-~ 
AFTERMATH.
BY
HENRY WADSWORTH LONGFELLOW
BOSTON:
JAMES R. OSGOOD AND COMPANY,
LATE TICKNOR & FIELDS, AND FIELDS. OSGOOD, & CO.
1873.
~ AND| Gus. (a
,   o.. 
Entered according to Act of Congress, in the yea,r 1873,
BY HENIIY WADSWORTH LONGFELLOW,
in the Office of the Librarian of Congress, at Washington.
UNIVERSITY PRESS: WELCH, BIGELOW, & CO.,
CAMBRIDGE.
I I.
I e
o                    
Gift
Prof. F. M. Taylor
.r.   )I    sr.
CONTENTS.
I.
TALES OF. A WAYSIDE INN.
PAGE
1 I
PRELUDE....
THE SPANISH JEW's TALE.
AZRAEL...
INTERLUDE...
TIIE POET'S TALE.
CHARLEMAGNE.
INTrERLUD,E........
THE STUDENT'S TALE.
EMMA AND EGINHARD..
INTERLUDE.......
THE THEOLOGIAN'S TALE.
ELIZABETH....
INTERLUDE.....
THI. SICILIAN'S TALE.
THE MONK OF CASAL-MAGGIORE
INTERLUDE.....
TlIE SPANISH JEW'S SECOND TALE.
SCARDERBEG....
INTERLUDE.....
0
~ 6
10
. 13
17
.  21
33
38
63
~ 66
84
.  86
~..             96 
CONTENTS.
THE MUSICIAN'S TALE.
TIIE MOTHER'S GHOST.
INTERLUDE......
THE LANDLORD'S TALE.
THE RHYME OF SIR CHRISTOPHER.
FINALE.........
II.
BIRDS OF PASSAGE.
FATA MORGANA...
THE HAUNTED CHAMBER~.
TIlE MEETING..~
Vox POPULI....
THE CASTLE-BUILDER.
CHANGED.....
THE CHALLENGE...
TIE BROOK AND THE WAVE.
FROM THE SPANISH CANCIONER
AFTERMATH.
iv
101
107
. 110
119
125
127
130
132
133
135
136
139
140
144 
TALES OF A WAYSIDE INN.
PART THIRD.  
PRELUDE.
THE evening came; the golden vane
A moment ill the sunset glanced,
Then darkened, and then gleamed again,
As from the east the moon advanced
And touched it with a softer light;
While underneath, with flowing mane,
lJpon the sign the Red Horse pranced,
And galloped forth into the night.
But brighter than the afternoon
That followed the dark day of rain,
And brighter than the golden vane
That glistened in the rising moon,
Within the ruddy firelight gleamed;
I 
TTALES OF A AAYSIDE INN.
And every separate winldow-pane,
Backed by the outer darkness, slowed
A mirror, wivlere tlie fiamielets gleamed
And flickered to anid fro, anld seemed
A bonfire lighted in tllhe road.
Amid the hospitable glow,
Like an old actor on the stage,
Withl tlle uncertain voicc of age,
The singing chlimney clianlted low
Thle homely songs of long ago.
The voice that Ossian heard of yore,
When miidnight winds wcre iii iis lhall;
A ghostly and appealilng call,
A sound of days that are 11o more!
And dark as Ossiali sat flie Jew,
Anld listened to thle sound, and knew
The passing of the airy hlosts,
The gray and misty cloud of gliosts
2 
PlP'ELUDE.
Iii their interminable fliglht;
And listening muttered in his beard,
Withl accent indistinct and weird,
" 11Who are ye, childrlen of the Night?"
Beholding, his mysterious face,
Tell me," the gay Sicilian said,
" Whylv was it that in breaking b)read
At supper, you bent down your head
Anud, lmusing, paused a little space,
As one who says a silent grace?
The Jew replied, with solemn air,
"I said the Mlanichoean's prayer.
It was his faith,- perhaps is mine,
That life in all its forms is one,
And that its secret conduits run
Unseen, but in unbroken line,
From the great fountain-head divine
Through man and beast, through grain  and
grass.
3 
TALES OF A WAYSIDE INN.
Howe'er we struggle, strive, and cry,
From death there can be no escape,
Anld no escape from life, alas!
Because we cannot die, but pass
From one into another shape:
It is but inito life we die.
"Therefore the Manichaean said
This simple prayer on breaking bread,
Lest he with hasty hand or knife
Might wound the incarcerated life,
The soul in things that we call dead:
' I did not reap thee, did not bind thllee,
I did not thrash tihee, did not grind thee,
Nor did I in the ovenl bake thee-!
It was not I, it was another
Did these things unto thee, 0 brother;
I only have thee, hold thee, break thee!'
"That birds have souls I can concede,"
4 
PRELUDE.
The poet cried, with glowing cheeks;
"The flocks that from their beds of reed
Uprising north or southward fly,
And flying write upon the sky
The biforked letter of the Greeks,
As hath been said by Rucellai;
All birds that sing or chirp or cry,
Even those migratory ballds,
The minor poets of the air,
The plover, peep, and sanderling,
That hardly can be said to sing,
But pipe along the barren sands,All these have souls akin to ours;
So hath the lovely race of flowers:
Thus much I grant, but nothing more.
The rusty hinges of a door
Are not alive because they creak;
This chimney, with its dreary roar,
These rattling windows, do not speak!"
"To me they speak," the Jew replied;
5 
TALES OF A AVAYSIDE INN.
" Aind in the sounds that siilk and soar,
I hear the voices of a tide
That breaks upon an ulknownl shore!"
Here the Sicilian interfered:
" That was your dream, tlien, as you dozed
A moment since, with eyes half-closed,
And murmured something in your beard."
The Hebrew smiled, and answered, " Nay;
Not that, but somethilg very lear;
Like, and yet not the same, may seem
The vision of my waking dream;
Before it wholly dies away,
Listen to me, anld you shall hear."
6 
THE SPANISH JEW'S TALE.
AZRAEL.
KIN-G SOLO0MON, before his palace gate
At evening, on the pavement tesselate
Was walking with a stranger from the East,
Arraced in rich attire as for a feast,
The mighty Runjeet-Sing, a learned man,
And Rajah of the realms of Hindostan.
And as thley walked the guest became aware
Of a white figure in the twilight air,
Gaziiig intent, as one who with surprise
Ilis form and features seemed to recognize;
And in a whisper to the king hle said:
" What is yon sl-iape, that, pallid as the dead,
Is watching me, as if he sought to trace
In the dim light the features of my face? 
TALES OF A  VAYSIDE INN.
Thle king looked, and replied: "I know him well;
It is tihe Angel men call Azrael,
'T is the Deathl Angel; what hast thou to fear?"
And the guest answered: "Lest he should come
near,
And speak to me, and take away my breath!
Save me from Azrael, save me from death!
O king, that hast dominion o'er the wind,
Bid it arise and bear me hence to Ind."
The king gazed upward at the cloudless sky,
Whispered a word, and raised his hand on high,
And lo! the signet-ring of chrysoprase
On his uplifted finger seemed to blaze
With hidden fire, and rushing from the west
There came a mighty wind, and seized the giuecst
And lifted him from earth, and on they passed,
His shining garments streaming in the blast,
A silken banner o'er the walls upreared,
A purple cloud, that gleamed and disappeared.
8 
AZRAEL.
Then said the Angel, smiling: " If this man
Be Rajah Runjeet-Sing of Hindostan,
Thou hast done well in listening to his prayer;
I was upon my way to seek him there."
9 
INTERLUDE.
"0  EDREHI, forbear to-night
Your ghostly legends of affrighlt,
And let the Talmud rest in peace;
Spare us your dismal tales of death
That almost take away one's breath;
So doing,, may your tribe increase."
Thus the Sicilian said; then went
And on the spiinnet's rattling keys
Played Miariaiiina, like a breeze
From Naples and the Southern seas,
That brings us the delicious scent
Of citron and of orange trees, 
INTERLUDE.
And memories of soft days of ease
At Capri and Amialfi spenit.
" Not so," the eager Poet said;
"At least, not so before I tell
The story of my Azrael,
An angel mortal as ourselves,
Allichl in an ancient tome I found
Upon a convent's dusty shelves,
Chained withl an iroii chain, and bound
In parchment, and withl clasps of brass,
Lest from its prison, some dark day,
It might be stolen or steal away,
AVhiile the good friars were sinlgilig mass.
"It is a tale of Chlarlemagne,
Wlieii like a thunder-cloud, that lowers
And sweeps from mountain-crest to coast,
A itli liglhtif,ig flami,g tlhro,ghl its sloweis,
11 
12  TALES OF A WVAYSIDE INN..
He swept across the Lombard plain,
Beleaguering with his warlike train
Pavia, the country's pride and boast,
The City of the Hundred Towers."
Thus heralded the tale began,
And thus in sober measure ran. 
THE POET'S TALE.
CHARLEMAGNE.
OLGER the Dane and Desiderio,
King of the Lombards, on a lofty tower
Stood gazing northward o'er the rolling plains,
League after league of harvests, to the foot
Of the snow-crested Alps, and saw approach
A mighty army, thronging all the roads
That led into the city. And the King
Said unto Olger, who had passed his youth
As hostage at the court of France, and knew
The Emperor's form and face: " Is Charlemagne
AmDong that host?"  And Olger answered:
"6 No."
And still the innumerable multitude
Flowed onward and increased, until the King, 
TALES OF A WAYSIDE INN.
Cried in amazement: " Surely Charlemagne
Is    coming in the midst of all these knights!
Anld Olger answered slowly: " No; not yet;
lic      will not come so soon."  Then muclh dis       turbed
King Desiderio asked: "' What shlall we do,
If le approach with a still greater army?
And Olg,er answered: " When hle slall appear,
You will behold what manner of man he is;
But what will then befall us I know not."
Then came the guard that never knew repose,
The Paladins of France; and at the siglht
The Lombard King o'ercome withl terror cried:
"This must be Chlarlemagne!" and as before
Did Olger answer: "No; not yet, not yet."
And tlhen appeared in panoply complete
The Bishlops and the Abbots and the Priests
Of the imperial chlapel, and the Counts;
14 
CII1ARLE3IAGXE.
AiidC Decsidcrio could no more endure
The li,ght of day, nor yet encounter death,
But sobbed aloud and said: "Let us go down
Aitid bide us in the bosom of the earth,
Far from the sight and anger of a foe
So terrible as this! "  And Olger said:
"Vlcii you behold the harvests in the fields
Sliaking with fear, the Po and the Ticino
Lashling( the city walls withl iron waves,
Then may you know that Chlarlemagne is come."
And even as hle spake, in the nortlhwvest,
Lo! there uprose a black and thlreatening cloud,
Out of whose bosom flashed the light of arms
lUpou the people pent up ill tlhe city;
A lighit more terrible than any darlkness
And Charlemagne appeared; - a  Alan of Iron!
