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 Book I 
 
 THE KREBS COLLECTION 
 
 (LINGUISTICS) 
 
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 5 i?tsn Xtftum. 
 
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 LONDON 
 EDWARD LTJ 
 
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 4094.6 
 • '31 
 
 JOHN CHTI.D3 AND SON, PEIXTERS. 
 
THE SEVEN BEAR CHILDREN 
 
 FOE OTIOSE AMT7SEME5TT THESE VEESES WEEE OEIGIXAXEY TTEITTEX 
 
 TTTEY AEE NOW MOST AEEECTIOXATELT DEDICATED. 
 
Sanct <&zax§z 
 
 for i*Ume lEttglaift. 
 
CnwUriti. 
 
 Jpari Jirgi 
 
 THE CONQUEST OF ENGLAND. 
 
 Part First 
 
 Part Second 
 THE NEW FOREST 
 
 THE KNIGHTING OF COUNT GEOFFREY OF ANJOU 
 THE ESCAPE OF THE EMPRESS MATILDA 
 THE ENGLISH MERCHANT AND THE SARACEN LADY 
 
 Lay the First 
 
 Lay the Second 
 EARL STRONGBOW 
 THE CAPTIVITY OF CCEUR DE LION. 
 
 Lay the First.— The Disappearance of the King 
 
 Lay the Second.— The Complaint of Cceue he Lion in his 
 Captivity 
 
 Lay the Third.— The Lament of the English foe the 
 Captivity of Cceue de Lion . . 
 
 CCEUR DE LION AND HIS HORSE . . 
 
 THE LAY OF THE FEARLESS DE COURCY 
 
 THE LAMENT OF ELEANOR OF BRETAGNE 
 
 THE PRINCE AND THE OUTLAW . . 
 
 THE DEATH OF KING HENRY THE THIRD 
 
 THE TOURNAMENT 
 
 THE BLACK PRINCE OF ENGLAND 
 
 THE CAPTIVITY OF KING JOHN OF FRANCE 
 
 THE SIX BURGHERS OF CALAIS 
 
 THE LITTLE QUEEN 
 
 PAGE 
 1 
 
 5 
 9 
 
 12 
 15 
 
 19 
 22 
 26 
 
 30 
 
 33 
 
 35 
 37 
 41 
 
 48 
 51 
 55 
 58 
 64 
 66 
 70 
 76 
 
IV 
 
 CONTENTS. 
 
 |1art Sktonb-. 
 
 PAGE 
 
 THE LAY OF KING JAMES I. IN HIS CAPTIVITY . . 81 
 
 THE DEATH OF JAMES I. . . . . 84 
 
 THE LAY OF SIR WILLIAM WALLACE . . . . 89 
 
 BRUCE AND DOUGLAS. 
 
 Lay the First— The Death of Bkuce . . . . 91 
 
 Lay the Second.— The Beuce's Heart . . . . 96 
 
 GRIZZLE HUME . . . . . . . . 101 
 
 FRANCIS THE FIRST AT LIBERTY . . . . 104 
 
 THE BATTLE OF ANTIOCH . . . . . . 106 
 
 THE DEATH OF THE CAPTAL DE BUCH . . . . 108 
 
 THE CHOICE OF THE CHRISTIAN HEROES . . 110 
 
 THE BRETHREN OF PORT ROYAL . . . . 114 
 
 THE VOW OF CORTES . . . . . . 119 
 
 THE ENEMIES. 
 
 Part First . . . . . . . . 124 
 
 Part Second . . . . . . . . 127 
 
 GUSTAVUS AND CHRISTINE . . . . . . . 133 
 
 NOTES . . . . . . . . 137 
 
 EXPLANATIONS OF UNUSUAL WORDS . . . . 155 
 
fap stirt) §allak, 
 
 PART FIRST. 
 
 Reign of William the Conqueror, 1086 — 10-3 7. 
 
 Z\t Conqiust jof (England 
 
 PART I. 
 
 a Duke William stood on the Xorman 
 :.\ shore, 
 
 With all his merry men round ; 
 y ® And he will sail the bine seas o'er, 
 
 To land on English ground. 
 
LAYS AND BALLADS. 
 
 Saint Edward made him, ere he died, 
 
 Heir to the English throne ; 
 But Saxon Harold, in his pride, 
 
 Hath seized it for his own. 
 
 So the duke hath summon' d his vassals brave 
 
 Erom castle, cot, and tower ; 
 And he will cross the rushing wave 
 
 To reckon with Harold's power. 
 
 They came, his liegemen stout and true, 
 With the serfs whom they commanded ; 
 
 Some brought many, and some brought few, 
 But none came empty-handed. 
 
 By the trumpet-sound they gather around, 
 
 And their banners stream on high, 
 And their spears shine bright as the stars of night 
 
 In a clear and frosty sky. 
 
 Whence comes yon graceful bark which glides 
 To the spot where the duke is standing, 
 
 And leaps the crest of the dancing tides 
 With an air of proud commanding ? 
 
 The sails are of silk, and nutteringly 
 
 They wave in the breezes mild ! 
 At the prow is a sculptured effigy 
 
 Of a fair and smiling child. 
 
 But who is the lady of lofty brow, 
 
 Bright eye, and arching lip, 
 Who waveth her white hand from the prow 
 
 Of the gay and stately ship ? 
 
 She is known from afar by her queenly air, 
 
 And the circlet on her brows ; 
 'Tis the Duchess Matilda, wise and fair, 
 
 Duke William's honour' d spouse. 
 
THE CONQUEST OF ENGLAND. 
 
 To land full lightly vaulted she, 
 And up to the duke she came — 
 
 " My lord, accept this ship from me ; 
 The Mora is its name. 
 
 Its chambers are deck'd for a monarch fit, 
 With cushions of velvet piled ; 
 
 The form at the prow — look well on it — 
 1 Tis the form of our youngest child. 
 
 My hand it was that 'broider'd the sail, 
 Though the tear was in mine eye — 
 
 God send my lord a favouring gale, 
 And a joyous victory !" 
 
 " Thanks, lady, thanks," the duke replied, 
 
 " Eight princely is thy gift ; 
 Soon leaping from its painted side, 
 
 My good sword will I lift. 
 
 "When its gay pennon streameth far, 
 
 My heart shall look to thee, 
 As the pilot's eye to the northern star, 
 
 Guiding us o'er the sea. 
 
 Farewell, my lady and my wife, 
 
 So loyal, fair, and true ; 
 If I come back to thee with life, 
 
 I will come with honour too." 
 
 " Farewell, my hero — knighthood's flower- 
 
 My husband and my lord ! " 
 Eight tender was that parting hour, 
 
 Eight fond each parting word. 
 
 The lady's tears, e'en while she spake, 
 
 Did fast and freely start ; 
 And many a sigh did slowly break 
 
 From Duke William's mighty heart. 
 
LAYS AND BALLADS. 
 
 " Adieu ! " lie cried : in speechless grief 
 
 Matilda sought her bower ; 
 And to his good ship sprang the chief, 
 
 "With all his armed power. 
 
 Away with a breeze that curls the seas 
 
 And scatters the foam as a cloud, 
 Each light bark rides on the bounding tides, 
 
 Like a knight on a courser proud. 
 
 They sail'd all the night ; but when morning shone bright, 
 
 And the duke he gazed around, 
 Not a sail could be traced on the ocean's wide waste, 
 
 Not a bark could there be found. 
 
 " How may this be," quoth the duke at last, 
 
 " That we are thus left alone ? 
 My wife's fair ship, thou travellest fast ; 
 
 Of our comrades see I none. 
 
 Gro up to the mast-head speedily, 
 
 My squire. What meets thine eye ? " 
 
 " Nought save the grey far- stretching sea, 
 And the cloudy morning sky." 
 
 " Now, by my faith," said Duke William then, 
 
 " 111 shall we fare I trow, 
 If I am met without my men 
 
 By the angry English now. 
 
 G-o up again — what seest thou now, 
 
 My squire so brave and true ? " 
 " Where the blue sea-line with the sky doth join 
 
 A darksome speck I view." 
 
 " A babe may grow to a monarch free, 
 
 To a storm a little cloud ; 
 Grod send that tiny speck may be 
 
 My gallant fleet and proud ! 
 
THE CONQUEST OF ENGLAND. 5 
 
 Go up once more — gaze o'er the sea : 
 Grood squire, what seest thou there ? " 
 
 " Hurra !" cried he, " 'tis a forest I see 
 Of tall masts rising fair. 
 
 They are coming, they are coming, as come the clouds 
 When the storm gathers fast on high ; 
 
 When noiseless and light, and too swift for sight, 
 They coyer the wide blue sky." 
 
 The sea grew white with a thousand sails 
 
 On its distant billows riding, 
 Spreading their wings to the wanton gales, 
 
 Like the birds around them gliding. 
 
 The fresh breeze fann'd the Conqueror's cheek, 
 And the Conqueror's heart beat high — 
 
 " Our arms are strong, and our foes are weak, 
 We are sailing to victory." 
 
 PART II. 
 
 The morn was bright, the sky was blue, 
 And each Norman heart was gay, 
 
 When swift as a bird the Mora flew 
 Into fair Hastings bay. 
 
 Full soon Duke William sprang to land 
 With a proud and knightly grace ; 
 
 But he miss'd his step on the treach'rous sand,- 
 He fell upon his face ! 
 
 Now foul befall thee, treach'rous shore, 
 Thou hast laid a good knight low ; 
 
 A knight who hath never fallen before 
 By the stroke of any foe. 
 
LAYS AND BALLADS. 
 
 Ill be thy name, thou faithless sand : 
 
 Of foes we may all beware ; 
 But how can the brave heart understand 
 
 That which is false and fair ? 
 
 Pale grew the cheeks of the Normans then, — 
 
 " An omen ! " they loudly cry : 
 " Let us go o'er the main to our homes again ; 
 
 We will not stay here to die." 
 
 But up leap'd the joyous duke from earth, 
 
 And shook his fair plume on high ; 
 Untamed was his laugh in its ringing mirth, 
 
 Unquench'd was his proud bright eye. 
 
 His grasp it was full of the yellow sea-sand, 
 And he shouted, " My men, what ho ! 
 
 See I have England in my hand — 
 Do ye think I will let it go ? " 
 
 Loudly then answer' d his warriors bold : 
 
 " True be thy daring word ! 
 "We will follow thee till our hearts wax cold — 
 
 Grod save our conquering lord ! " 
 
 They built on the shore a fort of wood, 
 
 They framed it cunningly ; 
 Its beams so strong, and its walls so good, 
 
 They had brought with them o'er the sea. 
 
 But they were not aware that a knight stood there, 
 And watched them whiles they wrought ; 
 
 Behind an oak-tree unseen stood he, 
 And gazed on the growing fort. 
 
 Then with eager speed he mounted his steed, 
 
 And away to Earl Harold he hied : 
 " Evil, great king, are the news I bring — 
 
 Duke William hath cross'd the tide. 
 
THE CONQUEST OF ENGLAND. 
 
 Duke William of Normandy, mighty and strong, 
 He hath landed at Pevensie ; 
 
 And with him a fierce and a terrible throng, 
 Of the knights of his own coimtrie. 
 
 They have bnilt them a fort upon Hastings beach, 
 
 The like was never known ; 
 Xo time is there now for dallying speech, 
 
 Arm, arm thee for thy throne ! " 
 
 " I laugh at thy news," Lord Harold he cried ; 
 
 " For in annal and in song 
 Shall be told, how we taught this man of pride 
 
 His weakness and his wrong. 
 
 Arm, my brave Saxons, mount and arm — 
 
 Ye know that our cause is just ; 
 Ere a night and a day hath glided away 
 
 Our foes shall bite the dust ! " 
 
 The armies are marching — the two great hosts — 
 
 Behold, they are sweeping past ; 
 The sound of their step on the echoing coasts 
 
 TTas like a rushing blast. 
 
 They met when the western sun grew pale, 
 
 At twilight's peaceful hour ■ 
 TThen eve was spreading her soft grey veil 
 
 O'er hill, and field, and tower. 
 
 Sternly they gazed on each bright array, 
 
 By the moonbeams rising slow ; 
 Like men who felt that by break of day 
 
 They should stand as foe to foe. 
 
 How did the Saxons pass that night ? 
 
 In wassail and revelry ; 
 Eeckless they drank till the pure moon sank, 
 
 And the sun rose from the sea. 
 
LAYS AND BALLADS. 
 
 How did the Normans pass that night ? 
 
