 
 with the thief. 
 
 And they jeered him, one and all : " Poor Hdseyn is 
 
 crazed past hope ! 
 How else had he wrought himself his ruin, in fortune's 
 
 spite ? 
 To have simply held the tongue were a task for boy 
 
 or girl. 
 And here were Muleykeh again, the eyed like an 
 
 antelope. 
 The child of his heart by day, the wife of his breast 
 
 by night ! " — 
 " And the beaten in speed ! " wept H6seyn. " You 
 
 never have loved my Pearl." 
 
68 THE YOUNG FOLKS' BROWNING. 
 
 TRAY.' 
 
 Sing me a hero ! Quench my thirst 
 Of soul, ye bards ! 
 
 Quoth Bard the first : 
 " Sir Olaf , the good knight, did don 
 His helm and eke his habergeon"^. . . 
 Sir Olaf and his bard — ! 
 
 "That sin-scathed brow" (quoth Bard the 
 
 second), 
 " That eye wide ope as though Fate beckoned 
 My hero to some steep, beneath 
 Which precipice smiled tempting death "... 
 You too without your host have reckoned 1 
 
 " A beggar-child " (let's hear this third !) 
 " Sat on a quay's edge : like a bird 
 Sang to herself at careless play. 
 And fell into the stream. ' Dismay ! 
 Help, you the standers-by ! ' None stirred. 
 
 " Bystanders reason, think of wives 
 And children ere they risk their lives. 
 Over the balustrade has bounced 
 A mere instinctive dog, and pounced 
 Plumb on the prize. ' How well he diyes! 
 
TBAY. 69 
 
 « ' Up he comes with the child, see, tight 
 In mouth, alive too, clutched from quite 
 A depth of ten feet — twelve, I bet ! 
 Good dog ! What, off again ? There's yet 
 Another child to save ? All right ! 
 
 " < How strange we saw no other fall ! 
 It's instinct in the animal. 
 Good dog 1 But he's a long while under : 
 If he got drowned I should not wonder — 
 Strong current, that against the wall ! 
 
 " ' Here he comes, holds in mouth this time 
 
 — What may the thing be ? Well, that's prime ! 
 
 Now, did you ever ? Reason reigns 
 
 In man alone, since all Tray's pains 
 
 Have fished — the child's doll from the slime ! ' 
 
 " And so, amid the laughter gay. 
 Trotted my hero off, — old Tray, — 
 Till somebody, prerogatived 
 With reason, reasoned : ' Why he dived, 
 His brain would show us, I should say. 
 
 " ' John, go and catch — or, if needs be, 
 
 Purchase — that animal for me ! 
 
 By vivisection, at expense 
 
 Of half-an-hour and eighteenpence. 
 
 How brain secretes dog's soul, we'll see ' ' " 
 
70 THE YOUNG FOLKS' BROWNING. 
 
 A TALE.' 
 
 Wha.t a pretty tale you told me 
 Once upon a time 
 
 — Said you found it somewhere (scold me !) 
 Was it prose or was it rhyme, 
 
 Greek or Latin ? Greek, you said, 
 While your shoulder propped my head. 
 
 Anyhow there's no forgetting 
 
 This much if no more, 
 That a poet (pray, no petting !) 
 
 Yes, a bard, sir, famed of yore, 
 Went where suchlike used to go, 
 Singing for a prize, you know. 
 
 Well, he had to sing, nor merely 
 
 Sing but play the lyre ; 
 Playing was important clearly 
 
 Quite as singing : I desire. 
 Sir, you keep the fact in mind 
 For a purpose that's behind. 
 
 There stood he, while deep attention 
 Held the judges round, 
 
 — Judges able, I should mention. 
 To detect the slightest sound 
 
 Sung or played amiss : such ears 
 Had old judges, it appears ! 
 
A TALE. 71 
 
 None the less he sang out boldly, 
 
 Played in time and tune, 
 Till the judges, weighing coldly 
 
 Each note's worth, seemed, late or soon, 
 Sure to smile " In vain one tries 
 Picking faults out : take the prize ! " 
 
 When, a mischief ! Were they seven 
 
 Strings the lyre possessed ? 
 Oh, and afterwards eleven. 
 
 Thank you 1 Well, sir, — who had 
 guessed 
 Such ill luck in store ? — it happed 
 One of those same seven strings snapped. 
 
 All was lost, then ! No ! a cricket 
 
 (What " cicada ? " Pooh !) 
 Some mad thing that left its thicket 
 
 For mere love of music — flew 
 With its little heart on fire. 
 Lighted on the crippled lyre. 
 
 So that when (Ah, joy !) our singer 
 
 For his truant string 
 Feels with disconcerted finger. 
 
 What does cricket else but fling 
 Fiery heart forth, sound the note 
 Wanted by the throbbing throat ? 
 
72 THE YOUNG FOLKS* BROWNING. 
 
 Ay, and ever to the ending, 
 
 Cricket chirps at need, 
 Executes the hand's intending. 
 
 Promptly, perfectly, — indeed 
 Saves the singer from defeat 
 With her chirrup low and sweet. 
 
 Till, at ending, all the judges 
 
 Cry with one assent 
 " Take the prize — a prize who grudges 
 
 Such a voice and instrument ? 
 Why, we took your lyre for harp, 
 So it shrilled us forth F sharp ! " 
 
 Did the conqueror spurn the creature, 
 
 Once its service done ? 
 That's no such uncommon feature 
 
 In the case when Music's son 
 Finds his Lotte's power too spent 
 For aiding soul-development. 
 
 No ! This other, on returning 
 Homeward, prize in hand, 
 
 Satisfied his bosom's yearning : 
 (Sir, I hope you understand !) 
 
 — Said " Some record there must be 
 
 Of this cricket's help to me ! " 
 
 So, he made himself a statue : 
 Marble stood, life-size ; 
 
A TALE. 73 
 
 On the lyre, he pointed at you, 
 
 Perched his partner in the prize ; 
 Never more apart you found 
 Her, he throned, from him, she crowned. 
 
 That's the tale : its application ? 
 
 Somebody I know 
 Hopes one day for reputation 
 
 Through his poetry that's — Oh, 
 All so learned and so wise 
 And deserving of a prize ! 
 
 If he gains one, will some ticket, 
 
 When his statue's built, 
 Tell the gazer " 'Twas a cricket 
 
 Helped my crippled lyre, whose lilt 
 Sweet and low, when strength usurped 
 Softness' place i' the scale, she chirped ? 
 
 " For as victory was nighest. 
 
 While I sang and played, — 
 With my lyre at lowest, highest. 
 
 Right alike, — one string that made 
 < Love ' sound soft was snapt in twain, 
 Never to be heard again, — 
 
 " Had not a kind cricket fluttered. 
 