Ilis hlelnet was of iron, and his gloves
()f ii'oi, and his breastplate and his greaves
iAnd tassets were of iron, and his shield.
15 
16       TALES OF A WAYSII)E INN.
In his left hand he held an iron spear,
In his right hand his sword invincible.
The horse he rode on had the strength of iron,
And color of iron. All who went before him,
Beside him and behind him, his whole host,
Were armed with iron, and their hearts within
them
Were stronger than the armor that they wore.
The fields and all the roads were filled with iron,
And points of iron glistened in the sun
And shed a terror through the city streets.
This at a single glance Olger the Dane
Saw from the tower, and turning to the King
Exclaimed in haste: "Behold! this is the man
You looked for with such eagerness!" and then
Fell as one dead at Desiderio's feet. 
INTERLUDE.
WELL pleased all listened to the tale,
That drew, the Student said, its pithli
And marrow from the ancient myth
Of some one with an iron flail;
Or that portentous Man of Brass
Hephoestus made in days of yore,
Who stalked about the Cretan shore,
And saw the ships appear and pass,
And threw stones at the Argonauts,
Being filled with indiscriminate ire
That tangled and perplexed his thoughts;
But, like a hospitable host,
When strangers landed on the coast,
Heated himself red-hot with fire,
B 
TALES OF A WAYSIDE INN.
And hliugged them iIn his arms, and pressed
Their bodies to his burning breast.
The Poet answered: " No, not thus
The legend rose; it sprang at first
Out of the hlunger and the thirst
Iii all men for the marvellous.
And thus it filled and satisfied
The ima,giiiation of malnkind,
And this ideal to the mind
Was truer than historic fact.
Fancy enlarged and multiplied
The terrors of the awful name
Of Charlemagne, till hlie became
Armipotent in every act,
And, clothed iii mystery, appeared
Not what men saw, but what they feared."
The Theologian said: " Perchanice
Your chroniciler iii writing this 
INTERLTUDE.
IIa,d in his mind the Anabasis,
NWhere Xenophon describes the advance
Of Artaxerxes to the fight;
At first the low gray cloud of dust,
And then a blackness o'er the fields
As of a passing thunder-gust,
Tlhen flash of brazen armor bright,
And ranks of men, and spears up-thrust,
Bowmen and troops with wicker shields,
Alnd cavalry equipped in white,
And chariots ranged in front of these
With scythes upon their axle-trees."
To this the Student answered: " Well,
I also have a tale to tell
Of Chlarlemag(ne; a tale that throws
A softer light, more tinged with rose,
Than your grim apparition cast
Upon the darkness of the past.
19 
20       TALES OF A WVAYSIDE INN.
Listen, and hear in English rhyme
What the good Monk of Lauresheim
Gives as the gossip of his time,
In medieval Latin prose." 
THE STUDENT'S TALE.
EMMA AND EGINHARD.
WHEN Alcuin taught thle sons of Chlarlemagne,
In the free schools of Aix, how kings should
reign,
And with them taulght the children of the poor
How subjects should be patient and endure,
He touched the lips of some, as best befit,
With honey from the hives of Holy Writ;
Others intoxicated wtih the wine
Of ancient history, sweet but less divine;
Some with the wholesome fruits of grammar
fed;
Othiers with mysteries of the stars o'erllead,
That lhanlg suspended in the vaulted sky
Like lamps iii somce fair palace vast and high. 
2    TALES OF A AAYSIDE IN.x.
IIn sootl, it was a pleasant sighlt to see
That Saxon monk, with hlood and rosary,
Wvitl iljkliorn at his belt, anld peil and book,
And minigled love and reverence inll his look,
Or hear the cloister ald the court repeat
The measured footfalls of his sandaled feet,
Oi watch him with tlhe pupils of his school,
Gentle of speech, but absolute of rule.
Among them, always earliest in his place,
Was Eginhlard, a youth of Frankishl race,
Whose face was brighlt with flashes that forerun
The splendors of a yet unrisen sun.
To him all things were possible, ald seemed
Not what he had accomplished, but had dreamed,
Anid what were tasks to others were his play,
The pastime of an idle holiday.
Smaragdo, Abbot of St. Michlael's, said,
With many a shlrug and shlaking of the lhead, 
ElMM1A AND EGINIIARD.
Surely some demon must possess the lad,
Who shlowed more wit than ever school-boy hal,
And learned his Triviumi tlhus without the rod;
But Alcuin said it was the grace of God.
Thus hle grew up, in Logic point-device,
Perfect ill Grammar, and in Rllhetoric nice;
Science of Numbers, Geometric art,
And lore of Stars, and iMusic knew by heart;
A Minniesinger, long before the times
Of those who sang their love ill Suabian rhymes.
The Emperor, when hle heard this good report
Of E,ginhlard much buzzed about the court,
Said to himself, " This stripling seems to be
Purposely sent into the world for me;
He shall become my scribe, and shall be schoolelI
In all the arts whereby the world is ruled."
Thus did the gentle Eginhlard attaiiil
To lioiior in the court of Cllarlemagle;
' —) 3 
24       TALES OF A WAYSIDE INN.
Became the sovereign's favorite, his right hland,
So that his fame was great in all the land,
And all men loved him for his modest grace
And comeliness of figure and of face.
An inmate of the palace, yet recluse,
A man of books, yet sacred from abuse
Among the armed kni;ghlts with spur on hleel,
The tramp of horses and the clang of steel;
And as the Emperor promised he was schooled
In all the arts by which the world is ruled.
But the one art supreme, whose law is fate,
The Emperor never dreamed of till too late.
Home from her convent to the palace came
The lovely Princess Emma, whose sweet name,
Whispered by senesclhal or sung by bard,
Had often touched the soul of Egiilhard.
Hie saw her from his window, as in state
Shle came, by knightts attended through the gate;
Ilie saw her at the banquet of that day, 
EtlAMA AND EGINIHARD.
Fresh as the mornl, and beautiful as May;
He saw her in the garden, as she strayed
Among the flowers of summer with her maid,
And said to him, " 0 Eginhlard, disclose
The meaning and the mystery of the rose";
And trembling he made answer:  "In good
sootlh,
Its mystery is love, its meaning youth!"
How can I tell the signals and the signs
By which one heart another heart divines?
How can I tell the many thousand ways
By which it keeps the secret it betrays?
O mystery of love!  0 strange romance!
Amiong the Peers and Paladins of France,
Shlininlg ill steel, and prancing on gay steeds,
Noble by birth, yet nobler by great deeds,
The Princess Emlla had no words nor looks
Butt for this clerk, this maln of thought and books.
2
25 
26      TALES OF A WAYSIDE INS.
Thle summer passed,theautumn came; the stalks
Of lilies blackened in the garden walks;
The leaves fell, russet-goldenl and blood-red,
Love-letters thought the poet fancy-led,
Or Jove descending in a shower of gold
Into the lap of Danae of old;
For poets cherish many a strange conceit,
And love transmutes all nature by its heat.
No more the garden lessons, nor the dark
And hurried meetings in the twilight park;
But now the studious lamp, and the delighlts
Of firesides in the silent winter nights,
And watching from his window hour by hour
The light that burned in Princess  Emma's
tower.
At length one night, while musing by the fire,
O'ercomne at last by his insane desire,
For what will reckless love not do and dare?I-e crossed the court, and climbed the winding
stair, 
EMMfA AND EGINIIARD.
With some feigned mnessage in the Emperor's
name;
But when he to the lady's presence came
He knelt down at her feet, until she laid
Her hand upon him, like a naked blade,
And whispered in his ear: " Arise, Sir Knight,
To my hleart's level, O my heart's delight."
And there he lingered till the crowing cock,
The Alectryon of the farmyard and the flock,
Sang his aubade withl lusty voice and clear,
To tell the sleeping world that dawn was near.
And then they parted; but at parting, lo!
They saw the palace court-yard white with snow,
And, placid as a nun, the moon on high
Gazing from cloudy cloisters of the sky.
Alas!" he said, " how hide the fatal line
Of footprints leading from thy door to mine,
And none returning! " Ahl, he little knew
What woman's wit, when put to proof, can do!
27 
28       TALES OF A WAYSIDE INN.
Thllat night the Emperor, sleepless with the cares
Anld troubles that attend on state affairs,
Had risen before the dawn, and musing gazed
Into the silent night, as one amazed
To see the calm that reigned o'er all supreme,
Whlen his own reign was but a troubled dream.
The moon lit up the gables capped with snlow,
And the white roofs, and half the court below,
And he beheld a form, that seemed to cower
Beneath a burden, come from Emma's tower,A woman, who upon her shoulders bore
Clerk Eginhard to his own private door,
And then returned in haste, but still essayed
To tread the footprints she herself had made;
And as she passed across the lighted space,
The Emperor saw his daughter Emma's face!
He started not; hle did not speak or moai,
But seemed as one who hath been turned to
stolle; 
EI.lMA AND EGINHARD.
And stood there like a statue, nor awoke
Out of his trance of pain, till morning broke,
Till the stars faded, and the moon went down,
And o'er the towers and steeples of the town
Came the gray daylight, then the sun, who took
The empire of the world with sovereign look,
Suffusing with a soft and golden glow
All the dead landscape in its shroud of snow,
Touching with flame the tapering chapel spires,
Windows and roofs, and smoke of household
fires,
And kindling park and palace as he came;
The stork's nest on the chimney seemed in
flame.
And thus he stood till Eginhard appeared,
Demure and modest with his comely beard
And flowing flaxen tresses, come to ask,
As was his wont, the day's appointed task.
The Emperor looked upon him with a smile,
And gently said: "My son, wait yet awhile;
29 
30  TALES OF A WAYSIDE INN.
This hour my council meets upon some great
And very urgent business of the state.
Come back within the hour.  On thy return
The work appointed for thee shalt thou learn."
Itaving dismissed this gallant Troubadour,
He summoned straight his council, and secure
And steadfast in his purpose, from the throne
All the adventure of the night made known;
Then asked for sentence; and with eager breath
Some answered banishment, and others death.
Then spake the king: "Your sentence is not
mine;
Life is the gift of God, and is divine;
Nor from these palace walls shall one depart
Who carries such a secret in his heart;
My better judgment points another way.
Good Alcuin, I remember how one day
When my Pepino asked you,'What are men?' 
EtMMIA AND EGINHARD.
You wrote upon his tablets with your pen,
' Guests of the grave and travellers that pass!'
This being true of all men, we, alas!
Being all fashioned of the self-same dust,
Let us be merciful as well as just;
This passing traveller, who hath stolen away
The brightest jewel of my crown to-day,
Shall of himself the precious gem restore;
By giving it, I make it mine once more.
Over those fatal footprints I will throw
Miy ermine mantle like another snow."
Then Eginhard was summoned to the hall,
And entered, and in presence of them all,
The Emperor said: "My son, for thou to me
Hast been a son, and evermore shalt be,
Long hast thou served thy sovereign, and thy
zeal
Pleads to me with importunate appeal,
While I have L)eei forgetful to requite
31 
TALES OF A WAYSIDE INN.
