Cornell University 
 Library 
 
 The original of this book is in 
 the Cornell University Library. 
 
 There are no known copyright restrictions in 
 the United States on the use of the text. 
 
 http://www.archive.org/details/cu31924013343854 
 
Tramps and Troubadours 
 
Tramps and 
 
 Troubadours 
 
 By 
 
 John G. Duncan 
 
 London 
 
 Digby, Long & Co. 
 
 1 8 Bouverie Street, Fleet Street, E.C, 
 1898 
 
CONTENTS 
 
 I. The Order of the Wine Cup 
 
 PRELUDE — FIRST DAY 
 I. AN EXPLANATION 
 INTERLUDE . 
 
 II. SAPPHIRA, THE CALIPH'S DAUGHTER 
 
 asaleek's LOVE-SONG 
 
 INTERLUDE . 
 
 III. EVEN-SONG ON THE RHINE 
 
 INTERLUDE . 
 
 IV. PLEASURES IN THE MOON 
 
 INTERLUDE . 
 
 II. Alfonso and his Mother . 
 III. The Order of the Wine Cup 
 
 PRELUDE — SECOND DAY 
 
 I. A DRINKING SONG 
 INTERLUDE . 
 
 II. THE POET'S ASPIRATION 
 INTERLUDE . 
 
 PAGK 
 
 I 
 
 4 
 
 S 
 
 HTER . 5 
 
 I 4 
 
 21 
 
 22 
 
 23 
 
 25 
 
 . 48 
 
 So 
 
 80 
 
 81 
 
 ■ 83 
 
 . 84 
 
 • 85 
 
CONTENTS 
 
 A NEW 
 
 III. WET PAINT 
 
 INTERLUDE . 
 
 IV. A CASE OF HANGING IN PURGATORY 
 
 INTERLUDE . 
 
 IV. WOOINGS AND COUNTER-WOOINGS . 
 
 V. The Order of the Wine Cup 
 
 PRELUDE — THIRD DAY 
 
 I. THE PREHISTORIC MONKEY : 
 ROMAUNT . 
 INTERLUDE . 
 
 II. THE BREAKERS : A BALLAD 
 INTERLUDE . 
 
 III. ROMAUNT OF THE PERI 
 
 INTERLUDE . 
 
 IV. THE WANDERING KNIGHT 
 
 INTERLUDE . 
 
 VI. Cecilia's Choice — Troubadour or Knight ? 
 
 NOTE — TO CONCLUDE . 
 
 °3 
 
 103 
 
 106 
 
 123 
 
 127 
 
 158 
 159 
 
 180 
 182 
 
 183 
 
 18s 
 
 203 
 
 204 
 213 
 
 215 
 237 
 
TRAMPS AND TROUBADOURS 
 
 THE ORDER OF THE WINE CUP 
 
 PRELUDE — FIRST DAY 
 
 It was the year one thousand and ninety-nine, 
 Early in the morning just after nine, 
 As near as could be told in early June 
 By the dial in Boieleux. A tune 
 Someone was tripping on the mandolin^ ; 
 And some were dancing with delightful spin 
 On a broad mead in front of four high towers 
 Defended by a moat. Orange bowers 
 Encircled the fair green where many sipped 
 The mellow juices of the grape. The dancers skipped 
 About right gleefully, and damsels smiled, 
 In many coloured kirtles bright. Beguiled 
 Were all men's minds by the fair summer scene ; 
 Many ladies fair wandered about to preen 
 Their beauty in the gaze of Love; tall knights 
 Accoutred now in simple garb, from fights , 
 
 Repaired to peace, paced up and down. There laugh 
 The peasants out for holiday to quaff 
 
 A 
 
2 TRAMPS AND TROUBADOURS 
 
 The sister sweets of revelry. For ease 
 
 Had haled them out for pleasure, 'neath the trees 
 
 To sing their lusty songs with plenteous mirth. 
 
 The Lord of Boieleux, duke of great worth 
 And potency in merry Languedoc, 
 Had of his enemies made worthy mock, 
 To conquer and despise in fruitful jest, 
 These labours ended, gave his gay behest 
 That those who had with him fought in the wars 
 Should all keep time of festival ; what Mars 
 Had once disquieted should now repose 
 In idless-ease in virtue of past woes. 
 
 The peasants made a hostel of a bower, 
 Where they prepared with jollity to dower 
 The service of their lord in merriment, 
 And for the better grace of their content 
 Had made themselves an Order of the Cup, 
 A brotherhood of knightliness to sup 
 Together every day, and keep full round 
 Of gladness cheerily, until the sound 
 Of even bell made end — high festival 
 Continual to make with interval 
 Of tales and songs, and aught for pleasure's sake 
 That blithe completeness of their joy could make. 
 
 There was Gustave, the vintager, who sat 
 As master of the company ; he gat 
 Him a slim wand, all fair and cool, to make 
 Him grave authority ; sharp eyes brake 
 Out of his head, as also mystery 
 Of many countless things ; a history 
 Well could he make to read ; well versed in lore 
 Of Latin, Greek, Astrology — and more 
 
THE ORDER OF THE WINE CUP 
 
 Than my Lord Bishop in his search had found 
 Among the Abbey records underground — 
 Was he, also accounted great in myth 
 That he had at a convent gained, and sith, 
 He being learned much in wisdom's tongues, 
 They had thus made him Minister of Songs, 
 And often these fair ladies and brave knights 
 Would join the merry music of these rites. 
 And in the records of this Order new 
 Disport themselves in wonders old and true. 
 
 They were loud laughing merrily, when near 
 Francis, first Lord of Boieleux, to hear 
 Their merriment, approached, and with him guests 
 Fresh come to join the festival, and zests 
 Of summer frolic, all most courtly dressed 
 In gayest fashion — pearl-chained and much tressed 
 Out of a southern Spanish plain. ' Welcome ! ' 
 Cried gay Gustave, ' pleasure is but seldom 
 On us conferred by such gay company, 
 Who have this Order formed but recently. 
 We are in our own way for a short time 
 Singers, or troubadours, or what will rhyme 
 With gaiety and pleasure, to console 
 The heart that languishes in painful dole 
 Of bitterness or fret of wasting woe, 
 Nor need we fear the work of other foe ; 
 Therefore we ask ye not this peace to mar 
 While we in summer pleasaunce open are 
 To gay content and the sweet bid of joy, 
 So to this end let us our time employ. 
 Then one who had been waiting for his time 
 Began to sing the office of his rhyme. 
 
TRAMPS AND TROUBADOURS 
 I— AN EXPLANATION 
 
 BY ALLIEN 
 
 We are the troubadours, 
 The greatest connoisseurs 
 Of the master-mind of passion, 
 Or the empty head of fashion. 
 
 Nor need we tarnishment, 
 Or needless banishment 
 To the dark CEgeus, 
 Or the sad Piroeus. 
 
 In love we have no rival, 
 Nor can one find survival 
 In any lists of conquest 
 When we have made an inquest. 
 
 The passionate love whispers 
 Of ravishing night lispers 
 We can well personate, 
 And faithfully relate. 
 
 The melancholy mumblers 
 Of any courtly grumblers 
 Are here diversified, 
 With smiles beatified : 
 
 Or any fresh intention 
 That needs a new invention 
 May fearlessly be mentioned 
 And straight thereafter questioned. 
 
THE ORDER OF THE WINE CUP 
 
 Therefore our confession 
 To leave a good impression 
 I place before you herewith 
 That you have this to cheer with. 
 
 INTERLUDE 
 
 The grateful company acknowledged this 
 With a slight smile and almost a slight hiss, 
 And waited expectantly for something 
 Which now might from this introduction spring. 
 Gustave, in his potential person seeming large 
 Took up the matter gravely in his charge, 
 Made reverence, and simply saying, ' Now,' 
 Looked round for someone whom he might endow 
 With speaking powers. On one he fixed his eye 
 And looking down with gratifying sigh 
 Simply and solemnly repeated, ' Next,' 
 Whereon good Father Ananias took up his text. 
 
 II— SAPPHIRA, THE CALIPH'S DAUGHTER 
 
 BY FATHER ANANIAS 
 
 In the odorous and gracious fanning 
 Of some spicey groves, that past all banning 
 Made life as pleasant as in Paradise — 
 Gainsaying virtue but denying vice — 
 The Caliph's daughter sat, in that fair land, 
 Rich in the wonders at a world's command 
 Of full breezes laden with many sweets, 
 A glorious compliment that ever beats 
 Upon the virtuous and the virtueless. 
 It was a land of beauty. None the less 
 
6 TRAMPS AND TROUBADOURS 
 
 The Caliph's daughter was not much impressed, 
 
 Unless she by some chance a flower caressed, 
 
 That held a viper, or some other form 
 
 Of deadliness ; she might be in a storm, 
 
 Possibly have screamed, perhaps have fainted — 
 
 There was no telling. Occasions sainted 
 
 Were often spoiled like that by a woman, 
 
 Because she trembled and was too human ; 
 
 But even if the odorous breezes bore 
 
 Combined the sweets of Araby, she tore 
 
 The source of their enrapturing perfume 
 
 In pleasurable indolence. A fume 
 
 She might be in, and so upon the flowers, 
 
 The innocent descendants of the hours, 
 
 She wrecked her vengeance, altering her mind 
 
 As she went on a dozen times. Behind 
 
 There was the palace ; caliphate or no, 
 
 She would her own way have. She kicked her toe, 
 
 And tossed her head about, ' And so she would,' 
 
 She said. Quite a spoilt child she was, and could 
 
 Do anything with her indulgent father, 
 
 That no one else would have encountered ; rather 
 
 They would have fought the enemy of souls than be 
 
 Beheaded by despotic majesty. 
 
 She was sitting 'mid some pomegranates, 
 A cluster of tall palm-trees and some dates, 
 Scanning the pale horizon. Unawares 
 She saw the wall now needed some repairs, 
 Also on the sea near by a corsair 
 Was standing into land, and worse for wear 
 The garden seat was that she sat upon. / 
 She was dressed charmingly ; she had put on 
 A blue gown fringed with gold, and to the waist 
 With silver lace embroidered. Much good taste 
 
THE ORDER OF THE WINE CUP 7 
 
 She had displayed, and on her shoulders lay 
 
 A shawl, so gossamer and light — display 
 
 Was in effect produced to set at ease 
 
 The beauty of her nature, thus to please 
 
 The eye and cultivate the hand — so light 
 
 A web it was, a fairy's fancy white. 
 
 A pale, peculiar loom by which a thought 
 
 Of hidden grace is intercepted, wrought 
 
 Into a filament of passion tense, 
 
 Quickly completed by misguided sense. 
 
 She hid herself and yet displayed in full 
 
 The cunning power of nature, that by rule 
 
 Hints at a covert snare in charms declared, 
 
 That those who looked by their suggestion snared, 
 
 Not for a moment felt the need of air. 
 
 At times in a most comical despair 
 She seemed ; for now and then the corsair slewed 
 His ship's head round ; and from her standpoint viewed 
 Seemed to be turning tail. But no doubt he 
 Was navigating her as best might be 
 Through many currents intricate, and banks 
 That lay about. And now her anchor clanks 
 With a dull roar, as it heads foaming down 
 Into the very midst of Neptune's town, 
 And swinging round sets down a boat to run 
 With her brave captain to the shore. The sun 
 Was level in the West, and broadly flamed 
 A thousand glowing rubies — gems unnamed, 
 Upon the broad-flamed waters glittering. 
 A hundred little runnels were fast stirring 
 On the sand, with rippled gushes chequered 
 On irrigation principles. A third 
 Of the boat's crew scrambled out, and drove her 
 Hard on a little bank. The Sea Rover 
 
8 TRAMPS AND TROUBADOURS 
 
 Had run a flag upon the mizzen mast, 
 And lay broadside on ready for a blast, 
 That kind Boreas should let loose in time 
 To take them safely to their proper clime 
 Without an accident. 
 
 The corsair stood, 
 And waved his hand, whereat she left her wood, 
 And through the gap in the high garden wall 
 Came down without a thing except her shawl, 
 By a rocky path ; and was quickly clasped 
 In the brave captain's arms. The boatswain gasped, 
 And was a little fidgety. Thus said 
 The corsair after a long pause : • This head,' 
 And he touched her black, black hair tenderly, 
 ' Must always rest just here. For most dearly 
 I love thee, my sweet star, my very own. 
 O fly with me ! Be blest with me alone ! 
 Fairest of women, fair as the lily. 
 Thine eyes are as the morning dew; deeply, 
 As a mist that on the mountains lightens, 
 They shine. They look abroad; day brightens, 
 And all is full of light. O that my love 
 Would fly with me ! The ship will like a dove 
 Bear us away. Thy days shall be all song; 
 In gardens of pomegranates ere long 
 We shall dwell. The vine and the fig-tree there 
 Shall shelter us. Thou shalt about thy hair 
 Bind garlands woven of lilies, and be 
 As a houri from Paradise. And we 
 Shall rejoice alway. Then thou shalt desire 
 And it is thine ; it is given. Require 
 Fair garments, raiment of fine linen ; slaves 
 Shall bear thee all things — what most thy heart craves. 
 
THE ORDER OF THE WINE CUP 9 
 
 Then shall thy heart's desire be satisfied. 
 
 sweet Sapphira, fly ! ' She was gratified ; 
 So also was the boatswain and his crew : 
 He lifted her gently in, and they drew 
 Away from the land, at the command, ' Off' ; 
 And through the fretting waves they rowed. 
 
 Far-off, 
 In the palace, the Caliph sat before 
 His councillors. One of them just then bore 
 Some sherbet in — a nice refreshing drink 
 In the hot weather. He quaffed off. ' I think,' 
 He said, sweeping his great black beard, and then 
 Adjusting his turban, ' we will send ten 
 Ambassadors to the court of Persia 
 To accept the kind offer that the Shah 
 Has lately made. The great embarrassment 
 Of the exchequer inconvenient 
 Is at the present time, but this will make 
 A fine addition to all things at stake. 
 
 1 have for several years been looking round 
 For my daughter, if any could be found, 
 Who most desirably could answer me 
 
 As to the nature of his treasury. 
 
 ' But those sweet lovers were far out at sea 
 Sailing down eastward by an island's lee. 
 The sun was waiting till the anchor dropped, 
 With one eye on the scene. When they had stopped. 
 He also, from the far horizon's edge 
 Slipped off, letting go his hold on the ledge 
 Of the great earth, and was soon in a sleep, 
 And very far below the ocean deep, 
 While he his journey yet pursued to rise 
 In the soft vermil of the eastern skies, 
 
10 TRAMPS AND TROUBADOURS 
 
 Rowed in a boat across the gloom of night, 
 Which saved expense as well as toil and light. , . 
 
 They left the ship to stand in for repairs, 
 And in the yawl made for the landing-stairs. 
 They landed on some rocks; it was quite dark : 
 The boatswain had some trouble with his bark. 
 He thought that every moment he would be 
 Stove in. Some clouds were rolling heavily 
 Upon the wind, that moaning rose so high, 
 That speech was quite impossible. To lie 
 There longer would be dangerous, and on 
 The deep no star-like, friendly beacon shone, 
 No warning light; no help, no aiding hand ; 
 But the harsh grating of the toiling strand 
 Alone, tempestuous 'whelmed their feeble shout. 
 They trembled every limb; they thought, no doubt, 
 This was their end. ' The timbers cannot stand,' 
 The boatswain thought, 'this much longer; to strand 
 And die is well enough at times, but here — ' 
 A wave came rushing on, and filled with fear 
 Everyone. Sapphira had been weeping, 
 And thought of her pleasant room for sleeping, 
 And of the many waving palms at home, 
 And many things besides — and then to roam — 
 ' Ah ! ' she whispered, ' once only can I die.' 
 Then she was just about to pray; a sigh 
 Escaped her for Mohammed's mighty aid : 
 And suddenly she on her back was laid. 
 Whether or no the Prophet heard her prayer 
 She never knew, nor now she did not care, 
 But hastily escaped. 
 
 Completely worn 
 With hunger and fatigue, they stumbled, torn 
 
THE ORDER OF THE WINE CUP 11 
 
 By prickly shrubs, up the steep, stony path 
 
 That overbreasts the cliff. ' The island hath 
 
 Several pleasant places,' he remarked, 
 
 ' When they are known, but till they have been marked 
 
 By day, it is not easy to discern 
 
 Their beauties. Double happiness, we learn, 
 
 Comes to the patient if they can but wait.' 
 
 These observations made outside the gate 
 
 Were opportunely comforting. They felt 
 
 Inwardly elated; they had not dealt 
 
 Quite fully with the question, but the rest 
 
 To disused contemplation left the test, 
 
 And to some time when they could look with ease 
 
 Upon the past. It might them then much please 
 
 To scan the opportunities they flee, 
 
 Of turning up alive from the deep sea. 
 
 The gen'ral manager, housekeeper, cook, 
 Met them with ' Welcome ' ; afterwards a look 
 She gave the maid dressed in the pallid blue. 
 She feared she was to be removed ; she knew 
 At once how matters stood. ' You no longer 
 Can stay contented in this place — with her,' 
 She said, addressing that in-self, whose power 
 Survives our mortal flesh ; ' nor in this bower 
 Be held in just authority supreme.' 
 She had a ravishment of heart ; a gleam 
 Of evil meaning she could not suppress 
 Was in her eye, but openly address 
 She thus made him with great officiousness : 
 ' How good is great Gihassim's comeliness, 
 And merciful is Allah to bring back 
 My lord, Gihassim. Has my lord had lack 
 Of anything that he has come so soon 
 From perilous adventures ? ' ' No boon 
 
12 TRAMPS AND TROUBADOURS 
 
 Have I lacked yet, Luli,' he answered her. 
 
 Herewith she had to be contented. A stir 
 
 Was in some distant places made. And first 
 
 To the Seraglio they went. ' And must,' outburst 
 
 Sapphira fair, ' I have this woman here 
 
 To rule over me ? ' ' No, you must not fear ; ' 
 
 With a most tender look, said Gihassim, 
 
 With one arm round her lovingly, ' Hassim 
 
 Shall take her to Algiers on market-day, 
 
 And sell her — she is sound in every way — 
 
 To the highest bidder, for any one 
 
 Would buy her.' As he spoke he had begun 
 
 To take off all his weapons ; to the teeth 
 
 He had been armed ; and quite a lovely wreath 
 
 Of singular-looking daggers he had hung 
 
 Up in the armoury. Above them swung 
 
 A silver lamp on golden chains, which shed 
 
 A sinister delight upon the dead 
 
 Contumely of arms. Silken curtains 
 
 In saffron, blue, and red, with 'broidered silver chains 
 
 Of costly flowers embossed in bloom, were tressed 
 
 Upon the walls ; and on the ceil impressed 
 
 Were rich 'graved panels, filled with groves of palms, 
 
 And such ideal scenes, where might meet balms 
 
 Of an oasis in life's weariness, 
 
 Instinct with flatt'ring joy and easiness, 
 
 To desert toils. Superbly cushioned seats 
 
 And ottomans luxurious completes 
 
 The furnishing, except for a table 
 
 With a golden pattern inlaid sable 
 
 On rosewood, of which it was composed ; 
 
 In fine-worked filagree it downward closed 
 
 On two rampant lions, with paws trenchant, 
 
THE ORDER OF THE WINE CUP 13 
 
 With quartered shield, ebon, and suspendant, 
 Cross-bones thereon not yet mentioned. 
 
 A slave 
 With scimitar girthed round, and looking grave 
 Now entered, and laid some silver dishes 
 For two. Then having asked if their wishes 
 Had been supplied, retired again 
 For wine of crusted mellowness and strain. 
 Somewhere beyond the curtains melody 
 Arose so ravishing, the fair lady 
 Delightfully complaisant shed a tear, 
 So much bewitched in heart was she to hear 
 A note of Paradise waft sweetly down 
 'Mid their earth-bowers. A flutt'ring in her gown 
 Warned her that she had yet a heart to know. 
 This was a warning she could not now throw 
 Away, nor yet afford a luxury. 
 So to her taste, even though a houri 
 Should be communing with some pure singers 
 In Paradise, also some gate-ringers, 
 By playing tunes to them upon her crown 
 With the great key that guarded half the town. 
 So she withheld her tears, so near the day 
 When she had from the Caliph run away : 
 It would not do to spoil the festival 
 By shedding tears at music's interval. 
 Just then a voice for greater revelry 
 Began to sing in accents heavenly 
 A very beautiful and quite tender 
 Song of pleasantness. Thrilled was her slender 
 Waist and heart into a coming passion, 
 That made her tremble in a tender fashion. 
 
14 TRAMPS AND TROUBADOURS 
 
 ASALEEK'S LOVE-SONG 
 
 O my love appear ! 
 It is morning ; let us arise. 
 The vine is fresh with dew. 
 The sun is high and clear. 
 There is pleasure in the skies, 
 And rejoicing in the view. 
 
 Why should we fear ? 
 Are not the lilies fair, 
 And is not honey sweet ? 
 Are not crystal waters clear ? 
 Fragrant thy clusters of hair, 
 As new barns full of wheat. 
 
 What shall I desire 
 
 Better than much treasure ? 
 
 Gardens of aloes, of pomegranates. 
 
 Shall my love much ease require 
 
 In gardens full of pleasure, 
 
 Yea, full of pleasure and pomegranates ? 
 
 What does thy heart seek ? 
 
 Let us cast away fear. 
 
 Let us rejoice in love. 
 
 Is not the sun over Asaleek ? 
 
 Open thy lattice, my love, appear, 
 
 I will comfort thee with love. 
 
 ' It is not morning yet,' Gihassim said 
 With a gay smile, ' but when the night is fled 
 Love shall rejoice us also evermore, 
 And in our pleasant garden by the shore 
 
THE ORDER OF THE WINE CUP 15 
 
 We shall seek ease.' The lamp was going out 
 
 When they retired, so, hastily, the stout 
 
 Slaves made the last arrangements for the night. 
 
 The morning after his fair daughter's flight 
 The Caliph sent, saying, he much desired 
 To see her. He was not fully attired 
 In the fine plumes of his official dress, 
 But easily, without undue excess 
 Of ornamental cumbrances. He turned 
 His turban further round, on which clear burned 
 A crescent moon. ' Delay I cannot brook,' 
 Concluded he with a more thoughtful look, 
 And turned away to look into the state 
 Of his great treasury, which had of late 
 Been much reduced — ' on important matters.' 
 They came again saying, ' Gone.' He shatters 
 The looking-glass in which he combed his beard, 
 And wondered for some moments if he heard 
 Aright. Then shouting, ' Slaves, what mean ye ? ' 
 
 stormed 
 For half-an-hour without a pause. They formed 
 A few resolves to speak, and were not able 
 Because of the mad Caliph's vicious babble. 
 Then he himself ran violently about 
 Into her chamber. Then he sent a scout 
 About the garden — everywhere where she 
 Might happen to be taking liberty. 
 A hundred wild resolves were vainly hatched ; 
 A hundred vain suggestions with them matched ; 
 And in a breath were flung in haste to naught — 
 In the unequal temper of tongues caught, ■ 
 And flung and fluttered into empty air, 
 Until naught had a meaning left to spare. 
 
16 TRAMPS AND TROUBADOURS 
 
 So finding nothing of her nowhere near 
 He was a little calmer. ' For a year 
 I have been scheming for my daughter's good 
 To get her married to a prince who could 
 Keep her above the want of anything. 
 But now without a word she's taken wing, 
 And left me with the funds diminishing. 
 It must be that corsair who's done this thing. 
 Nor have I in my navy one good ship 
 That's fit for sea. He's given me the slip.' 
 
 He ordered out his finest ammiral 
 To be ready. The highest numeral 
 Of seamen he could muster was but seventy, 
 And swords and other weapons were but scanty. 
 To-morrow he would to the pirate hold 
 Sail gallantly, and justly slay the bold 
 Sea captain of the isles. His daughter fair 
 Out of the cruel grasp of the corsair 
 He would take fearlessly, and never flinch 
 Without once going back a single inch. 
 
 He therefore reconnoitred all his plans 
 Meantime. And the great ammiral he mans 
 With valiant seamen and their scimitars. 
 The rigging, too, is overhauled — the spars, 
 And deep down in the hold some springing leaks 
 Are temporarily patched. Then after speaks 
 The master-carpenter : ' She's fit to sail 
 With a fair wind upon her lee — too frail 
 For anything but coasting near the land.' 
 So he would on the morrow take command, 
 And on this great adventure with the foe 
 Launch early. 
 
THE ORDER OF THE WINE CUP 17 
 
 Going for a gentle row, 
 Meantime, he met the State ambassadors 
 Of Persia coming in hot haste. Hors 
 De combat he became, for they said thus : 
 ' The Shah will only wed thy daughter plus 
 Considerable dower.' The Caliph said 
 Sorrowfully, ' It cannot be.' So back they sped. 
 ' It's quite as well,' he after wisely thought. 
 And made him properly ; his captain sought ; 
 And set sail on the instanter. The sails 
 Unfurled caught the faint promise of the gales, 
 And wafted o'er the sunny deep from shore 
 Went merrily. The helmsman to the fore 
 Held her to the wind, and gallantly 
 She answered to the points. Most valiantly 
 The seamen on the yards were singing gay. 
 The halliards rattled, and the misty spray 
 Sprang lightly o'er the prow. The coxswain soup 
 Was boiling savoury in a small coup 
 For a late dinner. Her head of canvas 
 Was heaving out to sea in one white mass. 
 So blithely in the wind the seamen sang, 
 While ratlines, sheets, and blocks in concert rang. 
 It was a song for the ship's company 
 But lately made. None here could claim that he 
 Was the composer great, so all took part 
 That they might have a share, and eke take heart. 
 
 ' Fairer than the lily,' Gihassim said, 
 ' Is my love ' — he had just got out of bed — 
 ' She is like the foe upon the mountains, 
 As the clear sparkling of many fountains 
 That run under palms. There the doe is found, 
 And the hart also. Pleasant things abound 
 
 B 
 
18 TRAMPS AND TROUBADOURS 
 
 Where he delights himself. He sees her eyes, 
 
 More beautiful than tears, tender to sighs : 
 
 They follow him ; they call much unto him ; 
 
 He drinks at the fountain ; they are not dim. 
 
 They rise up from the waters full of new loves ; 
 
 They are sweet, yea, sweeter than a dove's.' 
 
 He was musing beneath a slender palm, 
 
 Before him lay the sea quite still and calm ; 
 
 Behind him from a lattice there looked down 
 
 Sapphira. On her face a little frown 
 
 Had gathered ; now she was not quite content 
 
 At being in her loneliness intent 
 
 On nothing. ' Where is Asaleek ? ' she said, 
 
 And turned away. ' I hope he has not fled.' 
 
 She went into the garden and there saw 
 
 A charming little bower roofed in with straw. 
 
 She entered, and the singer Asaleek 
 
 She saw. A little while she could not speak, 
 
 But trembled in astonishment. He said, ' Come in.' 
 
 She entered shyly — thought it was a sin — 
 
 Nevertheless was pleased. She says, ' I heard 
 
 You sing last night, and thought it was Aspeard, 
 
 The cunning singer out of Paradise,' and sighs. 
 
 He smiled and looked intently in her eyes. 
 
 ' They are beautiful eyes, and if I knew 
 
 Now, what were her thoughts, I would love her, too. 
 
 But, looking o'er the myriad beds of flowers, 
 
 He said, • I sing quite well at certain hours — 
 
 That is, when those who hear appreciate. 
 
 It is a pleasure then, not much my fate — 
 
 Seldom to have the winning of such praise 
 
 As thine.' And in his eyes there was a curious blaze. 
 
 Alas ! thus is vanity of women 
 Puffed up, whenever they are touched. Hymen 
 
THE ORDER OF THE WINE CUP 19 
 
 Herself is not seduced so easily, 
 
 As is woman by tongue set evilly. 
 
 She had indeed quite a fancy taken 
 
 To this young bard ; nor was he loath to waken 
 
 The sleeper in the fortalice of Love, 
 
 And send him forth, with banneret above, 
 
 To slay the neatly-warded knight all excellent, 
 
 And take his Lady Virtue sweet and petulant. 
 
 As they were dallying thus, the corsair calm, 
 From his fair shaded couch beneath the palm 
 Arose, and wand'ring round the garden came 
 Behind the bower. He to his sudden shame 
 Found that his love was lost when hardly gained, 
 And all his hope of happiness was drained 
 Out of its crystal vessel — purity, 
 That he on pedestal of fair surety 
 Had set above all things and much admired, 
 With beauty set and all that love required. 
 So, standing suddenly before them, he 
 Exclaimed, ' Thou shalt not more defiled be,' 
 And drawing forth his scimitar he slew 
 Sapphira, as she sat with lover new. 
 Then turning, he towards the shore repaired, 
 Leaving the scimitar beside her bared, 
 And red with drinking blood. Upon the shore 
 He stood considering a shining store 
 Of small sea-shells, swept in a hollow stone — 
 A medley with some slimy sea-weed thrown 
 In salt heaps. 
 
 Then Gihassim slowly raised 
 His eyes towards the open sea — so dazed 
 With grief was he. He saw a stately ship 
 Heave out of ocean on the white-turned lip 
 
20 TRAMPS AND TROUBADOURS 
 
 Of many dancing waves. For some moments 
 
 The ammiral approached to all intents, 
 
 Menacingly— not till a rattling chain 
 
 Sounded unwontedly, and on the main 
 
 The great ship swuqg her broadside round. There 
 
 rang 
 A voice upon her deck, and with a clang 
 And plunge, the anchor sank. ' Furl the mainsail — 
 Port with the helm — and ease her to ! ' Assail 
 He did himself with much astonishment; 
 Then all his fright he into banishment 
 Sent hastily. Not without some new qualms 
 He hastened back beneath the stately palms. 
 A boat was lowered, and one sat in the stern. 
 He could from his position clear discern 
 Each figure in the bow. ' The Caliph's come,' 
 He said aloud. ' He'll have a strange welcome.' 
 He went thereon to meet him as the boat 
 Grated on shore. Gihassim cleared his throat. 
 ' Where is my daughter ? ' cried the Caliph stern, 
 And held a scimitar in hand to learn 
 The truth without regret. ' You shall see her 
 If you but come with me. There the vulture 
 Waits even now.' ' Lead on, thou corsair bold ! ' 
 The Caliph cried in wrath. His fierce eyes rolled, 
 And firm he grasped his scimitar. ' Lead on ! ' 
 
 Together thus they went. At length upon 
 His knees they saw the weeping bard bent down 
 Beside the fair, sweet body on the ground 
 All dipped in rosy blood. Gihassim said, 
 In solemn accents o'er the listless dead, 
 ' This is the man who has dishonour brought 
 Upon thy daughter.' So the Caliph caught 
 
THE ORDER OF THE WINE CUP 21 
 
 His scimitar into his hand, and slew 
 Asaleek the bard; and then turning, drew 
 It on the corsair bold. ' Whether or no 
 Thou hast done this foul deed, I do not know, 
 But as thou art thou diest in this place,' 
 The Caliph said. And ere Gihassim's face 
 Could change to fear, his head upon the ground 
 Was rolling softly down the little mound. 
 
 INTERLUDE 
 
 Then suddenly the speaker ceased; he shook 
 Himself together ; and some red wine took. 
 Quite soberly and grave he said : ' Good friends, 
 The moral is that for all proper ends 
 It is quite well to take things pleasantly, 
 Consid'ring how things have been recently. 
 When things do not quite turn out as you wish 
 It is the best to try some other dish.' 
 
 The Order on the whole was greatly pleased; 
 They favoured eastern tales, they said, and teased 
 The reverend father mightily for more : 
 But he denied them all, and on the score 
 Of saying Mass, hied from the pleasant scene 
 And soon was hid among the bow'ring green. 
 He was a man of grave and ordered way, 
 Of studious eye ; not given much to play, 
 Yet could be gay and merry as a child, 
 Though he was so composed and wisely mild. 
 He oft would in the solitudes retire 
 To gain discernment's chaste prophetic fire. 
 
 Beside Gustave there sat a Spanish maid I 
 
 With large, dark eyes as ever 'gainst poor blade j 
 
22 TRAMPS AND TROUBADOURS 
 
 Foughten disastrously. She said : ' Who is that 
 
 With the fine face now speaking to the fat 
 
 Friar ? ' ' It is Alaria the Hun,' 
 
 Said good Gustave, and wondered that she won 
 
 Such favour for him. ' Ah ! he has clear eyes, 
 
 Just a little sad, and sometimes he sighs. 
 
 What is he ? ' next she said. ' A troubadour, 
 
 Also a soldier of our lord, but poor.' 
 
 A little way behind them stood the Lord 
 
 Of Boieleux, armed with his gallant sword, 
 
 Watching intently this fair lady speak, 
 
 And jealously, but she did not once seek 
 
 To look at him. She was a Spanish maid, 
 
 But now upon the master's arm she laid 
 
 Her lily hand, and said : ' Ask him to sing.' 
 
 She gave him such a pleasant mimicking 
 
 Of graciousness, his courage could not brook 
 
 The soft appealing of her liquid look. 
 
 At once he raised his slender wand of light, 
 
 Empowered to give all people wonderful delight, 
 
 And said : ' Brother Alaria will sing 
 
 Some pleasant phantasy to please the ring.' 
 
 At which the brother bowed, and inward knew 
 
 That something was about to happen new. 
 
 Ill— EVEN-SONG ON THE RHINE 
 
 BY ALARIA 
 
 Darkness is over us and dim is the night ; 
 Slowly the distant bell tolls out the light ; 
 
 And slowly we row ; 
 
 All silent we go. 
 
THE ORDER OF THE WINE CUP 23 
 
 The monks are now singing the vesper hymn chant ; 
 A world of dim meaning the winds bear aslant ; 
 ' Drink deep to the Prior, 
 Drink best to the Friar.' 
 
 The table is spread with the red Rhenish wine. 
 They drink till they sleep in the dews of the vine. 
 ' Take off your sabot,' 
 Said the faithful Abbot. 
 
 And sleepily prays for the spiritual health 
 Of his brethren drowsily praying for wealth, 
 ' For what is good health 
 Without equal wealth.' 
 
 The swift-running Rhine in this virtuous time, 
 Goes peacefully on through the vintage-red clime ; 
 ' Beware of the maiden 
 That comforts the laden.' 
 
 The Priory last in the even-light gloom 
 Has wantonly strayed from a glorious doom ; 
 ' Let us die by the bin 
 Or else in an inn.' 
 
 INTERLUDE 
 
 The Spanish maid her brightest beamed on him, 
 And he was conscious of a sudden Aim 
 That spread before his eyes : the praises of the fair 
 Are like strong wine, or changeful mountain air 
 Upon unguarded minds ; and for a time 
 He was confused and lost in making modern rhyme. 
 Around the gay assemblage laughed extremely. 
 Many thought that this was naught but seemly 
 
24 TRAMPS AND TROUBADOURS 
 
 To drink good liqueur if they had the chance. 
 
 Some even said they would have lost a lance 
 
 To have such comforting with Rhenish wine. 
 
 That makes men's hearts beat lightly. ' Hail, the vine 
 
 For giving us good cheer ! ' some cried aloud, 
 
 And much discourse there was amid the crowd 
 
 What wine was fitted for this end. . Some spoke 
 
 Much for light wine ; ' There are some folk 
 
 Who drink strong wines, and fuming all their brains 
 
 Lose pleasure soon ; and so the spendthrift drains 
 
 Himself of profit. Giddy drinkers fall 
 
 And we go drinking on.' Then came a call 
 
 Amid the babble from the bold Gustave, 
 
 ' Peace, ye ranters ! ' and next was quite suave, 
 
 Bowing obligingly to the fair maid 
 
 Who sat beside him glorious. Dismayed, 
 
 The peasant members of the Order sat 
 
 Agape to see this damosel, now chat 
 
 With the grave master of the ceremonies 
 
 As if they always had been thorough cronies. 
 
 Then said Gustave, ' Our Lord of Boieleux 
 
 Has asked me to relate a tale to you. 
 
 The thing that I shall tell I first received 
 
 From a moorish merchant. He had conceived 
 
 Some affection for me, but how it was 
 
 I do not understand, nor yet the cause 
 
 That moved him to this kindness. But this act 
 
 I am relating to you is a fact. 
 
 He gave me sev'ral parchments as a gift, 
 
 In Latin mostly writ without a rift. 
 
 He said that first these things were written in a tongue 
 
 Not now convenient, for the dust had clung 
 
 About it many years, so that it fell 
 
 Into disuse and no one wished it well. 
 
THE ORDER OF THE WINE CUP 25 
 
 These things had long been copied for the sake 
 Of many curious things therein that spake 
 Of countless ages past. They came to him 
 Through a relationship that then was somewhat dim. 
 That need not trouble us. The author's name 
 Was Hermes Trismegistus of Egyptian fame. 
 How true I know not. I leave it with you. 
 Each if he chooses may accept this view. 
 
 IV— PLEASURES IN THE MOON 
 
 by Gust ave 
 
 I 
 
 BEFORE NOON 
 
 The moon was beautiful, delightful, fair ; 
 A place of pleasure perfect without care, 
 Once on a time, when all the deities 
 Resorted there, escaping all societies 
 But their own — untrammelled by things divine, 
 Where they could feast at will and drink good wine. 
 
 A priest of ours, one Ampherite by name, 
 Was thither wafted by the gods to claim 
 The sweet religious influence of peace, 
 And get some good thing for his soul's increase, 
 Which he might perfect in the world below 
 When he should thither at discretion go. 
 He was a man of discontented mind 
 Perpetually praying for some kind 
 Of thing or other. As the gods were tired 
 Of always hearing them, they were inspired 
 
26 TRAMPS AND TROUBADOURS 
 
 * 
 
 To move the fellow to another sphere, 
 Where they would not be called upon to hear, 
 And thus at once supply all just demands 
 And free themselves from making new commands. 
 They chose the moon because it was convenient 
 And near ; because they were not permanent 
 Residents themselves. They could go away 
 At any time, and leave him there to pray. 
 
 He had come in the middle of the night, 
 And was not yet acquainted with the light 
 That then prevailed upon the moon, nor aught 
 Of place or creature. He had vainly sought 
 In the long dreary dismal night to find 
 Somewhere to sleep, some comfort for his mind 
 And body 'gainst the icy blast, the cold 
 Intense, that pierced him till he could not hold 
 Upon his feet, but fell down to the ground, 
 And lost all note of time in slumbers sound. 
 
 The day had dawned ; the moon was very fair, 
 A monument of peace against despair ; 
 And multitudes of birds were everywhere 
 Rejoicing in the pleasant morning air. 
 Singing continually in the woods 
 That lay around for many miles and roods. 
 The sun arose, and looked across the tips 
 Of all the pleasant trees. The tender lips 
 Of Morn touched lightly Ampherite's pale face, 
 And woke him up. He rubbed his eyes. The place 
 Was strange. He wondered where he was and felt 
 Imperatively sad, because he could not melt 
 The river of his memory and steer 
 His bark of thought where'er he would. A tear 
 
THE ORDER OF THE WINE CUP 27 
 
 Stole down his cheek, because his frozen heart 
 
 Would not the liberty of light impart. 
 
 He now bemoaned his solitary state, 
 
 And having thought of everything that could relate 
 
 To his disaster, dried his eyes and rose. 
 
 Lightly a summer wind around him blows, 
 That cheers his heart, gives music to his ear, 
 And regulates the conquest of his fear. 
 His dim eyes now accustomed to the light, 
 Expand his mental insight, and Delight 
 Kindly administers a cheering drink 
 Of Hope's old comforter, that some men think 
 Is utterly destroyed. Hope's virgin hand 
 Has not yet lost its power to take command 
 Against life's treachery. Her talisman 
 Is signet writ with ' Courage ' ; every man 
 May break all barriers down with this fair charm, 
 That dangers rob of fear and foes disarm. 
 Upon a hillside Ampherite had slept, 
 And now he looked about him, when outstept 
 The jubilant companion of the sun 
 Wrapt in imperial glories. Day had run 
 Far o'er the moon, and stood behind the hill ; 
 Before him lay a plain where many a rill 
 Meandered pleasantly 'mid copse and bower, 
 Where Pleasure idly sat, and hour by hour 
 The summer wind reclined, and sportive smiled 
 Coyly among the woodland arbours mild. 
 
 Ampherite now descended and began 
 A predatory march such as a man 
 Must undertake who wishes to reflect 
 In peace upon the moon, if he expect 
 
28 TRAMPS AND TROUBADOURS 
 
 A self-reliant, profitable time. 
 And so he wandered in that curious clime, 
 Where birds were ever singing, and choice fruits 
 Hung ripely from the branches. Tender shoots 
 Continually sprung in the rich soil, 
 Without the least appearance of distressing toil. 
 The birds were nowhere timid that he saw ; 
 They seemed to have forgotten that a law 
 Of slaughter ever held suspicious power, 
 When cruel man ran wild unto this hour. 
 It never has been quenched. But Ampherite 
 Did not their peace disturb. He saw the light 
 That it was good. The pleasant land was calm. 
 He tasted of the fruit ; it was sweet balm ; 
 And joy seemed to become a natural result. 
 He wandered on and ever did exult 
 At all the virgin sweetness of the place 
 Wherein dwelt innocence, fair purity, and grace. 
 
 How long he wandered thus he never knew, 
 Nor could he tell, but suddenly he threw 
 His hands up in the air, and with a cry 
 Vanished from sight. He had approached too nigh 
 A chasm in the moon. The crumbling mould 
 Had treacherously moved. Into a cold 
 Dark pool of water he fell with a splash ; 
 Down horribly he sank ; a first wild dash 
 For liberty he made, but failed therein. 
 He sank many cubits, but being thin 
 Began to rise again ; convulsively 
 He clutched an overhanging branch ; safely 
 He landed on the bank, and strove, to breathe. 
 Water was running from him like a sieve. 
 From fright and joy, he trembled. The distant trees 
 Waved gently overhead. ' Many shocks like these 
 
THE ORDER OF THE WINE CUP 29 
 
 Will kill me soon,' he sighed. ' This early dive 
 
 Has spoiled my appetite. I hope I shall revive.' 
 
 The stream had left him, and he sat alone 
 
 Considering his future course ; his tone 
 
 Was melancholy and extremely sad. 
 