 Perched upon the place 
 Vacant left, and duly uttered 
 
 ' Love, Love, Love,' whene'er the bass 
 
74 THE YOUNG FOLKS' BROWNING. 
 
 Asked the treble to atone 
 
 For its somewhat sombre drone." 
 
 But you don't know music ! Wherefore 
 
 Keep on casting pearls 
 To a — poet ? All I care for 
 
 Is — to tell him that a girl's 
 " Love " comes aptly in when gruff 
 Grows his singing. (There, enough !) 
 
"HAIR, SUCH A WONDER OF FLIX AND FLOSS. 
 
GOLD HAIB. 75 
 
 GOLD HAIR. 
 
 Oh, the beautiful girl, too white, 
 
 Who lived at Pornic} down by the sea, 
 
 Just where the sea and the Loire unite ! 
 And a boasted name in Brittany 
 
 She bore, which I will not write. 
 
 Too white, for the flower of life is red : 
 Her flesh was the soft seraphic screen 
 
 Of a soul that is meant (her parents said) 
 To just see earth, and hardly be seen, 
 
 And blossom in heaven instead. 
 
 Yet earth saw one thing, one how fair ! 
 
 One grace that grew to its full on earth : 
 Smiles might be sparse on her cheek so spare, 
 
 And her waist want half a girdle's girth. 
 But she had her great gold hair. 
 
 Hair, such a wonder of flix and floss, 
 
 Freshness and fragrance — floods of it, too ! 
 
 Gold, did I say ? Nay, gold's mere dross : 
 
 Here, Life smiled, " Think what I meant to do ! " 
 
 And Love sighed, " Fancy my loss ! " 
 
 So, when she died, it was scarce more strange 
 Than that, when delicate evening dies. 
 
76 THE YOUNG FOLKS' BROWNING. 
 
 And you follow its spent sun's pallid range, 
 
 There's a shoot of colour startles the skies 
 With sudden, violent change, — 
 
 That, while the breath was nearly to seek. 
 As they put the little cross to her lips, 
 
 She changed ; a spot came out on her cheek, 
 A spark from her eye in mid-eclipse, 
 
 And she broke forth, " I must speak ! " 
 
 " Not my hair ! " made the girl her moan — 
 
 " All the rest is gone or to go ; 
 But the last, last grace, my all, my own, 
 
 Let it stay in the grave, that the ghosts may 
 know! 
 Leave my poor gold hair alone ! " 
 
 The passion thus vented, dead lay she ; 
 
 Her parents sobbed their worst on that ; 
 All friends joined in, nor observed degree : 
 
 For indeed the hair was to wonder at, 
 As it spread — not flowing free, 
 
 But curled around her brow, like a crown, 
 And coiled beside her cheeks, like a cap, 
 
 And calmed about her neck — ay, down 
 To her breast, pressed flat, without a gap 
 
 F the gold, it reached her gown. 
 
GOLD HAIB. 11 
 
 All kissed that face, like a silver wedge 
 
 'Mid the yellow wealth, nor disturbed its hair : 
 
 E'en the priest allowed death's privilege, 
 As he planted the crucifix with care 
 
 On her breast, 'twixt edge and edge. 
 
 And thus was she buried, inviolate 
 
 Of body and soul, in the very space 
 By the altar ; keeping saintly state 
 
 In Pornic church, for her pride of race, 
 Pure life and piteous fate. 
 
 And in after-time would your fresh tear fall. 
 Though your mouth might twitch with a dubi- 
 ous smile, 
 
 As they told you of gold, both robe and pall, 
 How she prayed them leave it alone awhile, 
 
 So it never was touched at all. 
 
 Years flew ; this legend grew at last 
 The life of the lady ; all she had done, 
 
 All been, in the memories fading fast 
 Of lover and friend, was summed in one 
 
 Sentence survivors passed : 
 
 To wit, she was meant for heaven, not earth; 
 
 Had turned an angel before the time : 
 Yet, since she was mortal, in such dearth 
 
 Of frailty, all you could count a crime 
 Was — she knew her gold hair's worth. 
 
78 THE YOUNG FOLKS' BROWNING, 
 
 At little pleasant Pornic church, 
 
 It chanced, the pavement wanted repair, 
 
 Was taken to pieces : left in the lurch, 
 A certain sacred space lay bare. 
 
 And the boys began research. 
 
 'Twas the space where our sires would lay a saint, 
 
 A benefactor, — a bishop, suppose, 
 A baron with armour-adornments quaint, 
 
 Dame with chased ring and jewelled rose, 
 Things sanctity saves from taint ; 
 
 So we come to find them in after-days 
 
 When the corpse is presumed to have done with 
 gauds 
 
 Of use to the living, in many ways : 
 
 For the boys get pelf, and the town applauds, 
 
 And the church deserves the praise. 
 
 They grubbed with a will : and at length — cor 
 Humanum, pectora cceca] and the rest ! — 
 
 They found — no gaud they were prying for, 
 No ring, no rose, but — who would have 
 guessed ? — 
 
 A double Louis-d'or!^ 
 
 Here was a case for the priest : he heard. 
 
 Marked, inwardly digested, laid 
 Finger on nose, smiled, " There's a bird 
 
GOLD HAIR. 79 
 
 Chirps in my ear : " then, " Bring a spade, 
 Dig deeper ! " — he gave the word. 
 
 And lo, when they came to the coffin-lid, 
 Or rotten planks which composed it once. 
 
 Why, there lay the girl's skull wedged amid 
 A mint of money, it served for the nonce 
 
 To hold in its hair-heaps hid ! 
 
 Hid there ? Why ? Could the girl be wont 
 (She the stainless soul) to treasure up 
 
 Money, earth's trash and heaven's affront ? 
 Had a spider found out the communion-cup, 
 
 Was a toad in the christening-font ? 
 
 Truth is truth : too true it was. 
 
 Gold ! She hoarded and hugged it first. 
 Longed for it, leaned o'er it, loved it — alas — 
 
 Till the humour grew to a head and burst, 
 And she cried, at the final pass, — 
 
 " Talk not of God, my heart is stone ! 
 
 Nor lover nor friend — be gold for both ! 
 Gold I lack ; and, my all, my own, 
 
 It shall hide in my hair. I scarce die loth 
 If they let my hair alone ! " 
 
 Louis-d'or, some six times five. 
 
 And duly double, every piece. 
 Now, do you see ? With the priest to shrive, 
 
80 THE YOUNG FOLKS' BROWNING, 
 
 With parents preventing her soul's release 
 By kisses that kept alive, — 
 
 With heaven's gold gates about to ope, 
 
 With friends' praise, gold-like, lingering still, 
 
 An instinct had bidden the girl's hand grope 
 For gold, the true sort — " Gold in heaven, if 
 you will ; 
 
 But I keep earth's too, I hope." 
 