 In fasting and in prayer ; 
 They kneel' d on the sod, and they cried to their God, 
 
 And their solemn hymns fiU'd the air. 
 " Mine arms, mine arms ! " Duke "William cried, 
 
 When he saw the first glimpse of dawn ; 
 " Each moment is lost till my steed I bestride — 
 
 Sound ye the battle-horn." 
 He buckled his cuirass blue and sheen, 
 
 And he brandish'd his sword so bright ; 
 In helmet and plume was there never seen 
 
 A fairer or statelier knight. 
 Proudly he strode from his milk-white tent, 
 
 And high on his steed did spring ; 
 Each man that saw him as he went 
 
 Said, " Yonder rides a king ! " 
 The battle was long, the battle was fierce,' — 
 
 It is an awful sight 
 When keen swords strike, and when swift darts pierce, 
 
 Erom morn till dewy night. 
 Eull many a gallant knight was slain, 
 
 And many a joyous steed ; 
 And blood was pour'd like summer rain, 
 
 Or the last eve's flowing mead. 
 The Saxons turn'd, the Saxons fled — 
 
 How could they choose but yield, 
 When they saw Earl Harold lying dead 
 
 Beside his useless shield ? 
 Now is Duke William England's king, 
 
 That great and mighty chief ; 
 The Normans are blithe as the merry spring, 
 
 But mute is the Saxons' grief. 
 Good news, good news to Normandie, 
 
 Where the fair Matilda mourns : 
 
THE CONQUEST OF ENGLAND. 
 
 'Twas a duke who left her to cross the sea, 
 But 'tis a king returns. 
 
 They rear'd an abbey where Harold fell, 
 
 A stately pile and fair ; 
 Through its still, grey Avails the solemn bell 
 
 Oft summon' d to praise and prayer. 
 
 It is standing yet — a monument 
 Whose old and crumbling wall 
 
 To the gazer's eye is eloquent 
 Of Harold's fame and fall. 
 
 Reign of William Rufus, 1087—1100. 
 
 % $efa $ptaL 
 
 There moves a sad procession 
 
 Across the silent vale, 
 With backward-glancing eyes of grief, 
 
 And tearful cheeks all pale. 
 Scatter' d and slow, without array, 
 
 With wavering feet they go, 
 Yet with a kind of solemn pace — 
 
 The measured tread of woe. 
 
 There women pause and tremble, 
 
 And weep with breaking heart ; 
 While men, with deeply knitted brows, 
 
 Stride mutely on apart. 
 There infants cling upon the breast, 
 
 Their own accustom' d place ; 
 And children gaze up askingly 
 
 Into each darken'd face. 
 
10 LAYS AND BALLADS. 
 
 For the king has sent his soldiers, 
 
 Who strike and pity not : 
 They have razed to the earth each smiling home, 
 
 They have burn'd each lowly cot. 
 It was the ruthless Conqueror 
 
 By whom this deed was done ; 
 And yet more fierce and hard of heart 
 
 "Was Rufus, his stern son. 
 So they leave each humble cottage, 
 
 "Where they so long have dwelt, 
 Where morn and eve to simple prayer, 
 
 "With thankful hearts, they knelt — 
 Places all brighten' d with the joy 
 
 Of sweet domestic years, 
 And spots made holy by the flow 
 
 Of unforgotten tears. 
 And the gardens are uprooted, 
 
 And the walls cast down around ; 
 It is all a spacious wilderness — 
 
 The king's great hunting-ground ! 
 "While hopeless, homeless, shelterless, 
 
 Those exiles wander on ; 
 And most of them lie down to die, 
 
 Ere many days are gone. 
 Forest ! green New Forest ! 
 
 Home of the bird and breeze, 
 With all thy soft and sweeping glades, 
 
 And long dim aisles of trees ; 
 Like some ancestral palace, 
 
 Thou standest proud and fair, 
 Tet is each tree a monument 
 
 To Death and lone Despair ! 
 
 And thou, relentless tyrant, 
 Eide forth and chase the deer, 
 
THE NEW FOREST. 11 
 
 With a heart that never melted yet 
 
 To pity or to fear. 
 But for all these broken spirits, 
 
 And for all these wasted homes, 
 God will avenge the fatherless — 
 
 The day of reckoning comes ! 
 To hunt rode fierce King Rufus, 
 
 Upon a holy morn — 
 The Church had summon'd him to pray, 
 
 But he held the Church in scorn. 
 Sir "Walter Tyrrel rode with him, 
 
 And drew his good bow-string ; 
 He drew the string to smite a deer, 
 
 But his arrow smote the king ! 
 Hurl'd from his trembling charger, 
 
 The death- struck monarch lay ; 
 While fast, as flees the startled deer, 
 
 Eash Tyrrel fled away : 
 On the spot where his strong hand had made 
 
 So many desolate, 
 He died with none to pity him — 
 
 Such was the tyrant's fate ! 
 None mourn' d for cruel Rufus : 
 
 "With pomp they buried him ; 
 But no heart grieved beside his bier — 
 
 No kindly eye grew dim ; 
 But poor men lifted up their heads, 
 
 And clasp' d their hands, and said, 
 " Thank God, the ruthless Conqueror 
 
 And "his stern son are dead! " 
 Remember, oh, remember, 
 
 Tou who shudder at my lay. 
 These cruel men were children once, 
 
 As you are now were they : 
 
12 LAYS AND BALLADS. 
 
 They sported round a mother's seat, 
 
 They pray'd beside her knee ; 
 She gazed into their cloudless eyes, 
 
 And ask'd, " What will they be ? " 
 Alas ! unhappy mothers, 
 
 If ye could then have known 
 How crime would make each soft young heart 
 
 As cold and hard as stone, 
 Te would have wish'd them in their graves 
 
 Ere life had pass'd its spring. 
 Ah, friends, keep watch upon your hearts — 
 
 Sin is a fearful thing. 
 
 Eeign of Henry I., 1100—1135. 
 
 ^\z Jtmgfjtmg of Count (Seofeg of §Jutjow* 
 
 Oh, listen, ye dames and warriors all ; 
 
 For never before or since 
 Was there known so stately a festival 
 As that which at Rouen did befall 
 
 At the knighting of a prince. 
 Count Geoffrey of Anjou was his name, 
 
 And the race of our noblest kings — 
 The great Plantagenets, whose fame 
 Old England should ever be proud to claim — 
 
 From this gallant chieftain springs. 
 
 That name Count Geoffrey did first assume 
 
 When, riding to the chase, 
 He wore in his casque, instead of plume, 
 A nodding crest of the yellow broom, 
 
 In its fresh and fragrant grace. 
 
KNIGHTING OF COUNT GEOFFREY. 13 
 
 The train it is moving with stately march 
 
 Through the vaulted abbey-gate ; 
 The lances are group'd beneath corbel and arch, 
 Like a forest dark of the slender larch, 
 
 So airy, and tall, and straight. 
 
 The bishop walk'd first in his mitre and gown, 
 
 A reverend prelate was he ; 
 With his bare silver tresses in place of a crown, 
 INText came great King Henry of learned renown, 
 
 From England beyond the sea. 
 
 There were heroes and chieftains undaunted in war, — 
 
 In peace gentle, generous, and true ; 
 With a step like a monarch, a glance like a star, 
 Came the Empress Matilda from Germany far, — 
 
 The betroth'd of the Count of Anjou. 
 
 As they paced up the aisle to the organ's slow strain. 
 
 Like unrolling a blazonried page, 
 The walls of the grey abbey echo'd again, 
 And its outspreading arches seem'd blessing the train 
 
 "With the deep, quiet fervour of age. 
 
 The high mass is over, the aspirant kneels 
 
 At the feet of King Henry the wise ; 
 What strength and what hope in his spirit he feels, 
 As the vow of his knighthood he solemnly seals 
 With his lips, and his heart, and his eyes ! 
 
 The monarch he lifted a Damascene blade 
 
 O'er the kneeling count's brow on high ; 
 A blow on his shoulder full gently he laid, 
 And by that little action a knight he is made, 
 Baptized into chivalry ! 
 
 " Bear thou this blow," said the king to the knight, 
 " But never bear blow again ; 
 
14 LAYS AND BALLADS. 
 
 For thy sword is to keep thine honour white, 
 And thine honour must keep thy good sword bright, 
 And both must be free from stain. 
 
 Thou takest a pledge upon thee now 
 
 To be loyal, and true, and brave, 
 Ever to succour the weak and low, 
 And to make the fierce oppressor bow, 
 
 And the helpless to aid and save. 
 
 Firm to thy Grod and thine honour's laws, 
 
 Remember this solemn word, 
 That the knight who ever his good sword draws 
 Save in a fair and a righteous cause 
 
 Is worthy to lose that sword. 
 
 Two cuisses of steel I give to thee, 
 
 Proof against blade and dart ; 
 Even so thy virtue proof should be 
 'G-ainst the strokes of that ghostly enemy 
 
 Who wars upon the heart. 
 
 I give thee two spurs of gold so bright — 
 
 They are badges of chivalry ; 
 Thou must use them as becomes a knight, 
 Still to press onward in the fight, 
 
 And never to turn and flee. 
 
 I give thee a glorious steed from Spain — 
 
 Black as a starless night ; 
 As his docile neck obeys the rein, 
 Bend thou beneath thy lady's chain, 
 
 So binding, yet so slight. 
 
 I give thee a helm with a dancing crest ; 
 
 And like that airy plume, 
 The heart beneath thy steely vest 
 Should ever be lightsome in thy breast, 
 
 Unshadow'd by fortune's gloom. 
 
KNIGHTING OF COUNT GEOFFREY. 15 
 
 Rise up a knight ! " With a joyous spring 
 
 Count Geoffrey leap'd on high ; 
 His sword he clasp'd like a living thing, — 
 " For God, my la ly, and my king ; 
 
 Be this my battle-cry." 
 Matilda's hand hath buckled his spurs — 
 
 A happy heart was his ; 
 And surely a happy task was hers, 
 For blest is the bride who ministers 
 
 To her husband's fame and bliss. 
 Lightly he sprang on his best of steeds, 
 
 Which stood at the abbey-door ; 
 In his flashing eye each gazer reads 
 A promise bright of valorous deeds, 
 
 As he gallops fair Rouen o'er. 
 Blithely he rides in the people's sight, 
 
 While the joyous heralds cry, 
 " God's blessing on Geoffrey the new-made knight — - 
 Long may he live, and well may he fight, 
 
 And nobly at last may he die ! " 
 
 Reign of Stephen, 1135—1154. 
 
 Cjje (Estape d tlje (EmpTOS pjatilba, 1 
 
 Through changeful clouds of night 
 
 The winter moon was gliding, 
 Like a bird with wings of light 
 
 On the buoyant breezes riding ; 
 
 1 The escape of Matilda took place as narrated in the ballad ; but 
 the maiden who is there supposed to suggest the scheme is an imagin- 
 ary personage. 
 
16 LAYS AND BALLADS. 
 
 Fair was the scene, and strangely wild, 
 
 Beneath her wan transparent ray ; 
 For the snow, in glittering masses piled, 
 
 Gave back a light that mock'd the day. 
 It lay in shining heaps, 
 
 Like pearls of purest brightness ; 
 It clothed the woods and steeps 
 
 In robes of bridal whiteness : 
 And high its crystal ramparts rose 
 
 Along old Thames's alter'd shore ; 
 With one wide field of foam-like snows 
 
 The mighty stream was frozen o'er. 
 "Where Oxford's stately towers 
 
 Rise dark above the water, 
 She chides the mournful hours, 
 
 Great Henry's queenly daughter ; 
 Her ears are fill'd with sounds of woe, 
 
 Her eyes behold a sight of dread ; 
 Without, she sees the rebel foe — 
 
 Within, the dying and the dead. 
 Full sadly spake the bands 
 
 Of yielding on the morrow ; 
 Then wrung the queen her hands, 
 
 Crying, in wrathful sorrow, 
 " Ah, Gloucester ! ah, my brother dear ! 
 
 Thou truest and thou best of men ! 
 'Twould not be thus if thou wert here — 
 
 Eight soon should I be rescued then ! " 
 
 Down gazed those valiant lords, 
 Their grief and shame were bitter ; 
 
 Alas, ungrateful words ! 
 
 Thy tears, queen, were fitter ; 
 
 For true of heart and strong of hand, 
 Each warrior fenced thee with his life : 
 
ESCAPE OF THE EMPRESS MATILDA. 17 
 
 But when stern Famine bares her brand, 
 
 Man can but perish in the strife ! 
 Out spake a maiden then : 
 
 " Counsel my lady needeth ; 
 When fails the wit of men, 
 
 Oft woman's wit succeedeth. 
 At Wallingford, Earl Eobert bides, 
 
 To guard thy son, thine England's heir : 
 Can we not cross the frozen tides, 
 
 To seek for aid and safety there ? " 
 
 " Not so, alas ! not so ! 
 