 ' How shall I scramble to the top ? ' The glad 
 
 Birds sang while he thus spake. 'The sides are 
 
 steep — 
 A spider scarcely could upon them creep — 
 Too steep to climb, and I must here remain 
 Until I have forgotten every pain,' 
 He uttered next. The cliffs did round him tower ; 
 The sun was getting hotter every hour ; 
 And he was in a variegated steam 
 Of rainbow-coloured clouds sitting. His dream 
 Of happiness had gone. ' I shall be baked 
 If I stay longer here, and into cinders caked.' 
 He thought premeditating hasty flight 
 Away from the encroaching font of light. 
 Therewith he crawled into the cliff and sank 
 Composedly upon a sandy bank. 
 And soon forgot his troubles altogether, 
 And the distressing closeness of the weather, 
 Falling into sleep by way of change. 
 
 Stiff 
 With cold and hunger he awoke. A whiff 
 Of pleasant things saluted him that roused 
 An appetite many gladly would have espoused. 
 To him it gave no pleasure ; otherwise 
 He would have been delighted to revise 
 The mode of operations commonly 
 In vogue with men wherever they may be. 
 He made a stout and resolute research 
 Of all the cliff, but nowhere was his search 
 
30 TRAMPS AND TROUBADOURS 
 
 Fruitful ; nowhere was there a place to climb ; - 
 
 Nowhere a foothold but this one in rhyme. 
 
 Another twenty hours or so he spent 
 
 In his cool cave, while everything was rent 
 
 With heat. He mournful conversation held 
 
 With his lone self, while in his heart grief swelled. 
 
 ' I shall be starved to death, I can perceive, 
 
 And none shall mourn for me. I shall soon leave 
 
 My bones to shelter in this cave, and here 
 
 They shall remain for ever. Perhaps a year 
 
 I shall keep wasting on. How sad to pine 
 
 When I a little way above could dine.' 
 
 He sat and thought ; he thought and then he sighed ; 
 
 And by it all he was not gratified. 
 
 Sudden a voice exclaimed beside him, ' Who 
 Are you ? How long have you been here ? ' ' I do 
 Not know,' he said, nor could he answer more. 
 Silent he sat bewildered, while before 
 Him stood his questioner, a lovely maid. 
 At last he found his tongue, and thus he made 
 Speech unto her, ' And who are you ? ' ' I am 
 Astarte, Queen of Night.' Before him swam 
 The consequence of pleasure in a maze 
 Of glories oft returning. Now his gaze 
 Was pleading fixed upon the Virgin Queen, 
 Who had thus suddenly appeared upon the scene. 
 ' O, goddess, save me from this perilous distress ! 
 I die of hunger. There is no egress 
 From this imprisonment.' The goddess smiled, 
 And answered, speaking comforting and mild, 
 ' Your prayer is answered ; come with me and eat.' 
 He rose and followed spite of the great heat, 
 And in another cave he found a table spread 
 With fruit and wine, and eke with dainty bread. 
 
THE ORDER OF THE WINE CUP 31 
 
 She said, ' Begin.' They sat together there, 
 And each the bounties of the table share ; 
 And afterwards she spake, ' Now, follow me,' 
 And touched him with her staff. Immediately 
 He found himself borne upward, and they twain 
 Alighted safe above. Then would he fain 
 Respond to his maiden deliverer 
 In words of gratitude, but ere a spur 
 He could put to his words, she disappeared 
 And left him all alone. He shook his beard, 
 And sighed. ' Ah ! why, fair deity, go now, 
 And leave me here alone ? Why not endow 
 Me with thy presence, making all things .sweet, 
 And I to all thy words might listen at thy feet ? ' 
 There was no answer ; yet he hoped again 
 To meet her somewhere, and renew the gain 
 He had thus easily commenced, and hear 
 That voice unto him speak sweet words of cheer ; 
 And then he would declare, ah me ! how much 
 That could not now be spoken ; and with such 
 Affinity of gladness would they think. 
 His fair deliverer, who from the brink 
 Of death had rescued him, had fled away 
 And left him to proceed his own sweet way. 
 
 The moon was full of wonders, curious things, 
 And all baffling conceptions. Brightness springs 
 In harmony with nature out of naught. 
 The excellent discoveries of thought 
 Crop up here unexpectedly. Strange beasts 
 That trod the hemispheres had here their feasts, 
 And shook the moon with riot oftentimes, 
 When they had published their descendant crimes, 
 And banqueted on others. Joyous birds 
 Befitted their own version without words 
 
32 TRAMPS AND TROUBADOURS 
 
 Of ancestral commands. Gigantic ants 
 
 Crawled out of mountains ignorant of chants, 
 
 But the discordant voices of their fights 
 
 Were loudly heard among the distant heights 
 
 Alarming equally all flesh ; and last 
 
 All flying things that would have made the world 
 
 aghast 
 Now bring attention on themselves. What more 
 
 could make 
 The moon attractive, and for its own sake ? 
 There were besides the palaces of gods 
 Greatly enlarged as say ancient records 
 From the original designs, now used 
 As summer residences, not confused 
 With worship and the limitless complaints 
 Of would-be gods, exemplary saints, 
 And other preachers out of office. Nothing 
 Here plunders their unbroken peace, they sing, 
 Or otherwise amuse themselves. No harm 
 Approaches them as gods. Their greatest charm 
 Is in conceiving multitudes of things 
 That shall take place as an example springs 
 In their necessity to keep men down, 
 Who every now and then make gods to frown. 
 
 But Ampherite had seen none of these things 
 As yet. For mostly as the summer brings 
 Her pleasure round the animals retire 
 Until the winter comes again. They tire 
 Of aggravating in the summer heat 
 Their fellow beasts, and so they fail to meet. 
 Occasionally some of them appear 
 Taking a prowl to see if they could shear 
 Something to pieces, if their hunger break 
 Beyond restraint, but not for pleasure's sake. 
 
THE ORDER OF THE WINE CUP 33 
 
 Otherwise 'tis rare to see a creature 
 Larger than a bird. The curious feature 
 About this business is that they remain 
 Harmless as doves. Perhaps the gods sustain 
 Them in their peaceful state. 
 
 Now Ampherite 
 Had not gone very far when he respite 
 Sought from the sun. Being beside a cave 
 He entered in to cool. A burden clave 
 Of weariness about him, and he lay 
 In a dark angle to repose. Away 
 Into sweet sleep he wandered. Soon he saw 
 Before him a strange beast with wings and claw 
 That threatened to destroy him. Dreadful fear 
 Laid hold upon his loins ; he could not steer 
 A course for flight ; and then he was — undone. 
 He thought he died, and darkness clothed the sun. 
 He felt his pain no longer ; all was past. 
 Then suddenly he woke and was aghast : 
 Without being able to control his nerves 
 He rose and fled, though courage best deserves 
 Coolness and thought. And after him there came 
 A creature horrible and strange. No name 
 Had been appended to this dreadful beast, 
 But still it was no less remarkable — at least 
 It measured twenty cubits and had wings — 
 The common attribute of evil things — 
 Dragon-like, huge claws, and scale armour. It 
 Came rushing on ; Ampherite fell down in a fit. 
 
 Just as he thought destruction would convince 
 Him of death, and prayers enough evince 
 Hereafter in another world on themes 
 That were not calculated to waken dreams, 
 
 C 
 
34 TRAMPS AND TROUBADOURS 
 
 A voice beside him said, ' Arise, fear not, 
 
 But follow me. There is another lot 
 
 In store for thee.' Thereon he raised his head, 
 
 And saw the goddess standing near instead 
 
 Of that imperial beast. He was o'erjoyed. 
 
 The goddess seeing that his mind was now employed 
 
 In making out the reason of his new escape 
 
 Thus answered him, ' The beast of evil shape 
 
 Is gone again into his cave. He went 
 
 When I appeared with bow and arrow bent ; 
 
 But come with me.' She touched him, and he rose 
 
 With her in spite of all his recent woes 
 
 That heavily had weighed. They came full soon 
 
 Before her palace gate, and it was noon. 
 
 II 
 
 AT NOON 
 
 Ampherite the priest and the goddess fair 
 Were seated each upon a golden chair ; 
 Before them was a table spread with fruit ; 
 Costly, luxurious, animal repute 
 Of flesh and fowl abounded all around 
 That could upon the moon be slain or found. 
 They banqueted superbly, and drank wine 
 Sweeter than honey, excellent, and fine, 
 Of hoary age. No doubt this was the first 
 Recorded instance when a deep-set thirst 
 Was quenched by juices of the grape. Herein 
 We find the sequence of terrestrial sin 
 Taking an accidental root, but they 
 Considered nothing of an evil day 
 
THE ORDER OF THE WINE CUP 35 
 
 To come, when all the human race should sigh 
 For something else to drink when they were dry 
 Than all the virgin waters of the world. 
 
 Above a canopy of silk unfurled 
 Its blue, with golden interlacing bands 
 That marked the beauties of the diff'rent strands ; 
 And from a fountain near, refreshing showers 
 Gently distilled in dewy sweets for hours 
 The aromatic favours of all things 
 From which an essence could be charmed. The springs 
 Of all choice odours seemed to be let loose, 
 As if was just complete an uncongenial truce. 
 The goddess was reclining on an ottoman 
 After the choice repast. Sweet music ran 
 From somewhere out of doors in wondrous trills, 
 In spite of all diversity of wills 
 Harmonising the virtue of the times, 
 And changing temp'rate into torrid climes. 
 
 At least that is how Ampherite now felt, 
 Indeed, not knowing that he could yet melt 
 Beneath the power of so much present sweetness, 
 He had not reckoned on the skilful neatness 
 With which things were conducted. Dim he saw 
 That he was coming under quite another law 
 Than he had ever known. The goddess too 
 Seemed much inclined her anxious priest to woo, 
 And gave him many glances, ardorous and sweet, 
 That would have made a stony heart to beat. 
 But he, the priest had only just commenced 
 To feel that he was not so surely fenced 
 Against seductive smiles as he had thought. 
 And in his heart a new confusion wrought 
 
36 TRAMPS AND TROUBADOURS 
 
 To find himself gently being unarmed 
 And by the goddess altogether charmed. 
 After the first attempt at self-defence 
 He gave the battle up, and ceased to fence 
 Bowing to every article in code of love. 
 
 The conversation thus began. Above 
 The wind was gently stirring in the leaves 
 Of the encircling trees. No man conceives 
 The splendours of the moon. All things at ease, 
 Seeking to gain all pleasure from the breeze, 
 Enjoyed a languid time of gentle sleep, 
 And dosed profoundly virtues new to reap. 
 Said Ampherite, ' When comes the night ? Surely 
 There is no darkness here. I have hourly 
 Expected this extraordinary heat to pass away, 
 And yet 'tis always one long burning day. 
 Soon I shall be divested of all power 
 If this goes on much longer. At what hour 
 Or time comes night if it comes at all ? ' She 
 Smiled sweet on him her lover yet to be 
 Entrancing all his wits so that he sighed 
 As one in whom some happiness revived. 
 She said, ' Once ev'ry moon there is a night ; 
 Once ev'ry moon a day ; and thus from dark to light' 
 We regularly pass. But what of this ? 
 'Tis nothing to us twain. A thing there is 
 Of more importance than the day or night.' 
 She paused, and he had foolishly delight 
 Of her sweet words, so much he wished she was 
 Less of a goddess and more bound by human laws, 
 Whereby he could approach in nature's right 
 A being whose divinity was slight. 
 However, he thought courage was essential 
 Even with goddesses ; conventional 
 
THE ORDER OF THE WINE CUP 37 
 
 Love-making had desirable returns, 
 
 Which pleased the human family. Each burns 
 
 To accomplish something feasible. Such — 
 
 It might not be imprudent to ask much — 
 
 Was in the reach of everyone, but not for him were 
 
 these. 
 A lesser field of labour would displease 
 His great ambition, since a goddess now 
 Would make him happier than sweetest virgin's vow. 
 
 She was beholding him with smiling eye, 
 Which meant there should be nothing to deny 
 And everything to gain. He felt rejoiced 
 And thus the greatness of his pleasure voiced, 
 ' O, fairest in ten thousand, sweetest one ! 
 Behold ! am I not now with love o'errun ? 
 O, comforter of wanderers I give 
 Thee all my heart and soul ! I cannot live 
 But in thy presence ; I am in thy power. 
 O, goddess ! hearken, give me love this hour, 
 Thy love for mine. Let happiness begin 
 To feel the sweetness of thy love to win.' 
 So spake he passionate ; thereafter knelt, 
 And waited patiently till she would melt. 
 The tender maiden of the moon was glad ; 
 She joyed exceedingly for now she had 
 The love of man and confidence of gods. 
 'Tis not for ev'ry man who patient plods 
 In serious toil such happiness to find, 
 Nor is it given to the anxious mind 
 To claim the pearl of love. The faithful least 
 Sit at the table of the secret feast 
 Held in Love's many arbours. He who toils 
 To gain admittance ev'ry hope despoils 
 
38 TRAMPS AND TROUBADOURS 
 
 And labours all in vain. The careless find 
 The Sorceress of Love is to them kind, 
 Revealing the inheritance of Love 
 And placing them in power. 
 
 Sweet sounds above 
 The many sweet condolences of time 
 Were heard in this, rejoicing, pleasant clime. 
 Round our sweet lovers rise harmonious strains 
 Inviting all to lay aside their pains, 
 And joy for ever without thought of care, 
 Triumphant records of the minstrel fair — 
 Pleasure, who had her hidden song regained ; 
 And Freedom sang to Love by Hope sustained. 
 Thus said our goddess of the pleasant moon, 
 ' Long have I loved thee, Ampherite, nor soon 
 Can I forget. The love that I bear thee 
 Can never end, and therefore would I be 
 Loved in return. Many a time my power 
 Has saved thee from disaster ; from my bower 
 I have preserved thy life e'en in this place. 
 Thou wouldst have died. But I have sought thy face 
 That thy love might be mine, for I am thine.' 
 He thought this was a beautiful design 
 And was about to say so, and resolved 
 To be in marriage with her soon involved, 
 When suddenly they heard someone approach, 
 And on their pleasant interview encroach, 
 Just when they were engaged in setting straight 
 The new exigencies of their twin fate. 
 ' It is Osoris,' said the goddess starting up ; 
 ' How unpleasant ! ' and drained another cup 
 Of wine. Then drawing back the curtain she 
 Waited to welcome him, smiling blithely. 
 
THE ORDER OF THE WINE CUP 39 
 
 Osoris was a god of mighty power. 
 A massive brow commanded by the hour 
 A face of fine imperial intent. 
 He was still handsome, though a little bent, 
 Stalwart and robust, and in every way 
 A god whom women might adore. To-day 
 He looked about him gravely when he came 
 Within the room, as one who looked for fame, 
 And had not gained all that he sought. He knew 
 Ampherite very well by sight, and threw 
 A little nod of recognition down to him, 
 At the same time looking not a little grim. 
 Then turning to Astarte thus he spake : 
 ' I come to tell you that we mean to make 
 Sports in the Avenue to-day. You will 
 Come over soon your usual place to fill — 
 Always vacant for you.' The goddess said, 
 ' With pleasure.' Then the god inclined his head 
 And went away. A sigh of great relief 
 She drew. ' I'm glad his visit has been brief.' 
 Then she embraced her Ampherite and smiled, 
 And kissed him with her lips so sweet and undefiled. 
 
 Ill 
 
 AFTER NOON 
 
 Osoris sped along. His brow was dark. 
 Anger was in his heart ; a dreadful spark 
 Lightened within his eye and fell upon the trees* 
 Stirred faintly by a providential breeze 
 Or else they might have withered. On he went 
 Regarding nothing, as if he had lent 
 A helping hand to Time to make a lie 
 And then compelled him to resign or die, 
 
40 TRAMPS AND TROUBADOURS 
 
 Forgetting that the murderer too late 
 Has torn away the barriers of fate, 
 And that his own despair is Time's reward 
 Even if he be hung by a stout cord. 
 Osoris was disquieted somehow, 
 And made a desperate, internal vow 
 Against the author of his great distress. 
 
 Meantime, however, he would not depress 
 The other members of the family, 
 Because on this occasion to be chilly 
 Would aggravate the weakness of his power, 
 And make him worse than useless in an hour. 
 For be it known though premier god he shared 
 A joint proprietary right, compared 
 To nothing else than living partial god, 
 With only symtoms of imperial greatness shod, 
 Upon the moon, where dynasties were met 
 In fragments as examples of each set. 
 Besides his wife, Tsis, the many-eyed, 
 A vigilant espisal held, and spied 
 His movements hourly, so that he had failed 
 To be omnipotent. Nothing was veiled 
 From her inquisitorial eye. Thus he 
 Was less a god than he proposed to be. 
 And then again this matter that had made 
 Him such distress was all about a maid, 
 No other than the maiden of the moon, 
 Whose beauty had obliterated all too soon 
 The prudence of connubial relationships, 
 The disregard of which has caused so many slips. 
 Therefore when he had found an earthly man, 
 In sweet companionship with her there ran, 
 The riot and revolt of anger through 
 
THE ORDER OF THE WINE CUP 41 
 
 His heart, convulsing all his mental view, 
 And making him immoderately mad. 
 
 Nothing besides suspicions Isis had, 
 That something delicate was on the wing, 
 That should not out of matrimony spring, 
 And still she laboured under a desire 
 To clear away the mystery and ire, 
 That vaguely rendered her incompetent 
 For anything beyond a wife's dissent. 
 Therefore she had fixed on him many an eye 
 Of close inquiry ; on him she did ply 
 Her optic observation out of her large store, 
 Keeping an eye on him through every door, 
 At whatsoever moment she would be 
 In all her stony sphinx-like purity 
 Otherwise employed ; either night or day, 
 Sleeping or waking, a watchful eye she did display. 
 
 Osoris little knew what was conspired 
 Against him by his wife ; always he retired 
 Confident in his great concealing powers, 
 And in her ignorance. Thus Evil cowers 
 Behind her own desires, believing naught 
 Can find her out ; even when Prudence taught 
 Her conscience vigilance, and warning drew 
 The arm of Justice clearly into view, 
 Again she makes implicit trust her court 
 That Justice will not know. In this blind fort 
 Of Ignorance, Evil delights to dwell, 
 Seeing not bars are rotten, and that Hell 
 Yawns open-mouthed around, wherein at last 
 The crumbling walls of her defence are cast, 
 And she in all the nakedness of guilt 
 Stands forth — the haven that she has long built 
 
42 TRAMPS AND TROUBADOURS 
 
 Vanished away — against her own iniquity 
 To witness, and receive in equity 
 The sentence written of eternal doom. 
 
 About the palace hung an awful gloom — 
 The palace of Osoris, as he came 
 Burning with resentment against the name 
 And office of all priests. In every way 
 He thought of how he could destroy the sway 
 Of Ampherite. As yet he had not found 
 A perfect plan which would be sure and sound, 
 Reliable, and certain to confound, 
 Without himself walking on treacherous ground, 
 The undefended courtship of the priest. 
 
 Meantime he wandered here and there to feast 
 His soul upon the much desired result, 
 When he should be at leisure to exult 
 Upon the unconditional success 
 Of his diplomacy that should redress 
 His trespassed rights — prospectively so-called. 
 When this was done — another wife. installed 
 Tn place of Isis, parted with and turned 
 Into the planet Mars to grass, where burned 
 The meagre fires of Pleasure, where her gaze 
 Need not be vigilant with watching ev'ry phase 
 Of his development, and he be not debased, 
 And so from titulary rights in love erased, 
 By her continual eyesight — then would he 
 Be a great god indeed for ever free. 
 
 Astarte called her chariot, and said 
 To Ampherite, ' Come, let us go,' and led 
 Him to the door. It was a golden chariot ; 
 Two fiery horses black, each with a spot 
 
THE ORDER OF THE WINE CUP 43 
 
 White on their foreheads drew it. In she stept, 
 
 And Ampherite with her. The horses leapt. 
 
 She took the reins, and off they went full speed, 
 
 Gay as two lovers who all things to Love concede, 
 
 Prancing along the pathways of the moon 
 
 Shrouded in summer foliage, and soon 
 
 They came before the royal heritage, 
 
 Where meek Osoris dwelt like bird in gilded cage. 
 
 Around the palace of Osoris ran 
 
 A mighty avenue. Where it began 
 
 Two bulls were stationed ; as our lovers sweet 
 
 Approached, they bellowed loud, and stamped their 
 
 feet, 
 Flapping their wings and fiercely clamouring, 
 And crouched as if they were about to spring. 
 The priest was much alarmed, but was assured 
 By fair Astarte that he was insured 
 Against all accidents. Onward they went 
 In a vast circle ; splendid cedars bent 
 A noble arch of leaves above their heads ; 
 Fragrance from odorous plants around them sheds 
 Intoxicating sweetness ; and a fine 
 Delightful pleasure makes all things divine.' 
 Nowhere was there an opportunity to view 
 The palace, for around the woodlands drew 
 A close reserve forbidding anywhere 
 The public of the moon to look or stare. 
 
 They came upon the palace suddenly 
 Out of a denser grove, and instantly 
 They were saluted by two bulls again 
 That guarded here the avenue. The twain 
 Were now within an open space. There shone 
 The palace just in front raised high upon 
 
44 TRAMPS AND TROUBADOURS 
 
 A massive flight of steps. 'Twas built of gold, 
 
 And scarce could Ampherite the place behold 
 
 For brightness. They alighted and were shown 
 
 Into a room, where they were left alone 
 
 Until the hostess should appear. Meantime 
 
 They instituted a research — a careless crime 
 
 Prohibited save in the moon — into 
 
 The various articles that were on view, 
 
 In order to discover the design 
 
 Of household life, also of all things fine : 
 
 This was a close inquiry mostly made 
 
 By women. Curiosity has laid 
 
 Them under a necessity to look 
 
 Into other people's things ; by what crook 
 
 They gained inquisitive desires has not 
 
 Been yet discovered, but, however got, 
 
 It is a well-known fact, with scent on track 
 
 They close upon a reason reasoning a lack 
 
 Of some economy, especially 
 
 In decorative art when commonly 
 
 The plaudits of financial virtues pay. 
 
 At last the sportive pleasures of the day 
 Were going to begin. Osoris had 
 Arranged a chariot race, conquest to make glad 
 And his supremacy. The priest and he 
 Would enter this, and so it was to be. 
 Astarte was aware what was the cause 
 Of this proposal, as before she was 
 Acquainted with the god's love-making mind, 
 But she said to the priest, ' You cannot find 
 A better pair of horses anywhere, so be 
 Not now afraid, for thou shalt easily 
 Be winner.' So he was content to take 
 Her promise that he would a vict'ry make. 
 
THE ORDER OF THE WINE CUP 45 
 
 Isis was to give signal ; she did know 
 How to officiate, and how to blow 
 The trumpet, therefore she had won this part, 
 Simply by making all competitors depart, 
 At festivals and every high occasion, 
 When from her eyes there could be no evasion. 
 The chariots drew up and stood prepared 
 To make a start, and many had repaired 
 To witness the result. The signal blew. 
 The chariots started off. The horses flew, 
 And three times round they went. Excitement ran 
 Through all the ring as soon as they began 
 The final round. Osoris had the lead 
 Till now, when Ampherite began to speed 
 Ahead, and left Osoris outermost, 
 And would have quickly gained the winning-post. 
 Osoris urged his horses on with goad 
 And voice. They swept along the level road ; 
 Then suddenly there was a mighty crash ; 
 Osoris had sustained a dreadful gash. 
 The chariot somehow against a tree 
 Had dashed, and broken all to splinters. He — 
 Poor Osoris, was lying on the ground, 
 And could not speak or make a single sound. 
 
 Isis seeing the mishap hurried up ; 
 And to his lips held water in a cup ; 
 And bathed his face. Soon he revived again, 
 But looked no better for the change ; a pain 
 Afflicted him somewhere. Isis declared 
 This was no accident ; he had been snared, 
 By agencies unnatural, to fall. 
 Her looks were black and threatening to all. 
 She was determined here to be supreme ; 
 Now in her eye there was an evil gleam. 
 
46 TRAMPS AND TROUBADOURS 
 
 ' The priest must go,' she to Astarte said, 
 
 ' He cannot have dominion here.' Then sped 
 
 Astarte's answer, ' He shall not go hence — 
 
 Not if I know it ! ' Things were now intense, 
 
 And getting hotter every moment. Next 
 
 Osoris spoke, looking extremely vext, 
 
 ' The priest must go, and Isis must as well.' 
 
 ' What do you mean ? ' she said, and backward fell 
 
 A step or two. ' I mean that I am tired 
 
 Of you. Astarte I have long desired 
 
 As my next wife, and when the priest has left, 
 
 And you, I shall not feel at all bereft,' 
 
 He said. ' You never shall ! ' she cried aloud, 
 
 And all her eyes blazed fierce like lightning in a cloud. 
 
 ' Sooner than that, I'll make an end of you. 
 
 I'll see you dead.' Therewith she sudden drew 
 
 A sharp spear. ' Yes, I'll see the moon blasted 
 
 First,' she screamed. How long this would have lasted 
 
 None could have told, when up Astarte stept, 
 
 And sternly said, while indignation leapt 
 
 From her dark eyes, ' Never shall I be wife 
 
 Of thine.' Osoris thundered, ' Not wife 
 
 Of mine ! ' She answered him again, ' Just so.' 
 
 At first he could not speak, so stunned by this new 
 
 blow 
 Was he. His face was dreadful to behold, 
 Such passions fiercely raged ; the overbold 
 Drew back ; the weak were frightened into fits ; 
 And many there completely lost their wits ; 
 All felt that something dreadful was to come. 
 
 The moon was trembling visibly, and some 
 Drew off to look for somewhere safe to hide ; 
 And Isis even trembled, nor could she abide 
 
THE ORDER OF THE WINE CUP 47 
 
 His presence more. And Ampherite 
 
 Beside Astarte stood pallid and white. 
 
 At last Osoris spake fiercely and loud, 
 
 ' Curse the moon ! ' Thereat arose a cloud, 
 
 And hid all things. Terrific noises rent 
 
 The darkened air. The moon beneath them bent. 
 
 It shook and rocked. Great tongues of fire rushed 
 
 here 
 And there fiercely. The very atmosphere 
 Seemed burning up. Black dust and ashes fell, 
 And there was also a peculiar smell. 
 
 After a time slowly the cloud arose, 
 But what a change. The moon was/full of woes. 
 No beauty now on hill and plain appeared ; 
 No living thing was seen. The woods had disappeared. 
 No fruitful meads, no smiling fields, no streams — 
 All, all were gone. No longer pleasant dreams 
 Clothe Pleasure's sumptuous feast. The royal bowers 
 Wherein Love sat through long harmonious hours 
 Were seen no longer. Vanished were the trees 
 Where Toil forgot her labour, and at ease 
 In languid silence knew no servile task, 
 But in the light of Idleness did bask 
 For many a joyful year securing naught 
 But the still indolence of happiness unbought. 
 No beauteous birds sing on the waving trees ; 
 Not e'en sweet odours rise on passing breeze ; 
 Nothing is left, instead wild, solitary, bare, 
 A desert shrinks before the blinding glare 
 Of an unpitying sun, whose barren day 
 Wanders unclothed seeking his soul to slay. 
 
 The gods departed from the moon, and found 
 Some other place of residence more sound, 
 
48 TRAMPS AND TROUBADOURS 
 
 Where they might still lead lives of pleasure, where 
 
 No discord should disturb the peaceful air, 
 
 And Pleasure also turned her back upon 
 
 Such arid deserts where no beauty shone. 
 
 It is said, Astarte and her lover 
 
 Escaped unhurt, and now in some other 
 
 Star or planet, have a new residence, 
 
 Where they live in joy's sweetest excellence 
 
 Rejoicing in each other evermore. 
 
 Isis and Osoris are as before 
 
 In sweet connubial concord living now 
 
 Having for charm a matrimonial row 
 
 Sometimes, when their official rights are touched 
 
 Or else the virtue of their union smutched. 
 
 INTERLUDE 
 
 The company applauded to a man ; 
 They all rejoiced ; and everywhere there ran 
 The ruby wine. Meanwhile the Spanish maid 
 Had with the lustre of her bright eyes played 
 Upon Alaria, but now were hid 
 The fires of traitor Love, who had but bid 
 A snare to mask a snare wherewith to lend 
 Another charm to his deceptive end. 
 Her eyes had softened into tears ; no doubt 
 Force of habit had wrought their sudden rout, 
 Though in disquiet she was enjoying all — 
 Francis, and now — these tears ! and fall 
 A few would on the table where she leaned, 
 Which she with feminine devices screened, 
 So that few were the wiser, by pretence 
 Of artfully continuing intense 
 Discernment of some scattered flowers. She drew 
 
THE ORDER OF THE WINE CUP 4,9 
 
 Them to her, and their glories wanton slew, 
 
 Until she could composedly withdraw 
 
 Her long eyelashes. Then without a flaw 
 
 In her composure she looked up and smiled. 
 
 Now spake the master sage, ' Beguiled 
 
 We have been pleasantly. Let us adjourn 
 
 A little from our board ; in changes turn 
 
 The int'rest of our holiday. Such things 
 
 Are good for health. Too close attention springs 
 
 A leak in our enjoyment. There is too 
 
 A feast of other things awaiting you, 
 
 And it is noon. Therefore let us arise, 
 
 And take our part in this new enterprise — 
 
 That is to say, to dine.' Therewith his wand 
 
 He waved, and all arose at this command, 
 
 Amid much laughing and re-uttered song, 
 
 Jesting and merriment that to such times belong. 
 
 And by the Order it was ruled that day 
 That mornings only should be used to pay 
 Their deep devotion to the troubadour, 
 And in the meantime all should go on tour 
 Or what they would, and do whate'er they could 
 To make things pleasant. Therefore all who stood 
 In need of rest were resting now ; some chose 
 To be in love by way of change ; but those 
 Of bolder spirit were a-foraging gone 
 For booty, which they hoped to light upon 
 Right early — ease for their light expenses, 
 And other things needing such defences. 
 
II 
 
 ALFONSO AND HIS MOTHER 
 
 The sun was slowly gleaming with a shine 
 Dolorous, when from 'mid a clump of pine 
 That sadly needed rain — a painful sight 
 It was to see those leaves hang deadly ; a sharp blight 
 Had caught them unawares ; they were quite limp — 
 There came forth tawdry-dressed a small pale imp, 
 And yawned courageously ; he also tore 
 A handful of dim leaves for want of more 
 To do, and threw them careless all about. 
 Then was a voice heard 'mid the pines, ' What rout 
 Is that I heard, Alfonso dear ? ' ' There's naught 
 Whatever but a farmer's cow.' He sought 
 The fair horizon all around : ' And that 
 Has not said anything at all.' He spat 
 Therewith, disgusted at this want of thought, 
 And stood considering a new onslaught 
 Upon the leaves. He saw a small insect 
 As he put out his hand. ' It might dissect 
 . A portion out of it for food,' he thought ; 
 And slyly said, ' He was not to be caught ; ' 
 And grinning savagely at the small creature 
 Violently distorted every feature 
 
ALFONSO AND HIS MOTHER 51 
 
 So that he was quite hideous ; the mouth 
 
 Was spread from ear to ear ; and ever south 
 
 The ears themselves depended, so that half 
 
 His face was mouth and ear ; more like a calf, 
 
 Especially when his red frowsy hair 
 
 Hung down about his eyes. A silent glare 
 
 Came thence between the maze of matted locks 
 
 And fell upon all things. The tender flocks 
 
 Avoided him alway, and many things, 
 
 Such as young babes would cry. For twenty springs 
 
 He had thus mocked the world ; yet there was none 
 
 Except his mother who could love this Hun, 
 
 For such he was. Far from wild Germany 
 
 They had all this way come, and faithfully 
 
 They learned the language. Their protracted tramp 
 
 Had given them ample time. The way was damp 
 
 In places when it rained ; they were perforce 
 
 Obliged often to get wet ; other course 
 
 They had not. They lived on what they could find, 
 
 And patiently for Fortune to be kind. 
 
 Waited, but now of that obliging Dame 
 
 They took no heed. She scorned their moral claim 
 
 With looks austere, as if about their needs 
 
 She had no more concern than they were weeds. 
 
 The mother on the threshold of the pines 
 Stood now disconsolate. There were no signs 
 Of any greatness in their way, and she 
 Was melancholy now. For out of three 
 Children, this was the only one now left — 
 That is, the others by the laws of theft 
 Had been imprisoned on the way. Each one 
 Marked a further stage as the setting sun 
 Marks out each day. They were to follow soon, 
 As soon as they could get away. At noon 
 
52 TRAMPS AND TROUBADOURS 
 
 She parted with the last three weeks before, 
 
 And still her heart was just a little sore. 
 
 She had not quite recovered from those shocks, 
 
 And now she ran her fingers through the locks 
 
 Of her remaining son ; the red hair back 
 
 She smoothed complacently ; to her no lack 
 
 Of beauty could be found. He was as fair 
 
 To her as any child could be ; no care 
 
 Had she withheld from him. Apollo's self 
 
 With all his golden ointment and his pelf 
 
 That he expended on his toilet, scarce 
 
 Could this engaging ruddiness make terse, 
 
 Or even with enamel-coating make 
 
 A smooth complexion out of nature's wake. 
 
 ' Alfonso dear, it must be quite a year 
 
 Since we first started on our journey here, 
 
 And your dear father cannot be far off — 
 
 He must be somewhere.' Now no one should scoff. 
 
 Like a woman she would make a statement, 
 
 In no case allowing of abatement, 
 
 Though it might be somewhat out of reason. 
 
 At least, for one thing, it was quite in season ; 
 
 And as she had some cause thus to believe 
 
 The father was on earth ; so to conceive 
 
 A neighbourhood for him within her reach 
 
 Was easy, though it was as vague as each 
 
 Of Adam's apples. But her darling son 
 
 Made no remark whatever, so much fun 
 
 Had he imbibed of late it was easy 
 
 To enjoy himself ; and on this breezy 
 
 Morning he was blithest. His mother's sad 
 
 Countenance made him most extremely glad, 
 
 And if he could but jest at her despair 
 
 He could not then despond — no other care 
 
ALFONSO AND HIS MOTHER 53 
 
 Would then weigh on him. He had no belief 
 About existing fathers ; first and chief 
 He had his own desire of being pleased. 
 His mother's sadness he had not appeased ; 
 Nor yet a spark of sympathy would show ; 
 But scoff about her tears, and let her go. 
 So she was silent from the lack of love, 
 Or answer from her cheerful son. 
 
 Above 
 The day was growing brighter. A long train 
 Of asses bringing merchandise from Spain 
 Were in the distance seen slowly trailing 
 In and out among the trees, and wailing 
 Sadly as they came. Alfonso's mother 
 Called him to dinner ; she in a smother 
 Of blue smoke was dragging from the ashes 
 Some roasted eggs ; also by the flashes 
 Of the green wood fire, a pair of rabbits 
 Might be seen divested of their habits 
 And hung to roast. These two together sat 
 Upon the moist ground while the melting fat 
 Spluttered, and sent a savoury steam about — 
 A most enticing fume — with windy flout 
 Quite spoiling the sweet fragrance of the pines, 
 And flavouring the produce of the vines. 
 
 The earlier history of this woman was, 
 That one fine day her husband without cause 
 Said he would not live there any longer, 
 But seek a more important post — stronger 
 In all things necessary for a man. 
 So up next morning he arose to scan 
 The weather forecast, saw it would be fine, 
 And therewith started off. He would not dine 
 
54 TRAMPS AND TROUBADOURS 
 
 At any place within the forest, nor 
 
 Return at any cost — so he said. For 
 
 The wind was rather rough, and when night came 
 
 He knew it would begin to rain. The same 
 
 Did really happen. 
 
 She, when left alone, 
 Did what she could to earn a living — known 
 As she was. Some kind ladies gave her sewing, 
 Such sewing ! sinews and a fish-bone, stitching 
 Hides together for a dress or coat. It 
 May have been done with herring-bone perhaps. No 
 
 fit 
 Was then expected. Charity was pleased 
 To condescend to one who had not seized 
 The opportunity of being more than great 
 At any one's expense in spite of fate. 
 These were the aristocratic ladies drest 
 In swaths of skin, snug as close-fitting vest ; 
 Their hair was combed out lankly far behind 
 With jagged bones rude from which they had just 
 
 dined ; 
 They were most stately ; faces streaked with paint 
 Richly, their general appearance quaint. 
 So these most royal personages gave 
 The poor forsaken wife with gestures grave 
 A quantity of artificial things, 
 Wherefrom the fruit of much discomfort springs, 
 Such as buckskin breeches, leather jerkins, 
 That had no angular descent to pins, 
 In which their husbands would parade about, 
 And stretch the rieck of fashion wholly out. 
 Some of the vulgar sort would raise their chins, 
 And look the other way, with some vile grins 
 
ALFONSO AND HIS MOTHER 55 
 
 And sneering undertones, when meeting her. 
 
 She lived, and was a good parishioner. 
 
 Nor was she on the parish, or the state, 
 
 Which would not put a burden on the rate. 
 
 Besides the valiant warrior and chief 
 
 Said he would be quite overcome with grief 
 
 If she was gone. For he was her fast friend 
 
 And wished that she would fully comprehend 
 
 The undesirable deficiencies of those 
 
 Who ran away to break a wife's repose. 
 
 He was her lover once, nor yet had he married ; 
 
 Some of the neighbours whispered that they carried 
 
 On too far ; and after ev'ry battle, 
 
 And they were many, there was more tattle, 
 
 For she repaired the many rents and holes 
 
 That her brave warrior often made ; the soles 
 
 Of his sandals also she renewed. 
 
 Then 
 One day there came a tribe beyond the ken 
 Of any man, and gave a wild war-yell 
 In the middle of the night. Then they fell 
 To shooting arrows thickly at the doors 
 By way of practice, and ran up the scores 
 Of archery to many hundreds, till 
 The sleepy noodles oped, whom they desired to kill ; 
 Their choice desire was gratified in that 
 These all were shot or speared through, and fell flat 
 On their thresholds. It was a lovely night, 
 And that meek maiden, the moon, in sore plight 
 Had robed her face in a great fleecy quilt 
 In horror to behold so much blood spilt, 
 While many in their scanty robes soon ran 
 Into the woods, for many a weary span — 
 
56 TRAMPS AND TROUBADOURS 
 
 These were women. Here Alfonso's mother 
 
 Ran also with some one else's brother, 
 
 Who came in time to see the conflagration, 
 
 Also a somewhat stranger coronation 
 
 Of dead men. He had just down the river 
 
 Come by the last boat from town ; a shiver 
 
 Made him slightly conscious of his great need 
 
 And his strange salvation. So he would heed 
 
 The warning and go back. With them also, 
 
 Partly by accident from the fierce foe, 
 
 Came hastily the three young gentlemen 
 
 Who have already made their mark. These then 
 
 Made off as fast as they could go, and fled 
 
 Into a place of safety, while their kindred bled 
 
 Beneath the changeless stars. They silent wait 
 
 Until the riot should somewhat abate, 
 
 And leave them free to seek a new domain 
 
 Where peace and profit should their hope sustain. 
 
 Then did Alfonso's mother, Adria, 
 Remember how the brave Alaria, 
 Her husband, when he went for Fortune's sake 
 Alone into a fpreign land — mistake 
 No_ doubt upon his part — and left uncared 
 His lovely wife ancl children fair, declared 
 If ever they should from the tribe depart, 
 They were to seek him by this simple chart — 
 He was a troubadour, and golden zones 
 Would wear upon his arm. In lauding tones 
 He spoke about his art, and they would hear 
 About him anywhere. She with a tear 
 In either eye remembered all his words, 
 And took heart bravely afterward. 
 
ALFONSO AND HIS MOTHER 57 
 
 The birds 
 Were singing merrily among the pines ; 
 And a most joyful wonder in the vines 
 Was pealing softly round ; and so grateful 
 Were they for all these pleasant things, hateful 
 No longer was their weariness. They spied 
 About for pleasant nooks, while their clothes dried 
 For their new journeying — a quiet nook 
 Just nicely shaded from the sun. No book 
 Was pleasanter than the cool moss to look upon, 
 In which unthought of quiet glories shone. 
 They lay down on a soft and easy bank 
 Contentedly, and into sleep both sank, 
 Lulled by the stupor-working trees. They lay 
 Some little time unheedingly. The day 
 Was full of creatures curious with wings 
 That buzzed about their ears. At times some stings, 
 They would produce to reassure the mind 
 That their equipment was complete — to find 
 That all worked smoothly for a sudden fight. 
 Their dreams were curious. A sudden light 
 Would sometimes flash upon them ; then a strain, 
 Divided partly by a splash of rain, 
 Of melody — wistful and harmonious. 
 About which there was something quite felonious, 
 In their hearts troubling with a sense of wrong. 
 A tear or two they shed ; so very strong 
 Was this new feeling that at length they woke 
 Struggling violently with nothing. They spoke 
 Somewhat incoherently. Now they heard 
 A sound of blows and shouts, and rather scared, 
 Woke up completely, just in time to see 
 Some horsemen dashing past in haste to flee. 
 
58 TRAMPS AND TROUBADOURS 
 
 The last man hurried past, and Adria 
 Rose suddenly and cried, ' Alaria ! 
 There he. is ! ' and yelled in her weak treble, 
 ' Whoa ! ' Then hastened after ; more than treble 
 The horse was galloping ; soon out of sight 
 He went away and left her breathless quite., 
 Alfonso was surprised, to see her run, 
 The second time. ' You undutiful son, 
 Why didn't you get up and shout ? ' she breathed 
 So hard she had no tongue for more. She heaved 
 A choking sob which ended in a cry. 
 Her hand she laid upon her heart, so nigh 
 To breaking did it beat. She could not speak, j 
 What with excitement and the sudden leak 
 Of so much lost affection. On the ground 
 She sank, and soon was fast asleep — as sound ,' 
 As ever she had been. Alfonso looked 
 Upon this touching scene ; unmoved he booked 
 It in his mind — rather too angelic 
 For this lower world, an idle relic 
 Of some commiseration undefined. 
 ' It is not possible ; love must be blind,' 
 Alfonso muttered, turning on his heel. 
 ' It is not he,' he sighed. His mind would steal 
 Away to other things, how to acquire 
 The goods of others to his own desire 
 Without their knowledge — quietly to drain 
 The coffers of all men without much pain. 
 