 Enough ! The priest took the grave's grim yield : 
 The parents, they eyed that price of sin 
 
 As if thirty p{eces^\2Ly revealed 
 On the place to hury strangers in, 
 
 The hideous Potter's Field. 
 
 But the priest bethought him : " ' Milk that's spilt ' 
 — You know the adage ! Watch and pray ! 
 
 Saints tumble to earth with so slight a tilt ! 
 It would build a new altar ; that, we may ! " 
 
 And the altar therewith was built. 
 
 Why I deliver this horrible verse ? 
 
 As the text of a sermon, which now I preach : 
 Evil or good may be better or worse 
 
 In the human heart, but the mixture of each 
 Is a marvel and a curse. 
 
 The candid incline to surmise of late 
 
 That the Christian faith proves false, I find ; 
 
GOLD HAIR. 81 
 
 For our Essays-and-Reviews' debate 
 Begins to tell on the public mind, 
 And Colenso's words have weight : 
 
 I still, to suppose it true, for my part. 
 See reasons and reasons ; this, to begin : 
 
 Tis the faith that launched point-blank her dart 
 At the head of a lie — taught Original Sin, 
 
 The Corruption of Man's Heart. 
 
82 THE YOUNG FOLKS' BROWNING. 
 
 DONALDJ 
 
 Do you happen to know in Ross-shire 
 
 Mount Ben . . . but the name scarce mat- 
 ters: 
 
 Of the naked fact I am sure enough, 
 Though I clothe it in rags and tatters. 
 
 You may recognise Ben by description ; 
 
 Behind him — a moor's immenseness : 
 Up goes the middle mount of a range, 
 
 Fringed with its firs in denseness. 
 
 Rimming the edge, its fir-fringe, mind ! 
 
 For an edge there is, though narrow ; 
 From end to end of the range, a strip 
 
 Of path runs straight as an arrow. 
 
 And the mountaineer who takes that path 
 
 Saves himself miles of journey 
 He has to plod if he crosses the moor 
 
 Through heather, peat, and burnie.^ 
 
 But a mountaineer he needs must be, 
 For, look you, right in the middle 
 
 Projects bluff Ben — with an end in ieh — 
 Why planted there, is a riddle ; 
 
DONALD. 83 
 
 Since all Ben's brothers little and big 
 Keep rank, set shoulder to shoulder, 
 
 And only this burliest out must bulge 
 Till it seems — to the beholder 
 
 From down in the gully, — as if Ben's breast, 
 
 To a sudden spike diminished. 
 Would signify to the boldest foot 
 
 " All further passage finished ! " 
 
 Yet the mountaineer who sidles on 
 
 And on to the very bending. 
 Discovers, if heart and brain be proof, 
 
 No necessary ending. 
 
 Foot up, foot down, to the turn abrupt 
 
 Having trod, he, there arriving, 
 Finds — what he took for a point was breadth, 
 
 A mercy of Nature's contriving. 
 
 So, he rounds what, when 'tis reached, proves 
 straight, 
 
 From one side gains the other : 
 The wee path widens — resume the march, 
 
 And he foils you, Ben my brother ! 
 
 But Donald — (that name, I hope, will do) — 
 
 I wrong him if I call " foiling " 
 The tramp of the callant, whistling the while 
 
 As blithe as our kettle's boiling. 
 
84 THE YOUNG FOLKS' BROWNING. 
 
 He had dared the danger from boyhood up, 
 And now, — when perchance was waiting 
 
 A lass at the brig below, — 'twixt mount 
 And moor would he standing debating ? 
 
 Moreover this Donald was twenty-five, 
 
 A glory of bone and muscle : 
 Did a fiend dispute the right of way, 
 
 Donald would try a tussle. 
 
 Lightsomely marched he out of the broad 
 On to the narrow and narrow ; 
 
 A step more, rounding the angular rock. 
 Reached the front straight as an arrow. 
 
 He stepped it, safe on the ledge he stood, 
 When — whom found he full-facing ? 
 
 What fellow in courage and wariness too, 
 Had scouted ignoble pacing. 
 
 And left low safety to timid mates. 
 And made for the dread dear danger. 
 
 And gained the height where — who could 
 guess 
 He would meet with a rival ranger ? 
 
 'Twas a gold-red stag that stood and stared. 
 
 Gigantic and magnific, 
 By the wonder — ay, and the peril — struck 
 
 Intelligent and pacific ; 
 
DONALD. «5 
 
 For a red deer is no fallow deer 
 
 Grown cowardly through park-feeding ; 
 
 He batters you like a thunderbolt 
 If you brave his haunts unheeding. 
 
 I doubt he could hardly perform volte-face 
 
 Had valour advised discretion : 
 You may walk on a rope, but to turn on a rope 
 No Blondin* makes profession. 
 
 Yet Donald must turn, would pride permit, 
 
 Though pride ill brooks retiring : 
 Each eyed each — mute man, motionless beast — - 
 
 Less fearing than admiring. 
 
 These are the moments when quite new sense. 
 
 To meet some need as novel. 
 Springs up in the brain : it inspired resource : 
 — " Nor advance nor retreat but — grovel ! " 
 
 And slowly, surely, never a whit 
 
 Relaxing the steady tension 
 Of eye-stare which binds man to beast, — 
 
 By an inch and inch declension. 
 
 Sank Donald sidewise down and down : 
 
 Till flat, breast upwards, lying 
 At his six-foot length, no corpse more still, 
 
 — " If he cross me ! The trick's worth 
 trying." 
 
86 THE YOUNG FOLKS* BROWNING. 
 
 Minutes were an eternity ; 
 
 But a new sense was created 
 In the stag's brain too ; he resolves ! Slow, 
 sure, 
 
 With eye-stare unabated, 
 
 Feelingly he extends a foot 
 
 Which tastes the way ere it touches 
 
 Earth's solid and just escapes man's soft. 
 Nor hold of the same unclutches 
 
 Till its fellow foot, light as a feather whisk. 
 
 Lands itself no less finely : 
 So a mother removes a fly from the face 
 
 Of her babe asleep supinely. 
 
 And now 'tis the haunch and hind-foot's turn 
 — That's hard : can the beast quite raise it ? 
 
 Yes, traversing half the prostrate length. 
 His hoof-tip does not graze it. 
 
 Just one more lift ! But Donald, you see. 
 
 Was sportsman first, man after : 
 A fancy lightened his caution through, 
 — He wellnigh broke into laughter : 
 
 " It were nothing short of a miracle ! 
 Unrivalled, unexampled — 
 All sporting feats with this feat matched 
 Were down and dead and trampled ! " 
 
DONALD. 87 
 
 The last of the legs as tenderly 
 
 Follows the rest : or never 
 Or now is the time ! His knife in reach, 
 
 And his right hand loose — how clever ! 
 