 Long is the way, and dreary ; 
 How shall we pass the foe — 
 
 We, faint and worn and weary ? " 
 " Doubt nothing," said that damsel bold ; 
 
 " But only trust thyself to me, 
 And thou shalt learn how fearless-soul'd 
 
 An English maiden dares to be ! " 
 " Farewell, ye noble hearts ; 
 
 God take you to his keeping ! 
 Behold, your queen departs 
 
 From friends so loyal, weeping ! " 
 Matilda donn'd a milk-white vest ; 
 
 And that same damsel, fair and true, 
 In robes of stainless white was dress'd, 
 
 Like the cold snow's unspotted hue. 
 "With linked cords they bound 
 
 The empress and her maiden ; — 
 cords, be strong and sound, 
 
 For dearly are ye laden ! 
 They lighted noiselessly and fair 
 
 "Upon the river's glassy bed ; 
 The silence of the midnight air 
 
 Received no echo from their tread. 
 
5 LAYS AND BALLADS. 
 
 They fled, like startled deer 
 
 From the eager huntsman trooping, 
 Beneath the ice-hills clear 
 
 Pull oft for shelter stooping. 
 The watchmen gazed adown the stream, 
 
 As they paced around the rebel-camp : 
 " See, how the flying snow-flakes gleam 
 
 Under the moon's resplendent lamp ! " 
 Six weary miles they fled, 
 
 With fear and weakness striving, 
 Their cheeks as white with dread 
 
 As the snows against them driving. 
 They paused awhile at Abington, 
 
 While steeds were brought of fleetest power ; 
 To Wallingford they hurried on, 
 
 And reach' d it ere the dawn's first hour. 
 Her steed the empress check'd, 
 
 Scarce could her limbs sustain her ; 
 Little of that she reck'd, 
 
 Nought now hath power to pain her. 
 Widely Earl Eobert flings the gates, 
 
 His sister and his queen to greet ; 
 He leads her where Prince Henry waits, 
 
 And, ah, their first embrace w r as sweet ! 
 Matilda wept apart, 
 
 Gentle and calm her weeping, 
 Softening her haughty heart, 
 
 Like dew the hard earth steeping. 
 Her young son in her arms she press'd : 
 
 " With thee," she cried, "thou child most dear, 
 And with my brother's generous breast 
 
 To shield me, there is nought I fear. 
 Let honour due and fair 
 
 To this my maid be given ; 
 
THE MERCHANT AND THE LADY. 19 
 
 Bless we with praise and prayer 
 
 The pitying God of heaven ; 
 His hand hath saved me from my foes, 
 
 His hand shall still my friends sustain ; 
 Thanks be to God ! I am with those 
 
 Who are my heart's beloved again !" 
 
 Zhz (Bnglislj 3fcn$aot anft % Saracen Ipabg. 
 
 LAY THE FIRST. 
 
 It was a merchant, a merchant of fame, 
 
 And he sail'd to the Holy Land ; 
 Gilbert a Becket was his name ; 
 
 And he went to trade with the Syrians rich 
 For velvets, and satins, and jewels, which 
 He might sell on the western strand. 
 
 But the luckless merchant was captive ta'en 
 
 By a Turcoman fierce and rude ; 
 They bound his limbs with a galling chain, 
 
 And they set him to labour, early and late, 
 In the gardens which lay round the palace-gate 
 Of the terrible chief Mahmoud. 
 
 It was there he met with a Saracen maid 
 
 Of virtue and beauty rare : 
 And, behold, our merchant forgot his trade ; 
 His English habits aside he flung, 
 And he learn' d to speak with a Saracen tongue, 
 For the sake of that damsel fair. 
 2* 
 
20 LAYS AND BALLADS. 
 
 He taught Zarina the Christians' lore ; 
 
 And the hours sped swiftly by, 
 "When together they trod the lonely shore, 
 
 And she listen'd to him with a willing ear, 
 And he gazed in her eyes so deep and clear, 
 By the light of the morning sky. 
 
 They plighted their faith, and they vow'd to wed, 
 
 If Grilbert should e'er be free ; 
 How could she doubt a word he said ? 
 
 For her heart was trustful, pure, and mild, 
 Like the heart of a young unfearing child, 
 And she loved him hopefully. 
 
 But days stole on, and months stole on, 
 
 And Grilbert was captive yet ; 
 A long, long year had come and gone, 
 
 "When the maiden wander'd with earnest eye 
 To the shadowy walk 'neath the palm-trees high, 
 "Where oft before they met. 
 " I am a Christian, my Grilbert, now," 
 
 The Saracen lady said ; 
 The tone of her voice was sweet and low, 
 
 Like the voice of the night-breeze, cool and calm, 
 "When it sighs through the leaves of the mur- 
 muring palm, 
 Of its own light sounds afraid. 
 " At eve and at morn to thy Grod I pray ; 
 
 Oh, why should I linger here ? 
 Let us flee to thine England, far away ; 
 
 The Grod we serve shall guide our bark 
 Over the desert of waters dark ; 
 For how can a Christian fear ? 
 I will send to thee at the hour of eve, 
 
 When the curtains are drawn o'er heaven ; 
 And I shall not weep for the friends I leave, 
 
THE MERCHANT AND THE LADY. 21 
 
 For I am an orphan, and ne'er have known 
 A gentle word or a kindly tone, 
 Save such as thou hast given. 
 
 My gems shall purchase a gallant boat, 
 
 And a crew of skilful men : 
 Oh, when on the fetterless waves we float, 
 
 With the w^ide blue sky and the wide blue sea 
 Stretching around us triumphantly, 
 Wilt thou not bless me then ? " 
 
 He kiss'd her hand, and he vow'd to come ; 
 
 And the night was calm and fair : 
 Oh, how the captive thought on home, 
 
 As he gazed the dashing waters o'er, 
 And noiselessly paced the rugged shore ; 
 But Zarina was not there ! 
 
 He look'd to the east, he look'd to the west, 
 
 But her form he could not see ; 
 And fear struck cold upon his breast : 
 Te glittering stars, so calm, so pale, 
 Say, have ye whisper' d the lover's tale 
 To some ruthless enemy ? 
 
 He look'd to the south, he look'd to the north, 
 
 A light, light step he hears ! 
 And a figure steps from the shadows forth — 
 But, alas for Zarina, it is not she ! 
 It is but her faithful nurse Safie, 
 And her eyes are dim with tears. 
 
 " Oh, listen," she cried, in bitter woe, 
 
 " Zarina is captive made ! 
 Sir Christian, Sir Christian, alone must thou go ; 
 
 Thy way is still clear ; but they know that she 
 "Was wont to wander at eve with thee, 
 By treacherous lips betray 'd. 
 
22 LAYS AND BALLADS. 
 
 She bids thee flee to thine own fair land, 
 
 Eor thou canst not aid her here." 
 The old nurse pointed with her hand. 
 
 Gilbert a Becket he grieved and sigh'd ; 
 But he saw the bark on the white waves ride, 
 And he thought on England dear. 
 
 " Adieu, my lady," at last he said, 
 
 While the nurse in silence wept ; 
 " Oh, I ne'er will forget my Saracen maid, 
 
 But I'll come to seek thee across the wave !" 
 The words of the merchant's vow were brave- 
 How shall that vow be kept ? 
 
 Away flies the bark o'er the billowy foam, 
 
 As though her sails were wings — 
 She seems to know she is travelling home ; 
 
 And at last good Gilbert a Becket stands 
 On the noblest land of all earthly lands — 
 Oh, how his glad heart springs ! 
 
 LAY THE SECOND. 
 
 "Where is Zarina ? A captive lone 
 
 She sits, with tearful eye, 
 Till two long years are come and gone ; 
 
 And at last, w^hen her ruthless gaolers slept, 
 One eve of beauty, forth she crept 
 To gaze from the lattice high. 
 The wall was steep, yet she- dared to leap — 
 
 Safe on the turf doth she stand ! 
 'Tis pleasant to be on the green earth free ; 
 Yet where shall the hapless maiden go, 
 For the English tongue she doth not know, 
 Though she seeks the English land ? 
 
THE MERCHANT AXD THE LADY. 23 
 
 She hath wander'd down to the shore, and there 
 
 Is a bark about to sail, 
 With tapering masts that seem to bear, 
 Upon their crests so slight and high, 
 The outspread curtains of the sky, 
 Hung o'er with star-lamps pale. 
 
 Oft hath the maiden her lover heard, 
 
 When he spake of his far-off home : 
 Back to her lip returns the word, 
 
 And " London ! London ! " in haste she cries, 
 With a piteous tone and with streaming eyes, 
 While the seamen around her come. 
 
 " It is sad and strange," said the sailors then, 
 
 " That the damsel weepeth thus ; 
 But oh, let it never be said that men 
 
 Look'd on a woman in sore distress, 
 And gave no aid to her feebleness ! 
 The maiden shall sail with us !" 
 
 So they took her in ; and Zarina smiled, 
 
 And thank' d them with her eyes ; 
 Gentle she was as a chidden child ■ 
 
 But the mariners could not understand 
 The wondrous words of the eastern land, 
 So they sail'd in silent wise. 
 
 They came to shore at fair Stamboul, 
 
 And the maiden roam'd all night 
 Through its streets so calm, and still, and cool ; 
 And to every passer-by that came ... 
 She murmur' d forth the one dear name, 
 Clasping her hands so white. 
 
 Some turn'd aside with careless pride, 
 
 And some with angry frown ; 
 With a curious ear some turn'd to hear ; 
 
24 LAYS AND BALLADS. 
 
 But the word she spate each passer knew, 
 For London is known the wide world through, 
 From England's fair renown. 
 
 Prom place to place did the maiden stray, 
 
 And still that little word 
 Was her only guide on her venturous way. 
 Full many a pitying stranger gave 
 Aid to her journey by land and wave, 
 When her low sweet voice was heard. 
 
 And oft at eve would Zarina stand 
 
 On the edge of the darkening flood, 
 And sing the lays of her own far land : 
 
 So sweet was her voice when she sang of home, 
 That the listening peasants would round her come, 
 Proffering their simple food. 
 
 Thus when full many a month had pass'd 
 
 Of wearisome wanderings long, 
 To the wish'd-for place she was borne at last ; 
 And the maiden gazed with bewilder'd eye 
 On each spreading roof and turret high, 
 'Mid London's hurrying throng. 
 
 Through all that maze of lane and street 
 
 With pleading looks she went ; 
 And still her weary voice was sweet : 
 
 But now was " Gilbert" the name she cried ; 
 The world of London is very wide, 
 And they knew not whom she meant. 
 
 Gilbert ! — her lover's name— how oft 
 
 Had she breathed that sound before ! 
 Her eye grew bright, her tone grew soft ; 
 
 For she thought that life and hope must dwell 
 In the precious name she loved so well ; 
 And her troubles all seem'd o'er. 
 
THE MERCHANT AND THE LADY. 25 
 
 Now Gilbert a Becket was dwelling there, 
 
 Like a merchant-prince was he ; 
 His gardens were wide, and his halls were fair ; 
 
 His servants flatter' d, his minstrels play'd ; — 
 He had almost forgotten his Saracen maid, 
 And their parting beyond the sea. 
 
 But word was brought, as he sate at meat, 
 
 Of a damsel fair and sad, 
 Who wander" d for ever through lane and street, 
 AVith clasped hands and strength o'erspent, 
 Murmuring " Gilbert ! " as she went, 
 Like one possess' d, or mad. 
 
 Gilbert a Becket, he straightway rose, 
 
 For his conscience prick' d him sore ; 
 
 Forth from his splendid hall he goes — 
 
 A well-known voice is in his ears, 
 
 And he sees a fair face veil'd in tears, 
 
 And he thinks on the Syrian shore. 
 
 Forth to Zarina in haste he came, 
 Oh how could he ever forget ? 
 " Gilbert !*' she cries — 'tis the self-same name, 
 But ah ! what a changed aud joyous tone, 
 For the maiden's heart is no more alone, 
 And the lovers at last are met ! 
 
 He took that happy wanderer home, 
 
 He placed her at his side ; 
 O'er desert plain, and o'er ocean's foam, 
 
 She hath come, with her changeless love and faith ; 
 And now there is nothing can part, save death, 
 The bridegroom and the bride ! 
 
 The maiden was led to the holy font, 
 
 They named her " Matilda" there ; 
 
 Tet ever was Gilbert a Becket wont, 
 
26 LAYS AND BALLADS. 
 
 In his joyous home, with a sweet wife blest, 
 To say that he loved Zarina best, 
 His Saracen true and fair. 
 
 Their first-born son was a priest of power, 
 
 Who ruled on English ground — 
 His fame remaineth to this hour ! 
 
 God send to every valiant knight 
 A lady as true, and a home as bright, 
 As Gilbert the merchant found ! 
 