Thy service and affection as was right.
But now the hour is come, when I, thy Lord,
Will crown thy love with such supreme reward,
A gift so precious kings have striven in vain
To win it from the hands of Charlemagne."
Then sprang the portals of the chamber wide,
And Princess Emma entered, in the pride
Of birth and beauty, that in part o'ercame
The conscious terror and the blush of shame.
And the good Emperor rose up from his throne,
And taking her white hand within his own
Placed it in Eginhard's, and said: "My son,
This is the gift thy constant zeal hath won;
Thus I repay the royal debt I owe,
And cover up the footprints in the snow."
32 
INTERLUDE.
THUS ran the Student's pleasant rhyme
Of Eginhard and love and youth;
Some doubted its historic truth,
But while they doubted, ne'ertheless
Saw in it gleams of truthfulness,
And thanked the Monk of Lauresheim.
This they discussed in various mood;
Then in the silence that ensued
Was heard a sharp and sudden sound
As of a bowstring snapped in air;
And the Musician with a bound
Sprang up in terror from his chair,
And for a moment listening stood,
2*                          C 
34       TALES OF A WAYSIDE INN.
Then strode across the room, and found
His dear, his darling violin
Still lying safe asleep within
Its little cradle, like a child
That gives a sudden cry of pain,
And wakes to fall asleep again;
And as he looked at it and smiled,
By the uncertain light beguiled,
Despair! two strings were broken in twain.
While all lamented and made moan,
With many a sympathetic word
As if the loss had been their own,
Deeming the tones they might have heard
Sweeter than they had heard before,
They saw the Landlord at the door,
The missing man, the portly Squire!
Hie had not entered, but he stood
With both arms full of seasoned wood,
To feed the muchl-devouring fire, 
INTERLUDE.
That like a lion in a cage
Lashed its long tail and roared with rage.
The missing man! Ah, yes, they said,
AMissing, but whither had he fled?
Where had hle hidden himself away?
No farther than the barn or shed;
Hie had not hidden himself, nor fled;
How should he pass the rainy day
But in his barn with hens and hlay,
Or mending harness, cart, or sled?
Now, having come, he needs must stay
And tell his tale as well as they.
The Laindlord answered only: "These
Are logs from the dead apple-trees
Of the old orchard planted here
By the first Howe of Sudbury.
Nor oak nor maple has so clear
A flame, or burns so quietly,
35 
36       TALES OF A WAYSIDE INN.
Or leaves an ash so clean and white ";
Thinking by this to put aside
The impending tale that terrified;
When suddenly, to his delight,
The Theologian interposed,
Saying that when the door was closed,
And they had stopped that draft of cold,
Unpleasan-t night air, hle proposed
To tell a tale world-wvide apart
From that the Student had just told;
World-wide apart, and yet akin,
As showing that the human heart
Beats oni forever as of old,
As well beneath the snlow-whlite fold
Of Quaker kerchief, as within
Sandal or silk or cloth of gold,
Anld without preface would begin.
And tlen the clamorous clock struck eighlt,
Deliberate, withl sonorous chime 
INTERLUDE.
Slow measuring out the march of time,'
Like some grave Consul of old Rome
In Jupiter's temple driving home
The nails that marked the year and date.
Thus interrupted in his rhlyme,
The Theologian needs must wait;
But quoted Horace, where hle silngs
The dire Necessity of things,
That drives into the roofs sublime
Of new-built houses of the great
The adamantine nails of Fate.
WVhen ceased the little carillon
To herald from its wooden tower
The important transit of the hour,
The Theologian hastened on,
Content to be allowed at last
To sing his Idyl of the Past.
37 
THE THEOLOGIAN'S TALE.
ELIZABETH.
I.
" AH, how short are the days!
night overtakes us!
In the old country the twilight
here in the forest
Suddenly comes the dark, with
in its coming,
Hardly a moment between the
day and the lamplight;
Yet how grand is the winter!
the snow is, and perfect!
Thus spake Elizabeth Haddon at nightfall to
Haiinahl the housemaid,
As ill the farmhouse kitchen, that served for
kitchen and parlor,
How sooii the
is longer; but
liardly a pause
two lights, the
How spotless 
ILIZ^ABETH.                39
By thle window she sat with her work, and looked
onl a landscape
WVhite as the great white shleet that Peter saw
in his vision,
By the four corners let down and descending
out of the heavens.
Covered with snow were the forests of pine, and
the fields and the meadows.
Nothing was dark but the sky, and the distant
Delaware flowing
Down from its native hills, a peaceful and bonn       tiful river.
Then with a smile on her lips made answer
Hannah the housemaid:
" Beautiful winter! yea, the winter is beautiful,
surely,
If one could only walk like a fly with one's feet
oil the ceiling.
But the great Delaware river is not like the
Thames, as we saw it 
40        TALES OF A WAYSIDE INNX.
Out of our upper windows in Rotherhithe Street
in the Boroulgh,
Crowded with masts and sails of vessels coming
and going;
Here there is nothing but pines, with patches
of snow on their branches.
There is snow in the air, and see! it is fall       ing already;
All the roads will be blocked, and I pity Joseph
to-morrow,
Breaking his way through the drifts, with his
sled and oxen; and then, too,
How in all the world shall we get to Meeting
on First-Day?"
But Elizabeth checked her, and answered,
mildly reproving:
Surely the Lord will provide; for unto  the
snow lie sayeth,
Be thou on the earth, the good Lord sayethl; ihe
is it 
ELIZABETH.
Giveth snow like wool, like ashes scatters the
hoar-frost."
So she folded her work and laid it away in her
basket.
Meanwhile Hannah the housemaid had closed
and fastened the shlutters,
Spread the cloth, and lighlted the lamp on the
table, and placed there
Plates and cups from the dresser, the brown rye
loaf, and the butter
Fresh from the dairy, and then, protecting her
hand with a holder,
Took from the crane in the chlimney the steam      ilig and simmering kettle,
Poised it aloft in the air, and filled up the
earthen teapot,
MAade in Delft, and adorned with quaint and
wonderful figures.
41 
42       TALES OF A WAYSIDE INN.
Then Elizabl)ethll said, "Lo! Joseph is long
on his errand.
I have sent him away with a hamper of food
and of clothing
For the poor in the village. A good lad and
cheerful is Joseph;
In the right place is his heart, and his hand is
ready and willing."
Thus in praise of her servant she spake, and
Hannah the housemaid
Laughed with her eyes, as she listened, but gov      erned her tongue, and was silent,
While her mistress went on: " The house is far
from the village;
We should be lonely here, were it not for Friends
that in passing
Sometimes tarry o'ernight, and make us glad
by their coming." 
ELIZABETH.                 43
Thereupon answered Hannahl the housemaid,
the thrifty, the frugal:
"Yea, they come and they tarry, as if thy house
were a tavern;
Open to all are its doors, and they come and go
like the pigeons
In and out of the holes of the pigeon-ouse over
the hayloft,
Cooing and smoothing their feathers and bask       ing themselves in the sunshine.
But in meekness of spirit, and calmly, Eliza       betlh answered:
"All I have is the Lord's, not mine to give or
withhold it;
I I)llt distribute his gifts to the poor, and to
those of his people
AWio in journeyinigs often surrender their lives
to his service.
Ilis, not mine, are the gifts, and only so far can
I make them 
44        TALIES OF A AVAYSII)E INN.
Mine, as in giving I add my heart to whatever
is given.
Therefore my excellent fatlher first built this
house ill the clearing;
Thlougl hle came not himself, I came; for the
Lord was my guidance,
Leading, me here for this service.  We  must
not grudge, then, to others
Ever the cup of cold water, or crumbs that fall
from our table."
Thus rebuked, for a season was silent thle
penitent housemaid;
And Elizabeth said in tones even sweeter and
softer:
' Dost thlou remember, Hannah, the great May      lMeeting in London,
AWhen I was still a child, how we sat in the
silent assembly,
Waitiing upon tlhe Lord in patient and passive
submission? 
ELIZABETH.
No one spake, till at length a young nmaii, a
stranger, Jolhn Estaugh,
Moved by the Spirit, rose, as if hlie were Jolii
the Apostle,
Speaking such words of power that they bowedl
our hearts, as a strong wind
Bends the grass of the fields, or grain that is
ripe for the sickle.
Thoughts of him to-day have been oft borne
inward upon me,
Wherefore I do not know; but strong is the
feeling within me
That onlce more I shiall see a face I have never
forgotten."
II.
E'en as she spake they heard the musical jal       gle of sleigh-bells,
First far off, with a dreamy sound and faint inii
the distance,
45 
46        TALES OF A WAYSIDE INN.
Then growing nearer and louder, and turning
into the farmyard,
Till it stopped at the door, with sudden creak       ing of runners.
Then there were voices heard as of two men
talking together,
And to herself, as she listened, upbraiding said
Hannahl the housemaid,
" It is Joseph come back, and I wonder what
stranger is with him."
Down from its nail she took and lighted the
great tin lantern
Pierced with holes, and round, and roofed like
the top of a lighthouse,
And went forth to receive the coming guest at
the doorway,
Casting into the dark a network of glimmer and
shadow
Over the falling snow, the yellow sleigh, and the
horses, 
ELIZABETII.               47
And thle forms of men, snow-covered, loomiug
gigantic.
Then givilng Joseph the lantern, she entered
the house with the stranger.
Youthful hle was and tall, and his checks aglow
with the iighit air;
And as hle entered, Elizabethl rose, and, goiiig
to meet him,
As if an unseen power had announced and pre       ceded his presence,
And hlie had come as one whose coming had long
been expected,
Quietly gave him her halid, and said, " Thlou
art welcome, John Estaugh."
And the stranger replied, with staid and quiet
behavior,
"Dost thlou remember me still, Elizabeth? After
so mnany
Years have passed, it seemethl a wonderful tllil,,g
that I find thllee. 
48        TArEFS OF A W,AYSII)E JNi.
Surely thellc hand of the Lord conducted me lhere
to thy threshold.
For as I journeyed along, and pondered alone
and in silence
On his ways, that arc past filding out, I saw in
thle suow-miist,
Seemin,gly weary with travel, a wayfarer, who by
the wayside
Paused and waited.  Forthwith I remembered
Queen Candace's eunuclh,
How on the way that goes down from Jerusa       lem unto Gaza,
Reading Esaias the Prophet, hle journeyed, and
spake unto Philip,
Praying him to come up and sit in his chariot
with him.
So I greeted the man, and lie mounted the sledge
beside me,
And as we talked on the way he told nme of thee
and thy homestead, 
ELIZABETH.                49
How, being led by thie light of the Spirit, that
never deceiveth,
Full of zeal for the work of the Lord, thou hadst
come to this country.
And I remembered thy name, and thy father and
mother ill England,
And on my journey have stopped to see thee,
Elizabeth Haddon,
Wishing to strengthen thy hand in the labors
of love thou art doing."