 For this can stab up the stomach's soft, 
 While the left hand grasps the pastern! 
 
 A rise on the elbow, and — now's the time 
 Or never : this turn's the last turn ! 
 
 I shall dare to place myself by God 
 
 Who scanned — for he does — each feature 
 
 Of the face thrown up in appeal to him 
 By the agonising creature. 
 
 Nay, I hear plain words : " Thy gift brings 
 this!" 
 
 Up he sprang, back he staggered. 
 Over he fell, and with him our friend 
 
 — At following game no laggard. 
 
 Yet he was not dead when they picked next 
 day 
 
 From the gully's depth the wreck of him ; 
 
 His fall had been stayed by the stag beneath 
 
 Who cushioned and saved the neck of him. 
 
 But the rest of his body — why, doctors said, 
 Whatever could break was broken ; 
 
88 THE YOUNG FOLKS' BROWNING. 
 
 Legs, arms, ribs, all of him looked like a toast 
 In a tumbler of port wine soaken. 
 
 " That your life is left you, thank the stag ! " 
 Said they when — the slow cure ended — 
 They opened the hospital door, and thence 
 — Strapped, spliced, main fractures mended, 
 
 And minor damage left wisely alone, — 
 Like an old shoe clouted and cobbled. 
 
 Out — what went in a Goliath wellnigh, — 
 Some half of a David hobbled. 
 
 " You must ask an alms from house to house : 
 Sell the stag's head for a bracket. 
 With its grand twelve tines — I'd buy it myself - 
 And use the skin for a jacket ! " 
 
 He was wiser, made both head and hide 
 His win-penny : hands and knees on, 
 
 Would manage to crawl — poor crab — by 
 the roads 
 In the misty stalking season. 
 
 And if he discovered a bothy like this. 
 Why, harvest was sure : folk listened. 
 
 He told his tale to the lovers of Sport : 
 
 Lips twitched, cheeks glowed, eyes glistened. 
 
DONALD, 89 
 
 And when he had come to the close, and spread 
 
 His spoils for the gazers' wonder, 
 With " Gentlemen, here's the skull of the stag 
 
 I was over, thank God, not under ! " — 
 
 The company broke out in applause ; 
 
 " By Jingo, a lucky cripple ! 
 Have a munch of grouse and a hunk of bread, 
 
 And a tug, besides, at our tipple ! " 
 
 And " There's my pay for your pluck ! " 
 cried This, 
 
 « And mine for your jolly story ! " 
 Cried That, while T'other — but he was drunk — 
 
 Hiccupped " A trump, a Tory ! " 
 
 I hope I gave twice as much as the rest ; 
 
 For, as Homer would say, " within grate 
 Though teeth kept tongue," my whole soul 
 growled, 
 
 « Rightly rewarded, — Ingrate ! " 
 
90 THE YOUNG FOLKS' BROWNING. 
 
 THE GLOYE. 
 
 (PETER RONSARD loqUlturJ) 
 
 " Heigho ," yawned one day King Francis, 
 
 " Distance all value enhances ! 
 
 When a man's busy, why, leisure 
 
 Strikes him as wonderful pleasure : 
 
 'Faith, and at leisure once is he ? 
 
 Straightway he wants to be busy. 
 
 Here we've got peace ; and aghast I'm 
 
 Caught thinking war the true pastime. 
 
 Is there a reason in metre ? 
 
 Give us your speech, master Peter ! " 
 
 I who, if mortal dare say so. 
 
 Ne'er am at a loss with my Naso, 
 
 " Sire " I replied, " joys prove cloudlets: 
 
 Men are the merest Ixions " — 
 
 Here the King whistled aloud, " Let's 
 
 — Heigho — go look at our lions ! '* 
 
 Such are the sorrowful chances 
 
 If you talk fine to King Francis. 
 
 And so, to the courtyard proceeding 
 Our company, Francis was leading, 
 Increased by new followers tenfold 
 Before he arrived at the penf old ; 
 
THE GLOVE. 91 
 
 Lords, ladies, like clouds which bedizen 
 
 At sunset the western horizon. 
 
 And Sir De Lorge pressed 'mid the foremost 
 
 With the dame he professed to adore most. 
 
 Oh, what a face ! One by fits eyed 
 
 Her, and the horrible pitside ; 
 
 For the penfold surrounded a hollow 
 
 Which led where the eye scarce dared follow, 
 
 And shelved to the chamber secluded 
 
 Where Bluebeard, the great lion, brooded. 
 
 The King hailed his keeper, an Arab 
 
 As glossy and black as a scarab, 
 
 And bade him make sport and at once stir 
 
 Up and out of his den the old monster. 
 
 They opened a hole in the wire-work 
 
 Across it, and dropped there a firework. 
 
 And fled : one's heart's beating redoubled ; 
 
 A pause, while the pit's mouth was troubled, 
 
 The blackness and silence so utter. 
 
 By the firework's slow sparkling and sputter ; 
 
 Then earth in a sudden contortion 
 
 Gave out to our gaze her abortion. 
 
 Such a brute ! Were I friend Clement Marot 
 
 (Whose experience of nature's but narrow, 
 
 And whose faculties move in no small mist 
 
 When he versifies David the Psalmist) 
 
 I should study that brute to describe you 
 
 Ilium Juda Leonem de Tribu, 
 
92' THE YOUNG FOLKS' BROWNING. 
 
 One's whole blood grew curdling and creepy 
 
 To see the black mane, vast and heapy, 
 
 The tail in the air stiff and straining, 
 
 The wide eyes, nor waxing nor waning, 
 
 As over the barrier which bounded 
 
 His platform, and us who surrounded 
 
 The barrier, they reached and they rested 
 
 On space that might stand him in best stead : 
 
 For who knew, he thought, what the amazement, 
 
 The eruption of clatter and blaze meant. 
 
 And if, in this minute of wonder. 
 
 No outlet, 'mid lightning and thunder. 
 
 Lay broad, and, his shackles all shivered, 
 
 The lion at last was delivered ? 
 
 Ay, that was the open sky o'erhead ! 
 
 And you saw by the flash on his forehead. 
 
 By the hope in those eyes wide and steady, 
 
 He was leagues in the desert already. 
 
 Driving the flocks up the mountain. 
 
 Or catlike couched hard by the fountain 
 
 To waylay the date-gathering negress : 
 
 So guarded he entrance or egress. 
 
 " How he stands ! " quoth the King : " we may 
 
 well swear, 
 (No novice, we've won our spurs elsewhere 
 And so can afford the confession,) 
 We exercise wholesome discretion 
 In keeping aloof from his threshold, 
 Once hold you, those jaws want no fresh hold. 
 