 Reign of Henry II., 1154—1189. 
 
 (Earl Sirowjbofo, 
 
 Earl Strongbow lies in Dublin towers, 
 
 Begirt by a mighty host ; 
 At the horn's wild sound they have gather' d around 
 
 Erom forest, hill, and coast. 
 There are thirty thousand island men, 
 
 With spears, and bows, and darts ; 
 Earl Strongbow has not one to ten — 
 
 Six hundred gallant hearts ! 
 
 Six hundred gallant hearts had he, 
 
 And not a blade beside ; 
 But these did battle valorously 
 
 Eor Strongbow and his bride. 
 Eair Eva wept, fair Eva pray'd, 
 
 And wrung her hands of snow ; 
 Alas, her tears are little aid 
 
 Against the ruthless foe ! 
 
EARL STROSGBOW. 
 
 The brave earl sate at his eastle-board 
 
 At the close of a summer's day ; 
 Freely the generous wine was pour'd 
 
 As they feasted the eve away ; 
 He gazed on the manly brows around — 
 
 Cried he, " AVe may yet hold out, 
 For our walls so strong will shield us long, 
 
 And our hearts are full as stout !" 
 They answer' d his words by a ringing cheer, 
 
 And Milo de Cogan spoke ; 
 " We lack but bold Fitzstephen here, 
 
 "With his hand and heart of oak ; 
 In Carrig fair Fitzstephen rests ; 
 
 But knew he of our need, 
 Soon should we see his courser free 
 
 Come leaping o'er the mead." 
 As he spake, a page came up the hall, 
 
 Like a ghost of the drown' d his seeming ; 
 Pale was his face and feeble his pace, 
 
 And his vest all drench' d and streaming. 
 " Lord baron," he cried, " unseen did I glide 
 
 Through the midst of yon mighty foe, 
 Thy moat did I swim, as the twilight sank dim, 
 
 And I bear thee news of woe ! 
 Ee sad, be sad ! thou hast look'd thy last 
 
 On the bold Fitzstephen's brow ; 
 His knightly limbs ere morn be past 
 
 Shall feed the hooded crow : 
 Beset by a force of fearful strength, 
 
 By want and famine worn, 
 His gallant heart gives way at length, 
 
 And he must yield ere morn. 
 He sends thee this glove of steel by me ; 
 
 And he bade me pray ye all 
 
28 LAYS AND BALLADS. 
 
 To give a mass to his memory, 
 
 And a sigh to grace his fall/' 
 Sadly the token Earl Strongbow took, 
 
 While sorrow, shame, and ire 
 Strove for a while in his downcast look ; 
 
 Bat anon his eyes shot fire J 
 " Answer me, friends," he cried ; " if thus 
 
 Oar danger and need were known, 
 "Would not Eitzstephen die for us ? 
 
 And now shall he fall alone ? " 
 Up leap'd they all at those stirring words, 
 
 And they shook the ancient hall 
 When the angry clash of their outdrawn swords, 
 
 And their shouts, " We are ready all ! " 
 Ready were all — ah, noble few, 
 
 Ready ye were to die ! 
 That heart is chill which feels no thrill 
 
 At your fidelity ! 
 One swift embrace exchanging then, 
 
 Like friends who part ere death, 
 They rush on the foe, as the mountain-piled snow 
 
 Rushes down on the plains beneath ! 
 Ah, knew'st thou, Eva, good and fair, 
 
 Kneeling with lifted hands, 
 How he whose name thou breath'st in prayer 
 
 By death beleaguer'd stands, 
 Paler would grow thy cheeks' soft glow, 
 
 Sadder thine eyes' soft light, 
 But prouder still thy trembling heart, 
 
 To be wife to so true a knight ! 
 Come forth, come forth from thy lonely bower, 
 
 A messenger rides below ; 
 " Oh, bring'st thou news from Dublin's tower ? 
 
 Speak, is it weal or woe ? " 
 
EARL STROXGBOW. 29 
 
 " Joy, lady, joy — these wond'ring eyes 
 
 Have look'd ou deeds of fame ; 
 Joy — for the earth, the sea, the skies, 
 
 Bing with Earl Pembroke's name ! 
 
 That tiny band, I saw it dash 
 
 Through the enemy's gather' d crowd, 
 It was like the slender lightning's flash 
 
 Cleaving the massy cloud. 
 Clear shot they through — on either hand 
 
 Their foes nor fight nor fly, 
 But stand, as trembling sheep might stand 
 
 When a lion hath darted by ! 
 And when they came to Carrig fair, 
 
 Trembling their eyes beheld 
 Its lonely banners rock the air, 
 
 Its heights unsentinell'd ; 
 Its troops, a sad and downcast host, 
 
 Slow moving to the gate, 
 Leaving their leader at his post, 
 
 Death's welcome stroke to wait ! 
 ' To the rescue, ho ! ' they charge the foe 
 
 With a torrent's headlong might ; 
 With answering shout the troops rush out 
 
 And join that desperate fight. 
 Oh, who shall say what Eitz Stephen felt 
 
 When, from his tower on high, 
 He saw the light of their lances bright 
 
 Gleaming against the sky ? 
 
 Oh, who shall say what Eitzstephen felt 
 
 When the glorious fight was done, 
 And his friend he prest to his fervent breast, 
 
 As a mother clasps her son ! " 
 Fair Eva kneel'd on the flowery mead, 
 
 But never a word she spoke ; 
 
30 LAYS AND BALLADS. 
 
 "When hark ! tlie tramp of a coming steed 
 
 That joyful silence broke. 
 In glistening steel, with armed heel, 
 
 And tall plume stooping low, 
 "With pennon fair, that woos the air, 
 
 A warrior nears them now ; 
 His step is light, and his smile is bright, 
 
 As he flings down his charger's rein : 
 Oh ! this is Pembroke's graceful knight — 
 
 He is come to his own again ! 
 " Now, welcome home, mine honour'd lord ! 
 
 Proud should old England be 
 To learn from thy resistless sword 
 
 Pure faith and chivalry ! 
 Oh, I have wept from sun to sun, 
 
 A sad and widow' d wife ; 
 But I would not wish thy deed undone, 
 
 Though it had cost thy life ! " 
 
 Reign of Richard the First, 1189—1199. 
 
 \jt ffiaptiirilg d Crew h |Ticm. 
 
 IN THREE LAYS. 
 
 LAY THE FIRST. 
 THE DISAPPEARANCE OF THE KING. 
 
 In the realm of sunny Palestine, 
 Realm of the rose, the palm, the vine, 
 The warrior-king hath fought ; 
 
CAPTIVITY OF CCEUR DE LION. 31 
 
 % 
 
 And the valour of his strong ri^ht hand 
 Free passage through that hallow'd land 
 For Christian men hath wrought. 
 
 Xow may the pilgrim fearless tread 
 The spot that held his Saviour dead, 
 
 And fearless kneel to pay 
 His vows before that sacred shrine, 
 In the land of sunny Palestine, 
 
 AVhere Christians love to pray. 
 
 And the warrior-king hath won him fame, 
 A mightv and a glorious name 
 
 Is his, the wide world through ; 
 For his deeds on that far eastern shore, 
 Done in a righteous cause, seem more 
 
 Than man alone might do. 
 
 A generous knight he was, who strove 
 For fame, and piety, and love, 
 
 Xot for base earthly gain : 
 He saw his comrades share the spoil 
 Won by his valour and his toil, 
 
 With careless, calm disdain. 
 
 Enough it was for him to feel 
 That for his God he drew his steel, 
 
 A_nd for his faith was bold ; 
 And he thought one smile so gently bright, 
 Given by his lady to her knight, 
 
 "Was worth a world of gold. 
 
 And he knew that he should leave behind 
 The legacy to all mankind 
 
 Of an undying name ; 
 A name to thrill the brave, and make 
 The very coward's heart awake 
 
 To not ignoble shame. 
 
32 LAYS AND BALLADS. 
 
 And now, his toils and dangers o'er, 
 Joyons he quits that eastern shore ; 
 
 Oh, let him journey fast ! 
 For his eager heart with hope doth beat, 
 He pants once more to set his feet 
 
 On England's soil at last. 
 
 Yet are there foes upon his way 
 To strike, beleaguer, and waylay ; — 
 
 The promise-breaking Greek, 
 The lord of France's lovely land, 
 And Austria's duke, as strong of hand 
 
 As he of wit is weak. 
 
 In a Templar's garb the king is drest, 
 The white cross gleams upon his breast ; 
 
 Safe in this strange disguise 
 He hopes to join his lady dear, 
 And read his welcome in the tear 
 
 That bathes her gentle eyes. 
 
 Look forth, look forth from England's shore ! 
 Look forth, look forth, the far seas o'er ! 
 
 When will his swift bark come ? 
 Oh, swift and sure the bark should be 
 "Which bears across the willing sea 
 
 Our wanderer to his home ! 
 
 Take up, take up the strain of grief ! 
 Lost is our warrior and our chief! 
 
 Eoes lurk'd upon his path : 
 Nor close disguise, nor linked mail, 
 Nor faith, nor chivalry avail 
 
 To save him from their wrath. 
 
 Captive he is ; but to what foe, 
 
 Alas, his English do not know ! 
 
 A dark and sunless gloom 
 
CAPTIVITY OF CCEUR DE LION. 33 
 
 Hath closed above that noble bead, 
 As closeth o'er the newly dead 
 The cold and changeless tomb ! 
 
 LAY THE SECOND. 
 THE COMPLAINT OF CCEUR DE LION IN HIS CAPTIVITY. 
 
 I was a king of fearless might, 
 I was a warrior and a knight ; 
 My sonl was like the morning light, 
 So sparkling in its buoyancy ! 
 
 I am a captive sad and lone. 
 And all my glorious things are gone, 
 Except the heart that is mine own, 
 Unchanging in its royalty ! 
 
 The crown that I was wont to wear, 
 The robe of pride, the sceptre fair,— 
 These are not mine, though mine they were, — 
 Grone are the signs of majesty ! 
 
 The sword that I was wont to wield, 
 The dancing plnme, the knightly shield, 
 The clarion calling to the field, 
 Are lost to my captivity ! 
 
 Oh that I were a simple hind, 
 Slavish in toil, and weak in mind, 
 So I might feel the morning wind 
 
 Sweep o'er my forehead joyously ! 
 
 The rills along my native plains 
 Are murmuring forth their gladsome strains ; 
 And the gay breeze that scorneth chains 
 Is blowing fresh and wantonly ! 
 
34 LAYS AND BALLADS. 
 
 The birds that skim my native air 
 Are pouring forth sweet music there ; 
 The woods are green, the hills are fair, 
 "While I am in captivity ! 
 
 My strength is worn, my spirits sink, 
 My heart does everything but shrink ; 
 Alas, my people, do ye think 
 
 Upon your king regretfully ? 
 
 My queen^ 1 my wife, my lady ! thou 
 Of the blue eye and dazzling brow, 
 Say, art thou weeping for me now, 
 
 In sad and patient constancy ? 
 Do ye remember me ? Oh, fast 
 The weary months are gliding. past : 
 Will they bring liberty at last ? 
 
 Or have ye all forgotten me ? 
 Ah, friends ! if ye were thus distress'd, 
 Thus chain'd, insulted, and oppress'd, 
 Te would not find this faithful breast 
 
 So careless of your memory ! 
 
 Ah, lady ! did a tear but steep 
 
 Those moonlight eyes, so still and deep, 
 
 Here is a heart, ere thou shouldst weep, 
 
 That would rejoice to die for thee ! 
 Hard is the lesson I must learn, 
 How changeless faith meets false return ; 
 The love I give I cannot earn 
 
 As strong in its fidelity ! 
 
 My God, for Thee my sword I drew ; 
 Thy foes my strong arm overthrew ; 
 Oh, do not Thou forget me too ; 
 Give aid in mine extremity ! 
 
 1 Berengaria of JSavarre, a princess of great beauty and gentlenes 
 
CAPTIVITY OF CGEUR DE LION. 35 
 
 Upon Thy love my heart shall lean 
 Even in my dungeon's gloomy scene ; 
 Forgotten by my friends, my queen, 
 In Thee I find sufficiency ! 
 
 LAY THE THIRD. 
 THE LAMENT OF THE ENGLISH FOR THE CAPTIVITY OF CCEITR DE LION. 
 