And Elizabeth answered with confident voice,
and serenely
Looking into his face with her innocent eyes as
she answered,
Surely the hand of the Lord is in it; his Spirit
liathl led thee
Olt of the darkness and storm to the light and
peace of my fireside."
3                       D 
50   TALES OF A WAYSIDE Isx.
Then, with stamping of feet, the door was
opened, and Joseph
Entered, bearing the lantern, and, carefully
blowing the light out,
Hung it up on its nail, and all sat down to their
supper;
For underneath that roof was no distinction of
persons,
But one family only, one heart, one hearthl, and
one household.
When the supper was ended they drew their
chairs to the fireplace,
Spacious, openhearted, profuse of flame and of
firewood,
Lord of forests unfelled, and not a gleaner of
fagots,
Sp)reading its arms to embrace with inexhlausti       ble bounty
All who fled from the cold, exultant, laughing
at winter! 
EI,LIZABETII.             51
Onlly Hannal  the housemaid was busy ill clear       ing the table,
Conmiing and going, and bustling about ill closet
and chamber.
Then Elizabeth told her story again to Joln
Estaugh,
Going far back to the past, to the early days of
her childhood;
How she had waited and watched, in all her
doubts and besetments
Comlforted with the extendings and holy, sweet
illflowings
Of the spirit of love, till the voice imperative
sounded,
And she obeyed the voice, and cast in her lot
with her people
Here in the desert land, and God would provide
for the issue. 
TALES OF A WAYSIDE INN.
Meanw,lhile Joseph sat with folded hands, and
demurely
Listened, or seemed to listen, and in the silence
that followed
Nothing was heard for a while but the step of
Hannall the housemaid
Walking the floor overhead, and setting the
chambers ill order.
And Elizabeth said, with a smile of compassion,
" The maiden
Hiath a light heart in her breast, but her feet
are heavy and awkward."
Inwardly Joseph laughed, but governed his
tongue, and was silent.
Then came the hour of sleep, death's couii      terfeit, nightly rehearsal
Of the great Silent Assembly, the Meeting of
shadows, where no man
52 
ELIZABETIT.
Speaketh, but all are still, and the peace and
rest are unbroken!
Silently over that house the blessing of slumber
descended.
But when the morning dawned, and the sun
uprose ini his splendor,
Breaking his way throughi clouds that encum      bered his path in the heavens,
Joseph was seen with his sled and oxen break      ing a pathway
Through the drifts of snow; the horses already
were harncssed,
And John Estaugh was standing and taking
leave at the threshold,
Saying that he should return at the Meeting in
May; while above them
I-aiinah the housemaid, the homely, was look      ing out of the attic,
Laughing aloud at Joseph, then suddenly clos      ing the casement,
53 
54       T.A LES OF A WAYSIDE INN.
As the bird in a cuckoo-clock peeps out of its
window,
Then disappears again, and closes the shutter
behind it.
III.
Now was the winter gone, and the snow; and
Robin the Redbreast,
Boasted on bush and tree it was he, it was he
and no other
That had covered with leaves the Babes in the
Wood, and blithely
All the birds sang with him, and little cared
for his boasting,
Little cared for his Babes in the Wood, or the
Cruel Unicle, and only
Sang for the mates they had chosen, and cared
for the nests they were building.
With them, but more sedately and meekly, Eliz      abeth Haddon 
ELIZABETHI.               55
Sang in her inmost heart, but her lips were
silent and songless.
Thus came the lovely spring with a rush of
blossoms and music,
Flooding the earth with flowers, and the air
with melodies vernal.
Then it came to pass, one pleasant morning,
that slowly
UTp the road there came a cavalcade, as of pil      grims,
Men and women, wending their way to the
Quarterly Meeting
In the neighboring town; and with them came
riding John Estaugh.
At Elizabeth's door they stopped to rest, and
alighting
Tasted the currant wine, and the bread of rye,
and the honey
Brought from the hives, that stood by the
sunny wall of the garden; 
56        TALES OF A WVAYSIDE INN.
Then remounted their horses, refreshed, and
continued their journey,
And Elizabeth with them, and Joseph, and Ilaii       nahl the housemaid.
But, as they started, Elizabeth lingered a lit       tle, and leaiiing
Over her horse's nleck, in a whisper said to Jolm
Estaugh:
"Tarry awlile behind, for I have something to
tell thee,
Not to be spoken lightly, nor in the presence
of others;
Them it concerneth not, only tlhee and mc it
concerneth."
And they rode slowly along tllroughl the woods,
conversing together.
It was a pleasure to breathe the fragrant air of
tlhe forest;
It was a pleasure to live on that brighlt and
happy May morning!
3* 
EILIZABETII.
Theni Elizabethl said, thlougll still withl  a cer       tain reluctance,
As if impelled to reveal a secret she fain would
h-ave guarded:
I will no lonlier conceal whlat is laid upoln me
to tell tlhee;
I have received from the Lord a charge to love
thee, JohnI Estaugh."
And Jolhn Estaughl made answer, surprised
by the words shle hlad spoken,
"Pleasanlt to me are tliy converse, thy ways,
tlly meekness of spirit;
Pleasant tlhyv fralnkness of speech, and thly soul's
immaculate whiteness,
Love withlout dissimulation, a hloly and inward
adoriing.
But I hlave yet 11o lighlt to lead me, no voice to
direct me.
57 
a 8        T.ALES OF A WAYSIDE INN.
When the Lord's work is done, and the toil and
the labor completed
He hath appointed to me, I will gather into the
stillness
Of my own heart awhlile, and listen and wait
for his guidance."
Then Elizabeth said, not troubled nor wound       ed in spirit,
So is it best, John EstaLughl.  We  will not
speak of it further.
It hath been laid upon me to tell thee this, for
to-morrow
Thlou art going away, across the sea, and I
know not
When I shall see thee more; but if the Lord
hlath decreed it,
Thlou wilt return again to seek me here and to
find me."
And they rode onward in silence, and entered
the town withl the others. 
ELIZABETII.
IV.
Shlips that pass in the nlighlt, and speak each
other in passing,
Only a signal shown and a distant voice in the
darkness;
So on the ocean of life we pass and speak one
another,
Only a look and a voice, then darkness again
and a silence.
Now went on as of old the quiet life of the
homestead.
Patient and unrepining Elizabeth labored, in
all things
5lindful not of herself, but bearing the burdens
of others,
Always thoughtful and kind and untroubled;
and Hiannali the hiousemaid
Diligent early and late, and rosy withl washing
and scouring,
59 
60        TALES OF A WNNAYSIDE INN.
Still as of old disparaged the eminent merits
of Joseph,
And was at times reproved for her li-lit and
frothy behavior,
For her shy looks, and her careless words, and
her evil stnrmisiings,
Being, pressed down somewhat, like a cart with
sheaves overladen,
As she would sometimes say to Joseph, quoting
the Scriptures.
Meanwhile John Estaughl departed across the
sea, and departing
Carried hid in his heart a secret sacred and
precious,
Filling its chambers with fragrance, and seem       ing to him in its sweetness
AIary's ointment of spikenard, that filled all the
house with its odor.
O lost days of delight, that are wasted ill doubt       img and waiting! 
EIIZABETII.                 61
0 lost hours and days inll whlich we miglit hlave
been happy!
But the light shone  at last, and  guided his
wavering footsteps,
And at last came the voice, imperative, ques       tiouless, certain.
Then Johln Estaugh came back o'er the sea
for the gift that was offered,
Better than houses and lands, the gift of a
woman's affection.
And on the First-Day that followed, he rose in
the Silent Assembly,
Holding in his strong hand a hand that trem       bled a little,
Promising to be kind and true and faithful in
all things.
Suchl were the miarriage-rites of Jolin and Eliz       abethl Estauglh. 
62       TALES OF A WAYSIDE INN.
And not otherwise Joseph, the honest, the
diligent servant,
Sped ill his bashful wooing witll holmely Hlaniiah,
the housemaid;
For when hle asked her the question, she an      swered, " Nay "; and then added:
"But thee may make believe, and see what will
come of it, Joseph." 
INTEr-LUDE.
" A PLEASANT and a winsome tale,"
The Student said, "though somewhat pale
And quiet in its coloring,
As if it caught its tone and air
From the gray suits that Quakers wear;
Yet worthy of some German bard,
TIHe'el, or Voss, or Eberhard,
Wh]o love of humble themes to sing,
In hlum)le verse; but no more true
Than was the tale I told to you."
Thle Theologian made reply,
And with some warmthl, " That I deny;
'T is no invention of my own, 
INTERLUDE.
But something well and widely known
To readers of a riper age,
Writ by the skilful hand that wrote
The Indian tale of Hobomook,
And Phlilotliea's classic page.
I found it like a waif afloat,
Or dulse uprooted from its rock,
On the swift tides that ebb and flow
In daily papers, and at flood
Bear freighted vessels to and fro,
But later, wheni the ebb is low,
Leave a long waste of sand and mud."
" It matters little," quothl the Jew;
"The cloak of truth is lined withl lies,
Sayeth some proverb old and wise;
And Love is master of all arts,
And puts it into human hearts
The strangest things to say and do."
64 
INTERILUDE.
And here the controversy closed
Abruptly, ere't was well begun
For the Sicilian ilntcrposed
With, " LDrdlings, listenl, every one
Tlhat listen may, unto a tale
That's merrier thani the nighltingale
A tale that cannot boast, forsootli,
A single rag or shred of truth;
That does not leave the mind in doubt
As to the with it or without;
A naked falsehood and absurd
As mortal ever told or heard.
Therefore I tell it; or, maybe,
Simply because it pleases me."
E
65 
THE SICILIAN'S TALE.
THE MONK OF CASAL-MAGGIORE.
ONCE on a time, some centuries ago,
In the hot sunshine two Franciscan friars
Wended their weary way with footsteps slow
Back to their convent, whose white walls
and spires
Gleamed on the hillside like a patch of snow;
Covered with dust they were, and torn by
briers,
And bore like sumpter-mules upon their backs
The badge of poverty, their begg,ar's sacks.
Tile first was Brother Anthony, a spare
And silent man, with pallid cheeks and thin,
Muchl given to vigils, penance, fasting, prayer,
Solemn and gray, and worn with discipline, 
THE 31MONK OF C,ASAL-MAGGIORE.
As if his body but white ashles were,
Heapecd on thlle living coals that glowed witlhin;
A simple monk, like many of his day,
AVWhiose instinct was to listen and obey.
A different man was Brother Timothy,
Of larger mould and of a coarser paste;
A rubicund and stalwart molk was hle,
Broad in the shoulders, broader in the waist.
Who often filled the dull refectory
With noise by which the convent was dis       graced,
But to the mass-book gave but little liced,
By reasoni he had never learned to read.
Now, as they passed the outskirts of a wood,
Thecy saw, with ming,led pleasure and surprise,
Fast tethlered to a tree aii ass, that stood
Lazily winiking lhis large, limpid eyes.