 Therefore he turned to matters of importance 
 That needed his attention ; nor to chagce 
 Would leave such compromising articles 
 Of food and other things, so that it tickles 
 The fancy of some meddling personage. 
 As he did thus most usefully engage 
 
ALFONSO AND HIS MOTHER 59 
 
 The passing hours, he happened to look round ; 
 
 Taking a hasty glance of all the ground 
 
 And scenery, he lighted on some mules, 
 
 That grazed upon some dusty herbs. No rules 
 
 Of ownership he recognised. No doubt 
 
 They had composed the train, and by the rout 
 
 He recently had heard, concluded now 
 
 Their riders had no need of them. A vow 
 
 He would confess before the priest to ease 
 
 His mind, so with this comforted to seize 
 
 Two by the bridles was an easy thing, 
 
 And so he did, leading them by the ring 
 
 Upon their bits. He cried, ' Mother ! mother ! ' 
 
 She was at once awake. ' What ! another ? ' 
 
 But seeing that Alfonso was alone 
 
 She rubbed her eyes,' and in another tone, 
 
 ' How nice ! Make haste ! O let us overtake 
 
 Your father now ! ' But fair Alfonso spake, 
 
 ' It is too hot ; besides how can we spin 
 
 After those horses. It is quite a sin 
 
 To run the mules like that to death.' So he 
 
 Declined such violent measures gladly. 
 
 ' Let us go calmly on our usual way. 
 
 Where is the need to hurry all the day ? 
 
 By hurrying we lose time ; we also miss 
 
 The beauties of the scenery. And this 
 
 Is so much easier than walking, safe 
 
 Besides, let us take things easy. So chafe 
 
 No more, sweet mother. Now a little wine 
 
 Would be quite pleasant, not to say divine, 
 
 And then we'd feel quite noble, just like kings.' 
 
 So on he went in the same strain. These things 
 
 Were quite unusual, so elated 
 
60 TRAMPS AND TROUBADOURS 
 
 Had he become ; Fortune, though belated, 
 Had smiled a little on her favourite. 
 
 There are some curious cases not yet writ, 
 Of fortune in the history of tramps, 
 When casually the quality of scamps 
 Is hidden in the merit of a creed 
 That has no censure for the veiled misdeed, 
 That gains by advantageous resolves 
 To outwit those who least their loss involves. 
 Alfonso smiled a little at his wit, 
 Endeavouring at the same time to sit 
 As practised horseman should. Perhaps it was 
 Because he was not sure about the laws 
 Of gov'rning animals, so as to have 
 A graceful attitude, and pose suave 
 Without appearing to resist a fall, 
 That he, with intimate forethought of all 
 The difficulties before him, had rebuffed 
 His mother's wish, at which she had been huffed. 
 
 They journeyed on complacently, quite pleased 
 With their acquisitions ; they were so eased, 
 It was a benefit to live. Fair signs 
 Of gentleness were everywhere ; the vines 
 Were gloriously spread on every hand 
 By field and bower. It was a cheery land. 
 Poetry was visible in all ; a new design 
 Of nature met them at each turn ; the kine 
 In the long meadows, pleased with all the shine 
 Of the voluptuous harbinger divine 
 Of plenteous peace, were grazing peacefully. 
 The time must have been six, so cheerfully 
 The world appeared to live. A gentle bard 
 Was walking by the riverside. A card 
 
ALFONSO AND HIS MOTHER 61 
 
 Was stuck up in a field, and some strange words 
 
 Were scrawled on by some village scribe. Two birds 
 
 Were whistling just above. Our poor tramps had 
 
 Some difficulty in reading, so bad 
 
 The writing was. They were not yet perfect 
 
 Tn the language, but at length the verdict 
 
 They came to was : ' All trespassers will be 
 
 Persecuted.' ' What does that mean ? ' said she. 
 
 He answered loftily, ' Why, to be sure, 
 
 It is but natural you would know, You're 
 
 To observe that anything you may fancy 
 
 Disappears when no one's near. There was Nancy 
 
 Some few weeks ago, was in this same way 
 
 Caught unawares, but she was in no way 
 
 Equal to the task.' Then just round the turn 
 
 Some peaches overhung the road. To spurn 
 
 The chance was quite a shame. An example 
 
 Here could be set, so a splendid sample 
 
 He cut down. Then they went on merrily. 
 
 It was a most delightful, verily, 
 
 A fruity time, also a glorious clime, 
 
 And fragrance everywhere. A mingled chime 
 
 Of birds and bees, and many diff' rent creatures, 
 
 Was ringing loud with music's changing features 
 
 From out the topmost boughs down to the ground, 
 
 A very pleasing consonance of sound. 
 
 They were about the middle of south France, 
 In fair Provence, where Love to live has every chance, 
 That most delightful country of sweet song, 
 Of love and chivalry, whose bards prolong 
 The valiant memory of Charlemagne, 
 Whose honour and great majesty they sang 
 In many a gay song and glad romance. 
 
62 TRAMPS AND TROUBADOURS 
 
 Sometimes beguiled with challenging of lance, 
 
 And sudden heat of war, while they were just 
 
 About to place the heroine in trust 
 
 Of the completing portion, and the due 
 
 Of evil-doers in scorn held up to view, 
 
 To win a place in fame's immortal glory, 
 
 And hold all spell-bound in poetic story. 
 
 On this great work Alaria, the Hun, 
 
 Had set his mind, when he from home had run ; 
 
 Not for the king, however, as he hoped, 
 
 Had he engaged his powers ; at first he moped ; 
 
 But afterwards he took a lesser place, 
 
 Resigned to lose the leading in fame's race ; 
 
 And for another master now he sung 
 
 Contentedly, though in a foreign tongue. 
 
 For change of exercise with the lances, 
 
 Oft he goes, which much his life enhances. 
 
 It was on one of those occasions he 
 
 Had sped so gay into the fair country, 
 
 And had occasioned much distressing pain 
 
 To some good merchantmen, by which much gain 
 
 Had fallen to his lot. The violent way 
 
 In which they compromised the fine array 
 
 Of persons riding safe had made much din, 
 
 And likewise ruffled temper and the skin. 
 
 To all these grievances was added this ; when these 
 
 Fair merchantmen had been laid down, to ease 
 
 Their fat purses quietly under the shade 
 
 Of some fine trees, and they had partly made 
 
 Tribute on them and inspection of the fine goods, 
 
 They thought they heard a tumult in the woods, 
 
 Whereat they sprang to horse and all away 
 
 Fled suddenly, nor waited for the fray. 
 
 Those brave companions of the mighty lance 
 
ALFONSO AND HIS MOTHER 63 
 
 Fled swiftly on. The mother, at a glance, 
 Had seen her husband dear, mostly in green — 
 His golden zones were nowhere to be seen — 
 Quickly following the cavalry. By them 
 He would be found some day by this emblem — 
 Green they had fixed on their minds ; and to him 
 Were going now with confidence set trim. 
 
 As they were speeding on, the mother said, 
 ' I wonder if he'll know me ? ' and she shed 
 A few tears privately. It would not do 
 To let Alfonso see that she was rue. 
 But he made censure, ' Well, I cannot see 
 It matters much ; as well have him as be 
 Alone in this strange world. If you are right, 
 Then all will be set in the proper light ; 
 But if not — well — ' He stopped so suddenly 
 That the poor mule thought it was time to be 
 Acquainted with the produce of the soil, 
 And hastily attempted for his toil 
 To nibble some fresh grass, but Alfonso 
 Jerked up his head and cried, ' Ah no, not so ! ' 
 And pranced along a little further blithely, 
 Whereat his mother laughed and said more lightly, 
 'We need not fret even if we are wrong,' 
 Alfonso said, ' O mother, come along ! 
 There is a village quite convenient ; 
 There we may eat if time is lenient.' 
 
 They drew rein just before ' The Dauphin's Inn,' 
 By royal letters patent. ' Enter in,' 
 Mine host cried volubly, and rubbed his hands 
 Together charmingly. He gave commands 
 To the hostler to take their steeds away,' 
 And have them foddered well with meadow hay. 
 
64 TRAMPS AND TROUBADOURS 
 
 Then turning to his guests he smiled and bowed, 
 
 Asked how the roads were ; but Alfonso vowed 
 
 Such an old nuisance he had never seen, 
 
 Taking for granted that he was not green. 
 
 Monsieur Duket, the host, was quite supreme 
 
 In his establishment. He felt esteem 
 
 At this new pleasure that he had attained 
 
 In serving two such guests. He now disdained 
 
 The common kind of publican. ' Lady,' 
 
 Said he, ' what will you have ? ' Nothing shady | 
 
 Did then appear. Alfonso interjected 
 
 In a blunt way from polish disconnected, 
 
 'Something to eat,' and looked annoyed. 'What 
 
 nice man, 
 And how exceedingly polite. However can 
 You be so rude ? ' Mine host re-entered now, 
 And standing in a courtly manner, ' How 
 This splendid weather must suit everyone,' 
 He said. An awkward pause ensued. The Hun 
 Attended to his dinner, nor spoke once. 
 ' What's the use of him standing there ? A dunce 
 Would do no better,' was his earnest thought, 
 As all his diligent attention sought 
 The cup and platter. All the time he fumed 
 As much as if no viands he consumed. 
 He would have rushed away if he could cleave 
 To all that he should pay for. He did not believe 
 In waiters. ' They made him rather nervous,' 
 He would say ; so to seem impervious 
 He was mute. The landlord was not bashful. 
 He thought the lady fair, nice, and graceful, 
 And even beautiful. So much o'ercome, 
 He would not charge a sou, though a round sum 
 Alfonso offered ; so they went away. 
 
ALFONSO AND HIS MOTHER 65 
 
 Alfonso's mother wondered by the way 
 How he had come by so much money, but 
 He said nothing of the saddle-bags. ' Tut, 
 What's the use of telling her ? ' he had thought. 
 It was thus. Among the mules he had caught 
 He found some well-filled purses. These secured 
 He felt relieved, and mightily assured 
 Of happy times to come. 
 
 They ate, and then 
 They journeyed on. A cackling hen 
 Some way beyond rushed out ; a painful din — 
 Small things result in scuffles, and in naught begin — 
 She made to call her friends. Alfonso swayed 
 Perilously on his saddle, as the mule brayed 
 And jumped about the road. At last its wits 
 Being gathered from their flight — for into fits 
 It nearly had been startled — it resumed 
 The calm superiority presumed 
 To be the attribute of empty heads, 
 Upon whose unclad state nothing else sheds 
 A finer lustre as a mask of glory 
 To hide their emptiness, until hoary 
 They are exposed as nameless articles, 
 And banished far across Time's sea of changing ripples. 
 Our two so-journers hoped they would sustain 
 No injury until they could attain 
 Some shelter soon. 
 
 The day was taking ease 
 After the melting heat. A cheerful breeze 
 Fanned them deliciously. It was quite late 
 In the pleasant and cool eve. To a gate 
 They had arrived of a monastery. 
 ' There,' said Alfonso quietly, ' let us tarry. 
 
 E 
 
66 TRAMPS AND TROUBADOURS 
 
 The monks will take us in. We are strangers 
 
 And have encountered many pressing dangers. 
 
 We are weary, absolutely beat, 
 
 And glad of any comfortable seat. 
 
 We are hungry, and of all places this 
 
 Is the best domicile. We must not miss 
 
 Such an opportunity.' Therewith he 
 
 Knocked loudly at the gate, and presently 
 
 A meek and gentle man with shaven crown 
 
 Came out, and begged them with much honour to get 
 
 down. 
 So they did, and he led their mules away, 
 Telling them to make haste, he could not stay, 
 They were going into supper. They set 
 Their luggage in a corner. First they met 
 The Archbishop in his mitre, stole, and cope, 
 The grave sacristan, who expressed the hope 
 They were not tired. They almost laughed at him, 
 And thought he must be doating, or a whim 
 Of paying compliments. And now they bent 
 Their steps to the refectory ; they went 
 All in good, order. On sev'ral benches 
 They sat down to some excellent haunches 
 Of deer. There was rabbit-pie and oysters, 
 A couple of spring-chickens, and some lobsters, 
 Besides so many kinds of fruits, the names 
 Would take a scholar, to define their claims 
 A full week, and least of all Alfonso 
 Could not pretend to mention one, or know 
 The subject thoroughly, so bashful he 
 Had of a sudden turned in company. 
 But each as they came round, he, by the stem, 
 Took up and swallowed whole — not one of them 
 Would he despise, nor starve complacently — 
 
ALFONSO AND HIS MOTHER 67 
 
 As if he was acquainted thoroughly 
 
 With everyone by long experience, 
 
 That makes the sage in fruit as well as science, 
 
 As if he had met each variety 
 
 Often, and could show culture in his piety. 
 
 The Bishop asked them what they'd like to drink. 
 Alfonso answered, ' Certainly, I think 
 I'll take some of your finest dry champagne, 
 That is the wine after a long campaign.' 
 The Bishop gave the order and forthwith 
 There was a glitt'ring stream — the very pith 
 Of all the apples in the orchard near. 
 The Bishop for himself some home-brewed beer 
 Would only drink, and all the others drank 
 Whate'er they pleased, until at length some sank 
 In ease beneath the table, and were good company 
 For persons maudlin in frivolity. 
 
 Alfonso at this moment heard of tea 
 And wondered much whatever that might be, 
 So leaning over to the hostler pale, 
 Asked whether tea was dearer than good ale, 
 But all he answered was, ' Don't mention it,' 
 And seemed quite likely to begin a fit. 
 Alfonso thought this rather strange conduct, 
 And hoped that possibly he might deduct 
 A little for monastic secrecy, 
 Therefore he said no more — delicately. 
 Alfonso's mother sat sedately near, 
 And quietly watching them he saw a queer 
 Commotion in the courtly Bishop's eye. 
 He could not quite make out where'er might be 
 The cause of this expression, but convinced 
 That something striking was about to be evinced 
 
68 TRAMPS AND TROUBADOURS 
 
 Would not subvert the unction of his host 
 
 By prying into things beyond his post, 
 
 But occupied his mind to be assured 
 
 That some fat bacon near him was home-cured. 
 
 This thing that troubled dear Alfonso was 
 
 Then little known, and though he missed the cause 
 
 He partly saw the fine effect ; and we 
 
 May pry though he refused. This thing you see 
 
 Is common in our time, if not in his. 
 
 The Bishop being a learned man it is 
 
 Just possible he may have learned the art 
 
 As an accomplishment, which would impart 
 
 Distinction to his manners. Now 'tis held — 
 
 The visionary glamour is at once dispelled — 
 
 Vulgar and low. And if you ever spy 
 
 A trembling eyelid and a sparkling eye, 
 
 You may at once conceive the Bishop wink 
 
 And give an intimate and polished optic blink, 
 
 By some inventive genius proud produced 
 
 From the sidereal heavens first deduced. 
 
 The Bishop worthily performed the host, 
 And in the end gave out this little toast, 
 ' Our monastery and health to the Hun.' 
 Whereat Alfonso started up, ' My son,' 
 The mother said, ' be calm ; remember me. 
 You are my hope. I am lost without thee.' 
 The Bishop then replied, ' No reflection 
 Is intended on your fine complexion. 
 All I say is I wish you both good luck 
 And all the attributes of proper pluck.' 
 Alfonso was appeased, and even smiled, 
 Even though he could not help being riled. 
 He passed the compliment for what it was, 
 Seeing for quarrel there was no proper cause. 
 
ALFONSO AND HIS MOTHER 69 
 
 After this little friction had been smoothed 
 They to the grand withdrawing room were moved. 
 Here they enjoyed themselves as best they could ; 
 Some artistic engravings made in wood 
 They admired, and the new style in ceilings, 
 As said the importer in such dealings, 
 ' Made in Italy on cold plaster mould 
 At any price or size that could be sold, 
 Plain, or with the heads of various saints — 
 Guaranteed an exact likeness. For taints 
 Or flaws allowances deducted.' Next 
 The Bishop talked about an ancient text 
 That had been dug up lately of the codex 
 Wherein there were diversions but no index. 
 Then he mentioned Julius Caesar ; ' Here 
 He often used to come in want of cheer 
 When in the country. I believe that much 
 Of his great work was written when on such 
 Expeditions — perhaps you may have read 
 In the village school. Now it may shed 
 A new light on your tour.' But Alfonso 
 By these disquisitions was troubled so 
 That he became dejected and quite mortified, 
 And thought that such great men when deified 
 Were better left alone, for being dead 
 They could not help the living. But he said, 
 ' I have never heard of this personage. 
 I have not been to school — not for an age, 
 Nor of this story have I heard before.' 
 The Bishop lifted up his hands, so sore 
 This new surprise had made him, and bewailed 
 The strange indifference — how some men failed 
 To take an interest in literature. 
 
70 TRAMPS AND TROUBADOURS 
 
 The mother sat a little way quite sure 
 That they were getting eminently wise, 
 Though she could not hear what they said ; her eyes 
 Took in the great scholastic gravity 
 That sat upon their faces; with suavity 
 She was quite proud to think her gentle son 
 Was losing some strange vagaries of the Hun, 
 And getting polished in belles-lettres, soon 
 To weigh the planets, and explore the moon, 
 Even a university professor, 
 At least perhaps another great Confessor. 
 There were some paintings, excellent designs 
 Of saints upon the walls ; they in fixed lines 
 Devotional, would artlessly compute 
 The number of the stars, but being mute, 
 Would be content by telling them anew, 
 As some would tell their beads to keep in view 
 That saving time is part of the compact 
 Which leaves the mind at liberty to act, 
 While prayers unnumbered are by telling beads 
 Wafted to Heav'n in spite of all the creeds — 
 This the Church Fathers saw, and quickly made 
 This new invention without being paid. 
 But these mute saints in graceful attitudes 
 Composed themselves in many latitudes 
 In reverential supplication posed ; 
 Some seemed to have been most unfairly dosed 
 With rhubarb pills or some such subtle deed ' 
 So very woebegone they looked indeed. 
 
 The decorations were most beautiful 
 Enough to ravish every dutiful 
 Son of the Church ; upon the windows saints 
 Had tranquil honour dressed in many paints 
 
ALFONSO AND HIS MOTHER 71 
 
 And glories wonderful in vision ; these 
 From all distressful things were quite at ease, 
 Designed to fill the eye as well as creed, 
 With gen'ral adoration. One indeed 
 Was dressed beyond expression, and blue-robed, 
 About his head a shining circle globed 
 His graceful ringlets, coiled about his ruff ; 
 There too was visible his well-starched cuff 
 Just sent all white and clean from the laundry, 
 He was extravagantly dressed ; sundry 
 Faces grinned at him above as mocking 
 A most expansive show of gay stocking. 
 
 The monks were even now engaged with paints 
 In working up some more new-fangled saints. 
 One was engaged with an illumination ; 
 Also then a verbal examination 
 Was going on about his history, 
 While he was in a maze of mystery 
 Being enshrined. The saint when perfected 
 Would then, just a little, be affected 
 By this high station new and electic — 
 By the excitement flushed and quite hectic. 
 
 Gazing upon the glorified delight 
 Of fair ecstatic faces orbed in light 
 That gazed benignly, seraph-eyed, and fair 
 Out of their puissant realms of sapphire air, 
 A brother spell-bound meditative sat 
 Reclining easeful, conscious of all that 
 He saw, yet loosed in times of triple ease 
 He had far wandered gaily under trees, 
 And pleasant dames were off'ring unto him 
 Beauty's delight, the violet pale and trim, 
 As one would offer to a deity 
 
72 TRAMPS AND TROUBADOURS 
 
 Virtues of thought — devotional sobriety. 
 
 And all the while there played a pleasant smile 
 
 About his lips, and o'er his face of guile, 
 
 The smooth soft consciousness of self, wherein 
 
 The semblance of a hidden lust lurks sin, 
 
 A gentle gladness beamed, as one well satisfied 
 
 With all estates, and with himself most gratified. 
 
 Upon a low seat there he sat, while one, 
 
 A little higher raised with serious aspect won, 
 
 Pored over many yellow sheets to read, 
 
 And now would sigh and shake his head to plead 
 
 A hearing for his literary store 
 
 That he thus carefully with diligence conned o'er, 
 
 And now would look appealing to his friend 
 
 As if to ask a benefit — to bend 
 
 A list'ning ear unto his tale of yore. 
 
 But heedless all the other his attention bore 
 
 Without a sympathetic look. At last 
 
 He from him thence all further question cast ; 
 
 Despairing of an invitation to begin, 
 
 He thus would from his selfish hearer win 
 
 Recognition — beginning then to sing 
 
 And send his efforts quickly on the wing. 
 
 Just as he oped his mouth a bell rang loud 
 And shattered all his hopes. Therewith the crowd 
 Of monks filed forth their sev'ral cells to seek. 
 Alfonso laughed ; in vain he would look meek. 
 He broadly smiled to see the great chagrin 
 Of Father Ananias, puritan to sin. 
 The Bishop was perplexed, yet wholly pleased 
 That their young guest was happy. Then he seized 
 A flick'ring light and haled them off to bed. 
 The light but a wan sickly glimmer shed 
 
ALFONSO AND HIS MOTHER 73 
 
 As the kind Bishop showed them where to sleep, 
 Each in a narrow cell where sorrows deep 
 Oft had been told unto the barren wall, 
 Whose silence back on broken hearts would fall. 
 His fragile dress Alfonso now began 
 To take to bits as light was burning wan, 
 And then prepared reluctant sleep to seize. 
 
 \ 
 The night had all o'ercome, and now at ease 
 Reclined, while all the world around subdued 
 Was waiting till the moon was interviewed 
 That shone imperial o'er the cloudless sky, 
 Where none her regency dare to deny, 
 With light as sceptre, silence as her crown. 
 Alfonso's brow was clouded by a frown. 
 No doubt its mental origin was deep 
 In the mad vagaries of unchallenged sleep, 
 Found to prevail against his saner mind — 
 Oblivious of all consequences kind, 
 Destroying monasteries, founding none 
 As is the choice diversion of the Hun. 
 
 Next morn they rose again as fresh as larks, 
 And each reviewed the case as one embarks 
 Upon a venture new, halting awhile 
 To reconsider matters, ere the stile 
 Of consequence be crossed, and they be thrust 
 Out of the way for want of thinking first. 
 
 The world was beautiful, and merry sung 
 The birds. With the young morn a beauty sprung 
 Into the monastery. Delighted 
 Was Alfonso with the uninvited 
 Jubilance of gaiety ; in pleasure 
 He rose with his joy's unwonted treasure. 
 
74 TRAMPS AND TROUBADOURS 
 
 He and his mother for many a day 
 
 Had not such easy beds. Their fortunes lay 
 
 Now in a path of roses ; all seemed fair 
 
 And beauteous as light, and far more rare. 
 
 When they entered the refectory, 
 
 The monks had gone on a religious foray 
 
 Into the neighbouring villages. The sun 
 
 Had half-way up the heavens his bright flight won, 
 
 And things were generally quiet and cool. 
 
 The Bishop only waited on a stool, 
 The last edition he was busy reading 
 Of the illuminated text, weeding 
 The errors out. This was the latest work 
 Of the good friar Parsimon. ' The Turk ! ' 
 The Bishop muttered, ' not to take more care. 
 It seemed to young Alfonso very fair 
 And beautiful, but yet he hardly dared 
 To make an observation — only stared 
 To see such pretty colours mingled so. 
 Nor had the Bishop yet made any show 
 Of welcoming. Alfonso was quite loath 
 To break up his fine studies, so they both 
 Were silent ; also was Alfonso awed 
 By the commanding calm. Confusion gnawed 
 Disheartening surrender vague into 
 His mind, as he would wonder what to do 
 For good. The strange glad gravity increased 
 Upon the Bishop's face. He smiled, at least 
 Alfonso fancied so ; the sun would look 
 Into the treasured page. He shut the book, 
 That is the Bishop, and most calmly said, 
 Rising, ' And now, dear friends, you must be fed.' 
 With that he shouted to the Sacristan, 
 
ALFONSO AND HIS MOTHER 75 
 
 Ambrosio, ' Where is the frying pan ? 
 
 What have you been about ? Here are our friends 
 
 Ready to famish — You make no amends. 
 
 Be quick, or else I'll send you from the house.' 
 
 Alfonso was afraid ; all like a mouse 
 
 He trembled, and would have at once escaped. 
 
 Indeed, he edged towards the door, but scraped 
 
 His sandal on the floor. His mother turned, 
 
 And all at once her fiery spirit burned 
 
 With anger and reproach. She made a dart 
 
 At him, and held him by a tender part 
 
 Of his attire ; then with a face of smiles 
 
 She looks upon the monk with woman's wiles. 
 
 Alfonso seeing he could not escape, 
 (His mother's hand was on his tunic's nape) 
 Now kept a watch upon the frying pan, 
 And all the savours strange the Sacristan 
 Was now arranging in the bakery, 
 To swift forerun through the refectory 
 His coming, as a benedictus sweet 
 The kingly pleasures of his tardy feet. 
 At length the Bishop really did begin 
 To be impatient. Adria would win 
 A smile upon him now and then to keep 
 His temper cool. He was about to leap 
 Out of his seat, when in a whirl of steam 
 His servant came, who, in a suit of cream- 
 Coloured attire, was laden with a joint 
 Of lamb. His sober face was all anoint 
 With perspiration, and his dress was white ; 
 Perhaps it was the flour, in which delight 
 He used to dabble pleasantly for hours ; 
 It might have been because of sev'ral showers 
 
76 TRAMPS AND TROUBADOURS 
 
 He had been in ; the harmony of light 
 Had not less purity. A perfect white 
 It was not — certainly a perfect coat 
 Of armour he possessed — stiff to the throat, 
 And rattling everywhere. 
 
 The Bishop said, 
 This is our daily fair — milk and white bread, 
 With joints of mutton or else beef, with these 
 Whatever else may season's fancy please. 
 So they partook of this rich free repast, 
 And as they put the various dishes past, 
 The Bishop said, ' Abide with us to-night,' 
 And smiled too languishing for sight. 
 But good Alfonso said, ' Nay, Bishop, nay ! 
 We must proceed upon our toilsome way, 
 And search the wide world through for our dear 
 
 friend 
 And parent lonely wandering. This end 
 We had in view since we first came from home, 
 And wish to see accomplished. Far we roam 
 Into strange countries, dangers perilous, 
 And many other things annoying us.' 
 The mother also said, ' We must be gone, 
 Indeed we must, now upon our mission. 
 The day already is far spent. Then fain 
 The Bishop was to let them go ; disdain 
 He could not their request. So to the gate 
 He went with them. He said, ' At any rate 
 Are you not going to the festival 
 Now being held this peaceful interval 
 By our great knight, the Lord of Boieleux ? 
 Just yonder you can see the towers in view, 
 A hospitable welcome I'm quite sure 
 You will receive. I am no connoisseur 
 
ALFONSO AND HIS MOTHER 77 
 
 Of such things.' They both answered meekly, ' We 
 Have not so much as heard that such things be.' 
 ' Ah, well ! you now may have a pleasant time,' 
 The Bishop said. ' The flowers are in their prime, 
 Take ye advantage of their sweetness cheap.' 
 Then he blessed them both. Adria did weep, 
 And swiftly on their mules they rode away. 
 The Bishop at the gate stood yet astray 
 In melancholy thoughts, till from his view 
 They vanished quite ; then to his work anew 
 He turned, disconsolate, with many a sigh, 
 A woful desperation in his eye. 
 
 When they were hid from view Alfonso took 
 His mandoline in hand. In some odd nook 
 Of the monastery he had this found, 
 And carefully examining the sound 
 It made, concluded it was worth his while 
 To carry it away. ' For many a mile,' 
 He thought, ' we can amuse our weary way, 
 And who knows what may be our gain. To-day 
 It is quite useless here, but to-morrow 
 Golden opinions we may win ; borrow 
 It I will.' So quite unconcernedly 
 He slung it on his back, and cheerfully 
 Departed with the Bishop's tender blessing, 
 Who innocently stood, not once guessing 
 That he was losing anything. 
 
 ' To play 
 An instrument of music needs a day 
 At least,' Alfonso said, ' but need I stay 
 For that ? Nay, I will not ! I'll stand to play 
 Before the Lord of Boieleux, and charm 
 
78 TRAMPS AND TROUBADOURS 
 
 The company. Why should I show alarm 
 
 Because there are so many ? I might sing 
 
 As well to make the charm complete. The wing 
 
 Of fancy now let loose shall never fail 
 
 But bear me upward glorious. A tale 
 
 I might concoct. I am a troubadour, 
 
 And soon shall rise to fame ; no longer poor 
 
 Shall be my errant minstrelsy ; who hear 
 
 Shall be enchanted. I shall draw a tear 
 
 From every eye ; a smile on every cheek 
 
 Shall be called forth. Nothing shall be too weak 
 
 Or yet too strong for me. My symphony 
 
 Shall be unequalled in sweet harmony.' 
 
 So, riding on, he strummed a little song. 
 
 His mother was surprised. ' I have been wrong 
 
 To think he could not play ; a genius 
 
 He must be. A fortune soon shall place us 
 
 In our proper sphere. 
 
 As they rode onward 
 Amid much tinkling undernotes, the bard 
 Mused much apart, rejoicing in his art, 
 Mapping out to himself a boundless chart 
 Of famous strains. The genius now would sing, 
 For evidently he had caught on wing 
 Some fancy ready clothed for fame ; but just 
 As he would ope his magic mouth, thus thrust 
 Through and through for such mighty explanation, 
 His little ass pricked by a new sensation 
 Spun sudden round, and down the genius came, 
 And felt the bitter end of failure's shame. 
 His mother without heeding where he was 
 Cried out, because she had another cause 
 To divert attention : ' See, there they are ! 
 
ALFONSO AND HIS MOTHER 79 
 
 And now let us forward.' She left her star 
 
 Poetic on the road. She rode away 
 
 And left the genius discomfited. His lay 
 
 Had ended haplessly, but soon he rose, 
 
 And shook the dust from off his tattered clothes. 
 
Ill 
 
 THE ORDER OF THE WINE CUP 
 
 PRELUDE — SECOND DAY 
 
 They come to join the charmed Order's ring — 
 All lovers of music. Some loitering 
 Yet from the noble towers stray o'er the green 
 Taking the air, enjoying the fair scene, 
 Just after breakfast. Now with ease of mind 
 They come to feed the soul, and kindred find 
 Sweets meet for tasting or for living on, 
 Just as their tastes may urge. The sun upon 
 The happy throng shone fair, and everyone 
 Pressed up to join the pleasure, eke the fun, 
 In list'ning to the troubadours' new verse — 
 Where moved the spirit of the times idless — 
 Which they were now composing fast and free 
 In their fine facile brains beneath a tree, 
 Each to be ready for occasions great 
 When minstrelsy must its best matter state. 
 
 It was an Order gay, and all to view 
 The table sat. The pride of Boieleux 
 Was gathered there — the lofty and the proud 
 And humblest persons taken from a crowd. 
 
THE ORDER OF THE WINE CUP 81 
 
 Amid the bright and sunny leafage shone 
 
 The old sun gaily. Ever and anon 
 
 A flash of twinkling rays would downward rush, 
 
 Falling upon the steadfast gaze, and hush, 
 
 Of the entranced company intent 
 
 Upon the music of the hour. Down bent 
 
 Some had their heads, reposed upon their arms, 
 
 To be the more complaisant to the charms 
 
 Of the sweet flatt'ry of the wind. It was 
 
 The hush of summer's rapturous applause. 
 
 There was the sober monk and scholar ; there 
 
 Were bashful maids, matrons with bold, fixed stare, 
 
 The town-bred beauty calm in jewelled gown 
 
 With ease of manner and each fluid noun 
 
 Polished to excess. There the gallant knight, 
 
 Many a poor, down-trodden, witless wight. 
 
 ' Now,' said Gustave, ' let us begin. The first 
 That I shall call upon is here, I trust ; ' 
 And looking round, ' Ah ! yes, I see he is. 
 Surso Sanca my worthy friend, it is 
 To thee that I entrust the op'ning song.' 
 He smiled, and Surso Sanca rose. The throng 
 Applauded him. His face beamed to his tonsured head 
 That spake the world a snare and envy dead. 
 
 I— A DRINKING SONG 
 
 By Surso Sanca 
 
 I 
 
 We are the jolly monks of Boieleux : 
 Whoso takes another view 
 Is failing of the good and true ; 
 We are the jolly monks of Boieleux. 
 
 F 
 
82 TRAMPS AND TROUBADOURS 
 
 II 
 
 By all wine that is best, 
 And the wisest test 
 Of the Bishop's behest, 
 I live to declare 
 The truth I lay bare 
 That we have no care. 
 
 Ill 
 
 For we are jolly and jolly shall be: 
 Whoso cannot think with me 
 
 Must be a traitor ; 
 In purgatory he shall see 
 
 We are greater. 
 
 IV 
 
 Hold the wine high ; 
 Let it not die, 
 
 When the cup glitters 
 Drink the wine dry. 
 
 V 
 
 So should we drink when we die ; 
 With ringing loud laugh, 
 And good hearty quaff 
 
 We pass into bliss with a sigh. 
 
 VI 
 
 There is music in the wine 
 And a song in every vine ; 
 Let us think not of the morrow 
 
 For we die ; 
 Let us banish every sorrow 
 
 Till we lie, 
 
THE ORDER OF THE WINE CUP 83 
 
 With the wine cup for a sign 
 Of our lasting joy divine, 
 In a dream that never alters 
 
 Till we die ; 
 In a hope that never falters 
 
 Let us lie. 
 
 INTERLUDE 
 
 ' There,' said good Surso Sanca, having done, 
 ' Let someone else take up the work begun, 
 For here I have presented to your minds 
 The good the monk in sanctuary finds 
 At the Lord Bishop's nod of approbation, 
 These graceful means of saintly consolation, 
 That even in the heart of peace repose, 
 Who is prepared to graduate the dose.' 
 A murmur of assent of doubtful tone 
 Succeeded this, for no one there had shown 
 Special inclination to be enrolled 
 In the monastic sanctity, nor bold 
 Enough to meet the grim monastic lash. 
 Another murmur yet was heard to flash 
 Around the circle gay, for there appeared 
 Upon the mead wherefrom the wood was sheared 
 Two strangers furiously riding mules 
 Assorted strangely contrary to rules 
 Of all good-breeding. On they came astride 
 The panting steeds, and suddenly beside 
 The dignitaries of the Cup, drew rein. 
 ' Who's won ? ' ' Is it a race ? ' and ' Are they sane ? ' 
 And, ' Who are you ? ' came clamouring from all 
 
 sides. 
 ' We ? ' said one of the riders to these tides 
 
84 TRAMPS AND TROUBADOURS 
 
 Of questions. ' I'm called Alfonso. She 
 
 Is my mother.' They said to this, ' We see. 
 
 Have you come to join us ? Show us your skill.' 
 
 There was some jest and smothered laugh. ' I will,' 
 
 Alfonso said, and there and then began 
 
 To twang upon his mandoline, and ran 
 
 Thus into song, seated as he was, yet 
 
 Damp with the steam of perspiration hardly set. 
 
 II— THE POET'S ASPIRATION 
 
 By Alfonso. 
 
 I am a troubadour, 
 And gaily I will sing through all my days ; 
 
 When on my earthly tour-, 
 A choice selection of my sweetest lays 
 That music can ensure. 
 
 Renown I mean to win, 
 And highest in the oracles of fame, 
 
 With my gay mandoline 
 Secure the laurels of an honoured name, 
 
 And die as gods to sin. 
 
 In times that are long past 
 I never thought to waken a sweet song, 
 
 But in these troubles cas,t 
 I now consider that I once was wrong ; 
 
 I hope it will but last. 
 
 So of this power aware 
 I now with joyous song shall onward go, 
 
 And in the splendour's share 
 Of fame's eternal and unending flow, 
 
 Which shall men's plaudits snare. 
 
THE ORDER OF THE WINE CUP 85 
 
 Here in a leafy bower 
 Already there is come good company ; 
 
 These shall now feel my power 
 And my sweet harmony's new beauties see, 
 
 And praise this very hour. 
 
 INTERLUDE 
 
 ' That will do well.' They were unanimous, 
 And now of them were making wondrous fuss. 
 The mother also said, ' And so it is, 
 Nothing is surer than these certainties.' 
 Alfonso said, ' He told us when we mounted.' 
 And then quite grave solemnly dismounted. 
 He paused with much disturbance in his eyes, 
 For seeing Francis gazing hard, he sighs 
 To think there was another danger here, 
 For his kind mother whom he held so dear ; 
 Then saying to Adria, ' Hold the mules,' 
 More firmly grasped his mandoline. The rules 
 He had laid down for practice he conned o'er, 
 Threw out his chest, took air, and then, before 
 Gustave could say a single word, he sang 
 This romaunt which through all the wild woods rang, 
 Holding the great master of the revels 
 Speechless, while his fair wand was taking levels. 
 
 Ill— WET PAINT 
 By Alfonso 
 
 Thus spake an ancient father of our race, 
 Sitting beneath a tree in forest grace : 
 ' Compliment me, I am the only son 
 
86 TRAMPS AND TROUBADOURS 
 
 In the hundreth generation of the great Hun 
 Who first invented paint.' ' Of course we do,' 
 We all exclaimed, and nearer to him drew, 
 For we perceived he would this thing explain 
 That had for many years in silence lain. 
 
 SUBJECTIVE 
 
 I 
 
 This is the thing. Towards the noon of day 
 Gubislac came unto his wife. ' What way,' 
 Said he, ' can be devised to ornament 
 The king's new house ? A messenger is sent 
 Declaring unto all, " Whoever will 
 Devise true means whereby this house to fill 
 With ornament and break its nakedness, 
 The same shall have great honour." 'Tis address 
 Most strange — beyond accomplishment, I wis. 
 They say the queen is at the front of this, 
 For she would speak in this wise to the king. 
 " Wherefore, my lord, can we not have the Spring 
 Within our house at all times on the walls, 
 Producing flowers and trees ; and in our halls 
 An ever timely garden in all lights 
 That can give pleasure to all witless wights 
 Who look thereon. Can not this thing be done ? " 
 And so it is that ere another sun 
 We hear of this.' His wife was lost in thought, 
 And then she answered meekly as was taught, 
 ' I know not what is best to say. Suppose 
 You take a journey ; then you may expose 
 Some plan or other — some material, 
 Wherewith to gratify imperial 
 
THE ORDER OF THE WINE CUP 87 
 
 Pretensions, find.' ' Yes,' he said, ' I can go 
 And make discoveries. And when I throw- 
 Some light upon the subject, we shall make 
 Our house as beautiful as theirs.' They break 
 Some bread together, thereupon, and slept 
 Until the morrow's sun, when forth he crept 
 In the still dusk of breaking day, and went 
 Upon his journey with a great intent. 
 
 In that old time a warmer clime was theirs 
 Than our own time in three collected summers shares, 
 And plants of curious shape and bloom grew wild ; 
 And everywhere the happy pleasaunce smiled. 
 He travelled all that day, until the eve 
 Bid him repose ; at which he did most grieve, 
 Since he was loath to wait a single hour, 
 Until he had discovered some new power 
 To bind to ornament. Long night he slept, 
 Until he walked in yellow field all swept 
 With softest wind. Unto his hand there rose 
 The saffron heads of flowers, as on he goes 
 Wand'ring along full slow. He idly brushed 
 Through their thick wildness ; handfuls he crushed 
 Together in a mass, filling his hands 
 With shine of gold. It drops down where he stands 
 And nothing more he knows save that he wears 
 The ornament of nature's dewy airs. 
 His hair hangs down, unkempt, in tangles lank, 
 Damp and disordered with the night dews dank. 
 
 II 
 
 The world is gently mild ; soft winds are light ; 
 The day is turning moonwards ; all is bright ; 
 And by a crystal pool he bends. ' This is 
 
88 TRAMPS AND TROUBADOURS 
 
 My thought,' he meditates profoundly ; ' 'tis 
 
 How things like these — the flowers, the trees-^may 
 
 grow 
 Upon a wall and never fade. A woe 
 There is upon me for this thing. O, that 
 I could but find something ! Closely he sat 
 Beside the pool, and stirred its shallow deeps, 
 And slow a ruddy cloud the crystal steeps, 
 His stick is blood-red clotted to the end 
 With curious substance. Up he rose to wend 
 His way yet further, scoring all the trees 
 With rude uneven marks. The summer breeze 
 Plays wantonly among his uncut curls 
 That stream upon his shoulders, as all churls 
 Were at that period wont to wear their hair 
 With a convenient, light, and careless air. 
 
 He sauntered on spotted red and yellow, 
 Unconscious that he was imprinted so 
 With master-pieces of design, that none 
 Could have invented save a witless Hun. 
 He had wasted so much good time in useless thought, 
 That now that eve was near a tree he sought 
 Wherein to lay his weary head ; not as a beast 
 This time, but as a bird would he take feast 
 With sleep. Another reason moved him here 
 That was not the companion of a tear. 
 'Twas this. He felt a little chill from lying 
 On the damp ground all night ; then from drying 
 Slowly after in the cool morning wind. 
 And if he had in this one instance sinned 
 Against himself, he would take better care — 
 A shelter to secure his matted hair 
 From getting damp. He had secured a place 
 Amid the dusk, and restful, hid his face 
 
THE ORDER OF THE WINE CUP 89 
 
 From all the toils and troubles of his task. 
 All night long in moonlight did he thus bask, 
 That twinkled at him in his leafy bower 
 While he lay snoring loudly hour by hour, 
 Rousing the birds and fright'ning many more 
 By the disjointed changes of his triumphant snore. 
 