THE GLOVE. 93 
 
 Their first would too pleasantly purloin 
 The visitor's brisket or sirloin : 
 But who's he would prove so foolhardy ? 
 Not the best man of Marignan, pardie ! " 
 
 The sentence no sooner was uttered, 
 Than over the rails a glove fluttered, 
 Fell close to the lion, and rested : 
 The dame 'twas, who flung it and jested 
 With life so, De Lorge had been wooing 
 For months past ; he sat there pursuing 
 His suit, weighing out with nonchalance 
 Fine speeches like gold from a balance. 
 
 Sound the trumpet, no true knight's a tarrier ! 
 De Lorge made one leap at the barrier. 
 Walked straight to the glove, — while the lion 
 Ne'er moved, kept his far-reaching eye on 
 The palm-tree-edged desert-spring's sapphire, 
 And the musky oiled skin of the Kaffir, — 
 Picked it up, and as calmly retreated. 
 Leaped back where the lady was seated^ 
 And full in the face of its owner 
 Flung the glove. 
 
 " Your heart's queen, you dethrone her ? 
 So should I ! " — cried the King — " 'twas 
 
 mere vanity. 
 Not love, set that task to humanity ! " 
 
94 THE YOUNG FOLKS' BROWNING. 
 
 Lords and ladies alike turned with loathing 
 From such a proved wolf in sheep's clothing. 
 
 Not so, I ; for I caught an expression 
 
 In her brow's undisturbed self-possession 
 
 Amid the Court's scoffing and merriment, — 
 
 As if from no pleasing experiment 
 
 She rose, yet of pain not much heedful 
 
 So long as the process was needful, — 
 
 As if she had tried in a crucible. 
 
 To what " speeches like gold " were reducible, 
 
 And, finding the finest prove copper. 
 
 Felt the smoke in her face was but proper ; 
 
 To know what she had not to trust to, 
 
 Was worth all the ashes and dust too. 
 
 She went out 'mid hooting and laughter ; 
 
 Clement Marot stayed ; I followed after, 
 
 And asked, as a grace, what it all meant ? 
 
 If she wished not the rash deed's recallment? 
 
 " For I " — so I spoke — " am a poet : 
 
 Human nature, — behooves that I know it ! " 
 
 She told me, " Too long had I heard 
 Of the deed proved alone by the word : 
 For my love — what De Lorge would not 
 
 dare ! 
 With my scorn — what De Lorge could com- 
 pare! 
 And the endless descriptions of death 
 
"AND FULL IN THE FACE OF ITS OWNER FLUNG THE 
 
 GLOVE." 
 
THE GLOVE. 95 
 
 He would brave when my lip formed a breath, 
 
 I must reckon as braved, or, of course, 
 
 Doubt his word — and moreover, perforce, 
 
 For such gifts as no lady could spurn. 
 
 Must offer my love in return. 
 
 When I looked on your lion, it brought 
 
 All the dangers at once to my thought, 
 
 Encountered by all sorts of men. 
 
 Before he was lodged in his den, — 
 
 From the poor slave whose club or bare hands 
 
 Dug the trap, set the snare on the sands, 
 
 With no King and no Court to applaud. 
 
 By no shame, should he shrink, overawed. 
 
 Yet to capture the creature made shift. 
 
 That his rude boys might laugh at the gift, 
 
 — To the page who last leaped o'er the fence 
 
 Of the pit, on no greater pretence 
 
 Than to get back the boniist he dropped, 
 
 Lest his pay for a week should be stopped. 
 
 So, wiser I judged it to make 
 
 One trial what ' death for my sake ' 
 
 Really meant, while the power was yet mine, 
 
 Than to wait until time should define 
 
 Such a phrase not so simply as I, 
 
 Who took it to mean just ' to die.' 
 
 The blow a glove gives is but weak : 
 
 Does the mark yet discolour my cheek ? 
 
 But when the heart suffers a blow, 
 
 Will the pain pass so soon, do you know ?" 
 
96 THE YOUNG FOLKS' BROWNING. 
 
 I looked, as away she was sweeping, 
 
 And saw a youth eagerly keeping 
 
 As close as he dared to the doorway. 
 
 No doubt that a noble should more weigh 
 
 His life than befits a plebeian ; 
 
 And yet, had our brute been Nemean — 
 
 (I judge by a certain calm fervour 
 
 The youth stepped with, forward to serve her) 
 
 — He'd have scarce thought you did him 
 
 the worst turn 
 If you whispered, " Friend, what you'd get, 
 
 first earn ! " 
 And when, shortly after, she carried 
 Her shame from the Court, and they married. 
 To that marriage some happiness, maugre 
 The voice of the Court, 1 dared augur. 
 
 THE END. 
 
JSrOTES. 
 
 Page 11. — 1. The Pied Piper of Hamelin is called a 
 child's story for the reason that Eohert 
 Browning wrote it for the son of Mac- 
 Cready, the actor. In stanza XV the 
 author addressed the boy thus: 
 
 " So, Willy, let me and you be wipers 
 Of scores out with all men — especially pipers." 
 
 The boy, who was clever at drawing, 
 had been ill; during his convalescence he 
 asked the poet for some stanzas for which 
 he could make pictures. Whether or not 
 Browning had this request in mind we 
 do not know, but the reader will be im- 
 pressed with the vivid imagery, the won- 
 derful rhythm, the color and movement 
 that animate the story. 
 
 2. The scene is laid at Hamelin (Hameln) 
 on the river Weser, a few miles southwest 
 of Hanover. 
 
 3. ''Almost five hundred years ago:'' See 
 page 22, where the exact date is given as 
 July 22, 1376. 
 
 Page 12. — 1. Note the vigor of the rhythm and the 
 onrush of the tempo. The final line of 
 stanza II is wholly a poetic license. Its 
 
 97 
 
98 NOTES. 
 
 appeal is to the ear, not to the imaging 
 
 faculty. 
 Page 13. — 1. Note the rhyming words of lines one and 
 
 two, stanza V, '' bigger " and "" figure." 
 
 Such impure rhymes are often used. The 
 
 force and vigor of the poems make them 
 
 quite applicable. 
 Page 15. — 1. CJiam of Tartary: That is Khan or 
 
 sovereign prince. 
 
 2. Nizam: The title of the sovereign of an 
 Indian state. 
 
 3. Green and hhie: Although the title of 
 the story suggests the richness of the 
 piper's coloring, there is comparatively 
 little reference to color throughout the 
 poem. The sounds that accompanied the 
 incident are more particularly empha- 
 sized. 
 
 Page 17. — 1. NuncJieon (also written nunchion and 
 noonshun) : Food taken at noon or be- 
 tween meals; a luncheon. 
 2. Claret, Moselle, Yin-de-Grave, Hock, 
 Rhenish: Names of varieties of wines. • 
 
 Page 18. — 1. Bagdat (Bagdad) : A city in Asiatic Tur- 
 key. 
 2. Caliph: The title designating the suc- 
 cessors of Mohammed. 
 