The farmer Gilbert of tlhat neighlborhlood
His owner was, who, looking, for supplies
67 
68       TALES OF A WAYSIDE INXN.
Of fagots, deeper in the wood had strayed,
Leavilg his beast to ponder iii the shade.
As soon as Brother Timothy espied
The patient animal, he said: " Good-lack!
Thus for our needs doth Providenlce provide;
We'11ll lay our wallets onI tte creature's back."
This being done, he leisurely untied
From head ald nleck the hlalter of tlhe jack,
And put it rounid his own, and to the tree
Stood tethlered fast as if the ass were lie.
And, I)ursting forth into a merry laugh,-,
He cried to Brother Aitliony:  "Away!
And drive the ass before you with your staff;
Aild when you reach the convenlt you may say
You left me at a farm, lhalf tired anld half
Ill with a fever, for a nighlt and day,
And tlhat the farmer lelt this ass to bear
Our wallets, that are heavy with good fare." 
THE 3IONK OF CASAL-MIAGGlORE.
Now Brotler Aitllony, who knew the pranks
Of Brother Timothy, would not persuade
Or reason with lhim on his quirks and cranks,
But, beiing obedient, silently obeyed;
And, smiting with his staff thle ass's flanks,
Drove him before him over hill and glade,
Safe with his provend to tfle convent gate,
Leavilg, poor Brotlher Timothy to his fate.
Then Gilbert, laden with fagots for his fire,
Forthl issued from the wood, and stood alghast
To see the ponderous body of thle friar
Standinig where hle had left his donkey last.
Trembling hle stood, and dared  not venture
nigh,er,
But stared, and gaped, and crossed himself
full fast;
For, being credulous and of little wit,
He thloulght it was some demon from the pit.
69 
70       TALES OF A'WAYSIDE INN.
While speechless and bewildered thus he gazed,
And dropped his load of fagots on the ground,
Quothl Brothler Timothy: " Bc iiot amazed
That where yout left a donkey should be fouled
A pool' Franciscall friar, hlalf-starved and crazed,
Standing demure and with a hlalter bound;
But set me free, and hear the piteous story
Of Brotlher Timothy of Casal-Maggiore.
I am a sinful man, althoulgh you see
I wear the consecrated cowl and cape;
You never owned an ass, but you owned me,
Chlanged ald transformed from my owii nat       ural shape
All for the deadly sin of gluttony,
From which I could not otherwise escape,
Thlan by this pellance, dieting on grass,
And being worked aild beaten as an ass.
"Think of the igilominy I endured;
Thinlk of the miserable life I led, 
THE MONK OF CASAL-MAGGIORE.
The toil and blows to which I was inured,
My wretched lodging in a windy shled,
May scanty fare so grudgingly procured,
The damp and musty straw that formed my
bed!
But, having done this penance for my sins,
My life as man and monk again begins."
The simple Gilbert, hearing words like these,
Was conscience-stricken, and fell down apace
Before the friar upon his bended knees,
And with a suppliant voice implored his
grace;
And the good mnonk, now very much at ease,
Granted him pardon with a smiling face,
Nor could refuse to be that night his guest,
It being late, and he inll need of rest.
Upon a hillside, where the olive thrives,
With  figures painted on its whitewashed
walls,
71 
7      TALTES  OF  A  W-'AYSIDE  INN.
The cottage stood; and Inear the lumming lhivcs
Made murmurs as of far-off waterfalls;
A place whlere those whlo love secluded lives
Mighlt live content, and, free from noise and
brawls,
Like Claudian's Old Man of Verona hlere
Measure by fruits the slow-revolving year.
And, coming to this cottage of content,
They founld his children, and  thle buxom
wench
His wife, Dame Cicely, and his father, I)beilt
Withl years and labor, seated onl a beelnch,
Repeating over some obscure event
In the old wars of Milanese and Frenclh;
All welcomed the Franciscan, with a selise
Of sacred awe and lhumllble reverence.
When Gilbert told tlheml wlhat hlad come to 1;ass,
How bleyond question, cavil, or sturmise, 
TIE M3ONK OF CASAL-MIAGGIORE.
Good Brothler Timothly lad been their ass,
You shlould hlave seen thle wonder in their
eyes;
You should hlave hleard them cry," Alas! alas!"
Have heard their lamentatiols  ald their
siglhs!
F'or all believed thle story, and began
To see a saijt in this afflicted man.
Forthwith there was prepared a grand repast,
To satisfy the craving of the friar
After so rigid and prolonged a fast;
The bustling housewife stirred the kitchen
fire;
Tlhen her two favorite pullets and her last
Were put to death, at her express desire,
And served up with a salad in a bowl,
And flasks of country wine to crown the wlhole.
It would not be believed should I repeat
How hungry Brother Timothy appeared;
4
73 
7 4      TALES OF A WAYSIDE INN.
It was a pleasure but to see him eat,
His white teeth flashing through his russet
beard,
His face aglow and flushled with wine and meat,
His roguishi eyes that rolled and laughed aldl
leered
Lord  how hle drank the blood-red couniitry winec
As if the village vintage were divine!
And all the while he talked without surcease,
And told his merry tales with jovial glee
That never flagged, but rather did increase,
And laughed aloud as if insane were lie,
And wagged his red beard, matted like a fleece,
And cast such glances at Dame Cicely
That Gilbert now grew angry with his guest,
And thus in words his rising wrath expressed.
" Good father," said he, " easily we see
How needful in some persons, and how riglit, 
THE M3ONK OF CASAL-MAGGIORE.
Ilfrtification of thie flesh may be.
Tile indulgence you hlave given it to-night,
After lolng penance, clearly proves to me
Your strengthi against temptation is but
slilght,
And shows the dreadful peril you are in
Of a relapse into your deadly sill.
"To-morrow morning, withl the rising sun,
Go back unto your convent, nor refrain
From fasting and from scourging, for you run
Great danger to become an ass again,
Since monkish flesh and asinine are one;
Therefore be wise, nor longer here remain,
Unless you wish the scourge should be applied
By other hands, that will not spare your hide."
When this the monk had heard, his color fled
And then returned, like lightniing in the air,
Till he was all one blush from foot to head,
And even the bald spot in his russet hair
75 
76       TALES OF A WAYSIDE INN.
Turned from its usual pallor to bright red!
Tile old man was asleep upon his chair.
Then all retired, and sank into the deep
And helpless imbecility of sleep.
They slept until the dawn of day drew near,
Till the cock should have crowed, but did not
crow,
For they had slain the shining chanticleer
And eaten him for supper, as you know.
The monk was up betimes and of good chleer,
And, having breakfasted, made haste to go,
As if lie heard the distant matin bell,
And had but little time to say farewell.
Fresh was the morniing as the breath of kine;
Odors of herbs commingled with the sweet
Balsamic exhalations of the pinie;
A haze was ill the air presaging heat;
Uprose the sun above the Appeiiiiie,
And all the misty v alleys at its feet 
TIIE -MONK OF CASAI.L-3AGGIORE.
Were full of the delirious song of birds,
Voices of mnelli, and bells, and low of herds.
All this to Brother Timotly was naught;
tIc did not care for scenery, nor here
His busy fancy found the thiung it soulghlt;
But when hle saw the convent walls appear,
And  smoke from kitchen chimneys  upward
caug,lt
And whirled aloft into the atmosphere,
He quickened his slow footsteps, like a beast
That scents the stable a league off at least.
And as he entered through the convent gate
He saw there in the court the ass, who stood
Twirling his ears about, and seemed to wait,
Just as he found him waiting in the wood;
And told the Prior that, to alleviate
The daily labors of the brotherhood,
The owner, being a man of means and thrift,
Bestowed him on the convent as a gift.
77 
78       TALES OF A WAYSIDE INN.
And thereupon the Prior for many days
Revolved this serious matter in his mind,
And turned it over many different ways,
Hioping that some safe issue hle might find;
But stood in fear of what the world would say,
If hlie accepted presents of this kind,
Employing beasts of burden for the packs
That lazy monks should carry on their backs.
Then, to avoid all scandal of the sort,
And stop the mouth of cavil, lie decreed
That he would cut the tedious matter short,
And sell the ass with all convenient speed,
Thus saving the expense of his support,
And hoarding something for a time of need.
So he despatched him to the nieilghboring Fair,
And freed himself from cumlber and from care.
It happened now by chance, as some might say,
Others perhaps would call it destiny, 
THE MONK OF CASAL-MAGGIORE.
Gilbert was at the Fair; and heard a bray,
And nearer came, and saw that it was hle,
And whispered in his ear, " Ahl, lackaday!
Good father, the rebellious flesh, I see,
Has changed you back into an ass again,
And all my admonitions were in vain."
Tile ass, who felt this breathing in his ear,
Did not turn round to look, but shook his
head,
As if he were not pleased these words to hear,
And contradicted all that had been said.
And this made Gilbert cry in voice more clear,
"I know you well; your hair is russet-red;
Do not deny it; for you are the same
Franciscan friar, and Timothy by name."
Thle ass, though now the secret had come out,
Was obstinate, and shook his head again;
Until a crowd was gathered round abl)out
To hear this dialogue between the twain;
79 
80       TALES OF A WAYSIDE INN.
And raised their voices in a noisy shout
Whlen Gilbert tried to make the matter plain,
And flouted him and mocked him all day long
With laughter and with jibes and scraps of song.
"If this be Brother Timothy," they cried,
"Buy himi, and feed him on the tenderest
grass;
Thou canst not do too muc]  for one so tried
As to be twice transformed into an ass."
So simple Gilbert bought him, and untied
Hiis hlalter, and o'er mountainii and morass
He led him homeward, talking as lie went
Of good behavior and a mind content.
The children saw them coming, and advanced,
Shouting with  joy, and  hung  about  his
neck, -
Not Gilbert's, but the ass's,-rouniid iimi danced,
And wove green garlands wherewithal to deck 
THE MONK OF CASAL-3MAGGIORE.
His sacred persoln; for again it chancecd
Their childish feelings, without rein or check,
Could not discriminate in any way
A donkey from a friar of Orders Gray.
" 0 Brother Timothy," the children said,
"You have come back to us just as before;
WVe were afraid, and thought that you were
dead,
And we should never see you any more."
And then they kissed the white star on his head,
That like a birth-mark or a badge he wore,
And patted him upon the neck and face, X
And said a thousand things with childish grace.
Thenceforward and forever he was known
As Brother Timothy, and led alway
A life of luxury, till he had grown
Ungrateful, being stuffed with corn and hay,
And very vicious. Then in angry tone,
Rousing himself, poor Gilbert said one day,
4*                      F
81 
82       TALES OF A WVAYSIDE INN.
"Wheni simple kindness is misunderstood
A little flagellation may do good."