 Ill 
 
 Nearly at dawn he had a sudden dream ; 
 He was considering his travelling scheme, 
 Walking beneath a cliff of green, whose height 
 Glittered above him in the cloudlets white. 
 In thought he saw the emerald slip down 
 Oozing all o'er the cliff from its high crown 
 Into a lakelet at the base. He went 
 Unto the bank ; under his weight it bent ; 
 With a wild cry he felt himself plunge in. 
 He did indeed find himself to the chin 
 Submerged ; a good deal more than tenth of all 
 Was now invisible. He tried his best to call 
 For help, and then remembering the place 
 Toward the bank turned his dejected face. 
 He had o'erlooked the fact that underneath 
 His resting-place there was a pool. His teeth 
 Chattered violently as on the far bank 
 He stood reflecting ; his chilled heart now sank 
 As the unpleasant coolness of the moon 
 Smote him distressfully. An hour too soon 
 He had descended from his bower-bed. 
 He, unavoidably, must have cold in the head. 
 There he was shiv'ring in his nakedness 
 Without the comfort of a change of dress. 
 In that dark time, of course, they did not know 
 Anything of apparel. Things were slow 
 
90 TRAMPS AND TROUBADOURS 
 
 In coining into fashion near the age 
 Primeval, but that is subject for another page. 
 
 RECEPTIVE 
 
 I 
 
 During this hour of meditation he 
 Thought better of his purpose than to be 
 For ever plunged in escapades like this, 
 So turning straightway on his heel, for bliss 
 He eagerly departs, forgetting fame 
 And all the honours of explorer's name. 
 We need not watch him back ; suffice it here 
 To say he quickly at his home did reappear. 
 It was high noon ; across the village street 
 He came, astonishing his wife, whose sweet 
 Young face fell in dismay. A shade of fear, 
 A trembling of the upper lip, a rising tear 
 All swiftly took possession of her face 
 Which till that moment wore unconscious grace 
 Of native elegance. Something was wrong 
 Or he would not have come for twelve months' even- 
 song. 
 She thought, ' What a colour.' ' Where have you 
 
 . been ? ' 
 She said, ' What makes you look so blue ? ' ' My 
 
 queen,' 
 Said he, ' I cannot tell. I am too tired 
 To tell you now. The blue you have admired 
 I must have got when falling in the pool. 
 I went quite blue when standing up to cool.' 
 
 Till then he had not noticed that he wore 
 A coat of blue, having first come ashore 
 
THE ORDER OF THE WINE CUP 91 
 
 By moon, and any colour you may turn, of dream, 
 Yellow or green, in the fickle moonbeam. 
 Again the twain break bread ; again they slept, 
 Until the sun into the moonlight leapt. 
 
 Next morning said his wife, ' Well now, what 
 news ? ' 
 He was still suff'ring from the moonlight blues. 
 He said, ' And now I come to think of it 
 Things seem to give considerable light — unit, 
 I saw three diff'rent colours. Two of these 
 Are water-colours, one is oil. I seize 
 A grand idea. Now to make these things 
 'Tis evident we have to go to springs 
 Of oil or water. These contain innate 
 Some common things.' This singular debate 
 Having concluded happily he bent 
 Out of the house to see how all things went. 
 
 II 
 
 Immediately a crowd assembled round 
 To hear what this discoverer had found, 
 For it was noised abroad that he had gone 
 Upon an expedition. They upon 
 His personal appearance placed their kind regard, 
 Inquiring how he came to have thus marred 
 His general good looks. All was explained 
 To satisfy the idle, who retained 
 Suspicions chance reflections, whose dark spite 
 Might have produced a sad religious fight. 
 One said, ' You have come in for something now, 
 And a nice spectacle you are, I vow.' 
 Therefore they named this thing his invention 
 Because he had come in for something — not a pension. 
 
92 TRAMPS AND TROUBADOURS 
 
 While they were thus discussing everything 
 
 That they could think of, there came from the king 
 
 A messenger desiring his return 
 
 At once with him. The crowd with envy burn 
 
 As he departs ; suspiciously they smiled, 
 
 And entered in a strange discussion wild. 
 
 Gubislac heeded not, but went his way, 
 And came unto the king in all his strange array. 
 ' We hear,' said he, ' you have discovered schemes 
 Whereby you may fulfil our cherished dreams.' 
 The painter bowed ; ' I have, your majesty. 
 I bear the evidence of personality 
 To what you say. Your house in like manner 
 Will be as gay, or gayer.' King Vanner 
 Then said, ' Enough, make ready to begin 
 At once ; and list ! we want to enter in 
 The house immediately.' ' Ye shall, O sire,' 
 He said, and bowed himself without. The fire 
 Of the inventor was in him kindled. 
 He did not mean that he should be swindled 
 Out of the promised honour and reward. 
 
 Back to his wife he came. He said, ' A lord 
 I shall be soon, and a fine lady thee.' 
 She sweetly smiled and said, ' Ah ! well, we'll see.' 
 In his garden he found what he required, 
 All the same things as those he had admired 
 Upon his travels, so setting to work 
 He mixed and muddled with a gentle smirk 
 For sev'ral weeks until he was prepared, 
 When he one morn to the king's house repaired. 
 His wife had all the time, as sweetest child, 
 Encouraged him morning and evening mild. 
 
THE ORDER OF THE WINE CUP 93 
 
 PERSPECTIVE 
 
 From morning until night he toiled and moiled, 
 And many rich endeavours he soon spoiled ; 
 But nothing daunted, birds and beasts he drew, 
 And gave them every miracle of colour new. 
 At first when he began disorder reigned 
 Among the colours ; none could be restrained 
 Within the bounds duly assigned to them. 
 The grafted branch was running down the stem ; 
 The trickling leaf continued to contend 
 Unduly with its own development ; the blend 
 Of watery colours the perspective blurred. 
 The inattentive flower impatient stirred 
 To hide its heavy head beneath the green 
 That was predominant. The swimming scene 
 In motley haze obscured discreetly oozed 
 Natural enough until its pain was loosed ; 
 And all subsided to a stagnant pool 
 Which was at least spontaneous, formed by known 
 
 rule : 
 But courage, time, and patience render great 
 Painters whose perseverance builds their fate ; 
 And they who know not how to show their mind, 
 Yet by determination conquests find ; 
 And he as well now masters Nature's moods, 
 And makes herself confess her perfect woods. 
 
 Strange beasts and fierce, immense and wild of 
 shape 
 In wood or river numerous escape 
 From his constructive brush ; creatures small 
 And great in every nook and corner sprawl 
 
94 TRAMPS AND TROUBADOURS 
 
 In horrid ravenous debate, as will 
 
 The unchecked impulse of the beast to kill. 
 
 Insects of every mentionable grade 
 
 Disport, revengeful in the pleasant shade 
 
 Beguiling their spare time by slaying those 
 
 Who were a moment of their guard. All woes 
 
 Were here depicted merciless as fate 
 
 In that custom primitive, that each ate 
 
 The other as soon as there was a chance, 
 
 That did the pleasure of their life enhance. 
 
 In every mortal state they were exposed 
 
 To all the accidents their lives imposed. 
 
 Not only animals, but flowers and trees ; 
 
 One could believe there was a passing breeze 
 
 Rustling the leaves. The flowers were slight and 
 
 small 
 Or large and blooming, wreathed and hung o'er all, 
 Roses or cabbages as taste would name. 
 Their beautiful array in bunches came 
 To add to this inventive painter's charm. 
 
 The queen inspected every day ; her arm 
 Was stretched out often to command some change. 
 One thing was seen too near ; another far and strange 
 Required to be considered as 'twas known, 
 As if some strangers from new worlds were shown 
 And not the staid inhabitants of this. 
 Thus things would change and things would go amiss, 
 Until the whole effect was one vast blaze 
 Of colour that deceived beholder's gaze 
 As motionless sunset. The latitude 
 Of everything was lost. The longitude 
 Of perspective was utterly destroyed, 
 And every prospect out of sight decoyed. 
 
THE ORDER OF THE WINE CUP 95 
 
 II 
 
 At last the queen was satisfied. The king 
 And she dwelt there alone. A spring 
 Of beauty and eternal joy were all 
 The gay time-servers on the pictured wall 
 To her. Gubislac was dismissed and paid ; 
 He had by this a little fortune made 
 At once. Home to his wife he went to dwell 
 In honour and applause, the world to tell 
 Of things now done, and greater things to be. 
 The queen could not repose in sweet sublimity, 
 And look upon her landscapes' graceful ease, 
 Enjoying all as long as she would please, 
 But she must closely look into the power 
 That turned her house into a gilded bower. 
 She went all round the rooms chafing the walls, 
 And rubbing out the trees. The beauty of her halls 
 Soon changed. She as a little child would make 
 Disfigurements for mere inquiry's sake. 
 All this mischief was done before the paint 
 Had set. She soon became a many-coloured saint 
 Much to the consternation of the king, 
 Who liked not to be spotted everything 
 As rainbow is, with all vegetable dyes 
 Which might destroy his skin. Her tender eyes 
 Reproachfully considered him, when he 
 First spoke about this childish vulgar glee, 
 And said that he himself could not return 
 Her fond embraces. Then, the family urn 
 Of indignation being overturned, 
 A time of strained civility ensued. Then burned 
 A fire of sad hostilities between these twain. 
 The king was wroth against that man ; he fain 
 
96 TRAMPS AND TROUBADOURS 
 
 Would sentence him to an immediate death ; 
 But only vengeance vowed beneath his breath, 
 Because he feared his wife's displeasure more, 
 For then domestic tortures were in store. 
 
 OBJECTIVE 
 
 I 
 
 But for this thing that happened we might yet 
 Have had these pictures. Generations set 
 Great store by strange antiquities which show 
 How the world's moral tributaries flow. 
 An only son these twain possessed, the heir 
 To crown and kingdom. He had flaxen hair, 
 Blue eyes, and cherub face — his mother's own 
 In every way, her very blood and bone. 
 A sweeter child no one could have desired, 
 So very quiet and easily inspired 
 To profit by example. No need to rule 
 With rod, and the harsh discipline of school, 
 In order that he might reproach forsake, 
 And willingly obey as parents spake. 
 Where'er his mother was there you might find 
 The lovely boy. He was so sweet and kind 
 Everybody loved him. It was pathetic sight. 
 He won all hearts ; he was the land's delight. 
 His power of observation was a thing 
 To be remarked. Under his mother's wing 
 He gained much knowledge. Everything she did 
 Was his to imitate. Therefore, amid 
 The sickly savours of the painted art, 
 He oft would meditate. His youthful heart 
 Was filled with wonder as the colours spread, 
 And personal discoveries were being shed 
 About him everywhere. 
 
THE ORDER OF THE WINE CUP 97 
 
 It was some weeks 
 After all was finished, the painter's freaks 
 Upon the walls were loosening their hold. 
 They cracked and curled in every kind of fold ; 
 Whole scenes slipped off together — trees and fields, 
 And all the graces that the painter yields 
 Were laid in worthless ruins on the floor. 
 Disfigurement continued as time wore 
 Along. Day by day the walls were laid bare, 
 And cherished memories were past man's care. 
 One day the blue-eyed prince was taken ill. ■> 
 He had, it seemed, swallowed a vegetable pill, 
 That once had bloomed a flower upon the wall. 
 On being questioned he explained to all 
 That being int'rested in each component part, 
 He had attempted to discover art ; 
 Believing this would be accomplished best, 
 By swallowing a part and making it digest, 
 He could acquire a very living taste 
 For painting. 
 
 This uncomfortable haste 
 Had ruined him, and all his prospects cast 
 Unto the winds. The world had for him past 
 Away completely. His sad mother wept, 
 And vengeance in her heart she hourly kept 
 Against the painter and his wretched art. 
 The nurse wept bitterly, and every heart 
 Bled in deep sympathy, so that it seemed 
 A wonder none of it had ever streamed 
 In visible flood. The court physician 
 Said he had been poisoned ; his decision 
 At once did legalise his mother's wish 
 To slay, so she reserved a dainty dish 
 
 G 
 
98 TRAMPS AND TROUBADOURS 
 
 Until the proper time for Gubislac, 
 
 Who was recording visions in another track. 
 
 At length the end arrived. The prince now died, 
 
 And from the world passed swift away. She cried- 
 
 His mother — as if her sad heart would break, 
 
 So overcome was she for his sweet sake. 
 
 II 
 
 During this time Gubislac sorely toiled, 
 And had himself and everything much soiled 
 Altogether. On coming home that day 
 The king's house had been finished, he would say 
 Unto his wife, ' Now we can make our rooms 
 As beautiful as theirs ; no more deep glooms 
 Shall we have anywhere.' She assented 
 With a sweet smile, and seemed quite contented 
 That this should be. At once he set to work ; 
 No hardship, pain, or labour did he shirk ; 
 But wrought from rosy morn to silver eve, 
 Compelling art to give that he might time retrieve. 
 In his garden he made some earthenware — 
 Holes in the ground — in which he might prepare 
 His sev'ral colours from the flowers and pools 
 Of which he knew, and with his home-made tools 
 Began to execute his new design. 
 First thing he did was to put up a sign, 
 Whereon was bright displayed these potent words 
 In colours fair as plumage of the birds : 
 ' First Painter to Her Majesty the Queen.' 
 The letters kept no line, and when once seen 
 Would ever be remembered — all astray, 
 One on top of other, and every way 
 Projecting. Some were large and some were small. 
 
THE ORDER OF THE WINE CUP 99 
 
 He next would decorate the dining-hall. 
 Herein conspicuously portrayed he placed 
 A portrait of himself ; by which was faced 
 One of his wife. The king and queen were there, 
 And every one for whom he had a care. 
 All went smoothly until the sleeping-rooms 
 Were reached , and then were uttered dreadful dooms 
 Against all things that had the smell of paint. 
 His wife declared these things oft made her faint ; 
 And she fell sick of foulish smells ; but he went on 
 As long as his brief sun of painting shone. 
 
 One day when walking in his garden trim, 
 The queen appeared, hot, furious, and grim, 
 And said to him, ' You have defrauded me ; 
 Your art is worthless ; your discovery 
 A sham. Firstly, every picture cracked — 
 Fallen to pieces ! You have most shamefully lacked 
 In your duty. And next my child is dead, 
 And for his death your blood must now be shed. 
 You scoff ! But look you, here you shall be hanged ■ ' 
 A body of th' imperial guard now clanged 
 Their spears. These had accompanied her and held 
 Themselves prepared to act. Gubislac yelled, 
 ' Have mercy ! I am but a poor painter. My art 
 Is all I have. Why must you tear apart 
 My body for a thing I could not help ! 
 And as for me causing the death of that young whelp ' — 
 But here he ceased, for he had backward stept 
 Into a potful of his paint, and there he slept. 
 
 The queen was much annoyed at having lost 
 This little luxury, which she at any cost 
 Would not have missed, but now that it was so 
 She left, because she could not further go. 
 
100 TRAMPS AND TROUBADOURS 
 
 A mournful month his wife spent all alone ; 
 Then she forgot her husband, and her moan. 
 
 EFFECTIVE 
 I 
 
 After these dreadful accidents the king 
 Proclaimed that no one should have anything 
 To do with paint now and for evermore. 
 The widow on this point was rather sore^ 
 Being the wife at once of an inventor, 
 And sweet Nature's ablest commentator. 
 However, time wore on, and griefs and pains 
 Slowly relieved themselves from bitter chains, 
 And fled afar. Wonders were happening. 
 About six months had passed ; the king 
 Was dead ; another king had come to reign, 
 Whose power was bondsman to the slaves of pain ; 
 And everything was changed. The widow now 
 Forgetting her dead husband took another vow, 
 And married Wintacald, who was a man 
 Sad, sere, and sixty, growing frail and wan. 
 None of her friends could understand the course 
 She took, and no one ever knew the source 
 Of her intelligence in choosing him 
 When she could have had younger men and slim. 
 However, now there reigned another king 
 Many a change had taken place ; one thing, 
 Painters and paint were legal articles again ; 
 And presently, after things were in train, 
 A sign appeared above Wintacald's door 
 That had in some respects been seen before : 
 ' First Painter to His Majesty the King ' ; 
 And people wondered what would from this spring. 
 
THE ORDER OF THE WINE CUP 101 
 
 II 
 
 Comments were rife. Everyone acknowledged 
 Old Wintacald was getting young. He hedged 
 Himself about with mystery, so much 
 That none of his friends could get within touch 
 Of anything. It grew to be the talk 
 Of all the neighbourhood. His agile walk, 
 And spruce behaviour conquered everyone. 
 All who had then with passing time begun 
 To feel the weight of their unpublished years 
 Came to good Wintacald to change their fears, 
 And have the promise of their youth renewed. 
 'Twas strange the things that afterwards ensued. 
 The aged were no more, for everyone 
 Was youthful, bright, and fair. To all the sun 
 Of a yet younger life seemed to have come. 
 The fame of their proceedings was not dumb, 
 But came at last to the king's royal ears. 
 
 He heard and thought this might in future years 
 Be useful knowledge for himself and friends, 
 Who dedicated age to selfish ends ; 
 So being a wise man he sent to see 
 This fine example of humanity. 
 Accordingly Wintacald came ; he spent 
 Much time conversing mildly with the king, who 
 
 meant 
 To buy this secret if he could, by schemes 
 That are the cherished forfeiture of kingly dreams. 
 But Wintacald would not by any means 
 Divulge or sell, so he went back to his own scenes. 
 
102 TRAMPS AND TROUBADOURS 
 
 III 
 
 It is most strange how custom changes tune. 
 Once man rejected paint as a commercial boon 
 For personal or household decoration. 
 Now he had changed, and art had a vocation. 
 Wintacald had returned a week or two, 
 When one morning early some soldiers drew 
 Up at his door. They told him he must go 
 With them before the king. He could not show 
 Disinclination to accompany 
 The soldiers ; so away he went to see 
 What was the king's desire ; but never more 
 Returned old Wintacald. Some said the door 
 Of life had violently been closed, 
 And he was to eternity exposed. 
 
 The king thought after this, ' I have not yet 
 Gained this secret, neither can I let 
 It slip.' So in a few days more he came, 
 And asked the widow to renounce her name 
 And marry him. Of course she said, ' I will.' 
 But before the marriage she caught a chill 
 Which ended fatally. So after all 
 The king did not secure the right to call 
 This secret his. It was for all to paint, 
 And decorate himself without complaint. 
 
 Even when the savage paints, the dandy 
 Decks himself out in colours fair and handy, 
 That he may capture every woman's eye, 
 And have his vanity prolonged thereby. 
 Next women followed to redeem the art. 
 What man takes up she imitates. 'Tis part 
 Of Nature's plan. She should be satisfied 
 
THE ORDER OF THE WINE CUP 103 
 
 With beauty, which alone can be relied 
 To last. Auxiliaries but waste the fair 
 Appreciation of a woman's air. 
 
 All things are false that on deception rest ; 
 All things are useless that deny the test 
 Of all they have ; trained to deceive the eye, 
 The foolish live but do not see the lie. 
 The next thing was to go to war in ' paint,' 
 A decorative maxim that had no restraint 
 Of fine effect ; it conquered all it saw, 
 And was beyond the virgin power of law. 
 And now you have the whole residual taint 
 That gathered out of this invention quaint ; 
 The office, origin, and cause as well 
 Of these collected facts. That's all we have to tell. 
 
 INTERLUDE 
 
 Gustave had found his tongue at last ; he cried, 
 ' Welcome,' and many of the people sighed 
 To think so fair a story thus cut short, 
 When they had sought for tenderness. A sort 
 Of flattery was murmuring dear praise, 
 And almost there was heralded a craze 
 Of hero-worship. Then Alfonso came 
 Fingering the strings to announce his fame. 
 His mother followed with the mules. She sighed 
 In her love-melting heart, and bravely tried 
 To keep her tears from flowing. Then she saw 
 Her husband dear. Now as her heart would draw 
 Her to embrace him, he seemed not to know 
 That marriage bonds were theirs. Her heart would 
 
 grow 
 Coldly disdainful. ' This the end of all,' 
 
104 TRAMPS AND TROUBADOURS 
 
 She thought, and there was bitterness of gall 
 To sour the sweets of woman's womanhood, 
 And make despair despise her where she stood. 
 ' Had she these weary miles travelled for this ? 
 How had false Fortune taken her amiss ? ' 
 Her heart was sick with weariness and pain, 
 For bitter enmity had won again. 
 ' If he will not acknowledge me, then I 
 Shall still go empty-handed on.' The lie 
 Of love was spoken, and Alfonso too 
 Was distant and contemptuous. He drew 
 The old disdain of feeling round him stern, 
 Shut up his heart in callousness. ' To yearn 
 Against indifference is to outshame 
 All principles. Surely I have a name 
 For nothing, when I full well know how much 
 The accident of fate has done for such 
 Ill-breeders of an outward righteousness.' 
 
 Alaria was much surprised ; excess 
 Of dumb astonishment bewildered him. 
 He half arose and then sank back ; a film 
 Fell on his eyes. He thought, ' How can it be ? ' 
 And passed his hand across his brow. ' To see 
 Her there is strange. Sometime I shall require 
 An explanation, but not now.' Desire 
 Is but the prophet of the will ; its voice 
 Has no divinity in the mind's choice. 
 Oft is silenced, and oft is false, as those 
 Who learn the good, but do it not, and chose 
 Rather by evil courses to abide. 
 
 The Lord 
 Of Boieleux approached ; he could afford 
 To give his patronage, so now to her 
 
THE ORDER OF THE WINE CUP 105 
 
 He came with gallantry : ' No murmur 
 
 Must ye now make if I invite you here 
 
 To join our revels and accept our cheer. 
 
 Thou wilt most truly grace our Order rare, 
 
 Thou and thy worthy son, my lady fair.' 
 
 ' I thank thee, Lord of Boieleux, for all,' 
 
 She answered prettily. Then to a stall 
 
 One led the mules away ; and therewith she 
 
 Was led unto the table bashfully, 
 
 And near my Lord of Boieleux was placed, 
 
 Who thought his hospitality was graced 
 
 Exceedingly, and all things were much to his taste. 
 
 Gustave took up his wand in sudden haste, 
 And looking round he said, ' We must enrol 
 Our brother in the Order. Bring the bowl, 
 And let him drink himself into the name 
 And worthy power of our illustrious fame.' 
 They brought the wine : he drank. Gustave again 
 Took up the order of his pleasing strain, 
 With solemn unction utt'ring this, ' Thus drink 
 To thine immortal power, that fame may link 
 Thee and us in honour. Thus what is mine, 
 The Order sayeth, shall become as thine, 
 And freely all you have ; and what thou hast 
 Make thou the gift of freedom freely to the last, 
 A glory and an honour, joyousness in song, 
 Might with the muses, inspiration strong.' 
 Alfonso raised again the mystic Cup 
 Bearing the foaming body of the wine, drank up 
 With it mysterious impulse new and strange, 
 That made the poet in him reel and change. 
 Gustave again made option of the speaker's choice, 
 And made the silent Order hear his voice. 
 
106 TRAMPS AND TROUBADOURS 
 
 ' Surso Sanca, I herewith do invite 
 
 You to say something that will all delight. 
 
 IV— A CASE OF HANGING IN PURGATORY 
 
 By Surso Sanca 
 
 Purgatory, as you are well aware, 
 Is a peculiar place where souls repair 
 Who are unfitted for the highest place, 
 And must take time to cultivate the grace 
 Of purity, which they have failed to win 
 While on the earth continuing in sin, 
 Before they enter Heav'n free from all taints 
 Accredited the very best of saints, 
 And fit to pose before the public eye 
 As men who to eternity are nigh. 
 And it is pleasing to remember how 
 That even monks who take monastic vow 
 Are still not so much saints as they appear, 
 And in the weakness of humanity too dear 
 Are prone to wander erring in this state, 
 And far from free from sins too delicate 
 To mention — venial predilections these 
 That oft are caused by having too much ease ; 
 And if on earth the saintliest man is weak 
 And sins, in what place shall he freedom seek 
 To overcome the sad declension born 
 Of nature ? How shall he by ruin torn 
 Exemplify that mind that in him dwells, 
 And live his best if everything dispels 
 The sacred opportunity he seeks, 
 When discord and declension make untimely leaks 
 
THE ORDER OF THE WINE CUP 107 
 
 In the fine ship of Promise he commands 
 Too often run aground on foreign strands ? 
 
 'Tis thus a moral gravity began 
 To be considered necessary ; man 
 Must have a breathing-place, a final stand, 
 Where he may take his mind's depravity in hand, 
 And make the most of what he is — to mar 
 Himself for ever here or to unbar 
 The gates of his incompetence, and take 
 The golden harp of Purity, and make 
 Himself the author of a new desire. 
 
 Illegible are purposes that have no fire 
 Of unity and honesty, and this 
 Is how most men most often go amiss, 
 Because they read not right the words of truth 
 Committing unto them sweet Virtue's youth 
 To hold and have in stewardship, till Time 
 Shall make them warders of another clime ; 
 But these security of trust deny, 
 And make themselves an idol of a lie 
 Regarding not the giver. They the gift 
 Tarnish and soil ; no power can from them lift 
 The hoary sign of evil drugged with death, 
 That bears them down to ruin at each breath. 
 
 No pleasant place is Purgatory yet, 
 Though all these ages have flown o'er ; a jet- 
 Black mount grim-faced receives the sinners flown 
 From earth. Here penitentiary tears are sown, 
 Thick as the grain-sown field ; the bitter flood 
 Has caused no blithe green-springing ear to bud 
 Out of the acrid soil of wheat or bean, 
 But mournful aspects everywhere are seen. 
 
108 TRAMPS AND TROUBADOURS 
 
 The world-worn cry of lamentation wakes 
 
 Live-long echoes out of hills and brakes 
 
 Where sad winds pensive-eyed and cold retreat 
 
 In weariness, with heavy-hearted feet. 
 
 Here men and women in official hands 
 
 Await the sentence liberty commands, 
 
 That Mass of Church and prayer of weeping friend, 
 
 Lift, lighten, or imperatively end ; 
 
 The former by subscription wonders work 
 
 Effectual proved. Here no deceptions lurk, 
 
 For Mother Church deceives not nor can err, 
 
 As I can honestly for her aver ; 
 
 For by one Mass substantially paid, 
 
 A soul is liberated and is made 
 
 At once inheritor of Paradise, 
 
 Whereas small sums but slowly slack the vice, 
 
 That holds the soul in purgatorial woe. 
 
 It was approaching cock-crow, as we go 
 By time, and the sick, yellow, waning moon 
 Was slowly drawing on her hood to noon 
 Herself away in sweet, exhilarating sleep, 
 When the drear bell of Matins, to make weep 
 The sad community of shiv'ring souls, 
 Tolled dismally. Three Bishops, copes and stoles, 
 Conducted Mass, and comforted the meek, 
 Who were from long confinement getting weak, 
 And the harsh brevity of friends at prayers, 
 Who thought not of their sorrows, fears, or cares. 
 They looked for freedom till each face was thin, 
 Expecting every day Heav'n to enter in. 
 O now there were new-comers who had still 
 Hope in humanity ; these had the will 
 And heart to abjure all profanity, 
 
THE ORDER OF THE WINE CUP 109 
 
 And held that Faith had not in vanity 
 
 Forgotten to become their pleader dear, 
 
 And succour them while they could shed a tear. 
 
 It is with these late-comers that we deal 
 Who now before the altar gently kneel, 
 And are by holy hands of Bishop blest, 
 And eke by their own souls oft prudently caresst. 
 Sir Hugo and his Lady Constance, these were they, 
 Who had together died in one short day, 
 As married people ought, then there would be 
 No separation nor diversity 
 Of views, when after years they meet again. 
 Now these were provident in useless pain ; 
 They shed no tears ; no heavy-handed fear 
 Oppressed their souls ; they were full of good cheer 
 That they had landed safely from Time's sea. 
 
 Now Mass was o'er ; they to eternity 
 Were welcomed by the listless sad, who smiled 
 But once in all their lives, faintly and mild, 
 Like a sad sun behind a watery cloud, 
 Who shines and passes from the world. A crowd 
 Had gathered round these twain — souls spiritless, 
 And spirits with wan, soulless eyes, whose dress 
 Was shadowy, slim, and white, whose presence seemed 
 As unsubstantial as if one about them dreamed. 
 A figure from these forward stept ; a youth 
 Was he, Igoe by name, and he in truth 
 Was more a shade than shadowy. His eyes, 
 Fixed on the lady with a new surprise, 
 Kindled with pleasure ; o'er him spread delight ; 
 Her beauty charmed him, for it seemed like light 
 In darkness ; now old memories revived, 
 That had long slept, for he had been deprived 
 
110 TRAMPS AND TROUBADOURS 
 
 Suddenly of life, when Love had begun 
 To be the fairest unto him. She seemed as one 
 Who then was winsomeness to him, the fair 
 Maiden of his dreams of admirable air. 
 
 'Tis strange how love as a seed-germ remains 
 Buried in heart-soil, yet no life sustains, 
 Even through death and change ; Time passes o'er ; 
 Spheres vanish ; new worlds rise ; yet the hid ore 
 Is left untarnished still. A touch of soul 
 Breaks the sealed sepulchre to sudden roll 
 The stone away, and let the spirit rise 
 In the sweet sun of day with joyful eyes. 
 So Igoe found again the seed of love 
 Spring lightly virgin-green ; joy rose above 
 His spirit's power to measure. Thus said he, 
 ' Art thou Constance ? Dost thou remember me ? 
 I am Igoe.' Slowly a wonder grew 
 In her slow-moving eyes, tender and blue, 
 As rose-red Eve looks forth from rifted West, 
 Mild-eyed, as backward turns departing guest, 
 From a soft hood of blushing cloud, to gaze 
 Upon the slowly passing world, ablaze 
 With violet-tinted gold, she may not see 
 Again. And now she gazed full tenderly 
 On him, and said, ' Thou art in very truth 
 Igoe and no other, my own sweet youth. 
 O, that I had died with thee ! ' Then her face 
 She bowed in her small hands and wept apace. 
 He, moved to sorrow by her torrent grief 
 That oped harsh wounds, would lay the healing leaf 
 Of sympathy on sadness ; and thus said, 
 ' Weep not, think not, for all the past is dead 
 From henceforth ; no more need to sorrow, sweet. 
 
THE ORDER OF THE WINE CUP 111 
 
 I see thy past, I see how sorrows eat 
 With weariness thy heart, and all thy ways 
 Have naught but tragic endings to thy days. 
 I know how forcing thee to wed thy heart 
 Has not with him true wedded lot and part. 
 Therefore weep thou no more, for here are free 
 All who in sad unequal bonds have chanced to be.' 
 
 Sir Hugo 'mid cold Purgatory walked 
 Alone, reviewing things he oft had talked 
 Of doing, when a fitting opportunity 
 Should have presented an immunity 
 From other cares and troubles. Now he had 
 Full time to do it all, and to be glad 
 That his old purpose could be put to proof. 
 But somehow he was not glad ; all aloof 
 The heart of gladness was from him. He sighed, 
 And to adjust the balance of his virtue tried, 
 But all was weak and futile — hard of heart 
 He felt no new established order on his part 
 Arise out of this change of new experience. 
 When everything was now at variance 
 With all his former nourished scheme of power. 
 His life he had divided 'tween two dreams ; the hour 
 Had come for final test ; and he had found 
 That shallow as his heart had been his ground 
 Of hope. The one was to gain all he could 
 In this lower world, and then all he would 
 'Twere easy to gain in the next. A saint 
 He would become at once, confess the taint 
 Of sin, and thus escape all punishment 
 That would befall on day of banishment 
 Into the sickly atmosphere of Hell. 
 He had not found that everything went well 
 
112 TRAMPS A^fD TROUBADOURS 
 
 As he expected, even now his heart 
 Was beating faster than it did at start. 
 
 This great expedition to eternity 
 Was fraught with fears. Heredity 
 Had not a charge to manifest against him here ; 
 It could not weigh him down with crippled leer 
 Of what his coarse forefathers were : their son 
 Was lord in his own right ; and had begun 
 A continental journey strange and new. 
 But other fears beset him which he knew 
 Were perilous. He felt their presence chill 
 Approach harsh and defiant 'gainst his will. 
 
 Before him stood a maiden beautiful. 
 She was the Bishop's daughter. He was full 
 Of great excitement bred of interest. 
 A pleasurable feeling did arrest 
 His whole attention ; he began to feel 
 That things were not so bad but they might heal 
 Their wounds and his : so hoping better things 
 He made her this address, and thus begins, 
 ' Fair maid, stranger am I, wilt thou not pity me, 
 And be my friend ? Do thou speak graciously, 
 And be my guide through these abhorrent plains, 
 Where sadness wears no aspect but that pains ? ' 
 She answered him, ' I know thee not, but an 
 Thou be a stranger, even though a man, 
 I will show thee the charity of peace.' 
 He was delighted, and when she did cease 
 He questioned thus, ' And what thy name, fair maid ? ' 
 She said, ' Zerita, and thine ? ' A smile played 
 Fitfully round those sweet mirth-loving lips 
 From which the secret fancy of deception slips 
 When they would man's perfection overcome. ' O, I, 
 
THE ORDER OF THE WINE CUP 1-13 
 
 Sir Hugo of the Rhine, and for thee I would die.' 
 
 ' Fair sir, you cannot die again,' she said, 
 
 ' Cold death is dead himself ' — laughing as she swift 
 
 read 
 His eyes of wonder — ' Let us now go on, 
 And see what may be seen.' Her bright eyes shone 
 With equal-handed mirth that joyed to tease, 
 And eke with some disparity to please. 
 He was already lost in love ; he smiled, 
 Spoke lightly as she spoke, now loud and wild, 
 As deeper stroke of love, sharp-edged and swift, 
 Struck in his heart. A tenderness would lift 
 His spirit over clods of dullness and despair, 
 And give him all at once an angel's look and air. 
 
 'In Heav'n they do not marry, neither do 
 They give in marriage,' Igoe said ; ' and you 
 Cannot be married either here or there. 
 For though you are his wife by name, no share 
 In marriage have you truly with him, nor 
 Can have, since love is not 'twixt you, therefore 
 Spiritually, you are not his wife. 
 And since there be no love what is but strife ? 
 What binds but love ? and lacking love, what makes 
 Marriage a holy bond ? All else is strife that shakes 
 The temple of true honour down. Shall bliss 
 Be lost to us for fear of empty fear ? And this 
 Is naught but strife, dishonour, and a fraud ; 
 A lie, that perishes as useless gaud 
 Before the presence of eternal truth, 
 Spotless and pure, and mighty in free youth.' 
 She stood in silence with clasped hands low hung 
 Before her, and head sideways bent. Loud rung 
 His words through her still memory, as runs 
 Bold word through empty halls, where quick'ning suns 
 
 H 
 
114 TRAMPS AND TROUBADOURS 
 
 Had revelled not, calling the dead to life, 
 And challenging fear-stricken Silence to new strife, 
 Before whose loud assault the walls break down, 
 And winds rush through, bearing to the dull ground 
 The long forgotten dust of countless dead, 
 Whose stricken hearts had fallen here and bled — 
 The cloud of mem'ry's witnesses — and sunk, 
 Dragged to the earth, as hemlock poison they had 
 
 drunk, 
 O'ercome with sorrow. Thus she mused and thought 
 Of the far past. Deliberation sought 
 To weigh the ranks of reason. Love assigned 
 No reason why she now should be confined 
 To sorrow always ; therefore, she replied, 
 And all harsh customs' sanctity defied, 
 ' What wouldst thou then ? ' He said, ' Let us twain 
 
 be, 
 As if we had been wed, through all eternity 
 Rejoicing ever in our love. Then we shall know 
 All sweetness, peace, and joy ; and we shall go 
 Where pleasant waters run, green fields and bowers 
 Where love and freedom are for ever ours.' 
 She answered, smiling joyfully, ' I am 
 Agreed. 'Tis justice that this be.' Tears swam 
 In her blue eyes so heav'nly sweet. She saw 
 That Heav'n had writ for her another law 
 Of freedom, sweetness, purity, and peace, 
 Whereon her tears found joyful new release. 
 
 ' Zerita, fair,' said Sir Hugo, ' lovest thou me ? ' 
 Her drooping eyes were fixed upon the ground : and 
 
 he 
 Was pressing suppliant his claim to ask, 
 Not thinking whether he ,was master of his task, 
 
THE ORDER OF THE WINE CUP 115 
 
 Or whether she desired or no this love 
 
 Of which he thought so much. Some men make love 
 
 That is beyond their compass to attain. 
 
 Their ships sail seas in other spheres ; amain 
 
 They strive by pole-star, loadstar to steer true 
 
 For this fair haven anxiously in view ; 
 
 But from the courses of their narrow hemispheres 
 
 They cannot pass, though they shed many tears. 
 
 Blindly across the seas at every rising cape 
 
 With blurred eyes gaze they ; altered course they 
 
 shape ; 
 And see but barren deserts looming up ; 
 They drink of disappointments' bitter cup, 
 These love-lorn mariners lost in love-quest, 
 And see not other havens open wait their rest. 
 
 Zerita smiled. He thought she favoured him ; 
 And at this thought his heart was leaving him ; 
 And he smooth waters felt against his keel 
 Surging musical. Pleasure soft would steal • 
 Into his heart when thus she spake, ' This thing 
 Is very sudden, and I cannot bring 
 My heart to love thee thus. Some other time 
 Perhaps I shall make answer, when the clime 
 Of Love has into richer summer pass'd.' 
 Therewith he had to be content. He cast 
 About for ways and means to please, and make 
 Her love him for his own delightful sake. 
 
 Three days thereafter the good Bishop came, 
 And called Sir Hugo by his worthless name, 
 And said, ' I have a duty to perform, 
 Which grieves me greatly : to avoid a storm 
 It is most necessary now to speak.' 
 He paused. Sir Hugo looked exceeding meek. 
 
116 TRAMPS AND TROUBADOURS 
 
 And wondered what was coming next. Again 
 
 The Bishop spake, ' I do not wish to pain 
 
 Anyone here, but this I cannot pass. 
 
 My daughter, sir, is married, a nice lass, 
 
 'Tis true, but notwithstanding you must cease 
 
 To pay her those attentions. Your decease 
 
 Does not confer upon you liberty to make 
 
 Scandals in Purgatory. For the sake 
 
 Of peace this warning has been given ; you 
 
 Will find yourself in Hell if you renew 
 
 This intercourse. Take my advice ; look well 
 
 To what your wife is doing. I can tell 
 
 That there is something wrong.' The Bishop turned 
 
 Away. Sir Hugo's conscience in him burned, 
 
 And Fear and Anger battered at his heart 
 
 For entrance. He from thence did soon depart 
 
 To see what the good Bishop meant. 
 
 He found 
 Igoe and Constance in close converse bound. 
 At once he grasped the situation. There 
 Was proof sufficient that the gentle fair 
 Had been unfaithful ; he no more desired ; 
 But with a host of angry passions fired 
 Came like a whirlwind on the twain. He seized 
 Igoe, and saying only, ' I am pleased 
 To have arrived in time ; now I shall make 
 An example of you for the sweet sake 
 Of Purgatory,' dragged him off by feet 
 To a lank withered tree that stood to meet 
 The eastern wind alone. 
 
 There is a bracing air 
 In Purgatory that requires some care 
 In regulating, else man may decline 
 
THE ORDER OF THE WINE CUP 117 
 
 In venturing to Heav'n ; like to strong wine 
 
 Intoxicating ev'ry generous desire, 
 
 Each budding sense setting unhappily on fire — 
 
 The rising youth of growing virtue frail, 
 
 That should have been engaged in making sail 
 
 On the good ship Purity for Heaven, 
 
 When they were thus o'ertaken by the seven 
 
 Deadly sins, that sweeps the good away 
 
 That they have been so busy storing day by day. 
 
 Here at the very outset, here was one 
 Who had but lately on this work begun, 
 Carried away by this rare purity 
 
 Which should have been his making — more's the pity — 
 Fired by Passion and completely sacked. 
 He drew his captive to a tree ; he lacked 
 No spur of enmity to make his hatred felt ; 
 Upon him many blows he fiercely dealt ; 
 And lastly strung him up by heels to tree, 
 And left him dangling there full merrily. 
 He laughed ; this brazen-hearted churl laughed long 
 To see the agony he liked well to prolong, 
 That might not soon be ended. Know ye not 
 That ease by death can never more be got, 
 When into Purgatory men have slept 
 After the last farewell when they from sleep have stept. 
 
 Sir Hugo was accustomed to defend 
 His old Rhine Castle thus — that is, those to suspend 
 From his high walls on whom he could lay hands, 
 Who were not willing to obey commands 
 And give him their fat purses. These he strung 
 Without deliberation high as Haman hung, 
 And left them there to dangle, warning all 
 That it was necessary not to call 
 
118 TRAMPS AND TROUBADOURS 
 
 Unless they were prepared to forfeit life or purse. 
 
 Those who escaped received his hearty curse, 
 
 And were reminded that some other time 
 
 He should great pleasure have in giving them a climb 
 
 Up his gallows-tree at a small expense, 
 
 Which would but go to lighten the defence 
 
 He was obliged to carry on to keep himself alive. 
 
 His fame became so great he could not thrive 
 
 Any longer by waiting for his prey 
 
 To fall into his net in open day, 
 
 "When unsuspecting persons shelter sought, 
 
 And were with reasonable caution caught. 
 
 But he must foray forth and ambush lay 
 
 For useful persons passing by that way. 
 
 Here also he would count it no great loss 
 
 To string a dozen up at once ; the moss 
 
 Would make a soft and easy fall for them, 
 
 When their hemp halters rotted off the stem. 
 
 Thus he was skilful in the practice of this art 
 
 Of hanging men by heels or heads, apart 
 
 From neatness in the operation here. 
 
 In Purgatory the old habit did appear 
 
 Spontaneous and natural : to this 
 
 Resource inadvertently he turned ; he could miss 
 
 All trouble thus, an easy expeditious way 
 
 Of settling disputes, or those who would not pay. 
 
 When Constance fair beheld what had been done, 
 Swiftly through Purgatory she did run 
 Into the Bishop's palace, and there told 
 The dreadful thing done by Sir Hugo bold. 
 The Bishop rose in wrath and hasted out 
 To see what all this scandal was about. 
 He ran along, calling all whom he met 
 
THE ORDER OF THE WINE CUP 119 
 
 To help him now if they to Heav'n desired to get, 
 
 So that when he arrived a crowd he drew 
 
 Behind him to the place where Hugo slew, 
 
 Or tried to. An experiment no doubt 
 
 To see how much men could be put about. 
 