 We have lost our hero-monarch, our lion-king is ta'en, 
 Around his free and knightly limbs is bound the shame- 
 ful chain ; 
 The eye which used to marshal us is waxing faint and 
 
 dim, 
 For the light of day, which shines on us, is shut and 
 
 barr'd from him, 
 Alas, alas, for England ! our princely chief is lost ; 
 And powerless is the mighty arm that hath struck down 
 
 a host ; 
 Our people hath no ruler, no tenant hath our throne ; 
 And we know not where the enemy hath laid our 
 
 glorious one. 
 We have followed him to battle in the far-off eastern 
 
 climes ; 
 We have watch' d his matchless valour a thousand, 
 
 thousand times ; 
 We have seen the humbled Saracen kneel low to kiss 
 
 his robe ; 
 For his fame hath but one limit— the limit of the globe ! 
 
 For his coronal of glory he won the brightest gem 
 Where the stately palms are circling thy land, Jeru- 
 salem ! 
 The very air that fans thy domes is vocal with his name, 
 And the pale cheek of each infidel pays tribute to his 
 fame, 
 
 3 * 
 
36 LAYS AND BALLADS. 
 
 His eye was like tlie lightning, his arm was like its 
 
 stroke, 
 When it shivers into shapeless dust the gnarl'd and 
 
 massy oak ; 
 His voice was like a trumpet with a challenge in its tone, 
 Tet sweet as the wild lark that sings in field and forest 
 
 lone. 
 
 But now there is a fetter on that firm and noble hand, 
 And mute is that imperial voice whose accent was com- 
 mand; 
 That eye of bright authority is waxing faint and dim, 
 For the beams of day, the breath of morn — all, all are 
 barr'd from him ! 
 
 Oh, is it wily Philip who have wrought thee this mis- 
 chance, 
 
 Because thine English banner did outstrip the flag of 
 Prance ? 
 
 Or is it specious Burgundy, that soft and carpet-knight, 
 
 Because thy foot hath ever been before him in the fight ? 
 
 Or is it craven Austria, who plann'd the false surprise, 
 In vengeance for the lofty scorn of thine undaunted 
 
 eyes ? 
 Well hath thy soul disdain' d him, and well thine eye 
 
 hath spurn 'd 
 The cunning envy of the base, which in his spirit burn'd. 
 
 Out on thee, recreant Austria ! in battle thou wouldst be 
 Full glad to sue for mercy to the Lion on thy knee ; 
 Thou art not meet to serve him as a squire or as a slave ; 
 Alas, that craft and dastardy prevail against the brave ! 
 
 We have sheath'd our useless weapons, we have flung 
 
 our helmets down, 
 Our steeds are uncaparison'd, our clarions are unblown ; 
 
CKEUR DE LION AND HIS HORSE. 37 
 
 Why should the glorious clarion sound, to cheer us on 
 the foe ? 
 
 Thou art not here to marshal us, so wherefore should 
 we go ? 
 
 All powerless are thy warriors — they know not where 
 thou art ; 
 
 They can but lock thy bitter wrongs within each burn- 
 ing heart ; 
 
 For thee the minstrel only his lay of mourning sings, 
 
 Thou monarch of all heroes ! thou hero among kings ! 
 
 Cosrrr ire ffon attfr fns porse. 
 
 " Ah, Fanuel, my noble horse, thou bleedest — thou art 
 
 slain ! 
 Thou wilt never bear me to the chase or the battle-field 
 
 again ! 
 Thou wert a steed of peerless might, a steed of strength 
 
 and glee ; 
 Eight faithful wert thou to thy lord, and well thy lord 
 
 loved thee. 
 Thou wouldst answer, when I named thee, with a joyous 
 
 neigh and proud, 
 For thy voice was like a cymbal's, so exulting and so 
 
 loud ; 
 Thou wouldst arch thy neck, and stamp thy foot, for 
 
 joy when I came near ; 
 Thou wert eager to look lovely in the eyes of one so 
 
 dear. 
 If other knight dared ride thee, with gay and reckless 
 
 bound, 
 As a billow shakes the foam away, thou'dst toss him to 
 
 the ground : 
 
38 LAYS AND BALLADS. 
 
 Yet gentle wert thou in thy strength ; my lady-love 
 
 might dare 
 To twine her fingers in thy mane, as in a child's bright 
 
 hair. 
 
 Thou didst not start nor tremble at the sound of clash- 
 ing swords ; 
 
 Thy spirit in the battle was as eager as thy lord's ; 
 
 Like him, thy fittest place was where the closing lines 
 engage, 
 
 "When thou wouldst snort and shake thy mane, like a 
 lion in his rage. 
 
 A friend and a companion thou wert unto my heart ; 
 Alas, alas, my noble steed, and is it thus we part ? 
 Low on the ground, and lifeless, I see thy graceful head ; 
 My voice awakes thee not, — by this I know that thou 
 art dead. 
 
 I must leave thee on the burning sands, beneath the 
 
 eastern sun, 
 Like a worn and sleeping warrior whose battle-task is 
 
 done ; 
 Yet thou shalt not be forgotten by thy master and thy 
 
 friend ; 
 Where'er my name is known on earth, thy glory shall 
 
 extend." 
 
 King Eichard thus lamented for his steed when it was 
 
 slain ; 
 But he turn'd him to the combat, and he drew his 
 
 sword again ; 
 " Take back thy barb, good Longsword ;* mount, mount, 
 
 and be thou mute ; 
 Eor I will not fight on horseback, if thou must fight a- 
 
 foot." 
 
 1 William, Earl of Salisbury, surnamed Longsword, 
 
CCEUR DE LION AND HIS HORSE. 39 
 
 But the mighty sultan Saladiii had watch'd our gallant 
 
 king, 
 How he bore him in the battle like an eagle on the wing ; 
 He saw his charger bleeding ; he saw the hero fight 
 On foot amid his followers, a fearless-hearted knight. 
 
 He bade a coal-black steed be brought, and to his page 
 
 lie spake, 
 " Lead this to yonder chieftain — bid him ride it for my 
 
 sake : 
 Pair courtesy beseemeth the lofty in degree ; 
 And to honour such a hero, doth honour unto me." 
 
 The page he bow'd full lowly, that courser's rein he took, 
 And he led him where King Richard had kneel' d beside 
 
 a brook ; 
 All heated with the battle, he had cast his helm aside, 
 And he stoop'd to bathe his forehead in the cold and 
 
 glassy tide. 
 
 " kino:, the niightv Saladin hath sent this steed to 
 
 thee ; " 
 Thus spake the page full humbly, and dropp'd upon his 
 
 knee. 
 King Richard smooth'd that charger's mane, and stroked 
 
 his graceful head ; 
 " Gro thank your courteous master," right graciously he 
 
 said. 
 
 " 3Iuch shall I prize thee for his sake, my steed of glossy 
 
 black!" 
 With that he grasp'd the courser's mane, to leap upon 
 
 his back : 
 But Longsword came to check him, that brave and loyal 
 
 count ; 
 ' : Xay, nay, my liege — your pardon — let me try him ere 
 
 you mount." 
 
40 LAYS AND BALLADS. 
 
 " Who doubts the noble sultan's faith ? " King Eichard 
 
 sternly said ; 
 But the earl was in the saddle ere the answer well was 
 
 made : 
 Oh, fair and knightly was his seat upon the gilded selle ; 
 And he prick 5 d the charger's side, resolved to try his 
 
 mettle well. 
 
 The Arab feels a stranger's spur, a stranger's hand he 
 
 knows ; 
 Down to the dust right scornfully he bends his haughty 
 
 brows ; 
 Then tossing up his wrathful head, he scour'd across 
 
 the plain, 
 Like the wild bull of the jungle, in his fury and disdain. 
 
 Away, away, with frantic speed, across the flying sand, 
 He rushes like a torrent freed, uncheck'd by human 
 
 hand ; 
 'Nov did he stay his headlong race until his path had 
 
 crost, 
 Like a flash of summer lightning, the Paynim's startled 
 
 host. 
 
 He came to where the sultan stood, his ancient master 
 
 dear 
 And there he paused ; and sweet it was his joyous neigh 
 
 to hear ; 
 He laid his head right lovingly against the sultan's 
 
 breast, 
 "With wistful and expectant eyes that ask'd to be caress'd. 
 
 Oh, deeply blush'd brave Saladin ! he blush'd for noble 
 
 shame, 
 Lest the stain of such a stratagem should light upon his 
 
 fame ; 
 
CCEUR DE LION AND HIS HORSE. 41 
 
 He bent full low his turban' d brow, and scarce his eyes 
 
 could lift, 
 As he craved of good Earl William a pardon for his 
 
 gift. 
 
 li Xow grieve not, gallant sultan," quoth the earl in 
 
 earnest tone ; 
 " For the great heart of King Bichard is noble as thine 
 
 own : 
 Xo doubt is in his confidence ; as soon would he believe 
 That lie could be dishonour 'd, as that thou couldst thus 
 
 deceive." 
 
 Of joyous heart was Saladin that thus the earl should say, 
 He bade his slaves caparison a steed of silver-grey ; 
 And with many a phrase of courtesy, and many a fair 
 
 excuse, 
 He sent that docile charger for good King Richard's use. 
 
 To that steed, in fair remembrance of the sultan true 
 
 and brave, 
 The stately name of Saladin our gallant monarch gave. 
 Thus to his foe each warrior-king was courteous as a 
 
 brother : 
 Oh, thus should generous enemies do honour to each 
 
 other ! 
 
 Reig-n of King John, 1199—1216. 
 
 ■ &ty d>ag of tht fearless ge Coxtrrg. 
 
 The fame of the fearless de Courcy 
 
 Is boundless as the air ; 
 With his own right hand he won the land 
 
 Of Ulster, green and fair ! 
 
42 LAYS AND BALLADS. 
 
 But he lieth low in a dungeon now, 
 
 Powerless, in proud despair ; 
 For false King John hath cast him in, 
 
 And closely chain' d him there. 
 The noble knight was weary 
 
 At morn, and eve, and noon ; 
 For chilly bright seem'd dawn's soft light, 
 
 And coldly shone the moon : 
 ~No gleaming mail gave back the rays 
 
 Of the dim unfriendly sky, 
 And the proud free stars disdain'd to gaze 
 
 Through his lattice, barr'd and high. 
 But when the trumpet-note of war 
 
 Rang through his narrow room, 
 Telling of banners streaming far, 
 
 Of knight, and steed, and plume ; 
 Of the wild melee, and the sabre's clash, 
 
 How would his spirit bound ! 
 Tet ever after the lightning's flash 
 
 Night closeth darker round. 
 
 Down would he sink on the floor again, 
 
 Like the pilgrim who sinks on some desert plain, 
 
 Even while his thirsting ear can trace 
 
 The hum of distant streams ; 
 Or the maimed hound, who hears the chase 
 
 Sweep past him in his dreams. 
 
 The false king sate in his hall of state 
 
 'Mid knights and nobles free ; 
 " Who is there," he cried, " who will cross the tide, 
 
 And do battle in France for me ? 
 
 There is cast on mine honour a fearful stain, 
 
 The death of the boy who ruled Bretagne ; l 
 
 And the monarch of France, my suzerain, 
 
 1 Prince Arthur of Brittany, whose melancholy fate has been too 
 often the theme of song and story to require notice here. 
 
THE FEARLESS DE COURCY. 43 
 
 Hath bidden a champion for me appear, 
 
 My fame from this darkening blot to clear. 
 
 Speak — is your silence the silence of fear, 
 
 My knights and my nobles ? Frowning and pale 
 
 Tour faces grow as I tell my tale ! 
 
 Is there not one of this knightly ring 
 
 Who dares do battle for his king ? " 
 
 The warriors they heard, but they spake not a word ; 
 
 The earth some gazed upon, 
 And some did raise a steadfast gaze 
 
 To the face of false King John. 
 Think ye they fear'd? They were Englishmen all, 
 Though mutely they stood in their monarch's hall ; 
 The heroes of many a well-fought day, 
 Who loved the sound of a gathering fray, 
 Even as the lonely shepherd loves 
 The herd's soft bell in the mountain- groves. 
 Why were they silent ? There was not one 
 Who could trust the word of false King John ; 
 And their cheeks grew pallid as they thought 
 On the deed of blood by his base hand wrought ; 
 Pale, with a brave heart's generous fear, 
 When forced a tale of shame to hear. 
 
 5 Twas a coward whiteness then did chase 
 The glow of shame from the false king's face ; 
 And he turn'd aside, in bootless pride, 
 That witness of his guilt to hide ; 
 Yet every heart around him there 
 Witness against him more strongly bare ! 
 
 Oh, out then spake the beauteous queen : l 
 " A captive lord I know, 
 
 1 Isabella of Angouleme, wife to King John, celebrated for her 
 beauty and high spirit. 
 
44 LAYS AND BALLADS. 
 
 Whose loyal heart hath ever been 
 
 Eager to meet the foe ; 
 Were true De Courcy here this day, 
 
 Freed from his galling chain, 
 Never, oh never, should scoffers say, 
 That, amid all England's rank and might, 
 Their king had sought him a loyal knight, 
 
 And sought such knight in vain ! " 
 Up started the monarch, and clear' d his brow, 
 And bade them summon De Courcy now. 
 Swiftly his messengers hasted away, 
 And sought the cell where the hero lay ; 
 They bade him arise at his master's call, 
 And follow their steps to the stately hall. 
 