His many vices need not here be told;
Among them was a habit that he had
Of flinging up his heels at young and old,
Breaking his halter, nirunning off like magl
O'er  pasture-lands and meadow, wood  anl
wold,
And other misdemeanors quite as bad;
But worst of all was breaking from his shled
At night, and ravaging the cabbag,e-)ed.
So Brother Timothy went back once more
To his old life of labor and distress;
Was beaten worse than lie had been before;
And now, instead of comfort and caress,
Came labors manifold and trials sore;
And as his toils increased his food grew less,
Until at last the great consoler, Death,
Ended his many sufferings with his breath. 
TIE MONK OF CASAL-MAGGIORE.
Great was the lamentation when he died;
And mainly that he died impenitent;
Dame Cicely bewailed, the children cried,
The old man still remembered the event
In the French war, and Gilbert magnified
His many virtues, as he came and went,
And said: " Heaven pardon Brother Timotvhy,
And keep us from the sin of gluttony."
83 
INTERLUDE.
"SIGNOR LUIGI," said the Jew,
When the Sicilian's tale was told,
" The were-wolf is a legend old,
But the were-ass is something new,
And yet for one I think it true.
The days of wonder have not ceased;
If there are beasts in forms of men,
As sure it happens now and then,
Why may not man become a beast,
In way of punishment at least?
" But this I will not now discuss;
I leave the theme, that we may thus
Remain within the realm of song. 
INTERLUDE.
The story that I told before,
Though not acceptable to all,
At least you did not fiiid'too long.
I beg you, let me try again,
With something in a different vein,
Before you bid the curtain fall.
Mleanwhlile keep watch upon the door,
Nor let the Landlord leave his chair,
Lest he should vanish into air,
And thus elude our search once more."
Thus saying, from his lips he blew
A little cloud of perfumed breath,
And then, as if it were a clew
To lead his footsteps safely through,
Began his tale as followeth.
85 
THE SPANISH JEW'S SECOND TALE.
SCANDERB EG.
THE battle is fought and won
By King Ladislaus the Hun,
In fire of hell and death's frost,
On the day of Pentecost.
And in rout before his path
From the field of battle red
Flee all that are not dead
Of the army of Amurath.
In the darkness of the night
Iskander, the pride and boast
Of that mighty O tlman host,
With his routed Turks, takes flight
From the battle fought and lost  
SCANDERBEG.
On the day of Pentecost;
Leaving behind him dead
The army of Amurath,
The vanguard as it led,
The rearguard as it fled,
MIown down in the bloody swath
Of the battle's aftermath.
But hle cared not for Hiospodars,
Nor for Baron or Voivode,
As on through the night he rode
And gazed at the fateful stars,
That were shining overhead;
But smote his steed with his staff,
And smiled to himself, and said:
"This is the time to laughl."
In the middle'of the night,
In a halt of the hurrying flight,
There came a Scribe of the King
87 
88       TALES OF A WAYSIDE INN.
Wearing his signet ring,
And said in a voice severe:
"This is the first dark b)lot
On thy niame, George Castriot!
Alas! whly art thou here,
And the army of Amurath slaiii,
And left on the battle plain?"
And Iskander answered and said:
"They lie on the bloody sod
By the hoofs of horses trod;
But this was the decree
Of the watchers overhead;
For the war belolgeth to God,
And in battle who are we,
Who are we, that shall withstand
The wind of his lifted hand?"
Then he bade them bind with chains
This manl of books and brains; 
SCANDERBEG.,G
And tlhe Scribe said: "What misdeed
Have I done, that without need,
Thlou doest to me this thling?
Ald Iskailder answeriing
Said unto him: "Not olne
MAisdeed to me hlast tlhou done;
But for fear that tlhou slhouldst run
And hlide thyself from me,
lHa-ve I done this unto thee.
"Now write me a writing, 0 Scribe,
And a blessing be on thy tribe!'
A writiling sealed with thy ring,
To King Amurath's Paslia
In the city of Croia,
The city moated and walled,
Tllat he surrender the same
ln the name of my master, the King;
For what is writ in his name
Can never be recalled."
89 
90       TALES OF A WAYSIDE IN~.
And the Scribe bowed low in dread,
And unto Iskander said:
"Allall is great and just,
But we are as ashles and dust;
How shall I do this thing,
When I know that my guilty head
Will be forfeit to the Killng?"
Then swift as a shlooting star
The curved and shlininig blade
Of Iskander's scimetar
From its sheath, with jewels brilght,
Shot, as hle thundered: " Write!
And tie trembling Scribe obeyed,
And wrote ill the fitful glare
Of the bivouac fire apart,
With the chlill of the midnight air
On his forehead white and bare,
And the cliill of death in his heart. 
SCANDERBEG.
Then again Iskander cried:
"Now follow whitler I ride,
For here thlou must not stay.
Thou shalt be as my dearest friend,
And honors without end
Shall surround thee on every side,
And attend tlee nilght and day."
But the sullen Scribe replied:
" Our pathways here divide;
Mine leadeth not thly way."
And even as he spoke
Fell a sudden scimetar stroke,
When no one else was near;
And the Scribe sank to the ground,
As a stone, pushed frolm the brilk
Of a black pool, mnighlt sink
With a sob and disappear;
And no one saw the deed;
And ill the stillness around
91 
92      TALES OF A WAYSIDE INN.
No sound was hleard but the souiid
Of the hloofs of Iskander's steed,
As forward hlie sprang withl a bound.
Then onward he rode and afar,
With scarce three hundred mein,
Thlroughl river and forest and fen,
O'er the mounitainls of Argeutar;
And his heart was merry within,
Wheni he crossed the river Driln,
And saw in the gleam of the morn
Tlhe Whlite Castle Ak-Hissar,
The city Croia called,
TlJe city moated and walled,
Tlhe city whlere lie was born,And above it the morning star.
Thlen his trumlpeters in the van
Oii their silver bugles blew,
And in crowds about limi raii 
SCANDERBEG.
Albanian and Turkoman,
That thle sound together drew.
And he feasted with his friends,
And when they were warm with wine,
Ile said: " 0 friends of minc,
Behold what fortulle sends,
And what the fates design!
Kilg Amuratli commands
That lly fatler's wide domain,
Tlhis city and all its lands,
Shlall be given to me again."
Then to the Castle White
He rode in regal state,
And entered in at the gate
In all his arms bedigit,
And gave to the Paslha
Who ruled in Croia
The writilg, of the King,
Seale(l with his sigliet ri(rng.
93 
94        TALES OF A WAYSIDE INN.
And the Pashla bowed his head,
And after a silence said:
"Allall is just and great!
I yield to the will divine,
The city and lands are thlline;
Who shlall contend with fate?"
Anoni from thle castle walls
Thle crescent banner falls,
And the crowd beholds instead,
Like a portent in the sky,
Iskander's banner fly,
The Black Eagle with doubl)le head;
And a shout ascends on Iigll,
For men's souls are tired of the Turks,
And their wicked ways and works,
That have made of Ak-Hissar
A city of the plague;
And the loud, exultant cry
That echoes wide and far
Is: "'Lon, live Scailderl)eg'" 
SCANDERIBEG.
It was thlus Iskander came
Once more unto his own;
And thle tidingTs, like the flame
Of a conflagration blownii
By the winds of summer, ran,
Till the land was ill a blaze,
And the cities far and near,
Sayethl Ben Joshua Ben Meir,
InIi his Book of the Words of the Days,
"' Were taken as a man
Would take the tip of his ear."
95 
INTERLU.DE.
" Now that is after my own hleart,"
Thle Poet cried; " onie understands
Your swarthly hero Scaltderbeg,
Gauntlet on lhand aid boot oln leg,
Aid skilled in every warlike art,
Riding tlhrough his Albanian lands,
Ald followilg the auspicious star
That slhone for himi o'er Ak-Hissar."
The Thleologian added here
HIis word of praise not less sincere,
Altliou,gh hle enlded withl a jibe;
"The lhero of rolmance ald solng
Was horn," he said, " to rig'ht thlle wrollng; 
INTERLUDE.
And I approve; but all tlhe same
Tlhat bit of treason with the Scribe
Adds nothilng to your hero's fame."
The Student praised the good old times,
And liked the canter of the rhymes,
That had a hloofbeat in their sound;
But longed some further word to hear
Of the old cllroniicler Ben MAeir,
And where lhis volume might be found.
The tall Musician walked the room
With folded arms and gleaming eyes,
As if he saw the Vikings rise,
Gigantic shadows in the gloom;
And much he talked of their emprise,
And meteors seen in Northern skies,
And Heimdal's horn, and day of doom.
But the Sicilian laughed again;
"This is the time to laughl," hle said,
For the whole story he well knew
Was an invention of the Jew,
5
97
(-i 
98       TALES OF A WAYSIDE INN.
Spun from the cobwebs in his braiii,
And of the same bright scarlet thread
As was the Tale of Kambalu.
Only the Landlord spake no word;
'T was doubtful whether he had heard
The tale at.all, so full of care
Was he of his impending fate,
That, like the sword of Damocles,
Above his head hung blank and bare,
Suspended by a single hair,
So that he could not sit at case,
But sighed and looked disconsolate,
And shifted restless in his chair,
Revolving how he might evade
The blow of the descending blade.
The Student came to his relief
By saying in his easy way
To the Musician: " Calm your grief, 
INTERLUDE.
My fair Apollo of the North,
Balder the Beautiful and so fortl;
Althlough your magic lyre or lute
With broken strings is lying mute,
Still you can tell some doleful tale
Of shipwreck in a midnight gale,
Or somethingi of the kind to suit
The mood that we are in to-niiighlt
For what is marvellous and strange
So give your nimble fancy range,
And we will follow in its flight."
But the Musician shook his head;
" No tale I tell to-night," he said,
" While my poor instrument lies there,
Even as a child with vacant stare
Lies in its little coffin dead."
Yet, being urged, he said at last:
"Thlere comes to me out of the Past
99 
TALES OF A WAYSIDE INN.
A voice, whose tones are sweet and wild,
Singing a song almost divine,
And withi a tear in every line;
An ancient ballad, that my nurse
Sang, to me when I was a child,
In accents tender as the verse;
And sometimes wept, and sometimes smiled
Whlile singing it, to see arise
The look of wonder in my eyes,
And feel my heart with terror beat.
This simple ballad I retain
Clearly imprinted on my braii,
And as a tale will now repeat."
100 
THE MUSICIAN'S TALE.
THE MOTHER'S GHOST.
SVEND DYRING hle ridetli adown the glade;
I m?yseif was young!
There he hath wooed him so winsome a maid;
Fair words gladden so many a heart.
Together were they for seven years,
And together children six were theirs.
Then came Deathl abroad through the land,
And blighlted the beautiful lily-wand.
Svend Dyring he ridethl adown the glade,
And again hatlh hle wooed him anlother maid. 
TAiLES  OF  A'WAYSIDE  INN.
He hlath wooed lhim a maid and brought home
a bride,
But she was bitter anld full of pride.
Wlieil she came drivilg illto thie yard,
There stood thle six childrenii weepilig so lhard.