 Igoe could just with outstretched fingers touch 
 
 The ground, he was not able to do much 
 
 Besides. Hugo was thus addressing him, 
 
 And laughing harshly all the time with grim, 
 
 Loud laugh, ' Why not be merry, eat and drink ? 
 
 Take cheer ; the branch is sure sometime to sink ; 
 
 The grass is growing higher every hour. 
 
 You will have much to eat and drink. A shower 
 
 Will fall at times refreshing you. The sun by day 
 
 Will give you heat, by night the frost will lay 
 
 Hands of blessing on you. Why need you fear ? 
 
 You will have pleasure for many a year, 
 
 Much more than I.' The people heard him speak, 
 
 The Bishop also heard, no longer mild and meek. 
 
 He said, ' What's this your doing now ? ' and drew 
 
 Nearer to him. Sir Hugo into anger flew, 
 
 ' What's that to thee ? ' The Bishop answered, ' I 
 
 Am ruler here,' and drew a weary sigh. 
 
 ' You must remember my authority 
 
 Is binding. Here my word is law. 'Tis a pity 
 
 Thou livest not at peace. Now let him be unbound, 
 
 And kneel thou seventy days upon the ground 
 
 In penance.' Then Sir Hugo cried, ' I kneel ? 
 
 Kneel not I ever ! ' and upon his heel 
 
 Turned away. The good Bishop sighed, ' 'Tis best 
 
 For thee to pray for pardon that thy soul may rest.' 
 
 ' Look ye,' Sir Hugo said, ' 'tis worse for thee 
 
 To let thy prating tongue run loose,' and he, 
 
 Face red with wrath, eyes blazing wild, mouth set, 
 
120 TRAMPS AND TROUBADOURS 
 
 Laid sudden hold upon the rev'rent man ; and yet 
 
 While all th' assembled souls stood round amazed, 
 
 And on the struggles of their Bishop gazed, 
 
 He was already hanging high and dry 
 
 Upon the tree. Not one of them did try 
 
 To rescue him, but laughed as if they thought 
 
 The Bishop was justly in tribulation caught. 
 
 Sir Hugo then spake thus to them, ' I will 
 Be your Bishop, and make nowise so ill 
 A Bishop either.' ' Yes,' they said, ' 'tis well. 
 We care not for the Bishop or his bell, 
 For he has been hard upon our spirits.' 
 Therefore they left him hanging ; he had fits 
 Of anger, tears and sighs, as hope outburns, 
 Imploring and reviling them by turns, 
 Who scoffed at everything he said, and went 
 Away upon a round of pleasure bent. 
 
 Purgatory was turned into a wild 
 Of sensual delights ; no sadness smiled, 
 Wan and dejected 'mid disconsolating sights ; 
 But all was full of joyful, musical delights. 
 Pleasure was drunk with wine ; all day there rang 
 The reckless mirth of revellers who sang 
 Drunken songs ; and all night long there chill broke 
 The dismal echo of debauch, that spoke 
 Harsh things of Chastity. Evil was wild — 
 Let loose in Purgatory so often sad and mild. 
 Constance and Zerita fled swift away 
 Into the rocks, and hid themselves all day, 
 And all night long in fear and dread they sat 
 To hear the wind's blood-curdling tale. They gat 
 Them further off where they might hear no more. 
 
 The Devil rejoiced in Hell to see a new door 
 
THE ORDER OF THE WINE CUP 121 
 
 Opened for him. He thought, ' Well, let it be, 
 I shall have everyone, as we shall see.' 
 
 The riot was in Heav'n heard. One said, 
 ' What meaneth this ? ' Ah angel therewith sped 
 To see what was amiss. The babble grew, 
 And pierced his ears with discord, wild and new. 
 He saw Sir Hugo flushed with wine, at head 
 Of drunken babblers sit. The angel shed 
 Some tears of sorrowful distress. He sought 
 The Bishop high and low, until he caught 
 Sight of him hanging on a dismal tree. 
 He hastened up and cut him tenderly 
 From his uncomfortable roost, and gave 
 Him then a powerful cordial to save 
 The bloodless essences from oozing out 
 Altogether from his thin spirit. A glad shout 
 He gave, and Igoe also was relieved, 
 And taken down, though very much aggrieved 
 At being thus allowed to hang. 
 
 These three 
 Then to the Bishop's palace went to see 
 What could be done, but when the Bishop saw 
 That everyone was lost from grace and law, 
 He called for his book and he called for bell, 
 And cursed them all to live for twenty years in Hell 
 As penance, but the greatest curse of all 
 He gave Sir Hugo for this bitter fall 
 Of Purgatorial souls. The angel pluckt 
 Sir Hugo up and deep in Hell safe tuckt 
 Him in a burning bed of stones ; his head 
 Alone above the ground appeared ; he shed 
 Most bitter tears that hissed upon the stones, 
 But never quenched the fire, nor ceased his moans. 
 
122 TRAMPS AND TROUBADOURS 
 
 The others also were cast into Hell, 
 And then the Bishop laid aside his bell. 
 
 It was decreed that no more Purgatorial vine 
 Should be allowed to grow, therefore no wine 
 Nor evil thing should be allowed to shelter there 
 To lead poor souls astray. The freezing air 
 Was lessened somewhat as concession new 
 By spiritual powers, who had in view 
 The raising of the mass, and gaining votes 
 From spirits out of patience with Collective Notes. 
 
 Constance and Zerita now finding things 
 Exceeding still, came out to see what brings 
 This unusual peace : further they went 
 Cautious and slow with all their senses bent 
 To listen for an enemy. They came 
 With quicker step, speaking their father's, lover's 
 
 name 
 Before the Bishop's palace, where they saw 
 The three conferring on the execution of the law. 
 These twain ran boist'rous up o'erjoyed to find 
 Every evil vanished and everything defined 
 In natural limits. They all embraced, 
 And gently conversed on all dangers past defaced. 
 Then they all for Heav'n departed, and there 
 They were received with honour. Thence all care 
 Fled from their brows, and they were set in peace, 
 Freedom their envoy, joy their sweet release. 
 
 Soon after this another Bishop ruled 
 In Purgatory, where poor souls are schooled 
 Preparatory to their exit hence 
 Into another sphere, that needed no defence 
 Except that perfect state when nothing new 
 
THE ORDER OF THE WINE CUP 123 
 
 Can shake the passions or distort the view. 
 
 And ever after Purgatory has been calm : 
 
 Selective, mediatorial balm 
 
 Has been the only essence ever known, 
 
 Out of the region of reflection shown, 
 
 To keep the giddy spirit from reproach 
 
 When sweet, seductive pleasures blithe approach. 
 
 INTERLUDE 
 
 The Order made applause ; and brightly shone 
 The monk's convivial face that beamed upon 
 The audience. The ruddy sunrise of his smile 
 Surprised the weak ; delighted without guile 
 The unsuspecting changeling of a dream ; 
 Who looked for life, but found naught but a beam 
 Of straying light ; who knew nothing of life ; 
 Nor the exultant warfare of Time's strife ; 
 Who felt that passions were as false as dreams, 
 As profitless as when pale Virtue wildly screams 
 When she disguises real with seeming fears, 
 And wards suspicion off by helpless tears. 
 
 There was a general and loud applause. 
 Alfonso, too, was named by all the laws 
 A troubadour. He had the feather of distinction 
 
 gained — 
 A badge of honour. Many men had strained, 
 But had not won this gifted primal crest. 
 He having won, now thought it time to rest. 
 By accident he sat him in the shade, 
 Himself quite overcome, beside a maid, 
 Who was a lovely creature by the rood, 
 A fairy face, indeed, beneath a hood 
 That altogether was bewitching, set 
 
124 TRAMPS AND TROUBADOURS 
 
 On some brown curls that crept about and let 
 The sunlight play love-making 'mid the threads 
 Of silken braids coiled neatly up. She spreads 
 Her apron out more smoothly and looks coy — 
 Downwards and sideways at the minstrel boy. 
 She would fain love him it was easy seen, 
 And sought by little ways to come between 
 Him and the plaudits that were being showered 
 By all the Order that Gustave empowered. 
 He at this moment rose, and solemn said, 
 ' We will continue,' as if he had read 
 Out of a book, ' these feasts in the morning, 
 When we shall be prepared for anything 
 That may be said, with fresher thoughts and free, 
 And more delight in Fortune's gaiety. 
 
 So for that day the Order was dispersed ; 
 Some to their own desires were now addressed ; 
 And others in the way of mortal man, 
 Chose out the ladies of their love, to fan 
 Their waiting hearts into a keener flame, 
 And wandered off with them. Each willing dame, 
 Coyly persuasive of her lovely charms 
 Smiled compliant, chaste 'gainst all sinful harms. 
 
 Some still sat by the board beneath the bloom 
 Of the fair orange bowers, and in the gloom 
 Of shady arbourage conned o'er the parts, 
 That each had taken, critics of the arts 
 Of melody and verse. It was the wine 
 That these attracted more ; they praised the vine 
 More than the poetry of the troubadours. 
 The sparkle of the wine their heart allures 
 More than Love's music in the songs. 
 
THE ORDER OF THE WINE CUP 125 
 
 And some 
 The fiery spirits of the times cried, ' Come, 
 Let's have a dance,' and hasted to begin 
 By bringing up an idle mandoline. 
 Then quickly everyone 'gan to confess 
 A mystic intuition to caress, 
 Their heart-felt longings, cravings of raptiire, 
 That had besieged them therewith without cure 
 To pleasure. Soon was the gay dance begun, 
 And men and maids were happy as the run 
 Of music bountifully light bore them away 
 Full glad, and frolicsome, and ever gay. 
 
 So went the songful day mercurial, light ; 
 Joy's inmost, latest, fanciful delight 
 Confessed its gayest innocence in every ear, 
 While ladies in the shade were looking queer. 
 'There's for your hopefulness, my sister sweet,' 
 Said one contemptuous, as twain did meet 
 According to a chance conspicious, 
 That was desired and formed to make them thus 
 Approach, regardless of the public ire 
 Or any other source of peril dire. 
 At the swift lighting of an eye, maids' hearts 
 Sometimes burst into sudden fire ; the arts 
 Are all forgotton save the one great aim 
 Of being great in love or else in shame. 
 
 These were — 
 Doubtless they had the gain of the lover — 
 The fair poetic Hun Alaria, 
 And the dark Spanish maid Cecilia. 
 But now from out the tower a trumpet-blast 
 
126 TRAMPS AND TROUBADOURS 
 
 Made ev'ry joy to cease ; some were aghast 
 At this suprising strain. Gustave for one, 
 The worldly-wise, astute, who knowledge won, 
 Was smiling quietly to himself. He said, ' Sustain 
 Yourselves a little, 'tis dinner again.' 
 
IV 
 
 WOOINGS AND COUNTER- 
 WOOINGS 
 
 The Lord of Boieleux full of a happy thought 
 Sought Adria, the maid forlorn, and brought 
 Her into shelter of his four high towers, 
 Requesting her to be at home. ' The hours 
 For dinner are soon after noon to two,' 
 He said. And then he left her to some maids, 
 
 who drew 
 Out sev'ral dresses rich in silks and lace, 
 And wished repeatedly that in her place 
 They were, considering that to be poor 
 Was next to being dead, or never sure 
 Of one hour from the next how they might dine. 
 But Adria heard not the maidens pine 
 After fine things, for in the present shine 
 Of pearls and silks and diamonds her fine 
 Poetic nature was put out. She hardly knew 
 Whether to take or leave, but thought her cue 
 Was to float on the tide of fortune now set in. 
 ' There is my son,' she thought, ' poor fellow, thin 
 He is becoming fast. How shall I see 
 Him die before my eyes in poverty 
 
128 TRAMPS AND TROUBADOURS 
 
 When here are riches, fame, and everything 
 That he would most desire. No, I shall cling 
 To my appropriate pursuit now, since none 
 Else care for me.' She therefore in the fun 
 Entered of making up, and very fine 
 She looked indeed ; and then she went to dine. 
 
 As Boieleux withdrew he deeply mused 
 About the hall, ' I have been once refused, 
 Surely I may meet Happiness again, 
 And this time hold her fast. Why should disdain 
 Of one dishearten me ? If I could will 
 This Hun Alaria to cease — but still 
 There are some ways of being equal yet 
 With men who ought in Paradise to be high set, 
 But nothing should be done in haste. The care 
 Of all things waits on time. Most pleasing fair 
 Is she, and sweet and nice in ev'ry way. 
 But in what rags she came. And now that day 
 Is past. All poverty she'll leave behind, 
 And I shall have no further care on mind.' 
 And even at that moment out she came 
 Most wonderfully dressed, and spake his name. 
 She every way appeared a courtly dame, 
 Perfect as lady whom no ill shall shame. 
 He was delighted. In his heart he thought, 
 ' So much for dress. Appearance may be bought, 
 But now for mind and manners.' This moment 
 In the comparisons of conversation bent, 
 Alaria and fair Cecilia 
 
 Came in. Then sudden Boieleux thought, ' Ha ! 
 I think I see a way within my power 
 Of getting out of troubles in an hour.' 
 He turned away in order to be steady 
 
WOOINGS AND COUNTER-WOOINGS 129 
 
 When Master Domus cried, ' Dinner is raady.' 
 Therefore they went away— Lords, Ladies, all 
 Into the precincts of the dining-hall. 
 
 The Lord of Boieleux was looking grave 
 As they all gaily trooped up to the stave 
 Of tinkling mandolines and sharp guitars 
 Into the festal hall. The gay hussars 
 Or lancers of the time were proudly drest 
 In all the splendours of their ancient crest 
 And military ornaments. The flash 
 Of ladies' dresses intermingled dash 
 Of soldiery, and made a pleasing range 
 Of colour and rich gaiety. A change 
 Was interspersed by holy brethren 
 From the great monastery near — not more than ten 
 Minutes' walk away. In garbs monastic 
 They were quite jovial. Charms scholastic 
 Perhaps had ripened them for future years 
 When they should dry their eyes from childish tears, 
 And look on life in that gay humour prized 
 By men of noble mark who self denied. 
 
 The banquet spread was gay and glorious ; 
 The height of revelry was furious ; 
 And in the midst the Lord of Boieleux 
 Looked grave, for now of life another view 
 He had that morning taken. Truth to tell 
 He had been placed with pleasure in the spell 
 Of the fair Spanish maid, and yet now, 
 Though he would fain deny with oath and vow, 
 In spite of her rejection he still felt 
 The consequence of love in his heart melt, 
 And give the answer he hoped not to hear, 
 And yet would willingly receive, if fear 
 
 I 
 
130 TKAMJPS AJN1J TKUUJSAUUUKS 
 
 Would not repudiate his hope. Cecilia, 
 She was in Castile born, sat next Alaria ; 
 She was a very graceful maid ; and not far off 
 Was Boieleux the brave, who seemed to scoff 
 With neighbours twain — .fair maids. Surso Sanca, 
 Who had that morning come, beside Alaria 
 Was jovial as ever. Boieleux 
 Requested all his guests to drink. 
 
 Swift flew 
 The angry sword of jealousy outright 
 From its dark sheath, with raging hatred white, 
 Driven to rise, and through his heart it drew 
 First its keen edge. It has no power to woo 
 The life-blood of its foe unless it stand 
 Bared from the heart that knew it ; so the hand 
 Takes up the living blade, and strikes entrenched 
 In its own life-blood, burning with unquenched 
 Revengefulness, in which the slaughtered heart 
 Rages undying, till it death impart. 
 So was the Lord of Boieleux full deep 
 In pain. He was the bravest knight to keep 
 The battle vigilant, nor knew he fear — 
 Undaunted in the face of bristling spear 
 And stern steel-wall of mail. He was far famed 
 For gallant knightliness ; no equal named 
 Had he in all the land ; in honour he 
 Was held for gentleness and charity. 
 Yet now he had a mystic fight to win, 
 An enemy who galled him much to sin 
 Against his fair honour and gentleness. 
 He was considered all for manliness ; 
 Yet here there was a lady fair to see 
 Had grieven him to death thus merrily. 
 
WOOINGS AND COUNTER-WOOINGS 131 
 
 v 
 
 He was perplexed sore, and oftentimes 
 Prayed fervently to die beneath the limes. 
 
 Ah ! yes, it was the same when he had seen 
 Her first in fair Castile. The naked sheen 
 Of his bright sword would have been welcomed then 
 To take him out of life and hope, or ken 
 Of everything. Upon the great croysade 
 He had then gone, but he could not evade 
 The beauty of his lady fair. She held 
 Him with a spell no war had ever quelled. 
 In all the holy wars he foughten well, 
 And many a Saracen head was left to tell 
 The doughty vengeance of his mighty blade. 
 There on the desert sands they oft had laid 
 While the bright stars of Syria overhead 
 Had welcomed their great deeds, while many bled 
 Unto a death full glorious to them. 
 The Holy City of Jerusalem 
 They had gone forth to rescue ; infidel 
 Saracens they were that held it. Who could tell 
 But they had gone to Paradise ? So mused 
 The brave knight Boieleux ; he now excused 
 His silence thus : ' Thou hast much patience, maid. 
 Do not unkindly think of me ; upbraid 
 Me rather for my lack of chivalry.' 
 ' My Lord,' she said — her eyes would ever be 
 Fixed on Alaria, and distant fell 
 Her words in dreariness as muffled bell 
 Stifled in gloom — ' Fret not thyself for me ; 
 I am content in patient poverty 
 To rest, or what may chance to be my lot.' 
 Then she was silent. He thereafter got 
 No further words from her. In silence too 
 
132 TRAMPS AND TROUBADOURS 
 
 He went away unwillingly ; nor flew 
 One passing change of pity o'er her face, 
 But when away she sighed, and took new grace 
 Of heart, and thought herself in pleasant ease 
 That all her troubles had so wondrous peace. 
 
 And while amid heart-ease Adria strove 
 To hide her melancholy it more throve, 
 And gained upon her mightily, for she 
 Was much in love and sighed full tenderly. 
 Alaria, if paying little heed 
 Was watchful too, yet in the good monk's creed 
 Was vastly overjoyed, for cheerful smiled 
 The full monastic face. A broad and mild 
 Benignity was rip'ning in repose. 
 A touch of glory was upon the nose, 
 And merry twinkled those convivial eyes, 
 A jollity of heart, e'en as he sighs 
 With a requiescat on his full lips to know 
 The empty cup, while still the last drops go 
 Contentedly. He thinks upon the mead 
 And the exact proportion of its speed, 
 Also how rich the vintage of the past 
 Is to the vile production of the last. 
 ' Much of the rubbish that is made to-day 
 Is called good wine. I have a mind to say 
 This paradox contemptuous, that this, 
 Which is not fit to give away amiss, 
 Is not worth spoiling to be kept, to go 
 Into the caller's hands, who does not know 
 Either the good or the indifferent, 
 And would drink aught you gave him if well sent 
 With hospitable axiom — a hint 
 That it was priceless.' He then gave a squint 
 
WOOINGS AND COUNTER-WOOINGS 133 
 
 Across the table at a pompous man 
 
 Dressed in the finest knightliness. Then, ' Can 
 
 You see him f ' turning to the smiling Hun. 
 
 ' He was just newly made a knight. He won 
 
 The welcome of a chance desire, nor yet 
 
 Is he in his new dignity quite set, 
 
 But carries all his bravery about 
 
 As if someone would try to cast a doubt 
 
 On the reality of his ascent 
 
 To fame, but as it is his grace is spent 
 
 Already in the wonder of the times. 
 
 Upon a visit in these very climes 
 
 I made him of congratulation, he, 
 
 As if I knew no better, ordered me 
 
 Some of the cheapest rubbish he could mint, 
 
 With a fair name and label without stint, 
 
 And I have never ceased to think of him 
 
 As one who for good milk produces skim.' 
 
 The knight turned calmly round, and thus he 
 said 
 To Alaria, ' Have you ever read 
 How monks in monasteries get their wine 
 Without paying custom on the poor man's vine ? ' 
 ' Nay,' said Alaria, somewhat annoyed 
 And slightly put about, feeling quite void, 
 Also uncomfortable. ' Then,' said he, 
 ' I will relate to you how this may be. 
 On a convenient night when it is dark 
 The trader comes — a partner too ; a bark 
 He sails into the river ; quietly come 
 The honest monks, and for a trifling sum 
 The trader lands as much wine as they like. 
 When all is safely housed they then will strike 
 
134 TRAMPS AND TROUBADOURS 
 
 A bargain that each man a butt shall have 
 
 Specially for his consuming. Conclave 
 
 Thus well ended, they then will taste their wine, 
 
 As is the tapster's custom and design. 
 
 But we men of the world cannot thus act, 
 
 Nor can we take advantage to contract 
 
 A bargain in this wise, by voiding tax, 
 
 And gaining consequence by motives lax.' 
 
 Thereat laughed Surso Sanca boisterously. 
 Alaria smiled also heartfully, 
 And as though nothing was amiss, the knight 
 Stalked slowly out, much to the monk's delight, 
 Who thought that somehow the sweet harmony 
 Was to be lost in the gay company. 
 However at this time the ladies rose ; 
 The others followed also, not one knows 
 The reason. Each subserviently breaks 
 Away from revelry for their sweet sakes 
 Into the garden-mead, where joys are full 
 Of life and love and many pleasures cool. 
 Alfonso all this time was doing his sweet best 
 To prove a loyal lover, and invest 
 Himself with courtliness towards his maid, 
 A profitable outlay likely to be repaid. 
 And his efficient genius moved him here 
 To wear the outer graces of the year 
 That are discarded by a genius oft, 
 Because he has the art of nature doft, 
 The oily smoothness of perfidious taste, 
 That gains a world while genius runs to waste. 
 
 After all was over Alfonso drew 
 Aside the potent Lord of Boieleux, 
 And asked if he an interview might seek, 
 
WOOINGS AND COUNTER-WOOINGS 135 
 
 And on important matters freely speak 
 
 That were upon his heart. ' Yes, speak of course.' 
 
 Alfonso did, though he was rather hoarse 
 
 From deep emotion and some grief. ' I fear 
 
 There is some danger to my mother here. 
 
 To this society we are not used. 
 
 I hope you see that I am here excused 
 
 In speaking thus. Do not advantage take 
 
 Of our poor state, and of her beauty make 
 
 Reproach.' Then Francis said, ' Of course, 'tis true 
 
 What you have said, and very good of you 
 
 To think of her. No harm shall her befall 
 
 You may be now assured. It shall be gall 
 
 And wormwood to the one who does her harm.' 
 
 Alfonso was delighted, with his arm 
 
 He wiped away a few unbidden tears. 
 
 And then Sir Francis said : ' And so your fears 
 
 Being set at rest one thing 1 ask of you. 
 
 I hope you will consider me in this review 
 
 Of chances and the future, and to me 
 
 Make this return, that is, to go about and see 
 
 The doings of Cecilia, that maid 
 
 Of Spain ; and if at any time a shade 
 
 Suspicious happens to appear make known 
 
 To me all things, so that we be not thrown 
 
 Into iniquity, for I have charge 
 
 Of her, and must be wise in my discharge 
 
 Of duty. Speak ! Will you or will you not ? ' 
 
 ' I will,' said good Alfonso on the spot. 
 
 ' It's kind of you,' Sir Francis said, ' and well. 
 
 I'll not forget my part, and who can tell 
 
 What we may not be to each other yet.' 
 
 Whereon he smiled adieux. Alfonso set 
 
 Out from the towers agreeably confused ; 
 
136 TRAMPS AND TROUBADOURS 
 
 To princes' favours he had not been used, 
 
 And this had been too much for gratitude 
 
 To quietly bear as he again reviewed 
 
 The situation. ' All was for the best,' 
 
 He thought ; further he thus himself exprest : 
 
 ' Especially as there are now involved 
 
 Father and mother,' so he thought the matter solved. 
 
 ' But what an ugly imp ! ' Sir Francis said, 
 ' I have an ally anyhow ; and with a head 
 Big enough for anything, and in charge 
 A mouth that compromises all the large 
 Disfigurement of face. A smile that plays 
 Foreboding pleasantries with grim dismays. 
 But 'tis a righteous stroke. I'm glad 'tis played, 
 And this uneasy monster quietly layed.' 
 And now another, Surin, the esquire came 
 From his master, with a long-winded name 
 To claim a moment's speech, before he went 
 Back with an answer for which he was sent. 
 
 Surin, the esquire, who had all the night 
 Waited with others for the morning light 
 In the monastery with Alfonso 
 And his mother, list'ning to the flow 
 Of conversation, parable, and song, 
 Had risen early with no thought of wrong — 
 That is, at least, he had gone for a walk 
 Out in the sunshine. In a pleasant talk 
 With Surso Sanca he heard of the feast, 
 And gath'ring great of revelry. ' The least 
 You can do now that you have joined us here,' 
 Said the good monk, ' is to accept our cheer, 
 And help us in our feastings. Possibly 
 The Count, Don Esmeraldo, would not be 
 
WOOINGS AND COUNTER-WOOINGS 137 
 
 Unreasonable.' They were walking down 
 The cloistered garden wreathed with roses ; crown 
 Of jessamine and scented briar had June set on 
 Each clust'ring covert where the dazzling Don, 
 The pleasure-seeking sun would enter in, 
 And sit complacent — merry Love to win. 
 And waving gaily, peach and pear in fruit, 
 Sang of the pleasaunce in which they had root ; 
 And all the flowers were soberly perfumed. 
 Calmness and virtue in each beauty loomed, 
 Chaste mignonette and thyme their graces bore 
 To the heart's-ease,- the fortune and the lore 
 Of bachelors who kept monastic hearts 
 In jealous guarding from poor Cupid's darts. 
 
 It was once thought that he in monk's attire 
 Attempted to intrude the ancient lyre 
 Into the solace of the services, 
 But naught so much chaste morality displeases 
 In retirement as to be plagued with spies, 
 Who bring disturbances as well as lies. 
 He with the inadvertency of youth 
 Jumps to conclusions, yet forgets the truth, 
 That man delights to be his own empire, 
 Wherein no one shall bring forbidden fire, 
 E'en though it be in exile, or alone, 
 Feeding his heart on dreams, his nourishment a stone. 
 And so it was Cupid was found a fraud, 
 At once expelled with his attractive gaud, 
 By the holy Bishop, too wroth and sad 
 To speak a word, because he found the glad 
 Rich sound of Love, that bauble of the earth, 
 That fellowship of hearts that lives in death, 
 That rich celestial harmony of thought, 
 By which creation is to being wrought, 
 
138 TRAMPS AND TROUBADOURS 
 
 That sparkling diadem of hearts convinced 
 Of truth and virtue by fair purity evinced, 
 Too much for his requirements in debate 
 Against the Adversary, who of late 
 Was making depredations in the choir, 
 And other places with unholy fire. 
 
 Up and down the garden thus they twain walked, 
 Feeling the breezes worship as they talked 
 Of certain themes' consolatory balm, 
 That gives to kindred hearts a charm of essence calm. 
 The esquire with his hands behind his back 
 Gravely assented — slim, yet with no lack 
 Of gracefulness — to all the morik averred, 
 Especially whene'er the case deserved 
 Acknowledgment, appropriate remark, 
 Or acquiescing nod, to mark the spark 
 Of singular enlightenment. The monk 
 Was of a diff 'rent mould. His heart was sunk 
 In a vast orb of sackcloth girt by cord, 
 (This might be useful at an angry ford. 
 Or e'en on Purgatory's Alpine steep, 
 Help him to climb when he had not the power to leap, 
 But here a circuit of the world divine 
 Controlled by self in honour of mankind. In fine 
 Nature's rebellion clasped in holy bonds.) 
 His ruddy face to all his thoughts responds, 
 As clouds across a lake bring light and shade, 
 So here successively smiles shine and fade. 
 At length good Surso Sanca paused ; said he, 
 ' We will go up to the festivity,' 
 And quietly turning both together went 
 Through the imperial glory's lavishment 
 Of thick and ruffling green, with a slow breeze 
 
WOOINGS AND COUNTER-WOOINGS 139 
 
 Stilling the sunlight cool, that through the trees 
 Descended and lay golden on the green. 
 ' This is a pleasant place,' the esquire, ' seen 
 From these woodlands, as fresh as the first dream 
 Of innocence, the path as a cool stream 
 Strays where it will, and I would scarce desire 
 A fairer arbour wherein to retire 
 From life's heated conflict — here with love 
 What peace and quiet to enjoy ! ' Above 
 The frowning battlements mighty and bold, 
 Serene and tranquil in their strength and hold 
 Of time and great dominion. On a steep 
 Low swelling from the mead, the moated keep 
 Stood over-looking glorious and fair 
 The leaf-camped plain spread outward in the air 
 Of rich calm languishment, out to the grasp 
 Of narrowing hills, bowed to the burning clasp 
 Of summer idleness. They climb the hill 
 Fragrant with oozing sweetness, where each rill 
 Trickled through grottos, caves, and hidden glooms 
 Of soft-shut leaf and grassy-pillared tombs, 
 Of cool and silent ease, mystic and dark, 
 Where only slim glow-lights from each swift water- 
 spark, 
 And the still eddies run lightly and cold 
 Between the sodden walls of clammy mould. 
 Here in the front and up and down the steep 
 Gay throngs were moving ; rustling came the sweep 
 Of ladies' robes ; and the light laugh, the gay 
 Light flattering assault of knight's array 
 In all the garnish of their gallant comeliness. 
 
 A bright and wondrous confluence of dress 
 Was everywhere ; a subtle gaiety 
 
140 TRAMPS AND TROUBADOURS 
 
 In ev'ry form of chaste variety 
 
 Tinkled with laughter ; sweet and honeyed joy 
 
 Stirred them within ; no smile had now alloy 
 
 Of cruel thought to win and cast away — 
 
 The worldling's pleasure loved but for a day. 
 
 They entered at the level drawbridge strung 
 
 With falls of flowers ; at ev'ry nook there sprung 
 
 A heavy wreath gathered and richly trest 
 
 From butt and architrave into a crest, 
 
 Richly inwoven with a cup and lyre, 
 
 That formed the symbol of the time's desire, 
 
 Holden between with leaf-writ letters fair, 
 
 'Make holiday and be without a care.' 
 
 Just in cool shade of hall they saw Francis 
 
 Talking most courteous to a dark Spanish miss, 
 
 Whom seeing, said the esquire, 'That's the one 
 
 After whom I am having such a run.' 
 
 And forthwith bowing said aloud to her, 
 
 ' My master, whom some accidents deter 
 
 From coming from the hostel where he lies, 
 
 Sent me to tell you that unless he dies 
 
 He hopes to see you soon, and intended 
 
 To journey to Castile, but amended 
 
 As his purpose is by this accident, 
 
 Delays awhile until his pain be spent.' 
 
 She was confused a little, well she might — 
 
 Two lovers on her hands, neither of whom were quite 
 
 The men for her, though for a pastime she 
 
 Took pleasure in their weakness, or on knee 
 
 Delight to see them bended, slaves of Love 
 
 While she rejected all their offers, and above 
 
 Encouragingly smiled at their folly, 
 
 Too sweet for joy, too harsh for melancholy. 
 
 Sir Francis suddenly was dark and stern ; 
 
WOOINGS AND COUNTER-WOOINGS 141 
 
 A tumult tore his mind, ' When would he learn,' 
 He thought, ' to hold the past undone, must this 
 End all his travailings.' The Spanish miss 
 Beheld him pale and cared not for his pain, 
 But in surprise as if this news was gain, 
 She said, ' Who is your master ? ' in surmise, 
 Shading with drooping eyelash her dark eyes, 
 And looking curious. ' He is the Count 
 Esmeraldo,' he said. As if a fount 
 Had opened, there swift ran a mantling blush 
 O'er her rich beauty, adding to the lush 
 Splendours of southern grace. He went on now, 
 ' I need not any further go. Do thou 
 This read, and say me yea or nay.' He gave 
 A billet in her hand ; she cut the brave 
 Blue knot of ribbon and read this love-note. 
 A superscription nakedly was wrote 
 Above a heart pierced by an arrow through, 
 Which must have been heart-rending, if 'twas true. 
 
 TO CECILIA 
 
 Here on a bed of sickness I am laid, 
 
 Nor can I come as swiftly as I would, 
 But here to thee I have in hope thus made 
 
 Confession of my love. O, that I could 
 Hear thee but answer ' Yes ! ' Then would my heart 
 
 Be lightsome as the day. Say, ' I am thine,' 
 And give me joy instead of sorrows part ; 
 
 And send me back by him who hath this sign 
 An answer. Surely thou wilt not deny ? 
 
 I love thee more than life. The only one 
 Art thou in all the world for whom I sigh. 
 
 O, fair one, give me love ! Let not the sun 
 
142 TRAMPS AND TROUBADOURS 
 
 Descend and leave me lost in bitter night 
 Without thy smile to brighten my despite. 
 
 She blushed the more, and hurriedly concealed 
 The little note ; also her heart she steeled 
 From tremulous betrayal of her fears ; 
 As calmly as she could against her tears 
 She said, ' How was your master wounded ? ' He 
 Answered simply, ' As we through this country 
 Were hastening with some good merchantmen 
 Who asked us for escort, one morning when 
 All things were in security content, 
 There came upon us some with ill intent 
 Armed with swords and lances ; without a pause 
 They rushed on us, and gave us not a cause 
 For this onslaught. Both right and left they drew 
 On us ; at once the merchantmen they slew ; 
 We were hemmed in — I and my master each 
 Held six in rapier-play. We thought to reach 
 Paradise full soon, when as allhope was lost, 
 They suddenly spurred off. But what it cost 
 Us I cannot tell, for on recovering 
 I found the purses gone, and everything 
 Of useful consideration also 
 Had taken flight.' Then said the damsel, ' Go, 
 I am much grieved at this distressful end. 
 By noon I shall with thee my answer send.' 
 So he that day joined in the revels fair, 
 And was much pleased in spite of his despair. 
 
 The noontide came as we have seen. He went, 
 As she had promised when convenient 
 To take the Delphic answer back, which spake 
 One thing and meant another, for the sake 
 Of little differences of fanciful desire 
 
WOOINGS AND COUNTER-WOOINGS 143 
 
 Wherein Love loses heart as well as fire. 
 
 And this is what she wrote— the Spanish maid, 
 
 A little sad at heart, but undismayed 
 
 By her sore task. A little table round 
 
 She sat before, with circlet of gold bound, 
 
 And oft with pensive nibbling of her pen 
 
 She would endite a letter to her friend ; and then 
 
 As oft confused by tender thoughts and sighs 
 
 Of all that she was failing, while her eyes 
 
 'Gan dimly to bedew the paper o'er 
 
 Because of what she might have had before, 
 
 And now was casting from her without right 
 
 To calm her soul with justice or with Love's delight. 
 
 ' O that my heart were mine to give ! I would 
 Not bring thee sorrow thus, but of what good 
 Is it to speak of things impossible. 
 To say thee ' Yea ' is quite beyond my skill, 
 To speak but yields a blank more obdurate 
 Than any to be filled. O do not hate 
 Me if I cannot love ! It is but ' Nay ' — 
 My answer. Sad am I for pain to say 
 This unto thee, yet be forgetful and forgive. 
 Time heals — rejoice that healing bids ye live.' 
 This she had sealed, and given to the hand 
 Of the esquire, and also by command 
 Of his sick master now to Boieleux 
 Addressed himself, claiming a word or two. 
 ' Surin,' Sir Francis said, ' you here ! Surely 
 Your good master is not taken poorly ? ' 
 ' He is indeed, my lord, so could not come 
 To your festivity, but perhaps some 
 Day soon he will himself appear. He sent 
 This in his stead.' Soon Francis was intent 
 
144 TRAMPS AND TROUBADOURS 
 
 Upon his letter, and the esquire moved 
 
 A little way aside as him behoved : 
 
 And this he read, surprised, and pained, and glad, 
 
 And yet amid his gladness he was sad. 
 
 ' I have been wounded by some foraying hounds 
 
 Who suddenly attacked us without grounds, 
 
 But this is not so much what I would say, 
 
 As that I am distressed to be away 
 
 From your gay doings. These I had desired 
 
 To share in, and with pleasure be inspired. 
 
 I hear you have Cecilia with you, 
 
 How much I would acquaintances renew 
 
 With her ! There is however one more thing, 
 
 Has she decided on a wedding ring ? ' 
 
 Sir Francis smiled, and then he swiftly wrote, 
 
 And handed to the esquire a short note ; 
 
 And bade him speed. ' Better and better,' thought 
 
 My Lord of Boieleux. ' I see what's brought 
 
 This letter unto me. 'Tis well for all 
 
 My schemes. He is in love, and after all 
 
 It could not have been better as will be 
 
 Soon openly made plain.' Then suddenly 
 
 He shouted, ' Stop,' to the esquire. ' Come back. 
 
 Do not go yet. There is a little lack 
 
 Of information. When this has been gained 
 
 You can return.' Therefore Surin remained 
 
 Until good Boieleux should further hear 
 
 About his little scheme of hatred dear. 
 
 Meantime another of the wooers gone to woo 
 
 Must wear before the world his passion too, 
 
 Which is but seemly and indeed correct 
 
 Without consideration of effect. 
 
 Gustave was on his way quite neatly dressed 
 Sprucely and fine, and tenderly he pressed 
 
WOOINGS AND COUNTER-WOOINGS 145 
 
 His hand upon his heart as dandies will, 
 Who late in life have fancied that they still 
 Possess some power in love. And so it was 
 That he was under weigh, and for this cause 
 Was going to the cottage on the hill, 
 Which for the time was magnet to his will, 
 Where old Gonaldo's daughter long abode 
 Priestess of passion and mistress of Love's code. 
 
 The cottage door stood open and the maid 
 Stood there also, until adown the glade 
 Her sweetheart came, her prince of eminence, 
 Lord of her passion, king of ev'ry sense 
 That pulsed within her — all owned him the first, 
 The only one she loved. There came a burst 
 Of wood-song gladlier than innocence 
 Had ever thrilled the world, out of a dense 
 Temple of copse. She paused to hear the joy I 
 That now sung therein ; her own at first coy 
 Pleasured afresh with larger mirthfulness, 
 And purer heart in the happy fulness 
 Of all things richly sweet. She was upraised 
 Into a power — a height wherefrom have gazed 
 The world's weak mourners and the sad at heart, 
 The joyful couriers of the bridal part, 
 The poor estate waiting the brief excess 
 Of pleasure and repose with love to bless 
 Through life — yea, all who in the world arise 
 To covet or attain life's single prize. 
 
 Now down the garden trim she gazes long • 
 Expectancy and hope in her heart strong 
 Arise. She knows he must come soon. She hears 
 Far-off his coming and is glad ; no fears 
 Need she impose upon her waiting heart. 
 
 K 
 
146 TRAMPS AND TROUBADOURS 
 
 Are not all things that giveth love her part ? 
 
 And wondrous fair is she, sweeter than old 
 
 Niobe ; gladlier has poetry told 
 
 Of women fair, but none with her compare 
 
 In beauty. What if one should range the fair 
 
 All in a galaxy to name each one 
 
 And sum them all together ? — that when done 
 
 Would leave her all the fairer. Ah ! what could be 
 
 said 
 To paint her living face ? The saintly dead 
 Angelic in their immortality 
 Would make comparisons a malady, 
 But these would frame a picture nearer truth, 
 So judged as fair and with immortal youth. 
 
 She waited, and in that she might esteem 
 His love — more truly pleasing him, whose dream 
 Was of her always, now all smiling winds 
 A wreath of triple roses, and soft binds 
 Them in her hair, and in her bosom sets, 
 With as much trimming as her fancy gets, 
 A pleasant love-snare of dusk moss-rose bloom, 
 A covetous delight, who to their doom 
 Composedly consent. She on them smiles 
 And looks again into the woodland aisles. 
 So she awaits her lover, well prepared 
 To ask him questions, whither he had fared. 
 Each question but a point for flattery, 
 Whereby she could equip her battery 
 For further execution, and more fit 
 In future times to make a better hit. 
 
 Thus as she each resolve and duty trains 
 She pleases Time by singing dulcet strains. 
 One list'ner only knows the song then sung 
 
WOOINGS AND COUNTER-WOOINGS 147 
 
 But he declines for fear of being hung 
 To reproduce for everyone's delight 
 The pleasant ditty that had come to light. 
 She sung, as beauteous as a fair red rose 
 That shineth softly when fair Morning throws 
 A tender glance, and Nature's bosom heaves, 
 When sweetness trembles on the glist'ning leaves 
 Burnished and smooth. She with her melting eyes, 
 Deep wells of love — the level font of sighs — 
 And joyous ruby lips whereon might part 
 The last faint hope of ev'ry breaking heart, 
 Turned smiling to the triumph of the skies 
 Whereon pale vermil, mild and tender, lies. 
 
 Gustave had paused beside a woodland beech, 
 Just within ear-shot, where a hand might reach 
 And clear the thick-set leaves. This he had done 
 Hearing the thrilling song. Thus he could shun 
 Observation ; himself unseen behold 
 Who was and what the cause of singing bold. 
 Caution and foresight therefore he did use 
 Fearing too suddenly his heart to lose. 
 Prudent the better to defend himself 
 Against the evil tricks of every elf 
 Of unconditioned nature, who beguiles 
 Poor, weak, defenceless man with many wiles 
 From his meek honesty, wherein he walks, 
 Guileless and harmless, while to his pure soul he talks. 
 He gazed at her and all his heart was faint 
 With wonder; idleness had left a taint 
 Upon his moral nature ; tarnishment 
 Now had the glory of his greatness spent. 
 Never before had he so keenly felt 
 The living power of beauty ; all to melt 
 
148 TRAMPS AND TROUBADOURS 
 
 His courage now, began. Surely before 
 
 He had not lived till now ; never deplore 
 
 Did he this weakness till this moment strange 
 
 When wonders new were opened to his mental range. 
 
 ' But why should I retire ? ' and so anew 
 
 A sweetness stole across his mind. A view 
 
 He took again. Ah ! it was pleasant thus 
 
 To gaze in rapture without so much fuss. 
 
 A wistfulness continued to implore 
 
 Him to approach. This is Love's door 
 
 That he has cunningly prepared — to close 
 
 Behind the first adventurer whose presence shows 
 
 A victim fit for welcome. These he leads 
 
 With courteous smiles into a land of needs, 
 
 Where all to unaccustomed eyes is fair, 
 
 Glorious, and beautiful, and without care. 
 