 He is brought before the council, — 
 
 There are chains upon his hands ; 
 With his silver hair, that aged knight, 
 Like a rock o'erhung with foam-clouds white, 
 
 Proudly and calmly stands. 
 He gazes on the monarch 
 
 With a stern and starlike eye ; 
 And the company muse and marvel much, 
 That the light of the old man's eye is such, 
 
 After long captivity. 
 His fetters hang upon him 
 
 Like an unheeded thing ; 
 Or like a robe of purple, worn 
 With graceful and indifferent scorn 
 
 By some great-hearted king. 
 And strange it was to witness 
 
 How the false king look'd aside ; 
 Eor he dared not meet his captive eye ! 
 Thus ever the spirit's royalty 
 
 Is greater than pomp and pride ! 
 
THE FEARLESS DE COURCY. 45 
 
 The false king spake to his squires around, 
 
 And his lifted voice had an angry sound ; 
 
 " Strike ye the chains from each knightly limb ! 
 
 Who was so bold as to fetter him ? 
 
 Warrior, believe me, no hest of mine 
 
 Bade them fetter a form like thine f 
 
 Thy sovereign knoweth thy fame too well." 
 
 He paused, and a cloud on his dark brow fell ; 
 
 For the knight still gazed upon him, 
 
 And his eye was like a star ; 
 And the words on the lips of the false king died, 
 Like the murmuring sounds of an ebbing tide 
 
 By the traveller heard afar. 
 
 From the warrior's form they loosed the chain ; 
 His face was lighted with calm disdain ; 
 Nor cheek, nor lip, nor eye, gave token 
 Even that he knew his chains were broken. 
 He spake — no music, loud or clear, 
 
 Was in the voice of the grey-hair' d knight ; 
 But a low stern sound, like that ye hear 
 
 In the march of a mail-clad host by night. 
 " Brother of Coeur de Lion," said he, 
 " These chains have not dishonour' d me ! " 
 There was crushing scorn in each simple word, 
 Mightier than battle-axe or sword. 
 
 Not long did the heart of the false king thrill 
 
 To the touch of passing shame, 
 For it was hard, and mean, and chill ; 
 As breezes sweep o'er a frozen rill, 
 Leaving it cold and unbroken still,— 
 
 That feeling went and came ; 
 And now to the knight he made reply, 
 Pleading his cause right craftily ; 
 Skill' d was his tongue in specious use 
 
46 LAYS AND BALLADS. 
 
 Of promise fair and of feign' d excuse, 
 
 Blended with words of strong appeal 
 
 To love of fame and to loyal zeal. 
 
 At length he ceased ; and every eye 
 
 Grazed on De Courcy wistfully. 
 
 " Speak ! " cried the king in that fearful pause ; 
 
 " Wilt thou not champion thy monarch's cause ? " 
 
 The old knight struck his foot on the ground, 
 
 Like a w^ar-horse hearing the trumpet sound ; 
 
 And he spake with a voice of thunder, 
 
 Solemn and fierce in tone, 
 Waving his hand to the stately band 
 
 Who stood by the monarch's throne, 
 As a warrior might wave his flashing glaive 
 
 When cheering his squadrons on ; 
 " I will fight for the honour of England, 
 
 Though not for false King John ! " 
 He turn'd and strode from the lofty hall, 
 
 Nor seem'd to hear the sudden cheer 
 
 Which burst, as he spake, from the lips of all. 
 
 And when he stood in the air without, 
 
 He paused as if in joyful doubt ; 
 
 To the forests green and the wide blue sky 
 
 Stretching his arms embracingly, 
 
 With stately tread and uplifted head, 
 
 As a good steed tosses back his mane 
 
 When they loose his neck from the servile rein : 
 
 Te know not, ye who are always free, 
 
 How precious a thing is liberty ! 
 
 " O world ! " he cried ; " sky, river, hill ! 
 
 Te wear the garments of beauty still ; 
 
 How have ye kept your youth so fair, 1 
 
 While age has whiten'd this hoary hair ? " 
 
 1 The reader of German will here recognize an exquisite stanza from 
 TJhland, very inadequately rendered. 
 
THE FEARLESS DE COURCY. 47 
 
 But when the squire, who watch'd his lord, 
 Gave to his hand his ancient sword, 
 The hilt he press'd to his eager breast, 
 
 Like one who a long-lost friend hath met ; 
 And joyously said, as he kiss'd the blade, 
 
 ' w Methinks there is youth in my spirit yet. 
 For France ! for France ! o'er the waters blue ; 
 False king, dear land, adieu, adieu ! "" 
 He hath cross'd the booming ocean, 
 
 On the shore he plants his lance ; 
 And he sends his daring challenge 
 
 Into the heart of France : 
 " Lo, here I stand for England, 
 
 Queen of the silver main ! 
 To guard her fame and to cleanse her name 
 
 From slander's darkening stain ! 
 Advance, advance ! ye knights of France ; 
 
 Give answer to my call ! 
 Lo, here I stand for England ! 
 
 And I defy ye all ! " 
 
 From the east and the north came champions forth— 
 
 They came in a knightly crowd ; 
 From the south and the west each generous breast 
 
 Throbb'd at that summons proud. 
 But though brave was each lord, and keen each sword, 
 
 ISo warrior could withstand 
 The strength of the hero-spirit 
 
 Which nerved that old man's hand. 
 He is conqueror in the battle ; 
 
 He hath won the wreath of bay ; 
 To the shining crown of his fair renown 
 
 He hath added another ray : 
 He hath drawn his sword for England ; 
 
 He hath fought for her spotless name : 
 
48 LAYS AND BALLADS. 
 
 And the isle resounds to her farthest bounds 
 
 With her grey-hair'd hero's fame. 
 In the ears of the craven monarch 
 
 Oft must this burthen ring, — 
 " Though the crown be thine and the royal line, 
 
 He is in heart thy king ! " 
 So they gave this graceful honour 
 
 To the bold De Courcy's race, 
 That they ever should dare their helms to wear 
 
 Before the king's own face : 
 And the sons of that line of heroes 
 
 To this day their right assume ; 
 Eor, when every head is unbonneted, 1 
 
 They walk in cap and plume ! 
 
 [Eleanor was so beautiful that she was called c ' The Pearl of Brittany." 
 She was the sister of Prince Arthur ; and after the murder of her brother 
 she was imprisoned in Bristol Castle by the cruel and tyrannical John, 
 where she died after a captivity of many years.] 
 
 " Comfort me, O my Grod ! 
 
 Mine only hope Thou art ! 
 The strokes of Thine afflicting rod 
 
 Fall heavy on my heart. 
 Oh, who would wish to live 
 
 When life's bright flowers decay ! 
 Oh, had I power to give 
 
 This weight of life away ! 
 
 Comfort me, O my Grod ! 
 
 1 The present representative of the house of De Courcy is Lord 
 Kinsale. 
 
ELEANOR OF BRETAGNE. 49 
 
 Thou didst Thyself endure 
 
 Full many a bitter pang ; 
 Thou, the All-holy, the All-pure, 
 
 Upon the. cross didst hang. 
 My feet are on the track 
 
 Trodden erewhile by Thine ■ — 
 Ah, do not cast me back 
 
 On this weak heart of mine ! 
 Comfort me, my God ! 
 
 I will pour forth my woes 
 
 Into Thy pitying ear. 
 Stern, stern must be the hearts of those 
 
 AYliose hands confined me here ; 
 In the morning of my days, 
 
 In the spring of guiltless mirth, 
 'Never again to gaze 
 
 Tree on the gladsome earth ! 
 Comfort me, my Grod ! 
 
 'Twas said that I was fair 
 
 As the white gem of the sea ; 
 They named me, in my native air, 
 
 The Pearl of Brittany : 
 At tourneys have I been, 
 
 And they chose me, far and near, 
 To reign the tourney's queen, — 
 
 I, the poor captive here. 
 
 Comfort me, my Grod ! 
 
 But I do not now regret 
 
 My splendour, doom'd to fade ; 
 My changing beauty I forget ; — 
 
 But oh, the wood's deep shade, 
 The free bird's gushing songs, 
 
 The sound of murimiring seas, — 
 4 
 
50 LAYS AND BALLADS. 
 
 For these my spirit longs, 
 
 And for dearer things than these. 
 Comfort me, O my Grod ! 
 I had a brother then, 
 
 Whose place was in my heart ; — 
 Oh, give me my beloved again, 
 
 And freedom may depart ! 
 How shall I breathe the tone 
 
 Of that name, — the lost — the dear? 
 Arthur ! mine own, mine own ! — 
 
 Alas, thou canst not hear ! 
 Comfort me, O my Grod ! 
 They murder' d him by night, 
 
 In the sweetness of his youth, 
 His brow all bright with boyhood's light, 
 
 Clear as the beams of truth. 
 Falaise, thy walls, Falaise, 
 
 Behold a fearful thing, 
 For his brother's child a brother slays, 
 
 And a traitor stabs his king ! 
 Comfort me, O my Grod ! 
 
 Yes, king thou shouldst have been 
 
 Of this isle of high renown ; 
 But death's wide gulf is now between 
 
 Thee and thy thorny crown. 
 My brother ! thou wert mine ! 
 
 Of crowns I little reck ; 
 But, oh, that I could twine 
 
 These arms about thy neck ! 
 Comfort me, O my Grod ! 
 Sleep on, sweet Arthur, sleep 
 
 In thy calm and happy grave ; 
 How couldst thou bear to see me weep, 
 
 And not have power to save ? 
 
ELEANOR OF BRETAGNE. 51 
 
 Farewell ! And shall I waste 
 
 My weary life away 
 In weeping for the psst ? 
 
 Xo ! let me kneel and pray. 
 
 Comfort me, my Grod ! " 
 That wailing voice hatli ceased, 
 
 It melted into tears ; 
 And death's sure hand the maid released, 
 
 After long mournful years. 
 In her beauty and her bloom 
 
 She was borne to that dark hold ; 
 Thence was she carried to her tomb. 
 
 Grey-hair' d, and wan, and old ! 
 
 Reign of Henry III... 1216—1272- 
 
 Oh, it was our gallant Prince Edward 
 
 Bode forth into Alton wood : 
 His plume was white, his sword was bright. 
 
 His heart was brave and good ; 
 He saw the sunlight through the trees. 
 
 Checkering the grassy earth ; 
 He felt the breath of the summer breeze. 
 
 And his spirit was full of mirth. 
 It was there he met with a stranger knight ; 
 
 Full haughty was his face, 
 His eye spoke scorn, though his mail was worn. 
 
 And stately was his pace. 
 : * Now who art thou, of the darksome brow, 
 
 Who wanderest here so free r " 
 
 4 * 
 
52 LAYS AND BALLADS. 
 
 " Oh, I'm one that will walk the wild green woods, 
 And never ask leave of thee." 
 
 " How now, thou churl ? " quoth the angry prince, 
 
 " Ask pardon on thy knee ! 
 I am England's heir, of my w r rath bew r are, 
 
 Or ill shall it fare w T ith thee." 
 " Art thou England's heir ? " quoth the outlaw bold ; 
 
 " Well, if thy words be true, 
 I see not why such a knight as I 
 
 Should fear for such as you. 
 I am Adam de Grordon, a noble free ; 
 
 Perchance thou hast heard my name." 
 " I have heard it, I trow (quoth the prince), and thou 
 
 Art a traitor of blackest fame. 
 Yield thee to me ! " But the outlaw cried, 
 
 " Now, if thou knowest not fear, 
 Out with thy sword ! by a good knight's Avord, 
 
 I will give thee battle here." 
 " Come on ! " cried that prince of dauntless heart ; 
 
 " Yet pause Avhile I alight, 
 Eor I never will play the craven's part, 
 
 At odds with thee to fight." 
 He sprang from his steed, he drew his blade, 
 
 And a terrible fray began, 
 The very first stroke that Prince Edward made, 
 
 Blood from the Gordon ran. 
 
 At the second stroke that Prince Edw r ard made, 
 
 The Grordon fell on his knee ; 
 But he did not kneel to cry for aid — 
 
 Of a loftier heart was he. 
 To his feet he sprang, and the angry clang 
 
 Of their flashing swords did sound 
 Ear through the green and solemn woods 
 
 Stretching in beauty round. 
 