Tlere stood the small children with sorrowful
heart;
From before her feet she thrust them apart.
She gave to them neither ale nor bread;
"Ye shall suffer lhunger ald hate," she said.
She took from them their quilts of bl)ue,
Anld said: "Ye shlall lie on thle straw we strew."
She took from them the great waxli,ght;
"Now ye shall lie in the dark at night."
102 
TIHE MNOTHIER'S GHOST.        103
Ill the evening late they cried with cold;
The mother heard it under the mnould.
The woman heard it the earth below:
"To my little children I must go."
She standeth before the Lord of all:
"And may I go to my children small?"
She prayed him so long, and would not cease,
Until he bade her depart in peace.
"At cock-crow thou shalt return again;
Longer thou shalt not there remain!
She girded up her sorrowful bolles,
And rifted the walls and the marble stones.
As through the village she flitted by,
The watch-dogs howled aloud to the sky. 
TALES OF A WAYSIDE INN.
Wllen shle came to thle castle gate,
There stood her eldest daughter in wait.
" Why standest thou here, dear daughter minei?
flow fares it with brothers and sisters tlhine?"
"Never art thlou mother of mine,
For my mother was both fair anld fine.
"My mothler was white, with chleckls of red,
But thlou art pale, and like to tlle dead."
" How shlould I be fair and filc?
I have beeni dead; pale chlecks are mine.
" How shlould I be whlite aind red,
So long, so long hlave I lbeeni dead?"
Wllen shle came ill at thle chlamber door,
Thlere stood the small clildreiic weepinlg sore.
104 
TilE MOTLIERI S GIIOST.
Olie slie braided, aiiother she brushed,
The thlird shle lifted, the fourthl shle hlusled.
The fifthl slie took oi1 hler lap and pressed,
As if slie would suckle it at hler breast.
Tlieii to hler eldest dau,lghter said she,
"' I)o thlou bid Svend Dyring come hither to me."
Iitto the chamber wlhenl lie came
She spake to him in anger anld shame.
"I left behlind me bothl ale and b)rcad;
Mly children hlunger and are not fed.
"I left behlind me quilts of blue;
MAy children lie on thle straw ye strew.
"I left behlind me the great waxliglit;
My chlildrenl lie in the dark at nigi,t.
5*
105 
TALES OF A WVAYSIDE INN.
" If I come again unto your hall,
As cruel a fate shlall you l)efall!
" Now crows the cock with feathers red;
Back to the earth must all the dead.
"Now crows thle cock with feathers swarbt;
The gates of heaven fly wvide apart.
" Now crows the cock with feathers white;
I can abide no longer to-ni,ht."
Whelever they heard the watcli-dogs wail,
They gave the children bread and ale.
When ever they heard the watch-dogs b)ay,
They feared lest the dead were on their way.
Wheniever they heard the watcl-dogs l)alk;
I myself was youn,g!
They feared the dead out there in the dark.
Fair wiords gladdlen so many a lheart.
106 
INTERLUD E.
TOUCH]ED by the pathlos of these rhymes,
The Theologian said: " All praise
Be to the ballads of old times
And to the bards of simple ways,
Who walked with Nature hand in hand,
Whose country was their Holy Land,
Whose singingi robes were lhomespuln brown
From loomls of their own native town,
VWhich they were not aslhamed to wear,
And not of silk or sendal gay,
Nor decked with fanciful array
Of cockle-shells from Outre-Mer."
To whom tlle student answered: " Yes;
All praise ald liolor!  I confess 
TALES OF A WVAYSIDE INN.
That bread and ale, hlome-baked, home-brewed,
Are whlolesollme anld nutritious food,
But not enoug,ll for all our needs;
Poets-  thle best of them- are birds
Of passage; wliere their instinct leads
They ralnge abroad for tloughlts and words,
And from all climes bri,ng homlle the seeds
That germinate in flowers or weeds.
They are not fowls in barnyards born
To cackle o'er a grain of corni;
And, if you shut the liorizoi downi
To the small limits of their town,
Whlat do you but degrade your bard
Till lhe at last becomes as one
Who thinks the all-ncilrcling sun
Rises and sets iii lis back yard?"
The Thleologiaii said agTain:
"It may bec so; yet I maintain
That whlat is native still is best,
108 
INTERLUDE.
And little care I for the rest.
'T is a long story; timie would fail
To tell it, and the hour is late;
We will not waste it in debate,
But listen to our Landlord's tale."
And thus the sword of Damocles
Descending not by slow degrees,
But suddenly, on the Landlord fell,
Who blushing, and with much demur
And many vain apologies,
Plucking up heart, began to tell
The Rhlyme of one Sir Christopher.
lC9 
THE LANDLORD'S TALE.
THE RHYME OF SIR CHRISTOPHER.
IT was Sir Christopher Gardii'er,
Knighlt of the Holy Sepulchre,
Frori Alerry Eigland over the sea,
Who stepped upon this contiCInent
As if his august presence lent
A glory to the colony.
You should have seen him in the street
Of the little Boston of Winthrop's time,
His rapier dangling at his feet,
Doublet and hlose and boots complete,
Prince Rupert hlat with ostrich plume,
Gloves that exhaled a failt perfume,
Luxuriant curls and air sublime,
And superior manniers now obsolete! 
'rIIE RII'NE OF SIR ClIRISTOPHER.    111
Hee lha1 a way of saying thllings
That made one think of courts and king,s,
And lords and ladies of high, degrree;
So that Inot hlaving been at court
Seemed something very little short
Of treason or lese-majesty,
Such aii accomplished knlight was he.
His dwelling was just beyond thle town,
At what he called his counltry-seat;
For, careless of Fortune's smile or frown,
And weary grown of the world and its ways,
He wishled to pass the rest of his days
In a private life and a calm retreat.
But a double life was the life lhe led,
And, while professing to be in search
Of a godly course, and willing, he said,
Nay, anxious to join the Puritan church,
He made of all this but small accounit, 
TALES OF A WAYSIDE INN.
And passed his idle hours instead
WAVitli roysterilg Morton of Merry Mount,
That pettifogger from Furnival's Inn,
Lord of misrule and riot and sin,
VWho looked on the wine when it was red.
This country-seat was little more
Than a cabin of logs; but in front of the door
A modest flower-bed thickly sown
With sweet alyssum and columbine
Made those who saw it at once divine
The touch of some other hand than his own.
And first it was whispered, and then it was
known,
That he in secret was harboring there
A little lady with golden hlair,
lWhom hle called his cousin, but whom lie had
wed
In the Italian manner, as men said,
And great was the scandal everywhere.
112 
TIIE RIIYME OF SIR CHIRISTOPHER.    113
But worse thaii this was the vague surmise,
Thlough nione could vouchll for it or aver,
Thllat the Klighlit of tlhe Ioly Sepulchre
AVas only a Papist in disguise;
And the more to embitter their bitter lives,
And the more to trouble the publlic mind,
Came letters from England, from two  othler
wives,
Whom he had carelessly left behlind;
Bothl of them letters of suchl a kind
As made the governor hold his breatlh;
The onie imploring him straight to send
The liusband hlome, that lhe mi,ght amend;
Thel other askiing his instant deatlh,
As the only way to make an end.
The wary governor deenmed it right,
When all this wickedness was revealed,
To send his warranlt signed and sealed,
And take the body of the knighlt.
I] 
'TALES OF A 5VAYSIDE IN''.
Armed wi'll this milghty instrument,
Thle marshlal, mounting his gallant steed,
Rode fortli from town at tlhe top of his speed,
And followed by all his bailiffs bold,
As if on highl achievement bent,
To storm some castle or stronglold,
Chlallenge the warders onI tle wall,
And seize in his ancestral hall
A robber-)aron grim and old.
But whlen thlroughl all the dust and lheat
lie came to Sir Chlristophler's country-seat,
No knight he found, nor warder thlere,
But the little lady withl golden hlair,
Whlo was gathlering ill the brighlt suinshine
The sweet alyssum and columbine;
\Wlile gallant Sir Christophler, all so gay,
Being forewarned, thlrougli the postern gate
Of his castle wall hlad tripped away,
And was keeping a little holiday
In the forests, that bounded his cstate.
114 
TIlE r1!IYAIE OF SIR CIIRISTOPIIER.      115
Then as a trusty squire and true
The marshal searelicd the castle through,
Not crediting what the lady said;
Searched from cellar to garret in vain,
And, finding no knight, came out again
And arrested the golden damsel instead,
And bore her in triumph into the town,
While from her eyes the tears rolled down
On the sweet alyssum and columbine,
That she held in her fingers white and fine.
Tlhe governor's hlieart was moved to see
So fair a creature caught within
The snares of Satan and of sin,
And read her a little homily
On the folly and wickedness of the lives
Of women, half cousins and half wives;
But, seeing that naught his words availed,
He sent her away in a ship that sailed
For Merry England over the sea, 
TALES OF A AVAYSIDE INN.
To the other two wives in the old countree,
To search her further, sincce he had failed
To come at the heart of the mystery.
Meanwhlile Sir Christopher wandered away
Through pathless woods for a month and a day,
Sliooting piCgeons, and sleeping at nigl-ht
With the noble savage, who took deli,ght
InI his feathlered hat and his velvet vest.
His gun and his rapier and the rest.
But as soon as the noble savage heard
That a bounty was offered for this gay bird,
IHe wanted to slay him out of hand,
And bring in his beautiful scalp for a show,
Like the glossy head of a kite or crow,
Until hlie was mnade to understand
They wanted the bird alive, not dead;
Tlen le followed himi whithlersoever lhe fled,
Thlroughl forest and field, and hunted him down,
And brought him prisoner into the town.
116 
TIIE RIIYMIE OF SIR CHRISTOPIIERI.    117
Alas! it was a rueful siglit,
To see this melancholy kllighlt
Iii such a dismal and hlapless case
His hlat deformed by staiii and denlt,
His plumage broken, his doublet rent,
Hlis beard and flowing locks forlorn,
M1atted, dishevelled, and ushlorni,
Hlis boots with dust and mire besprenlt;
But digified in his disgrace,
And weariing aii unbltshing face.
And thus before the magistrate
Htie stood to hear the doom of fate.
Iii v-ain hle strove with wonted ease
To modify and extenuate
His evil deeds in church and state,
For gone was now his power to please;
And his pompous words had no more weight
Than feathlers flyilng in the breeze.
With suavity equal to his owii
The governor lent a patient ear 
TALES OF A A VAYSIDE INN.
To the speech evasive and lIigliflowii,
In whllichll lie endeavored to make clear
That colonial laws were too severe
AVWlieil applied to a gallant cavalier,
A gentleman born, and so well kliiownii,
And accustomed to move in a ligiler splere.
All this the Puritan governor heard,
And deigned in answer never a word;
But in summary maniiiier shipped awvay
In a vessel that sailed from Salem l)ay,
This splendid and famous cavalier,
With his Rupert hlat and his popery,
To MIerry EInglanid over the sea,
As being unmeet to inhabit here.