 A charm of daintiness about her won 
 Gustave the wise ; the poor distracted one 
 Was overwhelmed with wonder, joy, and fright : 
 Now in the balance of determined flight ; 
 Now caught in toils of love. At last all thought 
 Of bashfulness forsaking, he o'erfraught 
 With tenderness and passion, hasted out 
 And ran towards her with a joyous shout. 
 Sunisa turned in wonder and affright 
 Half in expectation sweet, but at sight 
 Of grave Gustave thus running in hot race 
 Trouble surprised the beauty of her face. 
 ' Gustave and not Alfonso ! ' cried the maid, 
 And seemed a little anxious, somewhat afraid 
 At this arrival, for she instant knew 
 What was his errand — that an interview 
 He was expecting. Great things he would hope ; 
 
WOOINGS AND COUNTER-WOOINGS 149 
 
 Perhaps he would propose they should elope ; 
 
 And here she would have fled, but stayed. ' How hard 
 
 It is to be supplanted by a common bard.' 
 
 No doubt, thinking of dear Alfonso — late, 
 
 Absent from her and his appointed fate. 
 
 Gustave was out of breath, but cheerful still 
 And then he took her hand. She felt a chill 
 Over her run. Then he said, ' Come within, 
 I have to thee a little tale to spin. 
 It is uneasy to be loved afar, 
 Much as astrologer would love a star, 
 That is removed beyond compassion's tear, 
 And cannot recompense a lover's fear, 
 Or join in joy that moves a tender heart 
 To speak surprising things beyond the claim of art.' 
 Gustave had therefore from the clouded state 
 Of nebulous deficiencies his fate 
 Withdrawn into the kindlier atmosphere 
 Of prudent words and providential cheer, 
 And in the house, seated upon a chair, 
 Discovered Love had lost his reason there. 
 
 Ah ! great Gustave, the world is full of whims, 
 And so is woman too, and if she trims 
 A painted bark to sail a shallow sea, 
 There is a rudder lashed to Treachery, 
 Whose face is fair. See not her smiling eye, 
 Sail not from port with her. Deny, deny, 
 Or else ye perish in a slaver's hold. 
 But let us see if ev'ry lover bold 
 Is prone to this implicit confidence, 
 Or walks in love with bashful diffidence. 
 
 It was the afternoon. ' Believing you,' 
 
150 TRAMPS AND TROUBADOURS 
 
 Alfonso said, ' is surely put of view, 
 
 And as for good or wisdom, there is naught 
 
 That I can see that can in this be sought.' 
 
 Alaria was standing in the shade 
 
 Of some old oaks, that formed a little glade 
 
 Beside the pleasant mead just on the way 
 
 To that fair field of pleasure ev'ry day 
 
 Held for delight. Disconsolate he seemed 
 
 At these outspoken words. ' Had he thus schemed 
 
 To gain the family wealth, and be rebuked 
 
 By his own son ? Nay, he had not thus looked 
 
 For injury at home, and this harsh scorn. 
 
 It would not matter what his youngest born 
 
 Would say ; he would go on as he had now 
 
 Begun.' This in his thoughts he spake ; this vow 
 
 He registered ; then said aloud, ' And why 
 
 Hast thou set thyself up for judge, to try 
 
 Thus to destroy the liberty that here 
 
 I now enjoy ? What is it in thy fear 
 
 Thou now hast tried to tell ? ' Alfonso burned 
 
 With indignation, and towards him turned 
 
 In silence : then, ' Perhaps it may be well 
 
 To make the matter clear. So much befell 
 
 Since thou desertedst us that now thou hast 
 
 Not power to think of aught ; even the past 
 
 Thou hast forgotten. Art thou even he, 
 
 Alaria, or another ? Or can this be, 
 
 That never in the forest tribe thou dwelt ? 
 
 And least of all because thou hadst not felt 
 
 The usage of humanity — the ties 
 
 That bind the dear and helpless, wherefrom rise 
 
 Love or compassion — left to their own fate 
 
 Mother and children, careless to what state 
 
 They might descend ? Art thou the one ? Surely 
 
WOOINGS AND COUNTER- WOOINGS 151 
 
 Thou hast made promises delightfully. 
 
 What hast thou kept ? ' He answered steadily, 
 
 Confessing naught, but speaking readily, 
 
 ' Our old relationship is henceforth dead, 
 
 E'en though for this my very heart has bled. 
 
 Yet now thou sayest, " Die unto all good." 
 
 Wherefore there can be no more trust. How could 
 
 The former things remain ? Proof is not found 
 
 Of all my words. In truth an empty sound 
 
 To thee — an unskilled trifling of rebuke. 
 
 Yet has my innocence a faded look ? 
 
 Whatever love there once between us was 
 
 Is now cut short, and dieth from this cause.' 
 
 Alfonso left him. 'As he has begun,' 
 He muttered, 'so he must in future run.' 
 So through the gaily covert woods he went, 
 On things of tender import touching, bent 
 Beneath the wild of sanctuary boughs, 
 And 'mid the happy snorting of sleek sows, 
 Whose cheerful rooting out of turf and roots, 
 A strange affinity in him recruits ; 
 While they pursuing schemes for their repast 
 Greeted him pleasantly, he inward cast 
 In his glad mind for joyfulness. All things 
 Gave music to his ear. The fairy rings 
 Also were full of magic myths, strange elfs 
 That shrilly piped to him. Their mocking selfs 
 Were proudly conscious of a mystic power, 
 And laughing, raised themselves in all the dower 
 Of littleness. So he passed on in a sweet dream 
 Of peopled worlds and gaily singing theme, 
 That everywhere continued on the route 
 Until he came, unto the garden-foot, 
 
152 TRAMPS AND TROUBADOURS 
 
 Beside a wicket-gate, beyond which lay 
 The habitation of his love alway. 
 
 He paused and lovingly surveyed her home. 
 ' No longer shall I hence delight to roam,' 
 He in great sweetness and complaisance thought, 
 Murmuring of love and beauty he had sought. 
 ' Peaceful and happy in this pleasant place 
 I shall remain. My joy shall be her face, 
 My one delight in being always near 
 To see the love, that shall delight to hear 
 Love's own acceptance in each welcome word.' 
 So none were happier, not e'en the bird 
 That trilleth in the tree of daily love, 
 Whose song ariseth clear and fair above 
 The warbling tree-tops, that for ever ring 
 The choral of the sweeping winds, that bring 
 Joys from the gateways of the world, or soft 
 The gentler zephers playful charm all doft 
 Of harshness. None were happier than he, 
 Who now dreams laden Love beset would be 
 Gazing with sweet heart-raptures on the fair 
 Sunisa, old Gonaldo's daughter rare. 
 
 The cottage door stood open ; blithely he 
 Approached and entered. There, upon the knee 
 Of brave Gustave, the maiden sat. A frown 
 Gathered upon Alfonso's brow ; a noun 
 He spake that had a spice of compliment 
 Apart from love or tender sentiment, 
 Yet full of brief and valid competence, 
 That was above conceit or all pretence. 
 He stood awhile, unable to reprove 
 Their evil ways, nor even could he move, 
 So fierce an anger burned within his heart. 
 
WOOINGS AND COUNTER-WOOlNGS 153 
 
 All power was taken from him but the part 
 To feel the tempest of revenge that swept 
 Him o'er and o'er, but he a silence kept, 
 And, trembling hand and foot, slowly withdrew 
 Into the wood o'er his sad fate to rue. 
 A woman false, another lover lost, 
 At least he felt it so, and to his cost. 
 
 Meanwhile, Gustave, the great and lofty bard, 
 Was speaking softly and was gazing hard 
 Into her face. They had conversed as friends, 
 But now he was devising other ends. 
 He said, ' Sunisa, will you marry me ? ' 
 She started up and bounded off his knee 
 At once ; and turning round with sparkling eye, 
 She said in scorn, ' And this is how you try 
 To draw me on — disguising your intent 
 By soft and pleasing words. What have you meant 
 By stealing on me thus ? ' Gustave now felt 
 He had been rather sudden, so he knelt 
 And craved her pardon. Rashly he had told 
 The love that burned within him ; over-bold 
 When he should have been patient ; and content 
 By slow degrees to win her free assent. 
 In this wise spake the penitent, and rose. 
 Sunisa fair had left him to his woes . 
 Ere he had finished speech. So he resolved 
 To leave also, the problem being solved. 
 
 Sunisa in a hurry hastened out, 
 Too much distressed and too much put about 
 To notice where she went, but stumbling on 
 Half-blinded by her tears she came upon 
 Alfonso lying in the grass asleep. 
 Thpreon her manner changed ; no longer deep 
 
154 TRAMPS AND TROUBADOURS 
 
 In woe, she smiled. She came up cautiously, 
 Drew out a poniard, bent, and tenderly 
 Cut off an elf-lock red, and went away. 
 
 Alfonso woke. It was the end of day ; 
 Somehow he felt refreshed ; his mind was free 
 From bitter thoughts and painful memory. 
 A soft reposeful indolence had come 
 To keep him company instead of some 
 Delightful positives of love that he had thought 
 Justly to secure, but in vain had sought. 
 So passing tranquilly along in spite 
 Of wasted pains and fanciful delight 
 In evanescent raptures, cultivated flights, 
 Missed in the multitude of women's rights, 
 That please the passions and wears out the tongue, 
 Destroying charity by being stung 
 By trifling circumstances of dispute, 
 Convenient for a value in repute, 
 But useless where regeneration springs 
 In matters strange — as buying love or wings. 
 
 Alfonso trundled on amid the still 
 Soft whisper of the eve, that like a rill 
 Hurried through the soft dark, sending its voice 
 Out of its shrouded bed. It spake a choice 
 Of peace and sweetness undisturbed by fear, 
 A gracious meetness of consid'rate cheer, 
 Delightful to the weak, the hopeless man, 
 And all who are disappointed, who can 
 No longer bear the habits of the hour. 
 He was approaching unto the high tower 
 Of Boieleux, when he became aware 
 Of voices speaking in the dark. No share 
 Did he require of any company 
 
WOOINGS AND COUNTER-WOOINGS 155 
 
 That night, so stood till the ceremony 
 
 That was in progress there should end and leave 
 
 Him liberty to go his way, and weave 
 
 The woodland paths in sorrow and alone. 
 
 But as he stood as weary as a stone 
 
 He felt concerned in the polite address 
 
 That one was making, trying to express 
 
 Devotion, honour, love, and kindred things. 
 
 Alfonso thought, as ev'ry sentence springs 
 
 In fervour out of love, ' Surely I know 
 
 That voice. It is Alaria, and so 
 
 He is resolved on this unpleasant course. 
 
 I am unable to dissuade by force, 
 
 And so we must await what Fortune brings, 
 
 Whether it be a prize for men or kings, 
 
 Or only dust and ashes. I must wait.' 
 
 Alaria now said, ' Shall I my state 
 
 Of mind declare ? ' ' No, not to-night,' she said, 
 
 That is, Cecilia. He knew what sped 
 
 Thereafter. ' We cannot meet to-morrow,' 
 
 Continued she. ' I know to my sorrow,' 
 
 He replied. ' But the day after at morn 
 
 Meet me again. Till then I shall be torn 
 
 By disappointments every hour. Only, 
 
 We shall each other see, and simply be 
 
 Quietly agreeable. Our eyes shall speak, 
 
 And feelings shall run smooth though words be weak.' 
 
 ' So be it,' said Alaria, and here 
 
 Alfonso heard no more, and all his fear 
 
 Departed. He resolved that though he had 
 
 No right to interfere he would be glad 
 
 To do so now. And to Lord Boieleux 
 
 He straightway went with this great end in view — 
 
 Remembering his promise. 
 
156 TRAMPS AND TROUBADOURS 
 
 Now he stood 
 Before the noble lord in cheerful mood, 
 Saying, ' I come with news. They have arranged 
 To meet the morn after next ; estranged 
 They must be then if possible. ' 'Tis well,' 
 Said Boieleux. Alfonso went to cell 
 And soundly slept that night. Sir Francis sent 
 For Surin, and to him thus said, ' Content 
 Your master with this also,' giving him 
 Another note. The esquire thought, ' Strange whim 
 This is,' and quickly went his way. The Lord 
 Of Boieleux smiled grim. ' I have a cord 
 To fetter him with now that cannot break, 
 And shall not cease to hold him to a stake 
 Wherefrom there is no power to loose.' Also 
 He slept sound till morning came with cock-crow. 
 
 Surin the esquire with the answers went 
 Through the pale woods with a last compliment, 
 And parting cup, to his dear master laid 
 On an inn bed, whereby two priests already prayed. 
 ' At last,' cried Esmeraldo, groaning loud, 
 ' You've come.' Across his face there passed a cloud 
 Of anger. ' Why so late ? ' ' I was detained 
 By Francis, Lord of Boieleux — constrained 
 To wait till answer he could find. This is 
 From fair Cecilia,' he said. ' It is,' 
 The knight exclaimed, as from the esquire's hand 
 The letter he received. ' I must disband 
 These priests,' he muttered. ' Reverend Fathers, I 
 Would be alone.' They therefore with a sigh 
 Departed. The esquire now resumed : 
 ' The other two are from my lord.' Perfumed, 
 The letter of Cecilia made sweet 
 
WOOINGS AND COUNTER-WOOINGS 157 
 
 The knight's sad countenance. The angry heat 
 Had passed away ; but as he read, his face 
 Grew heavy yet again, and sad in place 
 Of gay. The other two he also read, 
 And on his hand awhile he leaned his head. 
 
 The evening waned away, and night was still ; 
 He raised his eyes, and sombre silence chill 
 In weariness smote him. ' Yes, I shall be 
 Opposed to this. They bitterness shall see, 
 For he is but an idler in the way. 
 Yes, I will interfere upon that day, 
 And in the meantime I shall sleep. Go now,' 
 He said to Surin ; ' you will sleep, I vow, 
 Right soundly this fair night,' and Surin smiled ; 
 And left his master by sweet sleep beguiled. 
 
V 
 THE ORDER OF THE WINE CUP 
 
 PRELUDE — THIRD DAY 
 
 Breakfast was o'er, and all the troubadours 
 Were coming to the mead, that song allures. 
 Gustave with mournful aspect sadly sat 
 At head of board ; he felt a little flat 
 After his love experience. The maid 
 Was also there, who had thus cast a shade 
 Upon his life, but ev'ry whit as bright 
 As ever she appeared ; a sweeter light 
 She bore, as if she had a daily joy — 
 Some secret fair that knew no cold alloy, 
 But pleasure ever gave. Alfonso too 
 With melancholy gaze, as one in new 
 Circumstances placed is not quite at home, 
 But [finds his thoughts too much inclined to roam 
 And keep him dull, unlawfully engaged 
 In dragging back each tenant quite enraged 
 By being thus afflicted. Adria 
 Was there in splendid dress, Alaria 
 And fair Cecilia, and many more, 
 Each with their secrets and their little store 
 Of knowledge fair — story, or tale, or song, 
 
THE ORDER OF THE WINE CUP 159 
 
 Whatever they were fitted for. A throng 
 
 Of noble singers and of troubadours 
 
 Ever in song preparing for sublimer tours. 
 
 Gustave began, ' I shall take part to-day, 
 
 And be your singer in a humble way, 
 
 Taking the office of discipleship, 
 
 And being learner from a scholar's lip. 
 
 This parchment also is a manuscript 
 
 Ascribed to Hermes Trismegistus, shippt 
 
 Across by some unworthy mariner, 
 
 And sold for a song to the first sinner.' 
 
 Therefore they all prepared to listen when 
 
 He had thus said, believing that few men 
 
 Could equal him in eloquence and art, 
 
 When he should take upon himself the poet's part. 
 
 It is believed, however, that he made 
 
 Some alterations of his own, and paid 
 
 No regard whatever to what was writ, 
 
 Introducing things Time refused to fit, 
 
 Of which the ancient writer never dreamt, 
 
 Holding the rights of authors in contempt. 
 
 I— THE PREHISTORIC MONKEY ; 
 A NEW ROMAUNT 
 
 By Gustave 
 
 It was a wilderness of heathen times, 
 When things were diff'rent to the present climes. 
 The earth was not impov'rished as 'tis now, 
 But full of bloom. There was not room, I vow, 
 For mortal man, but there were other kinds 
 Of animals. But whosoever blinds 
 Himself from seeing facts is very far 
 
160 TRAMPS AND TROUBADOURS 
 
 Behind the times, but here of course we are 
 All of one mind in thinking that our state 
 Is but the accident of former fate 
 Wherein we had no power to alter things, 
 And being thus descended from ape-kings 
 I have believed that our relationship 
 Might int'rest us, if we could see the slip 
 Whereby tradition started into time, 
 And gave its history to ev'ry clime. 
 And thence from lip to lip successive bore 
 The story of regeneration at the core. 
 By diligence and perseverance I have sought 
 Such information as might prove well-bought 
 At so much cost, and therefore herein shames 
 All odious persons with precedent claims. 
 
 At this dim period so long ago, 
 So old that no one ever lived to know 
 The strange rehearsals of the age of apes, 
 Wherein the leading generation shapes 
 The birthright of an aged nation, where 
 In mimic way are gone through with great care, 
 Preparatory lessons in dramatic art, 
 That now are firmly fixed in every heart, 
 Whereby we make the regular display 
 Of doing duty in our life to-day, 
 There dwelt in peace and war a host of apes 
 Who regularly posed in primal shapes 
 A daily life, providing all their wants 
 From great abundance in their chosen haunts. 
 They were a stalwart race, and walked upright 
 As we do now, but they possessed a might 
 Which we have lacked, considering time stands 
 On higher levels, we have weaker hands. 
 
THE ORDER OF THE WINE CUP 161 
 
 We ought to be content, however, since our brains 
 Make up for all deficiencies in family strains. 
 
 Besides our ancestors the apes, there dwelt 
 Colossal creatures too, whose might was felt, 
 But of whom rumours only lightly speak ; 
 Also of others, tidings slightly leak 
 Out of the rural invent'ry of curious things. 
 Fragments at times are found of what begins, 
 But none of what concludes. I have not time 
 To speak of ev'ry creature in that clime. 
 The rest remains for wise philosophers to name 
 Who have a predilection for that kind of game. 
 Meantime we must unearth our ancient friends, 
 And see wherein our former nature ends. 
 
 In a vast country boundless as the main, 
 Much larger than this place, or France, or Spain — 
 I think the sea has taken full possession, 
 And cannot be removed with intercession, 
 Of this fair land — over the important seat 
 Of greater things than I can here repeat — 
 But in this country lived the apes, whose sons 
 Have shifted quarters, and impov'rished runs, 
 As this great world went rolling on. All round 
 Were hills and plains, and everywhere there wound 
 Great rivers mightier than the Rhone or Rhine. 
 The air was calm, salubrious and fine, 
 Beautifully radiant, and quite pure, 
 Full of delicious odours, fit to cure 
 All ills if there were any, sweet as nine 
 Of ours rolled into one, pleasant as wine, 
 Full of reflective thought. The sun was near 
 Hot enough to burn. It would cost us dear 
 To live in such a sultry atmosphere, 
 
 L 
 
162 TRAMPS AND TROUBADOURS 
 
 For most of us would die within a year ; 
 
 But then those on the earth had not been curst 
 
 By Adam's fall, and that unprofitable thirst 
 
 Which conquers us, and consequently they 
 
 Could bear what we could not endure. Clay 
 
 Is weak when mixed with water. I have said 
 
 Enough about their country, so ahead. 
 
 I may say here, however, days and nights 
 
 Were short. Eve and morn had no twilight fights, 
 
 And in the night fell heavy dews to speak 
 
 Luxuriance into all the flowers. To seek 
 
 The source of rivers was in vain, whether they came 
 
 From founts, or springs, or seas, 'tis all the same. 
 
 We have our apes before us. Here are some. 
 
 Beneath a monstrous tree one beats his drum, 
 That is his chest, as he is in a rage — 
 This always happens at a certain stage — 
 And seems to have been making some remarks 
 To a small group of listeners. Wild sparks 
 Are flying from his eyes, and ev'ry time 
 He glances round. One in a kind of rhyme 
 Speaks low, ' What can it matter after all ? ' 
 The other turned ; he was of stature tall : 
 ' I am a man, and what are you, you ape 
 To thus claim kin — a creature out of shape, 
 And a disgrace to all without a tail. 
 What will the family think if I should fail 
 To keep up their dignity ? I cannot 
 In any way acknowledge you. A-blot 
 You would for ever be, and I the king ! ! ' 
 And here he gathered up his tail, and from the ring 
 Swaggered away, and all the rest began 
 To talk together. Loud the conversation ran 
 
THE ORDER OF THE WINE CUP 163 
 
 Pitying, then upbraiding. Some reviled, 
 And some despised, but he alone was mild. 
 
 Briefly it seems, that when he was quite young 
 And when 'twas seen he had no tail, they flung 
 Him out of home, and kith and kin denied 
 Him altogether. He them all defied, 
 As the young hot-headed will. All alone 
 He wandered on from place to place unknown. 
 Nowhere was he received, but, as no lack 
 Of food was anywhere, he did not back 
 Out of his loneliness, but was content. 
 After some years of wand'ring had been spent 
 Further and further from his native place, 
 He came upon a diff'rent tribe. No trace 
 Of tails with these could he discover, so now 
 He thought his wanderings had ceased ; a vow 
 He silently put up he would return 
 No more to his own kin. They did not spurn 
 Him here, but received him well, and spake kind. 
 And when they learned his story, all inclined 
 Still more kindly to him — bade him remain 
 And be as one of them. This he did not disdain. 
 
 So many years rolled on in pleasant ways 
 Diversified by many profitable days, 
 In which the youth learned skilful arts and arms 
 And learning he disputed with the charms 
 Of maidens fair. Such happy times he spent 
 Playing with them ; their charming eyes intent 
 Thrilled him so often he at times believed 
 Nothing so pleasant as to be deceived. 
 Of course this never happened, for the time 
 Of Eve's deflection was not in the rhyme 
 Of doggerel poets. Thus he was infused 
 
164 TRAMPS AND TROUBADOURS 
 
 With pleasant charms without bejng disabused. 
 So much for education. Now the state 
 Claimed him to fill a very diff' rent fate. 
 
 These apes were great explorers, and thus learned 
 New things that formerly were not discerned 
 Of countries far away. Before their eyes 
 They saw a very valuable prize — 
 A land to be desired, and pleasant ev'ry way, 
 So after much debate they fixed a day. 
 A chosen few would start to bring report 
 Of everything within this foreign court. 
 For one our friend was chosen to be sent, 
 And was well-pleased to have this honour Spent 
 On him. And finally at early morn 
 They started off ; with shouts the air was torn ; 
 And all the maidens wept until the last 
 Into the boundless forest quietly past. 
 It was a long and wearisome research 
 Of hills and dales ; from many a tufted perch 
 They gazed into the far horizon's bound 
 For those sure landmarks certain to be found 
 They had been told about. At last one noon 
 They lighted on a path, and none too soon, 
 For some had given up the hope to find, 
 And were for turning back. But now their mind 
 Was cheered, so on they went, and came at length 
 Into a wilderness of noble strength. 
 
 The natives here were taken quite aback 
 Upon the sudden entrance of the pack. 
 Recovering their balance they inclosed 
 The travellers at once, and cautious nosed 
 Them one and all. Then satisfied they spake, 
 And asked them if they would refreshment take, 
 
THE ORDER OF THE WINE CUP 165 
 
 As they seemed overdone with heat and toil. 
 
 They did accept the produce of the soil, 
 
 And their new host's service. But there was most 
 
 Astonishment that none of these could boast 
 
 Of tails. Yet one remembered seeing once a male 
 
 Born in that place — an ape without a tail, 
 
 Who had been cast away, and never seen again, 
 
 But here our friend stepped out, and cried, ' In vain 
 
 It was resolved by you to punish me, 
 
 For I am he, and all posterity 
 
 Shall know of the immortal deeds of friends. 
 
 No fault of mine had caused these bitter ends 
 
 To be accomplished. Everlasting shame 
 
 Attends the bearer of a violated name.' 
 
 So spake he waxing wild and frantic, till 
 
 A personage arrived, when all was still. • 
 
 The circle parted for this honoured one, 
 
 Whose eyes in wonder and inquiry run 
 
 From ape to ape. Then spake a stranger mild, 
 
 ' We have been journeying afar exiled 
 
 To seek a better country. Thus we came 
 
 To see the world. The little of your name 
 
 And potency that came to us has made 
 
 Us take upon ourselves this early raid 
 
 In order to present you with our love, 
 
 And see how much you are in truth above 
 
 All other powers.' The king was smiling now, 
 
 And those around made strangers their best bow, 
 
 Smiling approvingly to each other, 
 
 Saying, ' What a nice speech to make.' ' Brother,' 
 
 The king ape said, ' you are most welcome here, 
 
 And we shall do our best to make you cheer 
 
 After your walk.' And then the stranger said, 
 
 ' One of our number,' here he turned his head 
 
166 TRAMPS AND TROUBADOURS 
 
 To indicate our friend who stood behind, 
 
 ' Was once a relative of yours. I find 
 
 That this relationship is negative, 
 
 Because you exercised prerogative 
 
 In cutting short the enviable state 
 
 Of being kin to kings so high and great.' 
 
 ' Indeed,' the monarch said, ' I had not known 
 
 Unless you had said so ; he has so grown 
 
 That no one would have recognised the child 
 
 In him. Because our honour was defiled 
 
 We cast him thus away.' ' Your majesty 
 
 Will reconsider with sagacity 
 
 The opposition that you have displayed, 
 
 And let me in this matter now persuade 
 
 You to be lenient,' the stranger said. 
 
 The subject of the conversation read 
 Displeasing thoughts upon the kingly brow, 
 And hastened to speak out : ' I make a vow 
 That all shall be forgotten if you take 
 Me int® favour here for mother's sake.' 
 And here, as we have seen, the royal ape 
 Took up his tail, and called the other shape 
 Ignominious names, while of himself 
 Spake proudly, rich in this world's goodly pelf, 
 As instance this, ' I am a man.' He went, 
 The others gave immediate assent, 
 And hooted them away beyond the bounds, 
 With many strange remarks of men and hounds, 
 Of their terrestrial reserve. 'Tis strange. 
 Here is the first known instance of a change 
 In use of words. Those formerly who bore 
 The title ape were justly proud. Of yore 
 They set much honour by the word, but now 
 
THE ORDER OF THE WINE CUP 167 
 
 It is opprobrium to so endow 
 
 Any of us, and when the king made use 
 
 Of this new word they had a great excuse 
 
 To speak thus after him : ' I am a man.' 
 
 Therefore they on the strangers turned, who ran 
 
 Away, seeing it useless to withstand 
 
 This ignominy of a word that fanned 
 
 Popular excitement. Thereafter they 
 
 Continued to be apes unto this day. 
 
 Yet in the end time qualified the shame, 
 
 So that they think not much about their name, 
 
 But are content, as everyone should be 
 
 Who are the heirs of immortality. 
 
 They felt dissatisfied, nay more, they burned 
 
 With indignation at thus being spurned, 
 
 Yet they were then unable to reply 
 
 With fitting promptness. They could but deny 
 
 And scorn this most unwarranted disgrace. 
 
 Thus being robbed of country, home and place. 
 And ev'ry tie of nature broken, he 
 Turned with his friends again in calm humility. 
 Thereafter they with sad and dubious name 
 Toiled homeward thinking of their mutual shame, 
 And how they should proclaim to all the world 
 They were more men than apes, when they unfurled 
 Their banner and took up the cause of peace, 
 Honour, and justice for their name's release. 
 Many a toilsome day had passed when they 
 At last appeared upon the edge of forest. Day 
 Was breaking in the East ; the morning light 
 With one swift glance around in sudden flight 
 Passed over hill and dale, and all was fair. 
 Sweetness was trembling through the tender air ; 
 
168 TRAMPS ' AND TROUBADOURS 
 
 Joy was approaching with her mirthful sounds, 
 And all was pleasure. From the triple mounds 
 Set in three angles of a little plain 
 There came three bands playing a gentle strain. 
 They met, and as our friends in sight appeared, 
 A circle in the midst at once was cleared 
 Wherein they entered to unfold their tale. 
 No one was satisfied, and some did rail 
 Against th' offences of adventurers. 
 But they were silenced as unruly curs. 
 The rest unanimously were agreed 
 That fail what would, this should have proper heed- 
 To satisfy the honour of their friends, 
 Who werit to foreign parts for mutual ends. 
 
 They then retired to seek immediate rest, 
 After their journey and unfruitful quest, 
 Of which they were in need, having sore toiled 
 To be at home by sunrise weak and soiled. 
 After they were refreshed, about four hours 
 From noon, they rose again, and left their bowers. 
 
 It was but half-an-hour to eve ; the sun 
 Declining swiftly in the West had won 
 Marvellous colours out of clouds to wear 
 As diadem, and with reflection rare 
 His glitt'ring jewels cast imperial lights 
 Through the wild forest from deep azure heights. 
 
 Multitudes of apes were everywhere ; most 
 Were walking up and down, threading the host 
 Of talking groups. 'Mid these th' adventurers 
 Mingled, telling their tale amid murmurs 
 Of wonder and delight, at strange sight seen, 
 Of injury and shame. Many did lean 
 
THE ORDER OF THE WINE CUP 169 
 
 To vengeful counsels ; others were to wait, 
 And hear what was the purpose of the state. 
 
 As soon as possible the foundling left 
 The chatt'ring tribe to seek the one bereft, 
 Forlorn within her father's tree. This stood 
 Back from the common glade amid a rood 
 Of private grounds. It stood in seemly calm, 
 Neighbour to an aristocratic palm, 
 A span of lilies, and a cactus hedge, 
 And sev'ral monkey-trees— a prickly wedge 
 Preventing rash intruders from excess 
 Of admiration of the foliage, egress 
 In haste, or any rash redress. This sphere 
 Was thus surrounded by a pleasant atmosphere, 
 Wherein the family were quite at ease, 
 Enjoying quietly each refreshing breeze 
 That stirred with fragrance through the neighbour- 
 hood. 
 
 About this time the dwellers in the wood 
 Had been considering a long felt want. 
 For previously those who wished to taunt 
 Their neighbours or their enemies had found 
 Difficulty in making good their ground 
 For want of proper names, for no one thought 
 Of naming anyone. Yet they had sought 
 Names for all things whereby they might be known. 
 But latterly the younger had outgrown 
 Old-fashioned notions, and were all for names 
 And social equity, saying, ' Naught shames 
 A nation so as being short of words.' 
 So everyone unto himself now girds 
 A name, whereby he may be known, to give 
 His enemies a handle and to live 
 
170 TRAMPS AND TROUBADOURS 
 
 Upon, from envy also at the few 
 
 Who had already taken up this view. 
 
 The state also about this time proclaimed 
 
 An edict wise, that everyone be named — 
 
 Names that should through every family branch 
 
 Descend to everyone without mischance. 
 
 Seeing how well it worked none were behind 
 
 In naming all they had ; there was a kind 
 
 Of charm in hunting words ; thought was improved, 
 
 And literary tastes developed, moved 
 
 By this impulse. National concerns 
 
 Were making great advance ; the wordly learns 
 
 To be more wordly still ; antagonists 
 
 Now are content to lay aside their fists, 
 
 And use their tongues — much more convenient 
 
 In ev'ry way. Thus without being spent 
 
 They could go on or else relax at will ; 
 
 They could relent without preparatory thrill 
 
 Of wise regret, because they bore no pain 
 
 Of gaping wounds, or physical complain. 
 
 Things all went easier, smoother, softer, well, 
 
 When thus they could their eager tempers quell. 
 
 Our friend arrived and entered as a friend 
 The family tree, where he was wont to spend 
 Many a happy hour. The father first 
 Accosted him with an informal burst 
 Of information new. ' We all have names, 
 And we name everthing.' ' O, yes ! ' exclaims 
 A maiden ape, ' and you must have one too. 
 What is it to be ? ' and her arms she threw 
 About his neck. And then both laughed and wept. 
 The other members of the family long slept. 
 These three alone spake on by sober light 
 
THE ORDER OF THE WINE CUP 171 
 
 Of moon. ' She has been moping sadly since the night 
 
 You went away.' ' O, father ! ' said the maid, 
 
 ' How can you ? ' But he upon her smiling laid 
 
 His hand. ' I think the time has come for you 
 
 To wed. It is not right for you to strew 
 
 Your path with tears.' Our friend to this agreed, 
 
 And hesitated not at once to name his need. 
 
 ' And will you marry me ? ' he softly said 
 
 With a faint sigh. She answered, ' Yes.' Her head 
 
 She laid upon his shoulder, and he smiled. 
 
 ' But not without a name,' she uttered mild. 
 
 ' Of course not,' said the father ; ' we will soon 
 
 Set that to rights. It is his greatest boon 
 
 To give. Suppose we say, ' Prince Tenderheart.' 
 
 ' O, yes ! ' she said, ' that will be nice ; my part 
 
 Is Princess.' ' My Princess,' he said, and so 
 
 They were agreed. Then it was time to go. 
 
 The father said as they were going out : 
 
 ' We call our place, The Perch. The talk is all about 
 
 Names and naught else. I like short names and sweet, 
 
 And I have called myself, Treetop.' ' A meet 
 
 And useful name, seeing you are among 
 
 The first in power.' They parted, and he sung 
 
 All the way home, so full of joy was he — 
 
 That is, he chilled the blood of many an ape in tree. 
 
 Four mornings thence a proclamation ran, 
 ' Six marriages to be performed by Ban,' 
 (Ban was the ceremonial minister 
 Provided for things strange and sinister. 
 He had the marriages also to fix) 
 ' The morning after next.' These were our six 
 Adventurers. It was a custom there, 
 That everyone must in some duty share 
 
172 TRAMPS AND TROUBADOURS 
 
 For the state before they could get married, 
 E'en though what they undertook miscarried. 
 So from one state to this they eager run 
 Declining servitude except to one. 
 
 Marrying and giving in marriage were 
 Much the same at all times so we infer 
 From what we know of men and women now. 
 They all have one opinion of the marriage vow ; 
 The same before the flood as after too ; 
 The same at Adam's time ; and even you 
 Are well acquainted with the facts, and can 
 Produce some instances to show how man 
 Is making marriages continually here. 
 Presumably there were some ev'ry year, 
 Ever since there have been created things 
 To take delight in these perennial springs 
 Of matrimonial joys. No one denies 
 This very fair and reasonable surmise, 
 And so we shall proceed. But only this 
 Shall we record of any monkey miss 
 Who gets married, as of these other six, 
 That when they on their marriage fancy fix 
 They stand before the priest in public view, 
 Who tells the others what they mean to do, 
 And then a knot of grass is bound about their head 
 To show that they have decently been wed. 
 
 Prince Tenderheart took up his new abode 
 Within a vacant tree, as was the mode, 
 And was enrolled true member of the state. 
 They were happy, he and his lovely mate, 
 And a large family was springing up 
 To make his joy to overflow his cup. 
 Thus quite a dozen years went sweetly on ; 
 
THE ORDER OF THE WINE CUP 173 
 
 Joys were unbounded ; prosperity shone 
 
 Upon the happy pair. And meantime apes 
 
 Were busy drilling into proper shapes, 
 
 Soldiers, and other war material. 
 
 Planning and scheming sorties, charges, camps, and all 
 
 The theory and practice of campaigns. 
 
 The proud horizon of the monkey brains 
 
 Was growing vast and wonderfully large. 
 
 They had imperial duties to discharge 
 
 In foreign lands — great and glorious ends 
 
 In making enemies out of their friends. 
 
 One day a proclamation went to say, 
 That all was ready this same month of May, 
 That they would start the morning after this 
 If nothing serious should go amiss, 
 And everyone to follow, see, or hear, 
 Should quietly take their places in the rear. 
 Accordingly the march commenced at ten, 
 A hundred bodies of five hundred men. 
 The tribe comprising many thousands more 
 Followed behind to see the scene of gore. 
 Some of these meant to colonise the land 
 They went to conquer, having at command 
 Nothing at all, with everything to lose 
 At home. They went that they might riches choose 
 Out of the wealth of ownerless possessions 
 Wrested from those with whom they had contentions. 
 Others, when all was over and their friends 
 Quietly settled, would then, to make amends 
 For this long holiday, return to muse 
 In quiet happiness on family news. 
 To make the march an easier progress they 
 Cut through the forest as they went their way 
 
174 TRAMPS AND TROUBADOURS 
 
 A military road. ' It will,' they said, 
 
 ' Be useful afterwards to our commercial head, 
 
 And make a splendid highway to connect 
 
 Our colonies, and further to perfect 
 
 Our mutual intercourse.' So everyone 
 
 Was full of wild delight to see the fun. 
 
 At length they came upon the foe. and first 
 An envoy was despatched to state the worst 
 That should befall. They were obligingly desired 
 To make their peace forthwith, or else be fired 
 Upon. These easy terms were all refused. 
 The war commenced, they being thus excused 
 By military etiquette and law, 
 And so hostilities began without a flaw. 
 Prince Tenderheart was there, his wife as well. 
 She followed him, but why, I cannot tell ; 
 And they together up a palm-tree sprung ; 
 And to its topmost branches fearless clung, 
 As many others did the better to behold 
 The splendid spectacle of war unfold. 
 
 Now the first cocoa-nut was fired ; it hit 
 The old King Longtail on the head ; a fit 
 He had directly ; and lay upon the ground 
 Without a sign of life, or e'en a sound. 
 The marksman was astonished, so were all, 
 To see the potentate so quickly fall. 
 Both sides had quite forgotten to consult 
 Their interest in watching this result, 
 And for a time hostilities were ended, 
 So that the grief of friends might be expended, 
 But none were able to exactly show 
 How any ape should fall before a blow. 
 
THE ORDER OF THE WINE CUP 175 
 
 A mighty roar like thunder overhead 
 Multiplied many dozen times, with dread 
 Filled everyone, and now they saw what none 
 Had yet observed. The pleasant mid-day sun 
 Was blotted out by a thick rolling cloud 
 Hiding the earth in dark and warning shroud. 
 A mighty flame was from a mountain near, 
 Loud, rushing headlong into heaven. A fear 
 Laid hold on all before this burnished spire. 
 A prehistoric Etna was on fire, 
 Vesuvius's bitter belching out 
 Whole continents of lava in wild rout. 
 Three days they waited thus ; the hissing fire 
 Tore its fierce way to heaven in ruin dire. 
 The earth was trembling visibly ; beneath 
 Were rumblings strange ; now from its hidden sheath 
 A dreadful sword was drawn. The mountain cleft, 
 And fell ; all were of hope bereft. 
 And now the earth began to sink ; under 
 Their feet they felt it slip ; they dared not stir. 
 Fast, fast it sank, and they were full of woe, 
 Afar they heard the loud and rushing flow 
 Of many waters — wild tides coming on ; 
 The fire now on the distant tumult shone. 
 
 Prince Tenderheart clung to a cocoa-nut, 
 His wife to him. He would not leave or cut 
 His refuge off. Thus passed each dreadful day, 
 And he was filled with fear and sad dismay. 
 He saw dark seas swift out of wild gulfs poured ; 
 He knew that, sudden, seven thunders roared ; 
 He felt his palm-tree fall, and all was hushed ; 
 Next thing he knew the waters dreadful gushed 
 About him everywhere. The day was bright ; 
 
176 TRAMPS AND TROUBADOURS 
 
 The world of waters sparkled in the light. 
 
 No trace of land could he discern, or sign — 
 
 He thought it sad they should this life decline — 
 
 Of any of his friends or brethren. 
 
 Perhaps they might be somewhere even then 
 
 Carrying on their war ; perhaps at feast 
 
 As one happy family ; or, at least, 
 
 In peace together sleeping under sea. 
 
 The Princess was with him anyhow ; he 
 
 Was glad. How long he had been thus at sea 
 
 He did not know, upon a slim palm-tree. 
 
 A current bore the tree swiftly along 
 For ten long days, making a gentle song 
 Among the waves. At last a little peak 
 Seemed to rise slowly out of the great deep, a streak, 
 And then a beautiful delightful land, 
 And a wide-stretching beach of silver sand. 
 Soon they were caught among the rocks, and leapt 
 Lightly upon the welcome strand. They wept 
 And joyfully embraced to have escaped 
 The terrors of the deep. The shore was draped 
 In many a new design of foliage, 
 Which would the choicest harmonies of taste engage 
 To paint in pictures, weave on tapestry. 
 But of the charm of nature's majesty 
 They took no thought, much too delighted here 
 To have safe stranded, though from all their dear 
 Relations they were now estranged. They raced 
 Each other up and down the sand ; and chased 
 The moths, and other idle things ; and last, 
 As night was coming on, they quickly cast 
 About for a convenient tree to sleep away 
 The sad misfortunes of their evil day. 
 
THE ORDER OF THE WINE CUP 177 
 
 Ten years have drank of Time's convivial glass 
 At his continual banquet, and they pass 
 Into the anti-chamber of their doom 
 To rest, to be forgotten in the gloom 
 Of lethal abnegation of their past. 
 Until the horologe of Time be cast 
 In the meet mould of unity — fulfilled, 
 And ev'ry hour has done what it was willed, 
 Until the liberated talents find 
 The sleepers out, and send them forth to bind 
 The desecrators of the decalogue. 
 
 Prince Tenderheart and wife were sitting on a log 
 In a fair wild ; before them lay a glade 
 Sprinkled with trees, sweet fruits, choice flowers and 
 
 shade. 
 Until this time they had been wand'ring far, 
 Seeking a place where there should be no bar 
 To happiness. They had but just arrived 
 Upon this scene, and felt they had contrived 
 To light upon a suitable resort, 
 Where they should have all things for their support. 
 ' How beautiful this is ! ' said he, * so calm 
 And full of ease. There is some secret balm 
 About this place, that fills me with a pure 
 And tender influence, and I am sure 
 We shall be wonderfully happy here.' 
 She gave no answer, but a wistful tear 
 Was stealing down her cheek. Her thoughts had run 
 Back to her father's home, her charming son 
 And daughters fair, and her youth's happy time. 
 But all were lost, and in this fairer clime 
 They would begin again. Gently she rose 
 And hasted to forget her former woes. 
 