THE PRINCE AND THE OUTLAW. 53 
 
 The Gordon is pale, and his strength doth fail, 
 
 And his blood is ebbing fast, 
 But the spirit so high, in his flashing eye, 
 
 Is dauntless to the last. 
 He hath struck the prince on his mailed breast, 
 
 But the prince laugh' d scornfully ; 
 " Oh, was it the wood-breeze stirr'd my vest, 
 
 Or a leaf from yonder tree ? " 
 
 There is bitter grief in the Gordon's eye, 
 
 For he feels his strength depart ; 
 It is not that he fears to die — 
 
 To be conqner'd grieves his heart ; 
 He sinks, like a gallant ship o'erthrown 
 
 By the blast and the driving snrf ; 
 " I- yield me not ! " is his last faint tone, 
 
 As he falls on the trampled turf. 
 
 The prince was proud as a reinless steed — 
 
 Pride is an evil thing — ■ 
 But the heart he bore was a heart indeed, 
 
 Bight worthy of a king : 
 He sheath' d his blade, he sprang to aid 
 
 The Gordon as he lay ; 
 " B»ise np," cried he, " my valorous foe, 
 
 Thou hast borne thee well to-day." 
 
 He kneel' d by his side, he stanch' d the tide 
 
 Of life-blood flowing free ; 
 "With his scarf he bound each gaping wound 
 
 Softly and tenderly : 
 He lifted the Gordon on his steed, 
 
 Himself he held the rein : 
 " I hold thee," he said, "for a knight indeed, 
 
 And I give thee thy life again." 
 
 There was bitter grief in the Gordon's eye ; 
 He fears not chains nor death, 
 
54 LAYS AND BALLADS. 
 
 But he weeps for broken loyalty 
 
 And for forgotten faith. 
 Humbly he bent his knightly head 
 
 With a changed and gentle brow : • 
 
 " Oh, pardon ! I yield, I yield ! " he said ; 
 
 " I am truly conquer' d now." 
 Behold how mercy softeneth still 
 
 The haughtiest heart that beats ; 
 Pride with disdain may be answer'd again, 
 
 But pardon at once defeats. 
 The brave man felt forgiveness melt 
 
 A heart by fear unshaken ; 
 He was ready to die for his loyalty 
 
 To the prince he had forsaken. 
 
 Prince Edward hath brought him to Gruilford Tower 
 
 Ere that summer's day is o'er ; 
 He hath led him in to the secret bower 
 
 Of his fair wife Alianore ;* 
 His mother, the lady of gay Provence, 2 
 
 And his sire, the king, were there : 
 Oh, scarcely the Gordon dared advance 
 
 In a presence so stately and fair. 
 
 But the prince hath kneel' d at his father's feet, — 
 
 Eor the Gordon's life he sues ; 
 His lady so fair, she join'd his prayer ; 
 
 And how should the king refuse ? 
 Can he his own dear son withstand, 
 
 So duteous, brave, and true ; 
 And the loveliest lady in all the land 
 
 Kneeling before him too ? 
 " My children, arise !" the old king said, 
 
 And a tear was in his eye ; 
 
 1 Alianore, or Eleonora, princess of Castile. 
 
 2 Eleanor of Provence, wife to King Henry the Third. 
 
THE PRINCE AND THE OUTLAW. 55 
 
 He laid his hand on each bright young head, 
 
 And he bless'd them fervently. 
 " With a joyful heart I grant your prayer, 
 
 And I bid the Gordon live ; 
 Oh, the happiest part of a monarch's care 
 
 Is to pity and forgive." 
 Then spake the queen so fair and free, — 
 
 " The Gordon I will make 
 Steward of my royal house," quoth she, 
 
 " For these dear children's sake." 
 May every prince be as generous 
 
 (Be this our prayer to Heaven) ; 
 And may every gallant rebel thus 
 
 Repent and be forgiven. 
 
 Reign of Edward I., 1275—1307. 
 
 @% §kailj of Jting pjenrg % ®£xrir. 
 
 At Sicily's court Prince Edward sate, 
 
 Of a joyous heart was he, 
 Eor he came from afar from the holy war, 
 
 From battle and victory. 
 There strode a messenger into the hall, 
 
 He kneel' d upon his knee ; 
 " What news dost thou bring," quoth Sicily's king, 
 
 " From the fair isle of the sea ? " 
 " I come to Prince Edward," the messenger cried, 
 
 " Amd with heavy news I come ; 
 Eor at eventide his voung son died — 
 
 He died in his English home ! " 
 
56 LAYS AND BALLADS. 
 
 Fair Elmore wrings her lily hands 
 
 In a mother's bitter woe ; 
 But firm and grave Prince Edward stands, 
 
 Like a knight who meets his foe. 
 " Take comfort, Alianore, my wife, 
 
 Submit thee to this pain ; 
 For it is but the God who giveth life 
 
 Recalling His gift again." 
 Oh, not the less fair Elinore weeps, 
 
 Her lips can speak no word ; 
 But her dark eyes raise their tearful gaze 
 
 Up to her steadfast lord. 
 
 Another step on the marble floor ; 
 
 'Tis th6 prince's page, I trow — 
 His page who fought on the Syrian shore ; 
 
 He cometh sad and slow. 
 Fair Elinore rose in hope and fear ; 
 
 "Wildly that page she met, 
 It was as though she hoped to hear 
 
 That her child was living yet. 
 
 " Ah, master mine," the sad page said, 
 
 " Grod smiteth oft and sore ; 
 Thy little daughter dear is dead ! " 
 
 He could not utter more. 
 Fair Elinore raised one bitter wail, 
 
 And she swoon' d upon the ground ; 
 Prince Edward's face grew somewhat pale, 
 
 But he did not breathe a sound. 
 And mute he stood for a moment's space, 
 
 Then slow and calmly spake, 
 " Bear ye the princess from the place, 
 
 Her gentle heart will break ; 
 Tend her with care, and comfort her." 
 
 Then to the king said he, 
 
DEATH OF KING HENRY III. 57 
 
 " My lord, I grieve thy festal eve 
 
 Should thus be marr'd for me." 
 Oh, greatly marvell'd Sicily's lord 
 
 His stately air to see ; 
 He dared not speak one pitying word, 
 
 Biit he watch' d him reverently. 
 Silent were all in the royal hall ; 
 
 Not -a breath was heard, until 
 A footstep fell like death's slow knell, 
 
 And every heart stood still. 
 A squire kneel' d lowly on the floor, 
 
 And he spake in humble tone, 
 " Henry of England breathes no more ; 
 
 Thine are the crown and throne." 
 A sudden change o'er the prince's brow 
 
 Like a cloud's swift shadow swept ; 
 The strength of his heart forsook him now — 
 
 He hid his face and wept. 
 Oh, greatly marvell'd Sicily's king 
 
 When the hero's tears he saw ; 
 Prom a warrior-soul those tears did spring, 
 
 And the king stood mute with awe ; 
 But at last he spake : " valorous prince, 
 
 Eight strangely hast thou done ; 
 Thou didst shed no tear for thy daughter dear ! 
 
 Thou weepedst not for thy son ! 
 But now thine aged sire is dead, 
 
 Like a worn-out pilgrim sleeping, 
 Though he leaves a crown for thy royal head, 
 
 Thou like a child art weeping ! " 
 His noble face did Prince Edward raise, 
 
 And his tears became him now, 
 Like dew-drops sheen on the laurel green 
 
 "When it binds a conqueror's brow. 
 
58 LAYS AND BALLADS. 
 
 " Ah, king," he said, " when infants die, 
 
 We mourn but for a day ; 
 For G-od can restore as many more, 
 
 Lovely and loved as they ; 
 But when a noble father dies, 
 
 Our tears pour forth like rain ; 
 Once from high Heaven is a father given, 
 
 Once — and, oh, never again !" 
 
 Eeten of Edward II., 1307—1327. 
 
 The churches twelve of "Wallingford, 
 
 A stately sight they were, 
 "When gleaming shields were hanging 
 
 From every column fair ; 
 For a mile around the city 
 
 Earth's alter' d face was bright 
 With banner and pavilion, 
 
 With steed, and squire, and knight. 
 
 For King Edward holds a tournament ; 
 
 His heralds, far and near, 
 Have borne the joyous message 
 
 To baron, prince, and peer. 
 They are coming in by thousands ; 
 
 Woe to that warrior's fame 
 Whose knightly shield its place must yield 
 
 At the wand's light touch of shame ! 
 The airs of heaven were wearied, 
 
 Long ere that morning shone, 
 
THE TOURNAMENT. 59 
 
 With the sounds of clashing armour 
 
 And the horn's exulting tone ; 
 Through many a woodland avenue, 
 
 Up many a grassy slope, 
 Came troops of glittering horsemen, 
 
 All gay with knightly hope. 
 
 And serfs forsake their labour, 
 
 And ladies leave their bowers ; 
 They gather like the bees in June 
 
 Round incense-breathing flowers. 
 The lists are fairly order' d, 
 
 And ever heart beats high 
 When the clarion's thrilling summons 
 
 Tells that the hour is nigh. 
 
 They have left each gay pavilion, 
 
 They are moving o'er the plain ; 
 There rides Sir Piers de G-aveston, 
 
 Chief of a king-like train : 
 By his proud and stately bearing, 
 
 By his fair and rich array, 
 Te might take him for a monarch 
 
 Upon his crowning day ; 
 But like to plants that wither 
 
 In the hot sirocco's path, 
 So every face he passes 
 
 Grows pale with sudden wrath. 
 Ah, little seest thou, G-aveston, 
 
 With thy bright and reckless eye, 
 The doom that is before thee, 
 
 And the death that thou must die ! 
 
 Tet the scowling gloom of Pembroke, 
 And Warwick's haughty glance, 
 
 The mutter' d curse of Arundel, 
 And Evreux' look askance, 
 
60 LAYS AND BALLADS. 
 
 The sullen frown of Lancaster, 
 
 And Warren's wrathful mien, 
 The bright and angry blushes 
 
 On the fair cheeks of the queen ; 
 Her eye's disdainful beauty 
 
 As she pass'd the foe she scorn' d — 
 These might have warn'd that boaster : 
 
 He was not to be warn'd ! - 
 
 And there rode hapless Edward, 
 
 A graceful prince and gay ; 
 But weakness in his ready laugh 
 
 And his eye's uncertain ray ; 
 Who dream' d, that saw his maiden- grasp 
 
 On his palfrey's broider'd reins, 
 That the blood of the old Plantagenets 
 
 Was running in his veins ! 
 
 And there rode fair Queen Isabelle, 
 
 A girl scarce fifteen years ; 
 Like a swan on a breezeless river, 
 
 Her snowy neck she rears ; 
 Her beauty's proud magnificence 
 
 Was matchless in the world, 
 But ah ! beneath its sweet rose-wreath 
 
 Lay the dread serpent curl'd. 
 Her smile of treacherous softness, 
 
 Her dark and glittering eye, 
 Were like a slumbering tempest 
 
 In the depths of a tropic sky. 
 
 On moved the gay procession, 
 And many a dame did lead, 
 
 By the shining rein of a silver chain, 
 Her warrior's pacing steed ; 
 
 Each mantle gemm'd floats gaily, 
 Each courser stamps and fumes, 
 
THE TOURNAMENT. (31 
 
 'Tis a heaving sea, whose billows free 
 Are banners and dancing plumes. 
 
 Oh, for the tongue of a minstrel, 
 
 To tell in lightning words 
 The deeds of that glorious tournament. 
 
 The fame of those flashing swords ! 
 How a fair and a queenly circle 
 
 Beheld the knights engage, 
 Like clear stars watching steadfastly 
 
 The foaming ocean's rage ; 
 And amid those brows of beauty 
 
 Lofty and calm arose 
 The head of some ancient hero 
 
 Wearing its crown of snows ; 
 'Twas a thrilling sight to witness 
 
 Each worn-out warrior's gaze 
 On a strife where he must not mingle, 
 
 On the deeds of his younger days. 
 
 Like walls of glittering armour 
 
 At first the champions stand, 
 As the Red Sea stood when its raging flood 
 
 Was cleft by God's own hand. 
 And the crash of their strong ranks charging 
 
 Arose when they met on the plain, 
 Like the roar of those bursting waters 
 
 Rushing together again. 
 
 Hark, how the watchful heralds 
 
 The shouts of their onset gave, 
 " Charge, warriors ! Death to horses ! 
 
 Eame to the sons of the brave ! " 
 Those shouts are rising louder 
 
 At every well-aim' d blow, 
 Or whenever a lance is shiver' d 
 
 Fairly on breast or brow. 
 