 Page 19. — 1. Justling (jostling): Pushing, crowding. 
 
 Page 23. — 1. Transylvania: A province of Southeastern 
 Hungary. 
 
 Page 24. — 1. In Herve Riel the reader will note the 
 
NOTES. 99 
 
 vigor, the drive, the incessant onward 
 motion of the narration. It is told by 
 one whose expression finds, with unerring 
 precision, the appropriate rhythm to es- 
 tablish an atmosphere for the noble deed 
 of Herve Eiel and the pride of him who 
 makes it possible for the humble Breton 
 hero once again to 
 
 "Save the squadron, honor France, love thy 
 wife, the Belle Aurore! " 
 
 The picture unrolls a brilliant pano- 
 rama of ships at sea, of rocks, of the 
 movement and hiss of waters, and of the 
 green trees waving " on the heights o'er- 
 looking Greve/' There is incessant motion 
 in the narration. From the moment of 
 supreme danger to the calm that comes 
 with safety, there is the onrush as of 
 music seeking through turbulent themes 
 its final peaceful cadence. And following 
 upon the climax that lifts high in the 
 picture of great achievement comes the 
 kindly human, heartfelt appreciation of 
 fun, the laugh of the honest heart that 
 wanted no more for duty done than a 
 whole holiday with 
 
 "Leave to go and see my wife, whom I call 
 the Belle Aurore! " 
 
 Eiel is pronounced in two syllables, 
 Ei-el. 
 
100 NOTES. 
 
 The poem was first printed in 1871 in 
 the Cornhill Magazine. 
 
 The poet devoted the honorarium, of 
 one hundred pounds, to the people of 
 Paris suffering from the terrors and dep- 
 rivations of the Franco-Prussian War. 
 2. Ranee: The river flowing into the English 
 Channel at Saint Malo. 
 Page 25. — 1. Plymouth: A naval station with mag- 
 nificent harbor on the southwest coast of 
 England. 
 Page 26. — 1. Croisickese : The town name of one who 
 lived at Croisic in Brittany. 
 
 2. Malouins: Dwellers at Saint Malo. 
 
 3. Greve: The shifting sands at Mont Saint 
 Michel. 
 
 4. Disembogues: Enters the sea. 
 Page 27. — 1. Solidor: The name of the fortress. 
 Page 30. — 1. Louvre: The Gallery of Painting and 
 
 Sculpture in Paris. 
 Page 31. — 1. These Cavalier Tunes are true songs of 
 chivalry. They abound in virility of 
 movement, in color, in the power of 
 forceful men. Note the jubilant rhythm 
 of Marching Along; its incisive footfall; 
 its martial pomp and circumstance. 
 
 The third tune. Boot and Saddle, was 
 originally entitled My Wife Gertrude. 
 
 2. Crop-headed: With the hair cut close. 
 
 3. Carle (see Churl) : A rude person, a 
 rustic. 
 
NOTES. 101 
 
 4. Parle: A conversation (compare the Eng- 
 lish word parley). 
 
 Page 32. — 1. Rouse: A drinking to one's health; a 
 toast. 
 2. Noll's damned troopers: Noll was the 
 nickname by which Oliver Cromwell was 
 known. 
 
 Page 33. — 1. Roundhead: The Puritans of the reign 
 of Charles I were so designated. They 
 were distinguished by their close cut hair, 
 hence " crop-headed.'' The Cavaliers, or 
 Eoyalists, who were the opponents of the 
 Roundheads, wore the hair long. 
 
 Page 34. — 1. How They Brought the Good News from 
 Ghent to Aix is a story poem full of the 
 vim and vigor of the drive. It will recall 
 to the reader (less in the manner of the 
 telling than in the intensity of interest) 
 the impetuous ride of Paul Severe. The 
 determination of the riders to reach their 
 destination with the good news is a great 
 resolve which may be entertained only 
 in silence. Hence 
 
 " Not a word to each other ; we kept the great 
 pace; 
 Neck by neck, side by side, never changing 
 our place ; " 
 
 The picture is wonderful in its em- 
 brace. We witness, as the horses and 
 riders rush on, the moon-set, the dawning 
 of twilight, the coming of the great yellow 
 
102 NOTES. 
 
 star, the morning, the upleaping of the 
 Sim. Then there is spread before us, 
 vividly clear, the panorama of the earth. 
 The past flying towns are pictures of 
 which we get but a glimpse. 
 
 The silence in which the riders keep to 
 their grim business is broken now and 
 then; by the crowing of the cock, then 
 Joris speaks, Dirck groans as his horse 
 gives out. We hear the galloping of the 
 horses' footfalls. Even the sun laughs 
 pitilessly. 
 
 Of the poem, the poet said : " There is 
 no sort of historical foundation about the 
 Good News from Ghent. I wrote it under 
 the bulwark of a vessel off the African 
 Coast, after I had been at sea long enough 
 to appreciate even the fancy of a gallop 
 on the back of a certain good horse ' York ' 
 at home." 
 
 2. Watch: The watchman. 
 
 3. Postern: A gate or door. Here the gate 
 of the city. 
 
 4. Pique : The pommel of a saddle. 
 
 Page 36. — 1. Burgess: One who lives in a borough or 
 
 walled town; a citizen. 
 Page 37. — 1. Through the Metidja to Ahd-El-Kadr 
 
 has but a single vowel rhyme and there 
 
 is no repeat of a rhyming word save in 
 
 the ritornello line, 
 
 "As I ride, as I ride." 
 
NOTES. 103 
 
 Compare this poem with the preceding 
 
 How They Brought the Good News 
 
 from Ghent to Aix — SLnd note the in- 
 dividual treatment of the riders. The 
 three men of the one occupy places in the 
 brilliant panorama of the world of men, 
 events and action. In this the rider is 
 not occupied with the imagery of what 
 lies about him. He meditates, is intro- 
 spective, communes with himself. His 
 thoughts are on the Great Chief Abd-El- 
 Kadr, not on the shimmering desert that 
 surrounds him. 
 
 In the poem How They Brought the 
 Good News from Ghent to Aix the 
 painting is of bold strokes of the brush. 
 But this is a drawing in delicate lines. 
 Page 39.— 1. The poem Incident of the French Camp 
 is a brief story with compelling climax. 
 The narrative is heightened in interest 
 by the presentation of a boy as the hero. 
 In fact, the hero was a man. 
 2. Ratishon was stormed by the army of 
 Napoleon in 1809. Katisbon (or Kegens- 
 burg) is southeast of Nuremberg. 
 Page 41.— 1. One must first read Olive throughout 
 to accustom the ear to the abruptness of 
 the narrator's manner of speech. It is 
 broken, emphatic, decisive, and frequently 
 interrupted by gesture. The phrases 
 suggest the shorthand form of expression 
 
104 NOTES. 
 
 dictated by a great experience. Note how 
 broadly suggestive are the exclamations; 
 how the parenthetical phrases bring into 
 view a great sweep of memory. There is 
 a rude vigor throughout as of dissonant 
 chords in flaming triumph. 
 