 M 
 
178 TRAMPS AND TROUBADOURS 
 
 Prince Tenderheart got up as well and gazed 
 About him with new pleasure ; all he praised. 
 And further on they came to where more art 
 Than nature seemed to have controlled this part 
 The spacious wilderness to fair perfection's head, 
 With cultivated shrub and fair flower-bed. 
 
 Then, suddenly, as they admiring stood, 
 Someone came round the corner of a wood : 
 ' Look, look ! ' the Prince exclaimed, ' Is that not one 
 Of us — our great ancestral father's son ? 
 Let us make haste and greet him.' Up he ran, 
 And said, ' Have you a name ? Are you a man ? ' 
 ' I am a man, and Adam is my name.' 
 ' Are you one of the tailless apes — the same 
 As my wife's kin ? ' Prince Tenderheart inquired. 
 Then without pausing for reply desired 
 To know, ' How have you escaped destruction ? 
 How come here ? ' Adam had no conception 
 What he was talking of, therefore he felt 
 Uneasy and bewildered, and thus dealt 
 With his questioner, waiting his reply. 
 ' I do not know at present, by-and-bye 
 Perhaps I shall find out. Five days ago 
 I found myself beneath that tree, below 
 The pool. And then next morn I found Eve.' 
 The Prince said, ' Where is she now ? ' 'I believe 
 Somewhere among the pomegranate-trees.' 
 Away went Tenderheart ; up to the knees 
 He plunged through thickets of fair flowers, and came 
 In sight of her there trying to reclaim 
 Some roses lost in vagrant beauty wild. 
 In graceful attitude, she, sweet and mild, 
 Bent over them. 
 
THE ORDER OF THE WINE CUP 179 
 
 He had a sudden thought ; 
 This sudden through his mind like wildfire wrought ; 
 While mutt'ring to himself about escape 
 He onward went. ' They are of the same shape, 
 And must be of our race. 'Tis past all doubt. 
 I know the previous facts, and all about 
 Connections of the kind. I shall record 
 For history that there be no discord 
 About the singular descent of man 
 From the most ancient house of apes. I can — ' 
 But here he paused, for Eve was looking up, 
 Holding a very pretty rose-leaf cup. 
 He thought, ' There is something not quite the same 
 About them after all. I cannot name 
 The difference — some new development 
 That has in this new species found vent, 
 Perhaps some higher form of old descent.' 
 There was great admiration evident 
 Upon his face. ' Why should you thus be spent 
 With toil ? I am quite sure you were not meant 
 For this seclusion in a wilderness. 
 It could not be thus meant, I must confess. 
 All liberty is yours and not restraint. 
 Why should you not know all things ? This con- 
 straint 
 Is robbing you of being now divine.' 
 ' But how shall I accomplish this design ? ' 
 Said she. ' I am surprised you do not know 
 So very small a thing. Ah ! this does show 
 How ignorant you are.' 
 
 But why proceed ? 
 You are aware how evil did succeed ? 
 
180 TRAMPS AND TROUBADOURS 
 
 You know the curse that swiftly fell, and how 
 
 Prince Tenderheart, the wily one, did bow 
 
 Unto the ground for ever after, he 
 
 Being as other beasts and all his progeny ? 
 
 But still he lived to be an ancient ape, 
 
 More than ever useless, and out of shape, 
 
 As his father previously said, 
 
 And all his family thereafter fled 
 
 From haunts of man, and silently grew tails. 
 
 Their tongues are tied, and speech for ever fails. 
 
 But whether Adam really had a tail 
 Or no, is not quite certain, since we fail 
 From history to gain these useful facts 
 That should have been recorded of the acts, 
 Had he not been so manifestly strange, 
 Of poor Prince Tenderheart. A sudden change 
 Had come on him, so that he never said 
 Exactly how it was. He now is dead 
 And buried long ago. It may be so 
 That Adam had a tail, but that it ceased to grow 
 In his descendants. Some philosophers 
 Will then be right, yet there are found scoffers 
 Who still deny his having had a tail 
 At all. Their evidence may altogether fail ; 
 They may be wrong. One thing can here be said, 
 And may a little light upon the subject shed. 
 Prince Tenderheart seemed to have strictly claimed 
 Relationship by marriage, because he had been named, 
 With Adam, showing clearly man's descent 
 Was with the prehistorip monkey blent. 
 
 INTERLUDE 
 
 ' Ah ! ' said everyone, ' that is beautiful,' 
 Though it was seen they were only dutiful 
 
THE ORDER OF THE WINE CUP 181 
 
 In their responses, being out at sea 
 
 In understanding — could not perfectly 
 
 Follow their master's words — pleased at the tail, 
 
 But very far from grasping the new tale 
 
 With full religious sentiment. Sceptic 
 
 Of innovation's charm, as dyspeptic 
 
 As a butterfly in ancient things. 
 
 For all that everyone his praises sings, 
 
 And he having listened sufficiently 
 
 With due reserve and meek humility 
 
 To all the honours, now asserts again 
 
 His place as master — starting in his reign 
 
 Afresh. His wand he therefore raises up, 
 
 Having previously taken the Cup 
 
 Of sweet refreshment and select repose, 
 
 And thus addresses the diurnal shows : 
 
 ' You will be pleased to learn that our dear friend 
 
 And brother has arrived. He could not wend 
 
 This way before, but now he has arrived, 
 
 Let us address him for a purpose wise, derived 
 
 From that large penalty of kinship near, 
 
 That lays great burdens on those whom it holds most 
 
 dear — 
 That is, to stand before your naked eyes 
 And speak to us according to his size, 
 Or otherwise ability, that chooses themes 
 Consid'rate to the numbers, and his dreams,' 
 And here Gustave looked round, ' Gerard, your part 
 Has come ; speak to us as it moves your heart.' 
 He paused and smiled contentedly to all. 
 A murmur of welcome rose, and a call, 
 ' You must honour our Order with a song, 
 Or else something that's nice, but not too long.' 
 And so he did, pleasant and fair to see, 
 Of Norman blood, and pale gentility. 
 
182 TRAMPS AND TROUBADOURS 
 
 II— THE BREAKERS : A BALLAD 
 
 By Gerard de Avignon 
 
 The wind is blowing fresh to lee ; 
 
 The sails are taut and trim ; 
 The ship is riding gallantly 
 
 Upon the white wave's brim. 
 For merry is the sailor's life and merry shall he be. 
 
 Upon the deck our captain stands, 
 
 And merry is his laugh ; 
 He is a man who understands 
 
 The ripe red wine to quaff, 
 And who shall sing a blither song than this for liberty. 
 
 Haul up the anchor ; let us sail 
 
 The bright blue sea again. 
 The wind is rising to a gale 
 Upon the coast of Spain. 
 To sail for ever merrily is what I now would be. 
 
 ' O, captain brave, what ails thee now ? 
 Why should ye look so sad ? 
 Why stand ye sadly at the bow 
 As if ye no life had ? ' 
 Then said the noble captain thus, 'There must I 
 breakers see.' 
 
 ' The breakers are not on the lee, 
 
 Nor is there anything 
 To make ye sad upon the sea, 
 
 So let us merry sing : 
 O merry is a sailor's life and merry shall he be ! ' 
 
THE ORDER OF THE WINE CUP 183 
 
 ' It is upon the coast of Spain 
 
 That we are flying free. 
 O never shall I see again 
 My happy bride to be ! ' 
 ' Oh cheer ye noble captain now, and be no more sadly.' 
 
 ' I hear,' the noble captain said, 
 
 1 The breakers on the lee.' 
 The gallant ship fast drove ahead. 
 ' It is sad death to be — 
 To die upon the coast of Spain and not my bride to see.' 
 
 ' Saint Christopher bestir ye now, 
 
 Or else we all be dead. 
 A dozen candles shall I vow 
 Unto thine altar-head. 
 Bestir ye, good Saint Christopher — the breakers on 
 the lee ! ' 
 
 The ship was on the coast of Spain 
 
 With breakers on the lee ; 
 And never shall we see again 
 The captain sail the sea ; 
 And who shall sing a blither song than this for liberty. 
 
 INTERLUDE 
 
 ' Have you been much at sea, monsieur ? ' one said, 
 And looked into his face to know what could be read. 
 ' Not very much ; I've been as far as Spain, 
 And bad it was. I had a dreadful pain 
 All the way there and back. Of a surety 
 I was too glad to land to go to sea 
 Again.' ' Well, everything has its drawbacks. 
 This is one, I suppose, when the ship tacks,' 
 
184 TRAMPS AND TROUBADOURS 
 
 ' Decidedly on a rough sea 'tis luck, 
 
 Or the good saints that take you through, than pluck, 
 
 Or any other reason that I know. 
 
 When you go to sea take a saint for show, 
 
 And then you -will be safe, but if you fail 
 
 In this you can have candles not for sale, 
 
 Or anything you like. The saint will keep 
 
 You from falling headlong in the great deep.' 
 
 There was a buzz of conversation all around, 
 
 Noisy continuance of broken sound 
 
 Slipped hither, thither ; trifling jars and twangs 
 
 From faint guitars were making sharp their fangs 
 
 To edit new discourses when the ear 
 
 Of harmony should have subdued its fear, 
 
 And out of discord struggled into peace. 
 
 Not soon did this result effect release 
 
 For all the babble was continuous, 
 
 And some were now dabbling in love vinous, 
 
 Discrediting themselves and everyone 
 
 Who were not childish for the sake of fun. 
 
 Gustave was getting up to read the law 
 
 Against indecent noise, for he saw 
 
 That insubordination would soon gain 
 
 Ascendency, and everlasting stain 
 
 The noble records of the Order gay. 
 
 Thus he arose and was about to lay 
 
 Considerable stress on keeping cool, 
 
 And not excessively enact the fool, 
 
 When turning he upon the dainty sward 
 
 Saw Father Ananias slow retard 
 
 His steps full soberly. Then all his face 
 
 Grew bright when he beheld this man of grace. 
 
 Forgetting everything, he said, ' Delight 
 
 Has sudden fallen on us from the height 
 
THE ORDER OF THE WINE CUP ]85 
 
 Of glory, holiness and peace. Here is 
 
 One who shall make us bountiful, I wis, 
 
 In much sweetness.' Now all at once was changed ; 
 
 A sightlier decency was quietly ranged 
 
 Throughout the Order's mellifluous tongues ; 
 
 Meek Modesty was stationed on the rungs 
 
 Of sweet Sobriety's frail ladder high, 
 
 Whereby the pure from foul defilement fly. 
 
 To all intents the company was glad 
 
 That this good fortune now they this day had. 
 
 ' Come, Father, drink ! thou art most welcome here. 
 
 We shall be glad out of thy stores to hear 
 
 A lovely tale,' said brave Gustave with joy ; 
 
 And all the others said also, ' Employ 
 
 Our ears in thy delightful way, Father.' 
 
 And so he fain would make response, ' Gather 
 
 Your understandings well as sheaved wheat, 
 
 And hear ye, wiseful, of this Romaunt sweet.' 
 
 Then he drank deeply of the briskful wine, 
 
 Nor seemed to be affected — not one sign 
 
 Of wavering that ofttimes has begat 
 
 A vague deficiency of moral fat — 
 
 And thus upon the sacred theme begins ; 
 
 The instanter he all attention wins. 
 
 Ill— ROMAUNT OF THE PERI 
 
 By Father Ananias 
 
 Ben Levi Israel of holy name, 
 Who had from earth ascended without shame, 
 Was gently strolling down the shaded street 
 Of Paradise, thinking of all the heat 
 And bustle of the earthly courts. He thought 
 Of the great law he had inscribed and taught, 
 
186 TRAMPS AND TROUBADOURS 
 
 Of greetings in the market-place and street, 
 
 When looking through the gate he saw, too sweet 
 
 For mortal eyes, a winsome Peri stand, 
 
 Sighing for sorrow that no friendly hand 
 
 Would open for her those fast closed gates 
 
 Of sardonyx, on which were traced the fates 
 
 Of those deceivers lying to the sun — 
 
 The infidels. She saw, through network spun 
 
 Of lattice-gold, the streets of Paradise 
 
 Glorious and glad. Never enters vice 
 
 To those pure plains, where shineth ever fair 
 
 The sun's bright glory, so that all may bear 
 
 His mellow heat. Everywhere are growing palms 
 
 By shaded street arid well, the joyous alms 
 
 Of sweetness, purity, and peace. There days 
 
 Have no sun-setting, nor yet rise ; the ways 
 
 Of ceaseless journeyings are past and gone. 
 
 How in Ben Levi's eye contentment shone, 
 
 And kindness therewith ! To the Peri fair 
 
 He spake gently, ' Why are you standing there ? ' 
 
 ' I cannot enter,' said the radiant maid, 
 
 And a soft tear fell star-like till it stayed 
 
 Shining in the clear heavens, and in the night. 
 
 Many a century after it gave light 
 
 To sad wayfarers lone on blasted Syria's plains. 
 
 He was much moved. ' I will remove thy stains, 
 
 Indeed thou art quite pure, therefore remain 
 
 No longer suppliant.' A swelling strain 
 
 Of music floated outward soft and free, 
 
 As good Ben Levi turned the golden key, 
 
 And the great swinging gates flashed backward on 
 
 The earth, swift lights, and wondrous glory shone. 
 
 Men said, ' An angel passes.' 
 
THE ORDER OF THE WINE CUP 187 
 
 The Peri 
 Entered joyfully ; then the golden key 
 Locked up the pearly gates of Paradise, 
 So that the evil world should not entice 
 The rash desire to stray from gentle thought. 
 The palms were waving gently as they caught 
 The soft swift breeze, and dallying shadows tripped 
 In search of idleness. A land where lipped 
 The placid waters coyly ; gentle shores 
 Laden auburn with all abundant ores, 
 And spoils of lavish lustres lay about 
 Securely undisturbed. Without a doubt 
 A land of ease and plenteous content, 
 Where none were listless and without intent ; 
 A land of soft refreshing innocence, 
 Freedom of love and loveliness of sense, 
 Free without vileness, perfect without pain, 
 Of gentleness and grace. A land of gain, 
 And plenteous repose ; a land of joy 
 Of idleness and ease, not much too coy ; 
 No fair deceiving glamours to destroy 
 The youngest comer. A land where none annoy 
 The pleasant potency of loveliness 
 By giving patience unto ugliness — 
 In short, a land of peace, which no man's heart 
 Would willingly with its acceptance part. 
 
 The Peri all these things had understood 
 For many years, and knew it greater good 
 Than she had ever hoped to win, for long 
 Had she watched at the gate. She heard its song 
 Many a time and oft ; consoling dreamt 
 Of it in her fair bower ; it would tempt 
 Her to much sorrow, and as oft to tears, 
 
188 TRAMPS AND TROUBADOURS 
 
 While winds would shake her arbour, and her fears 
 Deaden the vague intentness of her dream. 
 
 It was in that fair arbour by a stream 
 That fairy summers past. The babbling brook 
 Burst from a rock, had oft with answ'ring look 
 Proclaimed her beauty — guardian of a wood, 
 And princess of pastoral delights. There she would 
 Stand hourly to behold the springing shaft 
 Of glory brighten, whether in the craft 
 Of woodland lore to heal the sick'ning tree, 
 Or from the bud appoint the leaf to be, 
 Or even of the growing tenderness 
 Of love-lorn mates. Nor was she aught the less 
 Directress of the dawn and youthful day. 
 Thus once wand'ring a little way astray 
 From her fair bower-home of smiling flowers 
 She chanced upon a glade.' The blissful hours 
 Since her departure had full gladly gone, 
 And she in joy's complacency went on, 
 Heeding not once the coursing sun, as flew 
 A blithe-winged bird. A glade she came into, 
 And stood watching the flutt'ring azure break 
 Down the steep slope beneath into a lake, 
 From the impanelled parliament of leaves, 
 That sifted out the moral past of trees, and weaves 
 Terrestrial commentaries of distress 
 On the vain life of leaves or essences, 
 That in their nature had not common cause 
 As much as has a country with bye-laws. 
 They dealt unto the question of the day, 
 Mock measure — there letting no heedless ray 
 To enter. That which they considered light 
 Was grievance 'gainst the under-weeds delight, 
 
THE ORDER OF THE WINE CUP 189 
 
 That cherished but such sobered countenance 
 At this dim obligation to advance, 
 And gainsay of the day's high wealth. 
 
 She stood 
 And watched in the dusk glamour of the wood, 
 The flux and flow of lights, old synonym, 
 Where Silence loathful kept his counsel dim 
 In this unvocal element. At last 
 Through playful motes of glimm'ring green she past 
 And stopped all suddenly to see deep lie 
 In bushy emerald a mortal. Fly 
 She very nearly did, but stood her ground 
 Bravely, because she heard no sound. 
 She cautiously approached on second thought, 
 Bravely thinking healing might here be wrought. 
 She did, and heard him sadly moan, ' I die.' 
 A rapture crossed his face as he did lie : 
 ' O, fair vision, stay ! Heal me if thou wilt.' 
 She was affrighted sore. ' It is no guilt,' 
 He said, and she for sorrow suffered more ; 
 And at the sight of blood not seen before 
 Shuddered. But knowing of a remedy 
 Made all her skill avail in sweet indemnity. 
 She fed him also, till he had contrived 
 To gain some strength ; then with his soul revived 
 He thus began to whisper plaintively, 
 ' O, houri ! what fair wonder do I see ? 
 O stay, sweet vision ! Surely I must die 
 If now thou leavest me in woe to lie, 
 And this unrestful sadness. Speak to me, 
 And say thou wilt not let me to death be.' 
 She stood aside, and maidenly would play 
 With those long tresses fair in disarray, 
 
1(K> TRAMPS AND TROUBADOURS 
 
 Like running gold glist'ning beneath starlight, 
 And changing into ebon dark as night, 
 And wondrous as the maiden blush of dawn. 
 
 She stood alert and graceful as a fawn, 
 And said, 'I cannot stay ; I must begone. 
 Thou wilt be healed of all thy wounds anon.' 
 She turned, and vanished. Into his delight 
 Pains entered piercingly. The tender Night 
 Concealed him as he lay, and Morning prest 
 His hand and wept to find him in death rest. 
 
 The Peri in her bower in sadness moaned, 
 ' 'Tis love that pains me thus.' The low winds toned 
 To griefs, sad languished, answered, ' He dies,' 
 And she with trembling steps goes where he lies 
 To find sitting alone and gazing on the dead 
 The sad Morn wofully, while on his head 
 Blind Night lays sorrowing hands, and weeps 
 
 disconsolate 
 At this untimely ending to youth's state. 
 She was love-lorn, and lost in sadness drear : 
 ' Whither art thou, my sweetest ? O to hear 
 Thee speak again ! What shall I do for love ? 
 How can I live — thee dead ? Nowhere above 
 Answerest thou ; nor in far fields and plains 
 Can I behold thee ; nor can pleasant rains 
 Bring thee again, as yellow daffodils, 
 To change my weariness.' From the fair hills 
 She turned away. ' If Paradise I gain 
 There shall I find thee, whom I would now fain 
 Bring back to life.' 
 
 Ben Levi much admired 
 The beauteous Peri — so radiant. He desired 
 
THE ORDER OF THE WINE CUP 191 
 
 Nothing more delightful than be with her 
 Everywhere ; it added a great spur 
 And zest to the contentment sweet of Paradise 
 Somewhat monotonous. At best old Vice 
 Could not within the golden bars present 
 Her haggard face, whose life in passion spent 
 Befitted ill the comfortable calm, 
 That reigned throughout the universal balm 
 Of fulfilled expectations. She would beat 
 In ages past her vampire wings to cheat 
 The faithful of their peace, but fallen low 
 She strives to keep out all men who would go 
 To Paradise, content with simple charms 
 To make all men believe what she disarms. 
 
 Ben Levi Israel began, 'O, fair ! ' — 
 Dew-drops were still resplendent everywhere — 
 ' How shall I please thee best ? ' ' Take heed for naught,' 
 She said, ' but give me thy discretion — taught 
 Both true and merciful of grace and fair 
 Foresight.' He, conquered by her lovely air 
 Of smiling winsomeness, was for content 
 Responsively complaisant, but, intent 
 On gaining her continuance of smiles, 
 Went on with her, confederate in wiles 
 With his desire. Softly beyond the streets 
 They went where grace and glory in joy meets, 
 And wandered into glades where luscious founts 
 Bubbled and sprang amid green-swarded mounts, 
 While through the wondrous bowers of tumbling green 
 There may be seen the silver rivers sheen, 
 These from the mighty tuba ever flow, 
 Spreading, rejoicing, everywhere they go. 
 Some bring the best inhabitants their wine, 
 
192 TRAMPS AND TROUBADOURS 
 
 Some milk, some honey, some as crystal fine 
 With joyous waters shine. Above them all 
 Hang fruits from tuba's branch, which at the call 
 Or wish of any one comes down. O vast 
 Is tuba ! if a horseman should have past 
 A hundred years on fleetest Arab steed 
 He would not one circumference indeed 
 Accomplish. Ah, fair Paradise ! such joys 
 Are sweeter still, since the believer toys 
 With black-eyed houries to eternity, 
 So that he loses nothing of affinity, 
 And what he was accustomed to before 
 Still can be his upon the other shore. 
 
 From trees and even buds, as oozing dew, 
 Sweetness dropped rich as honey culled to woo 
 The tenderest breeze. A fruity passion drips 
 From every joint and leaf and suckling tips 
 In case-hushed green-mossed glades, where loathly lie 
 The flowers for eager love. There also sigh 
 The twin-bud passion's suppliant appeal 
 From beds of primrose — mindful of the seal 
 Of all sweet things, mid lustre-linking may 
 Foremost of all things beautiful and gay, 
 And yellow daffodil — of lovers twain, 
 Whose love beats pulsing till its power be pain 
 Dissatisfied with repetition's vow 
 That seeks continuance, caused to endow 
 Jts own desires with fulness yet not full, 
 And satisfied with tenderness to rule. 
 
 The air was heavy-odoured, none the less 
 Sweet and dreamful ; great multitudes confess 
 Its potency ; soft-budded azure swam 
 In the cool heav'ns light flickering. ' I am 
 
THE ORDER OF THE WINE CUP 193 
 
 In the midst of pleasantness. Ah ! never 
 Was I so glad,' said Ben Levi ; ' ever 
 Must I rejoice in thy sweet loveliness, 
 That as a star shineth to happiness. 
 All glorious thou art, maid of the air, 
 Fairer than the daughters of men. Declare 
 All things to me — thy beauty. Who shall say 
 That favour lieth not with thee ? The day- 
 Is blest with richest radiance and light, 
 As a swift glory thou hast much delight 
 Of all things. A treasure is with thee — more 
 Than the glories of Paradise ; and o'er 
 Thy face gladness is shed. Shall I not ask 
 Thee for this thing and live ? ' The emerald mask 
 Of the fair woods bright gleamed. She rosy blushed 
 And all her limbs were tremulous. Soft gushed 
 The blissful fountains — joyous, and she said, 
 ' How shall I speak when my sad heart has bled 
 With the desire of love. Behold ! once I 
 Opened my mouth but to make sadness lie, 
 And feel the suddenness of evil make 
 Fetters for my life. O, how shall I take 
 Wisdom of sorrow ? — neither shall one say 
 Without reproach, ' Give me thy love.' 
 
 Away 
 On the wings of the soul the hunter fled, 
 When he had slowly out of this life bled, 
 Sighing : ' O, beauteous maid, fairer than pearls 
 And fine gold, when shall we meet ? ' The beryls 
 From the minaret tops flashed back swift lights 
 From Paradise, as he in steadfast flights 
 Swooned through the azure overwhelmed with fears 
 Of things uncertain. On his face some tears 
 
 N 
 
194 TRAMPS AND TROUBADOURS 
 
 Fell wondrously out of sight ; a joyous cry, 
 ' Now I know that I shall no longer sigh 
 Helpless, but see thee, glorious as the evening star. 
 Come to me with love, thou that art not far 
 From hence, but waitest for the fitting hour 
 To rise to gladness new.' The prophet by his power 
 Safely across Al Sirat lightly bore 
 The happy hunter, nor had he before 
 Seen such a bridge — finer than a thin hair 
 And sharper than Damascus blade. The air 
 Was rent with cries and moans from underneath 
 Where the infernal regions lay ; his teeth 
 Chattered to hear the dreadful cries. At length 
 He came to fair Al Cawthar, pool of strength, 
 Whose waters whiter than milk or silver are 
 And sweeter than musk. ' Thirst shall be afar 
 Who drink of this,' said a little white bird, 
 And so he drank. His thirst was at that word 
 Quenched for ever. As many as the stars 
 Were the drinking-cups. Then his many scars 
 Entirely disappeared, and he went on. 
 
 The gates of Paradise before him shone ; 
 He went on joyfully as ev'ry hour 
 Brought him the nearer. Perfumes of sweet power 
 Wafted by fitful winds broke lightly o'er, 
 Descending as a cloud with sweetest store 
 Of fragrance ; hark'ning to their bidding, he 
 Touched the white border of the land lightly ; 
 And as he stood the gates flew open wide 
 As if for welcome guest. His fragrant guide 
 Dissolved behind, and was gone from his sight. 
 A band of maidens decked in thrilling white 
 Met him within. Around him in a ring 
 
THE ORDER OF THE WINE CUP 195 
 
 They would with great rejoicing loving cling. ' 
 
 They waved about him scarfs with perfumes sweet, 
 
 And duly washed his hands and dusty feet. 
 
 With blandishments and smiles they wooed him there, 
 
 Because he was a brave man and a fair. 
 
 They were not made of clay, but of pure musk, 
 
 And were of houries black-eyed as the dusk, 
 
 Joyful to see and sweetest to embrace. 
 
 But he was looking for a certain face 
 
 That he found not, yet he was surely glad 
 
 Even at sight of loveliness. He had, 
 
 As ev'ry man hath, eyes for virgin grace, 
 
 And manfully the archness of a woman's face 
 
 He met. Now there could be no safe retreat, 
 
 Nor would he if he had. They would greet 
 
 Him with sweet welcome, and soon they all went 
 
 Together rapturous full flushly spent 
 
 In the youth-world of love. 
 
 ' Ah ! ' said good Ben 
 Levi, ' thou hast some mortal lover then ? ' 
 The Peri spake not, but gazed rapturous 
 Among the languorous-lifting leaves. ' O, thus 
 To be content,' she murmured. Sore surprised 
 Ben Levi looked ; he had in heart devised 
 A nestling corner for young loves. Thereat 
 The Peri blushed, and on a sudden sat 
 Beside a narrow brook. Her brightness sank 
 A little, and her smile was dimmed. The bank 
 Was graced with cordial flowers ; the garrulous green 
 Hummed ravishing out of the quiv'ring sheen, 
 While from the ground, not made of mortal clay, 
 But of a curious substitute decay 
 Was banished from — pure wheaten flour 
 
196 TRAMPS AND TROUBADOURS 
 
 Mixed with saffron and musk, rose every hour 
 
 The most enchanting music ever made, 
 
 That would the vilest sinner from his sin persuade. 
 
 Thus glowed the empire — plain, and peerless site 
 
 Of the city of Paradise, now dight 
 
 In lustre, luxury, and light, and all 
 
 Was mildness, softness, perfume, and sweet thrall. 
 
 Out of the shimm'ring cloud of ageless green 
 
 Rose sounds of melody, as doves would preen 
 
 Their feathers out of sweet delight, and throng 
 
 The woods with harmony, so was this song : — 
 
 O, daughters of Paradise ! 
 Have ye seen her whom my heart longeth for ? 
 My heart faileth because of love ; 
 I am sad. Yea, I am full of woe. 
 O, that one might say unto me : 
 ' She seeketh thee ; 
 Let us not delay ; lo ! 
 Is she not fair ? Thou art sick of love, 
 Go forth and call her. O, Aszor, 
 
 Is she not in Paradise ? ' 
 
 O, virgins, my love is fair ! 
 Have ye seen such an one whom my soul seeketh ? 
 Say ye, ' We have seen thy sweet one ; 
 She walketh beside the still waters, 
 Beside the palm and fig-trees.' 
 I cry for ease ; 
 
 It cometh not, O, ye daughters ! 
 It is a vain thing vainly begun 
 For a man to be snared in love. He speaketh 
 
 Foolishness and seeketh care, 
 
THE ORDER OF THE WINE CUP 197 
 
 Bethink ye, O virgins ! 
 How shall I find peace and plenteousness 
 If I find not her whom my heart loveth ? 
 How shall I rejoice in love ? 
 When there are none to say unto me : 
 ' I am with thee, 
 Whom else should I love ? 
 In thee I rejoice as my soul liveth.' 
 Whom else should I desire for sweetness 
 
 In Paradise, O virgins ? 
 
 Bethink ye again, O daughters ! 
 She is fair as the Rose of Sharon ; 
 Her breath is like a garden full of spices ; 
 Her hair is like the heavens set with stars. 
 I have likened her to the dew 
 At morning new. 
 Yea, she is fairer than many stars. 
 When I think of her my heart rejoices. 
 She is exceeding fair to look upon. 
 
 Her eyes are as swift waters. 
 
 It was the hunter Aszor who thus sang 
 Unto the maids who welcomed him. A pang 
 Went through the Peri gazing through the leaves 
 At these fair damosels. A deep sigh heaves 
 Her tender bosom's whiteness, as she thought 
 That she was yet in pains of passion caught 
 With no respite. So turning to good Ben 
 Levi, she artful said, ' There of all men 
 Is he I deeply love/ and her smooth cheek 
 Was blushed with damask. Then his eyes would 
 
 seek 
 The lustre of the Peri's face. His heart 
 Beat painfully and slow, ravished apart 
 
198 TRAMPS AND TROUBADOURS 
 
 Almost by that sweet look he knew not his ; 
 
 His life-blood near was shed by this, and 'tis 
 
 Incredible how guilty passion rushed 
 
 About this holy man. It might have crushed 
 
 Loveliness to ruin, and strength to death. 
 
 But he as yet had uttered not a breath 
 
 Of all he felt, but rising silently, 
 
 Through the lush green docile, went jealously 
 
 Unto the hunter and the pretty maids, 
 
 And said, ' Thou hast trespassed ; he who dissuades 
 
 From virtue may not linger here,' and went 
 
 Leaving them all surprised, and in grief bent. 
 
 Shortly thereafter Aszor on the walls 
 Stood gazing unto earth. Behind him halls 
 Of sandal-wood, palaces of gold 
 And silver stood. All of eternal mould 
 Secured unending bliss for everyone. 
 Upon them shone the never-fading sun ; 
 A thousand burning points flashed everywhere 
 Through the untroubled sweetness of the air, 
 A glory undefined — ten thousand times 
 Ten thousand brighter suns than other climes 
 Could boast of. Turrets, pinnacles, and spires 
 Glowed altogether in continual fires. 
 Sometimes the faithful scarce could see for light 
 So gross had been their darkness ; now this bright 
 Refulgence slight perplexity compelled, 
 Until their dark transactions were dispelled 
 And their eyesight accustomed to the light 
 Could better understand to keep things out of sight 
 That were unsightly. Aszor on the walls 
 Stood gazing unto earth. ' Sadness befalls 
 Me everywhere,' he sighed. ' Yonder she lies 
 
THE ORDER OF THE WINE CUP 199 
 
 In the still woods content. O that these sighs 
 
 Might reach her ears ! ' He stood silent a time, 
 
 Balancing the merits of each fair clime, 
 
 In melancholy musings destitute 
 
 Of friendliness. All things about him mute 
 
 Rejoiced in fair silence wondrously sweet ; 
 
 A low and gentle music gradually fleet 
 
 Stole out of naught, swelling in soft recurring strains 
 
 Of joy, and glory's long exultant reigns. 
 
 A soft subdued completeness was in all 
 
 The fragrant visions. Now a light would fall 
 
 As of a passing seraph fleetly bent 
 
 To call a council of the new ascent 
 
 Of kings, worthless or wise, or happily 
 
 Incompetent. ' Depart if ye would see,' 
 
 Sighed a sweet voice, ' thy love.' He looked around, 
 
 But nowhere could he find cause of this sound. 
 
 Instead he saw advancing gaily drest 
 
 A crowd of senators and others to arrest 
 
 Some culprit. Ben Levi walked at their head 
 
 Stately, and in the rear a seraph spread 
 
 His wings coldly and stern, though a bright light 
 
 He shed, that 'scaped behind in easy flight. 
 
 They halted ; and Ben Levi forward came ; 
 
 And thus unto the hunter spake as if to blame, 
 
 With dignity raising his hand to mark 
 
 The greatness of offence : ' O, sinner, hark 
 
 Unto my words ! Thou who hast thus defiled 
 
 This sinless Paradise art now exiled 
 
 And banished from our presence. Hence depart 
 
 Until thy penitence reclaim the part 
 
 Thou hast now forfeited, and make thee meet 
 
 To dwell with us and sit in honour's seat.' 
 
 Then was Aszor wrath, ' I am innocent 
 
200 TRAMPS AND TROUBADOURS 
 
 Of all thy slanders.' But whate'er he meant 
 Further to say was here cut short. The face 
 Of the angel completely lost its grace ; 
 He raised his hand and taking sudden hold 
 Cast out from Paradise the hunter bold, 
 Who alighting softly in a still bower 
 Sat down to understand the nature of the power, 
 That violently expelled him innocent 
 From Paradise and freedom permanent. 
 
 ' Good Ben Levi,' said the Peri joyful, 
 ' Even I am glad that love is youthful, 
 And now I shall be able to require 
 A greater boon than thou hast in thine ire 
 Deprived me of.' She stood behind a palm 
 Where he had challenged Aszor in a calm 
 Omnipotence of judgment with such guilt, 
 That never had been heard of there since Heav'n was 
 
 built. 
 She was in a manner sentient 
 Of his true feelings — that he really meant 
 To speak of them ; and as a woman might 
 Prepared her plans against the coming fight. 
 No one beheld her in that curious way 
 Ling'ring, and when Aszor had fallen away 
 From Paradise she was o'ercome with joy. 
 ' Now,' said she, ' farewell, my delightful boy, 
 That guardest Paradise, and all its power — 
 My good Ben Levi. I, this very hour, 
 Leave thee and all thy house to take thy ease 
 In whatsoever fashion that ye please.' 
 Then she sweetly smiling ran lightly o'er 
 The green, and straightway lighting at the door 
 Of her own bower, as a coy maiden durst, 
 
THE ORDER OF THE WINE CUP 201 
 
 Glanced in and saw a guest had come, their first, 
 
 Who thus was speaking, ' Here my favourite spear 
 
 Is hanging ; nay, I am not yet quite clear 
 
 How this might be. O that my sweet love dwelt 
 
 In this fair bower ! Surely my woes would melt 
 
 If now I could behold her wondrous eyes.' 
 
 He paused; there crept throughout the bower the 
 
 sighs 
 Of the fair Peri ; bright her eyes now shone, 
 And sweetness everywhere was outward gone 
 From her. He turned, half wond'ring what might be 
 Rustling like leaves, and many winds lightly, 
 And there before his eyes his bashful queen 
 Stood silently amid the quiet scene. 
 ' Ah, love ! ' he said, delightful pleasure surged 
 Through his quick heart ; instructive ardour urged 
 A wondrous joy persuasive. Sweetly smiled 
 She rosy as the morn — a winsome child 
 Of nature fair. She came to him with arms 
 Uplifted. She spake not, but all her charms, 
 Her eyes, her smiles spake to him wondrous things 
 Beyond his wildest thoughts' imaginings. 
 
 Heart bound by love they lingered in ease long. 
 A mighty power to make them fair and strong 
 Rushed through all their limbs both fierce and swiftly ; 
 Ardour's impassioned hot blood ran ; greatly 
 Was happiness enlarged. They sat in bower 
 In love's immortal raptures ; nature's power 
 Soothingly surrounded with fragrance sweet 
 Their gentle passion ; breathed harmony meet 
 The joyful creatures round. And thus she sang, 
 Lifting her eyes all meltingly, whence sprang 
 Deep, passionate, and swift consuming fire 
 That burns the hearts of mortals to desire : — 
 
202 TRAMPS AND TROUBADOURS 
 
 O, my love, let us rejoice ! 
 Let us take our fill of love. 
 
 let me hear thy voice 
 
 Say unto me : ' I am thy love. 
 I am all thine, 
 As thou art mine.' 
 
 O, my heart, my eternity, 
 My wisdom, my divinest joy, 
 Thy words are as honey to me. 
 Here no evil shall destroy 
 
 Our communion, 
 
 And sweet union. 
 
 O, my soul ! I pray thee 
 Lay thy hand upon my heart. 
 
 1 live but to rejoice thee, 
 
 And say unto me : ' No other part 
 Shall constrain me 
 To forsake thee.' 
 
 Thou art better than all things ; 
 
 Thou art the beauty of the morning unto me ; 
 
 Unto thee my soul clings ; 
 
 Thou art joy and gladness. In thee 
 
 Is my delight, 
 
 My strength and might. 
 
 That is how the Peri gained her own end, 
 And this is how even high Heav'n must bend 
 To woman's will, when she has fixed her eye 
 Upon a thing — to gain it she must try, 
 Whether it be man or angel. No care 
 Has she for aught, but sacerdotal air 
 Of Hymen. Nothing else around she sees, 
 
THE ORDER OF THE WINE CUP 203 
 
 But to bring down her object to its knees. 
 Such disregard of other people's hearts 
 And feelings, graces not the chequered arts 
 Of dire necessity, and painful change. 
 This ought to be restricted to close range 
 Of earthly action, not to have unfurled 
 War everywhere, as if she in the world 
 Alone was co-existent with herself, 
 And sought to draw from man his heart itself. 
 
 INTERLUDE 
 
 ' Good Father thou hast delighted us,' said 
 Gustave, and said no more, so much ahead 
 Were all his thoughts of speech, confused and fired 
 Tumultuous and strange by what was lyred 
 By Father Ananias, who now smiled 
 As a superior might discreet and mild. 
 Gustave had for a time collapsed ; his head 
 Hung low ; his eyes were dreamy, shadowy and dead, 
 So hazed with dim intentions musing deep ; 
 Perhaps he was still wand'ring in a sleep 
 Through the rich plains of Paradise ; perhaps 
 He had gone back and taken a relapse 
 While gazing at the plains of gold ; 
 Or overcome by glance of houri bold 
 Had fallen victim to her witchery, 
 Having forgotten his past history 
 He could not leave. Poor, frail, susceptible, 
 Gustave had found Delilah in a houri's will. 
 'Tis sad imagination should delude 
 Him thus, when he should have in haste pursued 
 Things vain and visionary — all too late, 
 He was discomfited by selfish Fate. 
 
204 TRAMPS AND TROUBADOURS 
 
 ' Gustave, awake ! ' said sturdy Allien, 
 
 'Let someone else go on, and use their pen 
 
 Or tongue, to keep the Order up.' Gustave, 
 
 Astonished, started up ; he had to halve 
 
 And separate his thoughts before he found 
 
 A resting-place upon the solid ground 
 
 Of calm reality, where are no lights 
 
 Of roseate hue, or dreams of strange delights. 
 
 ' Yes, yes, of course,' he said at length, ' I know. 
 
 Let our friend Allien begin to show 
 
 His power, and then we shall retire this day 
 
 From making playful rhyme and tender lay.' 
 
 So worthy Allien became the bard, 
 
 And diligently wrought for conquest hard 
 
 In the immortal records of the Order gay, 
 
 That uses everyone but gives none pay. 
 
 IV— THE WANDERING KNIGHT 
 By Allien 
 
 A knight was spurring o'er the plain 
 
 From holy war returned : 
 A belted knight without a stain — 
 
 He evil would have spurned. 
 
 A gloomy plain he rode amid ; 
 
 No kindly sun shone o'er. 
 The blighted woods in darkness hid ; 
 
 The earth destruction bore. 
 
 No kindly face by cottage door ; 
 
 No song of joyful bird. 
 Pain in the face of nature wore 
 
 The silence of no-word. 
 
THE ORDER OF THE WINE CUP 205 
 
 He gazed about him all sadly 
 
 To see the woful place. 
 He would with heartiness gladly 
 
 Have seen a stranger's face. 
 
 The night was coming swiftly on ; 
 
 The wind went sighing by. 
 No friendly light in distance shone ; 
 
 No hostel was he nigh. 
 
 Onward he spurred his weary steed. 
 
 Through brake and briar he dashed. 
 ' O for a heartsome cup of mead ! ' 
 
 Through loathsome pool he splashed. 
 
 He saw before him sudden rise 
 
 Dark battlements and drear; 
 Turrets to the wild frowning skies 
 
 Point dismal, cold, and sheer. 
 
 Across the moss-grown drawbridge clank 
 
 The iron hoof of steed : 
 Slime from the oak door oozes dank ; 
 
 The joints are filled with weed. 
 
 There is no voice or sound of man ; 
 
 No warder does appear. 
 About the moat of green slime wan 
 
 The wind draws echoes clear. 
 
 ' Ah ! how in Salem's sacred towers 
 
 I would that I could be, 
 Far from these hoary, blighted bowers, 
 
 And palely dark country.' 
 
206 TRAMPS AND TROUBADOURS 
 
 He knocketh loud, he knocketh long ; 
 
 He heareth far around, 
 The echoes answer loud and strong 
 
 With harsh and empty sound. 
 
 ' What fear is this that taketh me ? 
 By holy rood, 'tis strange. 
 I like not this foul look to see 
 In dark and moated grange.' 
 
 Then suddenly a door flew ope ; 
 
 A light was held on high ; 
 But as he had in Heav'n a hope 
 
 No one could he see nigh. 
 
 Then spake a voice — of man or beast 
 He knew not from that time, 
 
 But prayeth he for tongue of priest 
 To free him from this clime. 
 
 All brightly burned the lanthorn 'tween 
 
 Held by the unseen hand, 
 And direful was the voice, I ween, 
 
 That made him this command. 
 
 ' Good knight, if thy heart cannot quail. 
 Nor feel the blast of fear, 
 Nor in the direst horrors fail, 
 Prepare to enter here. 
 
 ' Here is a lady held by spell 
 Of dark enchantment strange. 
 If ye be bold ye shall this quell, 
 And make this ill to change.' 
 