Thus endeth the Rhyme of Sir Christopler,
Ilnight of the Holy Sepulchre,
The first who furniislhed this barren land
With apples of Sodoin and ropes of saiid.
118 
FINALE.
THIIESE are the tales those mnerry guests
Told to eachl othler, well or ill;
Like summer birds that lift their crests
Above the borders of their uests
And twitter, anld again are still.
These are the tales, or new or old,
In idle moments idly told;
Flowers of tllhe field withl petals thin,
Lilies that neithler toil nor Spill,
And tufts of wayside weeds and gorse
Hulig in the parlor of the inii
Beneathl the sign of the Red Horse.
And still, reluctant to retire,
Tlhe fricends sat talking by tlhe fire 
TALES OF A WVAYSIDE INN.
And watched tlhe smouldering embers burn
To asles, and flashl up agail
Into a momentary glow,
Lingering like them when forced to go,
And going wheni they would remain;
For oil the morrow thlley must turn
Their faces homeward, and the pain
Of partilng touched withl its unirest
A tender nerve in every breast.
But sleep at last the victory won;
They must be stirrinlg with the sunll,
And drowsily good nighlt they said,
And went still gossiping to bed,
And left the parlor wrapped in gloom.
The only live thlling in the room
Was the old clock, that in its pace
Kept time with the revolviing spheres
And constellations in their flight,
And struck with its uplifted miace
12'0 
FINALE.
The dark, tlunconlscious hours of nighlt,
To senseless and unllistening ears.
Uprose the sun; and every guest,
Uprisen, was Soon equipped and dressed
For journeying home and city-ward;
The old stagecoach was at the door,
With horses harnessed, long before
The sunshiniiie reached the withered sward
Beneath the oaks, whose branchles hoar
Murmured: "Farewell forevermore."
"Farewell!" the portly Landlord cried;
"Farewell!" the parting guests replied,
But little thought that nevermore
Their feet would pass that threshold o'er;
That nevermore together there
Would they assemble, free from care,
To hear the oaks' mysterious roar,
And breathe the wholesome country air.
6
121 
TALES OF A WAYSiDE INN.
Whlere are they now?  What lands and skies
Paint pictures in their friendly eyes?
What hope deludes, what promise cheers,
What pleasant voices fill their ears?
Two are beyond the salt sea waves,
And three already in their graves.
Perchance the living still miay look
Into the pages of this book,
And see the days of long ago
Floating and fleeting to and fro,
As in the well-remembered brook
They saw the inverted landscape gleam,
And their own faces like a dream
Look up upon them from below.
122 
BIRDS OF PASSAGE.
FLIGHT THE THIRD.  
FATA MAIORGANA.
0 SWEET illusions of Song,
That tempt me everywhere,
In the lonely fields, and the throng
Of the crowded thoroughfare!
I approach, and ye vanish away,
I grasp you, and ye are gone;
But ever by night and by day,
The melody sounideth on.
As the weary traveller sees
In desert or prairie vast,
Blue lakes, overhung with trees,
That a pleasant shadow cast; 
BIRDS OF PASSAGE.
Fair towns with turrets higl,
And shining roofs of gold,
That vanish as hlie draws nigh,
Like mists tog,ethler rolled,
So I wander and wander along,
And forever before me gleams
The shining city of song,
In the beautiful land of dreams.
But when I would enter the gate
Of that golden atmosphere,
It is gone, and I wander and wait
For the vision to reappear.
126 
THE HAUNTED CIIAMBER.
EACH heart has its haunted chamber,
Where the silent moonlight falls!
On the floor are mysterious footsteps,
There are whispers along the walls!
And mine at times is haunted
By phantoms of the Past,
As motionless as shadows
By the silent moonlight east.
A form sits by the window,
That is not seen by day,
For as soon as the dawn approaches
It vanishes away. 
BIRDS OF PASSAGE.
It sits there in the moonlight,
Itself as pale and still,
Anid points with its airy -iinger
Across the window-sill.
Without, before the window,
There stands a gloomy pine,
Whose boughs wave upward and downward
As wave these thoughts of mine.
And underneath its branches
Is the grave of a little child,
Who died upon life's threshold,
And never wept nor smiled.
What are ye, 0 pallid phantoms!
Thllat haunt my troubolcd brain?
That vaiiishl when day approaches,
And at night return againi?
128 
THE HAUNTED CHAMIBER.
What are ye, 0 pallid phantoms!
But the statues without breath,
That stand on the bridge overarching
The silent river of death?
6*
129 
THE MEETING.
AFTER so long an absence
At last we meet again:
Does the meeting give us pleasure,
Or does it give us pain?
The tree of life has been shaken,
And but few of us linger now,
Like the Prophet's two or three berries
In the top of the uppermost bough.
We cordially greet each other
In the old, familiar tone;
And we think, though we do not say it,
How old and gray he is grown! 
TfIE MEETING.
We speak of a Merry Christmas
And many a Happy New Year;
But each in his heart is thinking
Of those that are not here.
We speak of friends and their fortunes,
And of what they did and said,
Till the dead alone seem living,
And the living alone seem dead.
And at last we hardly distinguish
Between the ghosts and the guests;
And a mist and shadow of sadness
Steals over our merriest jests.
131 
VOX POPULI.
WHEN Mazarvan the Magician,
Journeyed westward through Cathlay,
Nothing heard hle but the praises
Of Badoura on his way.
But the lessening rumor ended
Whlen he came to lihaledan,
There the folk were talking only
Of Prince Camaralzaman.
So it happens with the poets:
Every province hath its own;
Camaralzaman is famous
Where Badoura is unknown. 
THE CASTLE-BUILDER.
A GENTLE boy, with soft and silken locks,
A dreamy boy, with brown and tender cycs,
A castle-builder, with his wooden blocks,
And towers that touch imaginary skies.
A fearless rider on his father's knee,
An eager listener unto stories told
At the Round Table of the nursery,
Of heroes and adventures manifold.
There will be other towersfor thee to build;
There will be other steeds for thee to ride;
There will be other legends, and all filled
With greater marvels and more glorified. 
BIRDS OF PASSAGE.
Build on, and make thy castles high and fair,
Rising and reaching upward to the skies;
Listen to voices in the upper air,
Nor lose thy simple faith in mysteries.
134 
CHANGED.
FROMI the outskirts of the town,
Where of old the mile-stone stood,
Now a stranger, looking down
I behold the shadowy crown
Of the dark and lhaunted wood.
Is it changed, or am I changed?
Ah! the oaks are fresh and green,
But the friends with whom I ranged
Through their thickets are estrainged
By the years that intervene.
Bright as ever flows the sea,
Bright as ever shines the sun,
But alas! they seem to me
Not the sun that used to be,
Not the tides that used to run. 
THE CHALLENGE.
I HAVE a vague remembrance
Of a story, that is told
In some ancient Spanish legend
Or chronicle of old.
It was when brave King Sanchlez
Was before Zamora slain,
And his great besieging army
Lay encamped upon the plain.
Doni Diego de Ordofiez
Sallied forth in front of all,
And shouted loud his challenge
To the warders on the wall. 
TIlE CIIALI,LENGE.
All the people of Zamnora,
Both the born and tile uiiborln,
As traitors did lie challenge
With taunlting words of scorln.
The living, in their houses,
And in their graves, the dead!
And the waters of their rivers,
And their wine, and oil, and bread!
Thlere is a greater army,
That besets us round with strife,
A starving, numberless army,
At all the gates of life.
Thle poverty-stricken millions
Who challenge our wine.and bread,
And impeach us all as traitors,
Both the living and the dead.
137 
BIRDS OF PASSAGE.
And whenever I sit at the banquet,
Where the feast and song are high,
Amid the mirth and the music
I can hear that fearful cry.
And hollow and haggard faces
Look into the lighted hall,
And wasted hands are extended
To catch the crumbs that fall.
For within there is light and plenty,
And odors fill the air;
But without there is cold and darkness,
And hunger and despair.
And there in the camp of famine,
In wind and cold and rain,
Christ, the great Lord of the army,
Lies dead upon the plain!
138 
THE BROOK AND THE WAVE.
THE brooklet came from the mountain,
As sang the bard of old,
Running with feet of silver
Over the sands of gold!
Far away in the briny ocean
There rolled a turbulent wave,
Now singing along the sea-beach,
Now howling along the carve.
And the brooklet has found the billow,
Tlhough they flowed so far apart,
And has filled with its freshness and sweetness
That turbulent, bitter heart! 
FROM THE SPANISH CANCIONEROS.
1.
EYES so tristful, eyes so tristful,
Heart so full of care and cumber,
I was lapped in rest and slumber,
Ye have made me wakeful, wistful!
In this life of labor endless
Who shall comfort my distresses?
Querulous my soul and friendless
In its sorrow shuns caresses.
Ye have made me, ye have made me
Querulous of you, that care not,
Eyes so tristful, yet I dare not
Say to what ye have betrayed me. 
FROM THE SPANISII CAN'CIONEIosS.    141
2.
Some day, some day,
0 troubled breast,
Shalt thou find rest.
If Love ill thee
To grief give birth,
Six feet of earth
Can more than be;
There calm and free
And unoppressed
Shalt thou find rest.
The uniiattaiued
In life, at last
When life is passed,
Shall all be gained;
And no10 more pained,
No more distressed
Shalt thou find rest. 
BIRDS OF PASSAGE.
3.
Come, 0 Death, so silent flying
That unheard thy coming be,
Lest the sweet delight of dying
Bring life back again to me.
For thy sure approach perceiving
In my constancy and pain
I liew life should win again,
Thiniking that I am not living.
So to me, unconscious lying,
All unknown thy coming be,
Lest the sweet delight of dying
Bring life back again to me.
Unto him who finds thee hateful,
Death, thou art inhuman pain;
But to me, who dying gain,
Life is but a task ungrateful.
Come, then, with my wish complying,
142 
FROM THE SPANISH CANCIONEROS.
All unheard thy coming be,
Lest the sweet delight of dying
Bring life back again to me.
4.
Glove of black in white hand bare,
And about her forehead pale
AVouiid a thin, transparent veil,
That doth not conceal her hair;
Sovereign attitude and air,
Cheek and neck alike displayed,
AVitlh coquettish charms arrayed,
Laughinlg eyes and fugitive;This is killing men that live,
'T is not mnourning for the dead.
143 
AFTEP,MATH.
WHEN the Summer fields are mown,
When the birds are fledged and flown,
Aid the dry leaves strew the patlh;
With the falling of the snow,
With- the cawingo of the crow,
Onlce agail the fields we mow
And gathler ill the aftermatll.
Not the sweet, new grass with flowers
Is this harvesting of ours;
Not the upland clover bloom;
But the rowen mixed with weeds,
Tangled tufts from marshl and meads,
Where the poppy drops its seeds
':.Iln the silence and the gloom.
...:.
~   8-,
e.