 One must keep it in mind that, while 
 the poem narrates only a single incident in 
 the life of Clive, the poet with subtle art 
 and bold strokes reveals much of the life 
 story and character of the hero. 
 
 Eobert Clive, Baron Clive of Plassey, 
 was born in 1725. He died in 1774, 
 British general and statesman. He was 
 one of four boys, the son of a tradesman. 
 By indomitable will and perseverance he 
 accomplished marvellous work in India. 
 He died in London, a suicide. 
 
 2. Thrids: To thread, as to thread one's way. 
 
 3. Forthright : A straight path. 
 
 4. Meander: A winding, turning path. 
 Page 42. — 1. Rummer-glass: A tall glass or drinking 
 
 cup. 
 Page 49. — 1. Thyrsis locked with Chloe: Arcadian 
 
 lovers. 
 Page 59. — 1. Muleykeh is the story of an Arab's love 
 
 for his steed Muleykeh, " peerless mare," 
 
 whom he addresses as " my prize, my 
 
 pearl." 
 
 In the poem How They Brought the 
 
 Good News from Ghent to Aix, Brown- 
 
NOTES. 105 
 
 ing introduces the rider's love for his 
 horse in a truly beautiful and delicate line : 
 
 " Patted his ear, 
 Called my Roland his pet name, my horse 
 without peer ; " 
 
 But observe that the pet name re- 
 mains a secret between Eoland and his 
 master. Again, in As I Ride he makes 
 the speaker say: 
 
 "Ne'er has spur my swift horse plied." 
 
 Shall we not then conclude that the 
 poet was not merely a lover of the horse, 
 but at heart his friend and guardian? 
 
 The poem is not easy to read. Patience 
 is demanded to secure the swing of the 
 rhythm, which, in Browning, is often 
 most subtle and meaningful where it 
 seems most abrupt and irregular. Com- 
 pare the intensity of the fifteenth and six- 
 teenth stanzas with the finale of the poem 
 on page 37. 
 Page 68. — 1. In Tray the reader^s attention is called 
 to the characteristic abruptness that dom- 
 inates the entire narrative. Again a poem 
 in which the author's love for animals is 
 forcefully presented. The final stanza 
 reveals the purpose, if one must be 
 sought, other than that revealed in the 
 impelling imagery of the lines; to dis- 
 
106 NOTES. 
 
 cover whether there lies in the brain of 
 good Tray any evidence of soul secreted 
 there; or reason or intent. Shall the act 
 of the hero, for Tray was a hero, reveal 
 nothing? Must man seek with a knife 
 what God permits us to feel in the soul? 
 2, Habergeon: A short hauberk or coat of 
 mail. 
 
 Page 70. — 1. A Tale is a simple direct narrative, full 
 of animation and abounding in the 
 characteristic imagery of the poet. The 
 setting of the telling of the Tale shows 
 here and there in the charmingly familiar 
 expressions addressed to the listener. 
 There is a very simple moral to the story 
 set forth in the two concluding stanzas. 
 One recalls Eichard Wagner's opera 
 " The Meistersinger," and the Beckmesser 
 spirit of judging a song. So, again, the 
 element of love, which inspires the con- 
 cluding stanzas, is precisely what lifts 
 Walter's Prize Song infinitely above the 
 Beckmesser invention. 
 
 Page 75. — 1. Pornic: Directly west of Nantes in the 
 Loire Inferieure. 
 
 Page 78. — 1. cor humanum, pectora cceca: Oh, pas- 
 sionate heart, oh, groping soul. 
 2. Louis-d'or: A French coin first minted 
 in 1640. Worth about five dollars. 
 
 Page 80. — 1. Thirty pieces; Potters Field: See 
 Matthew XXVII, 3-7. 
 
NOTES. 107 
 
 Page 81. — 1. Colenso's words: eTohn William Colenso, 
 English bishop and writer, 1814-1883. 
 
 Page 82. — 1. Donald is a spirited animal story, climax- 
 ing in a tragedy that leaves the conclud- 
 ing scene unsatisfactory and depressing. 
 The narrative carries the reader with 
 intense and forceful motion to the point 
 where 
 
 " Each eyed each — mute man, motionless 
 beast — 
 Less fearing than admiring," 
 
 Donald, " marching lightsomely out of 
 the broad," is a poor creature after he 
 plunges the knife into the gold red stag, 
 gigantic and magnific; a poor wreck of a 
 man despite the jolly acclaim that is given 
 him along with an occasional munch of 
 grouse and a hunk of bread. 
 2. Burnie: Diminutive of burn. A rivulet 
 or small stream. 
 
 Page 85. — 1. Blondin: A famous rope-walker. 
 
 Page 87. — 1. Pastern: A joint in the hoof. 
 
 Page 90. — 1. The story is old, which forms the frame- 
 work of The Glove. It is said to have 
 originated in the Court of Francis I. A 
 lady, having dropped her glove into the 
 arena where a combat between lions was 
 taking place, said to her lover (DeLorges?), 
 " If your love for me is so great as you 
 would have me believe you will bring me 
 
108 NOTES, 
 
 my glove.'' He stepped into the arena 
 where the lions were fighting, picked np 
 the glove, returned with it to the lady 
 and threw it in her face. 
 
 The story has been told by the poet 
 Schiller in German and by Leigh Hunt in 
 English. In Browning's version the lady's 
 nature is not presented as one of mere 
 thoughtless vanity. Note how Browning 
 interprets the scene, from the line begin- 
 ning " Not so, I ; for I caught an expres- 
 sion in her brow's undisturbed self- 
 possession." 
 
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 and gardener, but is a constant joy and dehght to the 
 children who love and trust him. 
 
 fflS LITTLE MOTHER 
 
 Miss Mulock's short stories for children are a constant 
 Bource of delight to them, and " His Little Mother," in 
 this new and attractive dress, will be welcomed by hosts 
 of youthful readers. 
 
 LITTLE SUNSHINE'S HOLIDAY 
 
 An attractive story of a summer outing. " Little Sun- 
 shine " is another of those beautiful child-characters for 
 which MisstMulock is so justly famous. 
 
 By WILL ALLEN DROMGOOLE 
 
 THE FARRIER'S DOG AND HIS FELLOW 
 
 This story will appeal to all that is best in the natures 
 of the many admirers of her graceful and piquant style. 
 
 THE FORTUNES OF THE FELLOW 
 
 Those who read and enjoyed " The Farrier's Dog and 
 His Fellow " will welcome the further account of the ad- 
 ventures of Baydaw and the Fellow. 
 