THE ORDER OF THE WINE CUP 207 
 
 ' Lead on ! ' the doughty knight replied — 
 
 The light went on before ; 
 He followed, and all things defied, 
 And vowed good to restore. 
 
 Chamber and court they hasted through ; 
 
 Silence to them gave ear. 
 The holy cross he silent drew 
 
 That he might have good cheer. 
 
 A door swung wide, and he beheld 
 
 A noble hall and great. 
 Towards the midst he was impelled 
 
 To know and take his fate. 
 
 A hundred lights around him shed 
 
 Sheen dazz'ling, bright and fair. 
 The unseen hand had thither led 
 
 Him to distinction rare. 
 
 A hundred men-at-arms arrayed 
 
 For war, or night attacks, 
 Are by a hundred pillars staid 
 
 On hundred horses' backs. 
 
 They stand, as ebon statues grim, 
 
 Calm, motionless, and dark ; 
 They stand at chill enchantment's whim 
 
 All lifeless, stiff, and stark. 
 
 And in the midst a lady fair, 
 
 Beside an altar white, 
 Lay sleeping still and peaceful there 
 
 In the strange horsemen's sight. 
 
208 TRAMPS AND TROUBADOURS 
 
 A glorious crown of jewels burned 
 Upon her fair white brow ; 
 
 The knight toward her rev'rent turned, 
 For she was fair, I vow. 
 
 Upon the altar white was laid 
 
 A vase of crystal clear, 
 And by the side of sleeping maid 
 
 A naked sword was near. 
 
 A bugle also near by hung 
 
 Upon a pillar dark. 
 ' Whoso shall count himself among 
 
 The heroes, shall this mark. 
 
 ' That when ye lift the sword hold fast, 
 Let no fear touch your heart ; 
 
 Upon the bugle blow a blast, 
 And take the lady's part.' 
 
 Thus spake the strange mysterious tongue. 
 
 The sword the knight held fast, 
 A blast upon the bugle rung, 
 
 And from him all fear cast. 
 
 The sword a living serpent grew 
 
 Fearful to look upon. 
 The knight in spite of all he knew 
 
 Would fain from thence have gone. 
 
 At once each horse became alive, 
 
 Each horseman living too ; 
 And all together did revive, 
 
 And each a bright sword drew. 
 
THE ORDER OF THE WINE CUP 209 
 
 The clash of steel and iron hoof 
 
 Rang from the pillars great, 
 About the mighty groined roof 
 
 With envious debate. 
 
 Then forward came a giant fierce 
 
 To slay the stalwart knight, 
 But he repelled his foe at tierce, 
 
 And made him in sad plight. 
 
 Then plunging forth his wreathing snake, 
 
 He struck the giant true ; 
 Upon his throat the snake's teeth make 
 
 A bitter mark to rue. 
 
 He fell, and straightway wreathing died. 
 
 The horsemen turning drew 
 Their swords, they on their neighbours plied, 
 
 And each the other slew. 
 
 Again the voice in haste outcried, 
 
 * Take up the crystal vase.' 
 The knight with trembling haste complied, 
 And stood with wond'ring gaze. 
 
 His serpent-sword had vanished quite. 
 
 ' Give sleeping maid to drink.' 
 The maid in sleep was smiling bright, 
 The hall began to sink. 
 
 He oped her ruby lips, and gave 
 The draught of wondrous might. 
 ' O, mighty knight, her white brow lave ! 
 Ye shall destroy the blight.' 
 
 O 
 
210 TRAMPS AND TROUBADOURS 
 
 The earth beneath them shook and rent, 
 
 The hall and all therein 
 Departed like a flame outspent, 
 
 And found them not within. 
 
 Instead there was a palace fair ; 
 
 The land was fair to see ; 
 A sweet intoxicating air 
 
 Seemed all around to be. 
 
 The lady on a silken couch 
 
 Reclined in pleasant ease. 
 She was so beautiful, I vouch, 
 
 None would be hard to please. 
 
 ' O do I live, or have I dreamt ? ' 
 She in surprise exclaimed : 
 ' O, what is this that should me tempt ? 
 'Tis more than mortal named ! ' 
 
 The knight beside him now beheld 
 
 An old and rev'rent man. 
 ' We have the sore enchantment quelled ; 
 Ye have no bitter ban.' 
 
 ' O, father dear, how old and grey 
 You have at once become ! 
 O, father, tell me in what way 
 You have to sorrow come ? ' 
 
 ' Nay, not at once have I thus grown. 
 
 Time has been kind to me ; 
 He has long years of kindness shown, 
 When I was hid from thee. 
 
THE ORDER OF THE WINE CUP 211 
 
 1 It was in May when thou wert laid 
 Asleep by evil chill. 
 I from that year did cease to fade 
 Bound by enchanter's will. 
 
 ' Since one hundred and thirty-one, 
 
 Just to the year and day, 
 I have not seen the blessed sun, 
 
 No wonder I am grey. 
 
 1 Now one thousand and ninety-nine 
 Has found us hale and well. 
 Ye have no weary years to pine ; 
 No evil to dispel. 
 
 ' But first let us unite our thanks. 
 This is the worthy knight 
 Who saved us from the witch's pranks, 
 And filled our souls with light.' 
 
 The lady rose with grateful words, 
 
 And thanked him all her power. 
 Her voice was sweet as twenty birds, 
 
 And he was charmed that hour. 
 
 A pleasant time together they 
 
 Spent all in sweet repose ; 
 Many a blithe and gladsome day 
 
 They banished all their woes. 
 
 ' We are not now on earth, my child,' 
 
 Said he of rev'rent mien, 
 ' But in fair Paradise full mild 
 
 We safely are, I ween.' 
 
212 TRAMPS AND TROUBADOURS 
 
 ' And is it so, O, father dear, 
 That we have left behind 
 The world and all its merry cheer, , 
 So sweet to earthly mind ? 
 
 ' I love but thee, O, fearless knight ! 
 And now what shall I do ? 
 How shall I marry thee aright, 
 And be for ever true ? ' 
 
 ' O, lady fair, be not in fear ! 
 
 Thou wife of mine art true. 
 Surely thou wast in body dear 
 One summer time I knew ! 
 
 ' O many, many years agone 
 
 I was a Lord in Roum ! 
 Ye were a maid on whom Love shone, 
 
 The flowers were full in bloom. 
 
 ' It was a bitter time, I ween, 
 
 Ye were my wife indeed. 
 An enemy in bitter spleen 
 
 Left me to death to bleed. 
 
 ' Thou art the same, the very same. 
 
 My soul from Hades thrust. 
 Wandered about in bitter shame 
 
 Held from the peaceful dust. 
 
 ' But none took pity on my state, 
 
 Therefore was I possessed 
 Of many bodies there to wait 
 
 Until I should be blessed. 
 
THE ORDER OF THE WINE CUP 213 
 
 ' And now thou maiden all forlorn 
 
 Art very wife of mine, 
 From me in bitter anguish torn. 
 
 I am for ever thine .' 
 
 Then was the maid all joyful too ; 
 
 At once her tears were flown ; 
 Her husband she thereafter knew, 
 
 Though he as knight was shown. 
 
 Her rev'rent sire rejoiced to know 
 
 His son-in-law regained. 
 He said, ' She never from that blow, 
 
 From her great loss sustained, 
 
 ' Recovered quite, and till the day 
 
 The strange enchantment fell, 
 The weary time she moaned away, 
 
 And never was quite well.' 
 
 But now for evermore their bliss 
 
 Knows neither sun nor shade, 
 And nothing ever is amiss 
 
 With that most lovely maid. 
 
 INTERLUDE 
 
 ' No one believes in that,' said some rude one, 
 ' As if we lived again. Once we have done 
 And died, there is no cross 'twixt soul and flesh, 
 As if one died and lived held in the mesh 
 Of mute mortality. Diviner things 
 Than animals should be abode of kings, 
 For we are kingly in our destiny, 
 And seekers after greater things to be. 
 
214 TRAMPS AND TROUBADOURS 
 
 It is not well thus to be sudden torn 
 From one, and into sev'ral other bodies born 
 Even of men. Continually weak 
 Are souls that for immortal stations seek, 
 That strive with death and never from death rise, 
 And die while Heav'n is broken with their cries, 
 That see their firmament in ruins rend, 
 That cannot build, or power, or faith extend.' 
 After that was silence ; no one dared speak 
 After this avalanche of wrath ; all meek 
 Remained. And Allien was sore distressed 
 At being thus violently repressed ; 
 Grew hot and cold by turns ; and then grew faint, 
 As any meek old craven-hearted saint, 
 Who was praised up with texts as being great 
 While all the time he did his enemies sore hate. 
 Still all were silent ; everyone was mute ; 
 None raised a hand, or even stirred a foot 
 For quite a length of time. At length one rose 
 Without a word that should at once disclose 
 ' His chief intention in the present fray, 
 And serve them for excuse to get away, 
 But disregarding all slowly he stalked off, 
 Leaving who would against the speech to scoff, 
 But none were willing to be left behind. 
 So one by one — all being of a mind — 
 Rise up and slowly went, leaving but one 
 To sit alone, knowing what he had done. 
 By this distressful accident, the gay 
 Order its records closed for the third day. 
 
VI 
 
 CECILIA'S CHOICE— TROUBADOUR 
 OR KNIGHT? 
 
 All that gay morn Sunisa was amused 
 At various things in men, which she excused 
 By saying lightly, ' Yes, just like a man.' 
 But none of them were wiser. No one can 
 Exactly understand what women mean 
 By talking in this strain. What I have seen 
 Of good Alfonso's intercourse with her 
 Does not advance my knowledge, nor a spur 
 Adds to.this delicate analysis, 
 Where there are apt to be some fallacies 
 And frequent blunders, but what I detail 
 Is given slightly — on a minor scale — 
 Securing such light diff'rences as seem 
 To be conspicious to fit this scheme. 
 
 Again it was the afternoon, and so 
 Sunisa comes delighted with the tow 
 Of hair she had secured, and in her mind 
 Delighted with the thought of being kind. 
 Alfonso drew away as she approached. 
 There was a look about him that reproached 
 Her with some violence, and she felt hurt 
 At this disdainful manner and the curt 
 
216 TRAMPS AND TROUBADOURS 
 
 Withdrawal of his former kindliness, 
 
 That would not even melt before a kiss — finesse. 
 
 ' What is the matter ?' she at length exclaimed. 
 
 ' In what am I to be severely blamed ? ' 
 
 He looked at her in scorn, and then replied, 
 
 4 Is this the way you speak ? Has fancy lied, 
 
 And I behold you less than what I thought ? 
 
 Surely you cannot be so false untaught, 
 
 And wear simplicity in this disguise ? 
 
 You must remember that I now despise 
 
 Your actions. I will not say any more, 
 
 For your own conscience will strike at the core 
 
 Of your default, and memory perceive 
 
 That what I say is true. I can but grieve, 
 
 For you I cannot less than love.' He ceased. 
 
 From his first words, her wonder had increased, 
 
 And still she felt dissatisfied ; unjust 
 
 She felt the accusation was, and curst 
 
 With dark oblivious assault. But how 
 
 This came about she dared not think, or vow. 
 
 So at a loss she stood until a clew 
 
 She could discover, and for this she threw 
 
 About her everywhere along the past. 
 
 And though alarmed at recollection last, 
 
 Yet still could not divine this source of ill 
 
 Which now was coming on. 
 
 A silence still 
 She kept, and he believed it guilt. A thorn 
 Of anger ran her through and through ; and Scorn 
 And Jealousy were mounting on their steeds 
 To bear her off between them, past all deeds 
 Of reconciliation, when she said, 
 ' I am afraid I do not understand the head 
 
CECILIA'S CHOICE 217 
 
 And purpose of your speech. You might at least 
 
 Speak plainer yet. I ought to have a priest 
 
 To intercede.' (She looked around.) ' Increased 
 
 Facilities I ought to have to be released 
 
 If possible from my offence — to make 
 
 Defence of reputation now at stake.' 
 
 He felt more kindly to her anyway 
 
 At this ; her manner drew his heart away — 
 
 The pleading look and soft response, her eyes 
 
 Dewy with tears, as earth's benignant skies 
 
 Refreshfully inclined, made him despair 
 
 Of being hard, and keeping to his air 
 
 Of ruined hope. He thought at least he might 
 
 Be much mistaken taking truth at sight. 
 
 Turning his face aside from her despair, 
 
 As there she stood drooping with a sad air, 
 
 He said, ' Yesterday I came to see you, 
 
 But none saw me. As I was looking through 
 
 The splendour, I beheld you sitting there 
 
 Calm and content ; Gustave was on a chair, 
 
 And you were on his knee. It was quite plain 
 
 He loved you and you him. This is the stain, 
 
 And this is how it came to pass that I 
 
 Do not believe that you should act this lie 
 
 Of making me love you, while you love him.' 
 
 She smiled ; she saw it all ; a tender Aim 
 Somewhat obscured her vision. Now she felt 
 Relieved, and strangely he began to melt. 
 Somehow he feared that he was in the wrong, 
 Therefore began to seek about for something strong 
 To say in self-defence — somewhat afraid 
 Of being incorrect and out of grade 
 With self-approval and conceit. But she 
 
218 TRAMPS AND TROUBADOURS 
 
 Began to speak the first. ' It is dearly 
 That I love you, and no one else but you ; 
 And whether ye believe or no, 'tis true. 
 I did not know Gustave was in that frame 
 Of mind, or else he had not had the claim 
 On me more than a father would.' Here he 
 Became convinced of painful misery 
 To think that he had thus unjustly caused 
 Her pain, and for awhile he meekly paused 
 Until he could be sure she would forgive. 
 For 'tis in women's rights forgiveness to give, 
 And she did justice amply. Thus he spake : 
 ' I have been weak, and for sweet pity's sake, 
 Pardon my fault. I have not trusted thee, 
 Nor have considered first pure charity ; 
 In that I harshly judged before I knew 
 What were the facts.' 
 
 So closely they twain drew 
 Together then in confidence complete, 
 Which was a somewhat complicated feat, 
 But was accomplished, satisfying both 
 In ev'ry way, so much that they were loath 
 To part at all for fear of losing such 
 Delightful harmony that they loved much, 
 As is the manner of the troubadours. 
 
 The swift waning day was passing on. ' Yours 
 Am I,' Alfonso in a shaded nook 
 Was saying to his little maid. He took 
 Her fair white lily hand in his, and she replied, 
 ' As I am thine,' and in contentment sighed. 
 Just then they heard amid the heavy dusk 
 A rustling in a bush. A scent of musk 
 Stole over them as on a fallen tree 
 
CECILIA'S CHOICE 219 
 
 They sat, that they might all the better be 
 
 Acquainted with each other. Now they twain 
 
 Heard thus, while mingling sweetness with past pain, 
 
 A sweet voice saying, ' Love is not for me.' 
 
 And then a man, ' Perhaps it yet shall be, 
 
 And then for happiness. Gladly would I 
 
 Die now if but thou wouldst not henceforth sigh 
 
 For some past time of love ; gladly from pain 
 
 Would I thee shield if but I could retain 
 
 Thy love.' And then the woman answered, 'Yes, 
 
 It may be so, but pray thee do not press 
 
 This question longer. I can never wed 
 
 As long as he remains alive ; instead, 
 
 I must be left alone. Let us go back.' 
 
 Alfonso all this time was on the rack. 
 
 Sunisa said, ' O, love, what is amiss ? ' 
 
 ' O naught ! O naught ! only that Spanish miss.' 
 
 For he had recognised his mother's voice 
 
 Speaking with Boieleux. The evil choice 
 
 That had beset his family had torn, 
 
 With malice of Iniquity's first-born,' 
 
 His tender heart asunder day by day. 
 
 Now being somewhat calm they moved away, 
 
 Fearing somehow that evil might soon grow 
 
 From some unheard-of source, with silent flow, 
 
 Out of this strange encounter in the dark. 
 
 The moon not having risen yet, nor spark 
 Of star in any quarter of the heavens, 
 He felt more sure of safety. ' Sixes and sevens 
 All appear to be,' he said. Night was still 
 And beautiful, as slowly up the hill 
 They climbed together, knowing but one thing, 
 That they could not but to each other cling. 
 
220 TRAMPS AND TROUBADOURS 
 
 Alfonso soon forgot all foreign schemes 
 
 In being thus amid remunerative dreams, 
 
 And without thought or reason clasped her there, 
 
 And kissed her many times because she was so fair. 
 
 Thus in the presence of eternal bliss 
 
 He stood expectantly ; another kiss 
 
 He took to make himself sure of reality. 
 
 Lost in the wildness of his joy's utility, 
 
 He held her, still loath to lose aught of love, 
 
 Conscious of merry elves laughing above. 
 
 Sweet thrilled he through and through at every 
 
 touch, 
 So pleasant was his ardour, and with such 
 Delightful rapture was he filled, he fears 
 To stir or change. And ah ! — her little ears 
 Pleased him continually, so delicate 
 And clear, like ruby shells — tinted agate 
 Gates to some choice harmony — fairy bells 
 That softly ring deep down in crystal wells 
 Sweet symphonies mystical ; and the air 
 Of gen'ral sweetness made his heart despair 
 Of ever gaining fulness of sweet love, 
 So beautiful was she, so far above 
 The strength of his desire. His wildest dreams 
 In all their vain imprudence had no schemes 
 Of such rich blossoming. At length he spake 
 As one who suddenly awakes to take 
 Life out of dreams. ' O happiness ! O love ! 
 O loveliness ! now has my joy above 
 All hope begun. O sweetest ! how shall I 
 Say unto thee all that my heart would try, 
 Crying to thee to touch its trembling joy 
 And make its life complete. Words but employ 
 A faint remembrance of my heart's delight. 
 
CECILIA'S CHOICE 221 
 
 All that I cannot speak is lost in light. 
 Thus shineth love, is lost, but speaketh still 
 By its own power, though I have not the skill 
 To clothe the thoughts whose dumb desire is prone 
 With loving much, to be quite sure of tone, 
 Yet is my heart full of my love for thee, 
 And never can my passion wane or flee.' 
 Therewith he gave her yet another kiss 
 Because he felt it would be sweeter after this, 
 And she would give him back all that he gave, 
 Sweetly and truly, innocent and brave. 
 
 It was a curious thing to see these twain 
 Delightfully encompassed by Love's chain, 
 Pressing the rich advantages of love 
 Into an excellency far above 
 The immature discordancies of time 
 That press Love's nature in a narrow clime 
 Harshly dispassionate, into a chill 
 Worthless dividing of Love's suff'ring will. 
 A strange and curious thing, for he, the elf — 
 The immature disparagement of self — 
 The dwarf — the wild conceited Hun — the prowl 
 Of Europe, with disconsolating scowl 
 Always reproachfully continued — the imp, 
 Whose forehead wore the frieze of cow's hair limp — 
 Was with the beauty of the woodland powers 
 Growing more intimate ; fast as the hours 
 That pass in search of Time, he hourly grew 
 Incredibly perfect in Love's sweet interview. 
 They were fast bound together in a chain 
 That none can sever, or the world disdain. 
 
 Ah ! haply here was something going on 
 On which the light of freedom had not shone ; 
 
222 TRAMPS AND TROUBADOURS 
 
 On which the kindly courteous father's hand 
 Had not been placed, renewing the command 
 Of love and unity, where filial faith 
 Stands not aside at every mocking wraith, 
 That unbidden rises to chill the hearts 
 Of lovers prying in Love's secret arts, 
 Unwarranted by fathers who have made 
 Reproving frown on each assailing shade 
 That stands aside with smile of unctuous charm 
 To win the weakest will to eager harm. 
 
 But, no, this is no longer true ! for here 
 They are at home with faithful love and cheer 
 Of hearts unitedly. The father's smile 
 Is resting on his happy child ; no guile 
 Is there upon his smiling face to fear. 
 Serene and calm, high-bred, high-born, and sere, 
 He has the fashion of the gentleman, 
 Superior and courteous, meekly mild and wan. 
 ' Now make yourself at home,' Gonaldo said 
 To Alfonso. ' We will make up a bed 
 For you.' He made no just objection then, 
 But felt that he had rights as other men ; 
 And he was glad to be so near his fair 
 And lovely sweetheart. They of him took care 
 Throughout that night, which he was pleased to see, 
 As with his plans agreeing perfectly. 
 At the same time his mind would not but hear 
 The voice of yesterday at eve. ' 'Tis clear 
 Something is amiss,' he thought ; ' what means he 
 To be thus dallying with a fair lady ? ' 
 But as no answer came, he laid him down 
 To sleep upon his bed with a dark frown 
 That boded dreadful things if all were done, 
 
CECILIA'S CHOICE 223 
 
 When he could at the evil-doers run, 
 
 With sword uplifted and sever all their deeds 
 
 From this sad earth as worthless, wanton weeds. 
 
 At last he slept and dreamt of ladies fair, 
 
 And many other objects worse for wear, 
 
 Such as discreetly-minded people hide 
 
 With paint to make perennial charms abide 
 
 The gay disfigurements of toilet crude, 
 
 Whereby most savage tribes their friends delude 
 
 Without secluding much of their distress 
 
 Of ugliness, when forced to vain excess 
 
 In toilet passions, and such dressing schemes, 
 
 But poor Alfonso had some savage dreams. 
 
 One was he thought he was a boar, with tusk 
 
 To root up fiercely every empty husk 
 
 Of tawdry men and women without end, 
 
 Whose worthless being burdened foe and friend. 
 
 Fiercely and rapturously he began, 
 
 Battles underhand and wars against man 
 
 Without respect of person, creed, or tongue. 
 
 He showed too well the hot blood of the Hun, oft sung 
 
 In pages past and gone. At last all things 
 
 Began to fade away ; he slothful clings 
 
 Unto the jaded world that slips away 
 
 Into blank night and darkness all his way. 
 
 ' Yes,' said Alfonso, as at early morn 
 He waited patiently by anger torn 
 Beneath the covert of a thicket deep 
 Not far beyond the walls and gloomy keep 
 Of Boieleux. ' I shall know what this means, 
 Meeting a lady in these woodland scenes. 
 O my Alaria ! father or no, 
 Is this the manner of thy life below ? ' 
 
224 TRAMPS AND TROUBADOURS 
 
 He scowled upon the leaves ; his heart was sad, 
 Defiant of the beauty that was glad 
 On ev'ry hand, rejoicing in the summer ease 
 That waited on the pleasure of the trees. 
 Bright-eyed Morning stepped lightly from her bed 
 To take the hand of Day ; her tresses shed 
 Dewy fragrance, as they her form enfold, 
 A waving fair tumultuous cloud of gold, 
 Distilled by some sweet star of nightly power 
 While she was sleeping in her moss-green bower. 
 Now she, the Queen of earth, moves slow away 
 Gracious and bland followed by servile Day. 
 
 Alfonso saw her glory passing by, 
 But saw ho splendour more than careless eye 
 Had lightly caught. The tender goddess past 
 And left him deep in his reflections cast. 
 A rustling oped his eye, and looking out 
 Beheld the lady. ' What's this all about ? ' 
 He muttered anxiously ; ' No one with her ! ' 
 And then relapsed as she began to stir 
 Through the green shadowy wood, glancing around 
 With swift and searching looks. Then on a mound 
 She paused uncertain whether to return or wait 
 For him who had the keeping of her fate. 
 ' Where are you, love ? ' she said, tender and low, 
 Like the still music of the long onflow 
 Of waves upon a far flat sandy beach, 
 When Neptune has withdrawn his armies out of reach 
 Of harm, that for a season they may rest 
 In weed-grown caves upon the tender breast 
 Of mermaids, youthful, bright, and fair, who left 
 The children of the foam — the little deft 
 Light-footed waves to sing their songs alone, 
 
CECILIA'S CHOICE 225 
 
 Or in bare shells sigh for the sea-king's throne- 
 To charm the ears of mermen with sweet songs, 
 While Neptune nods his head and waves his trident- 
 prongs. 
 Cecilia's voice was sweet as these, when she 
 Lone and unattended came forth to be 
 The winsome maid of Love who would her lover please. 
 Now narrowly and closely through the trees 
 She gazed, with one hand on her breast guarding her 
 
 heart, 
 While with the other daintily apart 
 She holds her gown from every creeping thing, 
 That would make all her bravery take wing. 
 
 ' Where are you ? ' she had cried, and then stood 
 still 
 To listen for an answer, but until 
 The present none had come. The winds alone 
 Made for her ear a melancholy moan. 
 Intently through the trees she cast a look 
 Questioning the empty scene ; sadness took 
 A hold upon her heart. ' It cannot be ! — 
 Can it be that he will fail to meet me ? ' 
 She drooped unsteadily upon a bank 
 By a swift gushing stream ; her eyes slow sank 
 Into the level sweetness of the liquid stream, 
 Whereon the fairies measure out a sea-worn dream. 
 She laid her hand upon her sinking heart ; 
 Her soft breast heaved ; into her eyelids start 
 Some sad unbidden tears. All languishing 
 She bent in weariness of everything 
 Over the tender earth that heard her sighs, 
 And saw the salt tears well into her eyes. 
 
226 TRAMPS AND TROUBADOURS 
 
 Beauty indeed was hers ; a fairer born 
 Had not been in that place for many a morn — 
 Not since the graceful nymphs had danced among 
 The sacred covert of fair groves, and sung 
 To the large winds and lightly tripping Morn, 
 The love of their delightful lay forlorn. 
 They were not now as she who lay upon 
 The flow'ring mound on which she stood anon. 
 But suddenly she found herself caressed, 
 And duly kissed with sweetness. How she pressed 
 Her flutt'ring heart ! And now much more tightly 
 The arms of love enfolded her. Lightly 
 She turned her large dark eyes upon her love, 
 All wittingly impassioned. This above 
 All other happiness she counted great ; 
 All else she would have forfeited. A state 
 Of wondrous gladness she was in: She was 
 Intensely happy from no other cause 
 Than having Love's immortal melody 
 To make its passion her reality. 
 
 Alaria, when first he saw this maid, 
 Was not quite certain how he should persuade 
 Her to consider him against protest 
 Of ev'ry station, rank, and interest. 
 He felt that subtle accident of thought 
 That gives possession to resolves unsought. 
 He knew her fair, he liked her manner well, 
 And was completely conquered by her spell ; 
 But she extended to him friendship first, 
 And he, not loath, surprised that she thus durst 
 Make him so much above Lord Boieleux, 
 Considered in some senses this experience new 
 Not unwelcome, seeing that he had lost 
 
CECILIA'S CHOICE 227 
 
 A habitation and a wife. ' So cost 
 
 Me what it may,' he thought, ' I shall outdo 
 
 My lofty Lord and Prince 6f Boieleux.' 
 
 She looked at him. Her look was full of light, 
 
 Her eyes were sparkling with some new delight — 
 
 Some hidden and intense, extortionate 
 
 Prudence of love, that had subordinate 
 
 Ends to attain, ere from concealment risen 
 
 It glorified its exile, and was given 
 
 The honour of its banishment — some fame 
 
 That had as yet but little else than name. 
 
 Then would all things be fair, and even now 
 
 Her eyes were dewy. If she would but bow 
 
 Worlds were refreshed, and golden hopes were gained , 
 
 That now were fledglings, wingless and untrained. 
 
 So oft they wandered through the merry mead 
 
 Of Boieleux. They took but little heed 
 
 Of its great lord's discomfiture. Yet was he sore 
 
 And sad at heart, e'en though he knew of yore 
 
 All was long lost that once he had in view — 
 
 That what he wished had never yet come true. 
 
 That was the first sweet episode of theirs, 
 
 And this the next in which the reader shares, 
 
 A part of which already has been told, 
 
 Which has on some taken considerable hold. 
 
 ' Cecilia, my sweetest, why dost thou 
 Lie sadly thus ? ' She raised her sweet lips now, 
 And he was fain to kiss them, drawn into 
 The trance of love and fever that ran through 
 His blood. A fierce red fire would hotly run 
 Into his heart, nor had he yet peace won, 
 After a silence neither of them broke, 
 So full of speechless passion, till she spoke, 
 
228 TRAMPS AND TROUBADOURS 
 
 ' I mourned complainingly to think thee gone, 
 
 And I, in this sad world forsaken, on 
 
 The moss-green bank laid down my weary head, 
 
 And spent myself in sorrow. My heart bled 
 
 Withouten one consoling word of thine.' 
 
 Then softly said Alaria, ' As mine 
 
 Own life I love thee.' He beside her sat, 
 
 And all the lovely lilies bowed at that 
 
 Sweet speech of Love's communing, as they grew 
 
 Wild all around. A sweeter scent they threw 
 
 Out of their cups mingled with music sweet, 
 
 Trilled by the silver-throated birds. Complete 
 
 Was Nature's satisfaction as she stood 
 
 Behind a gauze of lights in the still wood. 
 
 The lilies folded up their leaves and swooned 
 Blind-in the stress of passion. Their life-wound 
 Had almost been imparted when he spake 
 Again, ' My sweetest lady love, but take 
 My hand and say thou lovest me alone, 
 And art for ever mine to hold and own.' 
 She smiled, and without bashfulness — with trust 
 Fair shining in her eyes — said, ' And if I must 
 No sweeter task have I, for all my heart 
 Is thine.' His answer was a part 
 Of Love's confession, the sweet sign and bond 
 Whereby is hope enlarged, that grows more fond 
 By knowledge and experience — not more 
 Than Love's great nature can contain. 'Tis ore 
 Treasured and held by secret skill, whereof 
 This is the key, the signal to the keep thereof 
 To open all its gates to its high lord 
 Who enters, some by love and some by sword. 
 Not all who reap shall willing service find 
 
CECILIA'S CHOICE 229 
 
 E'en in this legal consequence, to bind 
 Is not to keep. The hind most free is he 
 Who labours for his master fruitfully 
 With willing hands, and thus is Love atoned. 
 
 Surprising things have happened since man 
 owned 
 This little heritage. No one can tell 
 What will be happ'ning next, or what excel 
 In this selective world. This thing was one 
 Of these. When the lovers had well begun 
 Their little talk, and had considerable skill 
 Attained in the advantages of will 
 And no will, suddenly Alfonso fell 
 Among the trim recorders of the dell — 
 That is the flowers, and lay upon his back, 
 Without reason and even with a lack 
 Of speech. There he was, witless, wild, and wan, 
 Gazing upon the sunbeams as they ran 
 Through the leaf-chinks into his angry eye. 
 He was considering the means whereby 
 He might raise a revolt to Love's contempt, 
 And figure much himself in that attempt — 
 Love's ornamental attitude to lower, 
 And on his reckless countenance dismay to pour. 
 Therefore he suffered agonies of thought, 
 Whereby he was convinced that he had caught 
 A wonderful means, if now only he 
 Could out of his dark brains this royalty 
 Extract, and straighten out its links, and feel 
 That he could with all fluctuations deal, 
 And know himself the maker. None could tell 
 To what disordered fancy should compel 
 Him in his sad disjointed state of mind ; aghast 
 
230 TRAMPS AND TROUBADOURS 
 
 Like one awakened from a dream o'erpast 
 
 He seemed, with ev'ry other misery 
 
 Found in the problems of humanity 
 
 O'erwhelmed. Nothing, not e'en a burning tear ' 
 
 Came to his relief; recollection's fear 
 
 Alone remembered him. Sometime he lay, 
 
 And cast about him for a virtuous way 
 
 Of disconnecting these, but all in vain. 
 
 Then without warning as if in some sudden pain 
 
 Rolling o'er, he coiled himself away, till 
 
 Beyond hearing he swift arose to will 
 
 Something or other out of nothing. Hence 
 
 He fled away nimble as wind, intense 
 
 As hatred, and as fierce as raging fire, 
 
 That needs no art to rouse or to inspire. 
 
 There he flies — his red hair scorpion-wise 
 
 Excited by the influential prize 
 
 Wreathes in the wind ; his fierce eyes broad and white 
 
 Were spread to win the liquidating light 
 
 Disclike, glaring ahead without recognition, 
 
 So hotly he is in pursuit of his mission, 
 
 That nothing eases them : no sight nor sound, 
 
 No common thing, as man, or beast, or hound, 
 
 Nothing they are resolved to see, nothing 
 
 That shall to them excusing features bring 
 
 Or pleasing circumstance. 
 
 'Tis time to count 
 The pulse of Love, who still upon the mount 
 Stands minist'ring the sweetness of his power 
 Unto our lovers twain for this last hour. 
 Let us approach and take his hand. Perhaps 
 We shall be able to prevent a lapse 
 Of feeling on our part ; besides the hand 
 
CECILIA'S CHOICE 231 
 
 Will help us better how to understand 
 
 The ways of Love, considering the pulse 
 
 Is index to the powers that worlds convulse ; 
 
 And often in this circumstance the weak 
 
 Will cease to tremble and the bold to speak. 
 
 Thus quoth the Spanish maid — the loveliest, 
 
 Such as brave knight would clasp when ends his quest, 
 
 ' Would you be sad for me if I was gone ? | 
 
 Would you be very sad ? ' There shone 
 
 A glance of light out of her tender eye ; 
 
 Softly with ardour's covenant a sigh 
 
 Escaped her passionate as she looked up 
 
 Expectantly, seeking to take the cup 
 
 Of joy's eternal sweetness. Then to drink, 
 
 And into satisfied oblivion sink. 
 
 Her amorous swain was equally distressed 
 By these confusing thoughts. Love had impressed 
 An excellent confession of his thought 
 Upon his ardent mind. To meet this wrought 
 Most powerfully on him, so much so twice 
 He had attempted speech, and found that thrice 
 His confidence was chained, not that he gleaned 
 In secret harvests wild, but that a fiend 
 Had choked the river of his words with wild 
 Seduction, fraudulent desire. He smiled, 
 Indeed, but more to hide than to reveal his mind. 
 Too fierce, too passionate, his words would find 
 Unruly outlet lest he guard them well. 
 What would be done if this disaster fell 
 On him ? He would make Love's confession first 
 Rather than in his Paradise be curst. 
 The first thought Love had whispered in his ear !— 
 That was the purest— that he need not fear 
 
232 TRAMPS AND TROUBADOURS 
 
 To speak aloud ; and smiling Love did stand 
 
 Beside him patiently for his command 
 
 To be obeyed, that he had nearly thrust 
 
 Into the reckless hideousness accurst 
 
 Of foul contaminating lust. This was the cause 
 
 Of momentary silence. Now he was 
 
 The mild poetic Hun Alaria, 
 
 Who loved the lady fair Cecilia, 
 
 And wist not that he was a ruined man. 
 
 For evil, ere the uttering, a ban 
 
 Has laid upon the spirit. Seeded fruit 
 
 Has fallen, some time ready to take root ; 
 
 Sweet Innocence is lost ; the hidden deed 
 
 In thought already has fulfilled its creed. 
 
 Opportunity is but lacking now 
 
 To reap the harvest after Guilt had led the plough. 
 
 And if an angel turn aside the hand 
 
 There still is left the purpose at command — 
 
 The seed that dieth not, that lies in store 
 
 Ready to give itself its nature to restore, 
 
 For bitter times for this vain creature put to proof, 
 
 This worshipper of sand. 
 
 The pleasant roof 
 Of emerald bent lightly o'er the glade, 
 Wherein the mansions of the birds were made. 
 The summer palaces, the arbours sweet 
 Where whisp'ring conferences daily meet 
 Of harmony's condolers, minstrels bright 
 Who long to sing with sweet compassion's might 
 Large grace of peace. These for the present day 
 Are sent to soften Time's discordant way. 
 Alaria was saying, ' I love thee, 
 Nor could I else but mourn thy loss. To be 
 
CECILIA'S CHOICE 233 
 
 For ever separated would destroy 
 All happiness for me. Tongue could employ 
 No words to mark such bitterness. How should 
 I dwell alone and see thee not ? The good 
 That in me is would no more good remain. 
 No sweet responsive pleasure would I gain. 
 
 what would earth become 1— a Paradise 
 No more. Love hath set seal on me — a price 
 
 1 cannot pay — but in less measure all 
 That he shall ask of me to give. I fall 
 
 If thou art gone.' For once he felt his part— 
 
 For once he sadly deprecated art, 
 
 And had no worldly consolation near 
 
 To bear him up against uneasy fear. 
 
 Here was the evidence of one who sat 
 
 In judgment on himself. The last combat 
 
 Of personal convenience had lost, 
 
 And now he was himself charged with the cost 
 
 Of Love's distress. At last he knew what pain 
 
 He had inflicted on his wife — a moral gain 
 
 That might be useful yet. He felt the full 
 
 Sharp record of remorse. He was a fool, 
 
 And he must fool remain. The sword of Shame 
 
 Pricked him to consciousness of nature's claim, 
 
 But how could he retreat ? All ways were closed. 
 
 The erring man must find himself exposed, 
 
 If once he trod uncertainly, to woes , 
 
 Yet harsher, dangers yet more terrible. He goes 
 
 Into the exile of his own desire 
 
 By an untrodden way of scourging fire 
 
 To one indictment sealed and signed by Shame 
 
 The mark of hatred and the foe of fame. 
 
 ' Look not so sad — 'tis naught ! ' said Spanish 
 maid ; 
 
234 TRAMPS AND TROUBADOURS 
 
 ' I said this but to try thee. No such shade 
 As this of misery must ye contrive 
 To wear to me. If needs be I must shrive 
 Ye of your guiltiness. Come now, receive 
 The absolution quickly. Ye must grieve 
 No more.' He was consoled a little after this, 
 And as the seal of compact was to kiss, 
 He filled the schedule of commiseration full, 
 And after had a pause wherein to cool 
 Before another declaration should be signed. 
 With the sign-manual of example kind. 
 
 While they each other contemplated calm, 
 Enjoying fully the exhilarating balm 
 Of confidence, a sudden voice aroused 
 Them from their dream in which they had been housed. 
 They started up, and looking round beheld 
 A knight in armour black ; their joy was quelled 
 Instanter ; and they felt danger was near, 
 As they were told by their united fear. 
 Black was his casque, his corset, and his greaves — 
 Black from head to foot. One single feather heaves - 
 In the sweet wind. He fixed his dark regard 
 Sternly upon the twain ; they thought it hard ; 
 And silence was between them for a space. 
 ' Prepare to die,' he said, ' prepare to face 
 The consequences of this act and deed.' 
 Then said Alaria, ' What means this creed ? 
 What is the meaning of your mad request ? ' 
 ' You will soon see, and you must do your best.' 
 The knight replied: 'Draw your sword. Where 
 
 is it ? ' 
 ' I have none here,' said noble Hun ; ' 'tis fit 
 First to explain your meaning ere we fight.' 
 
CECILIA'S CHOICE 235 
 
 ' No need except by sword. There shall be light 
 For you directly. I must lend you mine 
 If you have no sword ; it may e'en be thine 
 When I have sheathed it well in thee. Begin 
 And shrive thee quickly, ere I force thee in 
 To Paradise.' Alaria became 
 Alarmed. Cecilia was much the same. 
 Neither knew how from this man to escape ; 
 Nor what to do in any form or shape 
 To thwart this evil purpose. Now the knight 
 Advanced, and carefully explained the plight 
 That they were in. He waited for a while ; 
 His naked sword was drawn ; with evil smile 
 He finally advanced Alaria to slay. 
 
 'Twas then, when our brave Hun would dearly 
 lay 
 His life down, having resolved to render 
 A full account of all his chances slender, 
 That there was yet another sudden noise — a shout, 
 Then came Alfonso wildly bursting out 
 Of his former thicket. A sword he held ; 
 With all his might he ran ; his speed excelled 
 Fleet deer. He cried, ' Father, father, take this, 
 And do your very best, but do not miss.' 
 Quickly Alaria laid hold and said to knight, 
 ' Now we are better matched — if you will fight, 
 I am prepared.' The knight was much enraged ; 
 Nevertheless he willingly engaged. 
 They had not thrust and parried long before 
 The knight's foot caught in root, and down full sore 
 He fell. Alaria was on his foe ; 
 The blade had pierced. 
 
236 TRAMPS AND TROUBADOURS 
 
 Cecilia would go 
 Down on her knee beside the fallen knight. 
 ' Why,' she cried, ' it is Don Esmeraldo. A light 
 Now breaks upon me. Ah ! he seems quite dead. 
 Let us make haste, and see who can be sped 
 To help him if he be alive.' So they 
 Made haste to Boieleux without delay. 
 From thence relief was sent and ev'ry aid 
 They could devise. They found the naked blade, 
 But not a trace of knight alive or dead ; 
 And furthermore they questioned on this head 
 All whom they met, stranger or countryman, 
 Who could account for all. But ev'ry man 
 Said in his turn, he had not seen the knight, 
 And since nothing now could be brought to light 
 He was considered dead and lost for good, 
 Though everyone was fearful lest there should 
 Be some mistake, and a corrected view 
 Should have to be adopted. Boieleux 
 Was sadly put about ; this accident 
 Had upset all his secret plans, and rent 
 The garment of his pleasure. For all that 
 He hid his discontent, and cursed that rat 
 Alfonso for a meddling Hun, for he 
 Would now have been successful verily 
 In carrying out his little plan to wed 
 Adria, when her husband ought to have been dead. 
 But now all was undone. A cloud had come 
 Upon all gaiety, and joy was dumb. 
 A season therefore was here set apart 
 For mourning, so that grief should give to art 
 A contrite feeling, and in sorrow sit 
 Till all for further gladness should be fit. 
 
CECILIA'S CHOICE 237 
 
 NOTE— TO CONCLUDE 
 
 By Gustave 
 
 Read before a special meeting of the Order 
 
 Friends and singers, I have a word to say. 
 You have been called together this sad day 
 To make condolence of this sad event, 
 And that we may make every effort spent 
 Contribute to our griefs acknowledgment and care, 
 I am requested this thing to declare. 
 We shall suspend our meetings for a space 
 Until time shall have gathered further grace 
 Of solace, and the sharpness of our grief 
 Have faded somewhat. Not until the leaf 
 Of pale sorrow shall be sere must we drink 
 This Cup again. It may be that the link 
 That bound us in the chain of merriment 
 Shall be reknit, and if your minds be bent 
 By inclination, or if fancy draw 
 Ye here again, we hope there may no flaw 
 Disturb our unity. Perhaps again 
 Shall reach your ears an echo of our strain 
 If ye be pleased to listen. We would please 
 While ye contentedly shall take your ease.