 THE BEST OF FRIENDS 
 
 This story continues the experiences of the Farrier's dog 
 and his Fellow. 
 
 DOWN IN DIXIE 
 
 A fascinating story of a family of Alabama children 
 who move to Florida and grow up in the South. 
 B— 3 
 
COSY CORNER SERIES 
 
 By EDITH ROBINSON 
 
 A LITTLE PURITAN'S FIRST CHRISTMAS 
 
 A story of Colonial times in Boston, telling how Christ- 
 mas was invented by Betty Sewall, a typical child of the 
 Puritans, aided by her brother Sam. 
 
 A LITTLE DAUGHTER OF LIBERTY 
 
 The author introduces this story as follows: 
 " One ride is memorable in the early history of the 
 American Revolution, the well-known ride of Paul Re- 
 vere. Equally deserving of commendation is another 
 ride, — the ride of Anthony Severn, — which was no less 
 historic in its action or memorable in its consequences.' 
 
 A LOYAL LITTLE MAID 
 
 A delightful and interesting story of Revolutionary 
 days, in which the child heroine, Betsey Schuyler, renders 
 important services to George Washington. 
 
 A LITTLE PURITAN REBEL 
 
 This is an historical tale of a real girl, during the time 
 when the gallant Sir Harry Vane was governor of Massa- 
 chusetts. 
 A LITTLE PURITAN PIONEER 
 
 The scene of this story is laid in the Puritan settlement 
 at Charlestown. 
 
 A LITTLE PURITAN BOUND GIRL 
 
 A story of Boston in Puritan days, which is of great 
 interest to youthful readers. 
 
 A LITTLE PURITAN CAVALIER 
 
 " The charm and historical value of the author's stories 
 of child life in Colonial days have brought them wide 
 popularity." — The Independent. 
 
 A PURITAN KNIGHT ERRANT 
 
 The story tells of a young lad in Colonial times who 
 endeavored to carry out the high ideals of the knights of 
 olden days. 
 B-3 
 
TEE PAGE C0MFANT8 
 
 By CHARLES G. D. ROBERTS 
 
 THE CRUISE OF THE YACHT DmO 
 
 The story of two boys who turned their yacht into a 
 fishing boat to earn money. 
 
 THE YOUNG ACADIAN 
 
 The story of a young lad of Acadia who rescued a Httle 
 
 English girl from the hands of savages. 
 
 THE LORD OF THE AIR 
 
 The Story of the Eagle. 
 
 THE KING OF THE MAMOZEKEL 
 
 The Story of the Moose. 
 
 THE WATCHERS OF THE CAMP-FIRE 
 
 The Story of the Panther. 
 
 THE HAUNTER OF THE PINE GLOOM 
 
 The Story of the Lynx. 
 
 THE RETURN TO THE TRAILS 
 
 The Story of the Bear. 
 
 THE LITTLE PEOPLE OF THE SYCAMORE 
 
 The Story of the Raccoon. 
 
 By JULIANA HORATIA EWING 
 
 THE STORY OF A SHORT LIFE 
 
 This beautiful and pathetic story will never grow old. 
 It is a part of the world's Uterature, and will never die. 
 
 JACKANAPES 
 
 A new edition, with new illustrations, of this exquisite 
 and touching story, dear alike to young and old. 
 
 A GREAT EMERGENCY 
 
 A bright little story of a happy, mischievoaB family 
 of children. 
 B— 4 
 
COST CORNER SERIES 
 
 By FRANCES MARGARET FOX 
 
 THE LITTLE GIANT'S NEIGHBOURS 
 
 A charming nature story of a " little giant " whose 
 neighbors were the creatures of the field and garden. 
 
 FARMER BROWN AND THE BIRDS 
 
 A little story which teaches children that the birds are 
 man's best friends. 
 
 BETTY OF OLD MACKINAW 
 
 A charming story of child life. 
 
 BROTHER BILLY 
 
 The story of Betty's brother, and some further adven- 
 tures of Betty herself. 
 
 MOTHER NATURE'S LITTLE ONES 
 
 Curious little sketches describing the early lifetime, or 
 " childhood," of the little creatures out-of-doors. 
 
 HOW CHRISTMAS CAME TO THE MUL- 
 VANEYS 
 
 A bright, lifelike little story of a family of poor children 
 with an unlimited capacity for fun and mischief. 
 
 THE COUNTRY CHRISTMAS 
 
 Miss Fox has vividly described the happy surprises that 
 made the occasion so memorable to the Mulvaneys, and 
 the funny things the children did in their nevv environ- 
 ment. 
 
 By LILLIE FULLER MERRIAM 
 JENNY'S BIRD HOUSE 
 
 A charmingly original story for the little folks. In the 
 guise of a fairy tale it introduces many interesting facts con- 
 cerning birds and their ways. 
 
 JENNY AND TITO 
 
 The story of how Jenny crosses the big ocean and spends 
 a summer in old Provence, which is in France, you know, 
 and of how she finds the little lost dog Tito, who finally be- 
 comes her very own pet, 
 B-6 
 
THE PAGE COMPANY'S 
 
 By OTHER AUTHORS 
 EDITHA'S BURGLAR 
 
 By Frances Hodgson Burnett, 
 
 The most successful story that this popular author has 
 ever written. 
 
 THE PINEBORO QUARTETTE 
 
 By Willis Boyd Allen. 
 
 The story of how four persevering and ambitious young 
 folks, left penniless, make their way in the world. 
 
 THE LITTLEST ONE OF THE BROWNS 
 
 By Sophie Swett. 
 
 "It will appeal to the understanding and interest of 
 every child." — Brooklyn Eagle. 
 
 THE KING OF THE GOLDEN RIVER: 
 
 A Legend of Stiria. By John Ruskin. 
 One of the best juveniles for children. 
 
 A CHILD^S GARDEN OF VERSES 
 
 By R. L. Stevenson. 
 
 Mr. Stevenson's little volume is too well known to 
 need description. 
 
 RAB AND HIS FRIENDS 
 
 By Dr. John Brown. 
 
 An old favorite that never loses its interest. 
 
 JOE, THE CIRCUS BOY 
 
 By Alice E. Allen. 
 
 A tender little story about an orphan boy, and of the 
 good fortune that befell him through his devotion to the 
 trick dog of the circus. 
 
 ROSEMARY 
 
 By Alice E. Allen. 
 
 A companion volume to "Joe, The Circus Boy." 
 A delightful story of how little twin girls, who look 
 exactly alike, puzzle their schoolmates for an entire year. 
 
 THE MAN WITHOUT A COUNTRY 
 
 By Edward Everett Hale. 
 
 This remarkable story presents perhaps the greatest 
 lesson in patriotism and love of country that was ever 
 penned. 
 B-6 
 
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