62 LAYS AND BALLADS. 
 
 The air is full of battle, 
 
 It is full of the trumpets' sound, 
 Of the tramp of dashing horses, 
 
 And the cries of the crowd around ; 
 The earth is strown with splendour, 
 
 It is strown with fair plumes torn, 
 With glove, and scarf, and streamer, 
 
 For the love of ladies worn ; 
 But each maiden watch'd her champion, 
 
 And oft her white hands sent 
 Fresh gifts for every token 
 
 That was lost in the tournament. 
 Oh ! with such eyes above them, 
 
 Such voices to cheer the strife, 
 No marvel those warriors tilted 
 
 Like men who are tilting for life ! 
 
 But at length the sports are over ! 
 
 Changed was the joyous scene, 
 When many a knight lay gasping, 
 
 Unhorsed upon the green ; 
 Their squires are near to raise them, 
 
 They bear them soft and slow, 
 And loving eyes all mournful 
 
 Attend them as they go. 
 Not oft was life in danger ; 
 
 Yet might those sweet eyes grieve 
 That in their sight their own true knight 
 
 Should not the wreath receive. 
 
 Now shout ye for the victor ! 
 
 The warrior to whose sword 
 Lady, and prince, and herald 
 
 The prize of fame award ! 
 Doubt not his heart is thrilling 
 
 Thus on the turf to kneel, 
 
THE TOURNAMENT. 63 
 
 While lovely hands unloose the bands 
 
 That clasp his helm of steel ! 
 Wlrile every lip is busy 
 
 With the honour of his name, 
 And with glowing cheeks each good knight speaks 
 
 The story of his fame ! 
 Dear are thy gifts, glory ! 
 
 Dear is thy crown unstain'd, 
 When the true heart bears witness 
 
 That it was nobly gain'd ! 
 
 Boom for the queen ! she cometh 
 
 To grace the conqueror now, 
 With a chaplet of green laurel 
 
 She stoops to wreath his brow ! 
 A kiss — a gem — a garland — 
 
 These hath his good lance won, 
 And the king's own lips give honour 
 
 To the deeds that he hath done. 
 With dance, and song, and banquet, 
 
 The festive day shall close, 
 Till, wearied out with pleasure, 
 
 The warriors seek repose. 
 Tet lasts the giddy revel 
 
 Till the shining east grows pale, — 
 Ah, what a bright beginning 
 
 Tor such a darksome tale ! 
 Even then the storm had gather' d 
 
 Which should burst in coming years, 
 Tor the reign of the second Edward 
 
 Was a reign of blood and tears ! 
 
64 LAYS AND BALLADS. 
 
 Reign of Edward III., 1327—1377. 
 
 ®jj* |p lack |)rimx of (Bnglanb. 
 
 I'll tell you a tale of a knight, my boy, 
 
 The bravest that ever was known ; 
 A lion he was in the fight, my boy, 
 A lamb when the battle was done. 
 Ob, he need not be named ; for who has not heard 
 Of the glorious son of King Edward the Third ? 
 Armour he wore as black as jet ; 
 His sword was keen and good ; 
 He conquer' d every foe he met, 
 
 And he spared them when subdued. 
 Valiant and generous, and gentle and bold, 
 Was the Black Prince of England in days of old. 
 
 Often he charged with spear and lance 
 At the head of his valorous knights ; 
 But the battle of Poictiers, won in Erance, 
 "Was the noblest of all his fights ; 
 And every British heart should be 
 Proud when it thinks of that victory. 
 
 The Erench were many — the English few ; 
 
 But the Black Prince little heeded : 
 His knights, he knew, were brave and true ; 
 
 Their arms were all he needed. 
 He ask'dnot how many might be the foe ; 
 Where are they ? was all that he sought to know. 
 So he spurr'd his steed, and he couch' d his lance. 
 
 And the battle was won and lost ; 
 Captive he took King John of Erance, 
 
 The chief of that mighty host : 
 
THE BLACK PRINCE. t) 
 
 Faint grew the heart of each gallant foe ; 
 Their leader was taken ; their hopes were low. 
 Brave were the Trench ; but at last they yield. 
 
 All wearied and worn out : 
 The prince is conqueror of the field ; 
 And the English soldiers shout, 
 ; " God save our prince, our mighty lord ! 
 Victory waiteth on his sword ! " 
 
 Of all the knights who fought that day, 
 
 James Audley was the best ; 
 His wounds were three, won valiantly, 
 On cheek, and brow, and breast : 
 And the Black Prince said, when the fight was o'er, 
 He never had seen such a knight before. 
 
 And did they chain King John of France P 
 
 "Was he in dungeon laid ? 
 Oh, little ye knoAv what a generous foe 
 Our English Edward made ! 
 A gentle heart, and an arm of might — 
 These are the things that make a knight. 
 He set King John on a lofty steed, 
 
 White as the driven snow, 
 And without all pride he rode beside, 
 On a palfrey slight and low : 
 He spoke to the king with a reverent mien, 
 As though the king had his captor been. 
 
 He treated King John like an honour' d guest : 
 
 T> hen at the feast he sate, 
 With courteous air, and with forehead bare. 
 The prince did on him wait ; 
 And even when they to England came, 
 Our generous hero was the same. 
 
 But the prisoner's heart it grew not light, 
 For all the prince could say ; 
 
66 LAYS AND BALLADS. 
 
 A captive king and a conquer' d knight, 
 Oh, how could he be gay ? 
 E'en while his courteous words were speaking, 
 Por his own dear France his heart was breaking. 
 
 Another lay shall the story tell 
 
 Of this valiant king and true : 
 He loved the Black Prince passing well, 
 And his worth full well he knew. 
 Then let us all unite to praise 
 That hero of the olden days. 
 
 The Romans, when they won the day 
 
 And bore their captives home, 
 Caused them to march in sad array, 
 Petter'd and chain' d, through Pome ; 
 And every foe, though good and brave, 
 They held as victim or as slave. 
 
 But ours was a Christian conqueror, 
 
 Generous, and true, and kind : 
 Though the grave has now closed o'er his brow, 
 He hath left this rule behind, — 
 That valour should ever wedded be 
 To mercy, and not to cruelty. 
 
 %\z (Kaptifeitg td Jixng fnljtt oi $xmitz. 
 
 " In mine own land the sun shines bright, 
 The morning breeze blows fair ; 
 
 I must not look upon that light, 
 I must not feel that air. 
 
 The chain is heavy on my heart, 
 Although my limbs are free : 
 
CAPTIVITY OF KING JOHN OF FRANCE. 67 
 
 A bitter, bitter loss thou art, 
 
 O precious liberty ! " 
 It was Kiug Joliu lamented thus, 
 
 "With, many a mournful word ; 
 But gentle, kind, and chivalrous, 
 
 Was the heart of him who heard : 
 The Black Prince came — he loved to bring 
 
 Comfort and sweet relief, 
 So he spake softly to the king, 
 
 And strove to soothe his grief. 
 
 " Now cheer thee, noble friend ! " he said ; 
 
 " Eight bravely didst thou fight ; 
 Thine honour is untarnished ; 
 
 Thou art a stainless knight. 
 That man should ne'er desponding be 
 
 "Who winneth fame in strife ; 
 'Tis a better thing than liberty, 
 
 A better thing than life. 
 
 I grant thee one full year," he said ; 
 
 " Tor a year thou shalt be free : 
 G-o back to France, and there persuade 
 
 Thy lords to ransom thee. 
 But if thy ransom they refuse, 
 
 And do not heed thy pain, 
 Our realm must not its captive lose — 
 
 Thou must return again 
 
 So pledge me now thy royal word, 
 
 And pledge it solemnly, 
 That thou, the captive of my sword, 
 
 Wilt faithful be to me." 
 The king he pledged his royal faith — 
 
 He pledged it gladsomely ; 
 He promised to be true till death : 
 
 Of jovous heart was he. 
 5 * 
 
68 LAYS AND BALLADS. 
 
 Then did those generous foes embrace 
 
 Closely as brethren might, — 
 " Farewell, and Grod be with your grace ; "— 
 
 " Farewell, thou peerless knight." 
 The wind was fair, the sea was blue, 
 
 The sky without a speck, 
 ' When the good ship o'er the waters flew, 
 
 "With King John upon its deck. 
 
 "With eager hope his heart beat high 
 
 When he sprang on his own dear shore ; 
 But sad and downcast was his eye 
 
 Ere one brief month was o'er. 
 Grlad were the lords of lovely Prance 
 
 When they beheld their king ; 
 But, oh ! how alter' d was their glance, 
 
 When he spoke of ransoming ! 
 
 They told of wasted revenues, 
 
 Of fortunes waxing low ; 
 And when their words did not refuse, 
 
 Their looks said plainly, " No." 
 Sore grew the heart of that good king, 
 
 As closed the winter drear ; 
 And when the rose pro claim' d the spring, 
 
 He hail'd it with a tear. 
 
 For the year was gliding fast away, 
 
 And gold he could not gain, 
 And honour summon'd him to pay 
 
 His freedom back again. 
 And now the summer-noon is bright, 
 
 The warm breeze woos the scent 
 From thousand roses red and white — 
 
 The year is fully spent ! 
 
 " Paris, farewell, thou stately town ! 
 Farewell, my woods and plains ! 
 
CAPTIVITY OF KING JOHN OF FRANCE. 60 
 
 Farewell, my kingdom and my crown ! 
 
 And welcome, English chains ! 
 './rim, trim the bark, and hoist the sail, 
 
 And bid my train advance, 
 I have found that loyal faith may fail — 
 
 I leave thee, thankless France." 
 These bitter words spake good King John ; 
 
 But his liegemen counsel gave : 
 " What recks it that the year is gone ? 
 
 There yet is time to save. 
 Thou standest yet on thine own good land, 
 
 Forget thy plighted word, — 
 Remain ! and to thy foe's demand 
 
 We'll answer with the sword." 
 
 But the good King John spake firm and bold ; 
 
 And oh ! his words should be 
 Graven in characters of gold 
 
 On each heart's memory : 
 « Were truth disown'd by all mankind, 
 
 A scorn'dand banish' d thing, 
 A resting-place it still should find 
 
 In the breast of every king." 
 Again the good ship cleaves the sea 
 
 Before a favouring air, 
 But it beareth to captivity, 
 
 And not to freedom fair. 
 Yet when King John set foot on land, 
 
 Sad he could scarcely be, 
 For the Black Prince took him by the hand, 
 
 And welcomed him courteously. 
 To Savoy Castle he was brought, 
 
 With fair and royal state : 
 Full many a squire, in rich attire, 
 
 Did on his pleasure wait. 
 
70 LAYS AND BALLADS. 
 
 They did not as a prisoner hold 
 
 That noble king and true, 
 But as dear guest, whose high behest 
 
 'Twas honour and joy to do. 
 
 Of treaty and of ransom then 
 
 The prince and he had speech ; 
 Like friends and fellow-countrymen, 
 
 Great was the love of each ; 
 No angry thought — no gesture proud, 
 
 Not a hasty word they spoke, 
 But a brotherhood of heart they vow'd, 
 
 And its bond they never broke. 
 
 In Savoy Castle died King John— 
 
 They buried him royally ; 
 And grief through all the land is gone 
 
 That such a knight should die. 
 And the prince was wont to say this thing 
 
 Whene'er his name was spoken, — 
 " He was a warrior and a king 
 
 Whose word was never broken/' 
 
 £i* *§ixx$zt* oi Calais* 
 
 The burghers six of Calais, 
 
 True were they and brave ; 
 To save their fellow-townsmen 
 
 Their lives they freely gave. 
 Will ye hear their story ? 
 
 Come listen to my lay, 
 I will tell ye of King Edward, 
 
 The gallant and the gay. 
 
THE SIX BURGHERS OF CALAIS. 71 
 
 Edward the Third of England, 
 
 A mighty prince was he ; 
 To win the town of Calais 
 
 He hath cross' d the sea, 
 With all his gallant nobles, 
 
 And all his soldiers brave, — 
 They were a stately party 
 
 To ride npon the wave ! 
 
 Around the walls of Calais 
 
 They waited many a day, 
 Till the king's right royal spirit 
 
 Grew weary of delay : 
 His eagerness avail'd not, 
 
 The city still held out : 
 The king grew very angry, 
 
 But still the walls were stout. 
 
 The fury of a monarch 
 
 A stone wall cannot rend, 
 As little is it able 
 
 A lofty heart to bend ; 
 But a mightier than King Edward 
 
 Assail* d those steadfast men, — 
 The slow strong hand of Eamine 
 
 "Was closing on them then. 
 
 The feeble ones grew feebler, 
 
 The mighty ones grew weak ; 
 Dim was each eye, though dauntless, 
 
 And pale was every cheek : 
 But round about the city 
 
 That ruthless army stay'd, 
 So to their fainting hunger 
 
 Xo food might be convey'd. 
 
72 LAYS AND BALLADS. 
 
 The governor of Calais, 1 
 
 A stalwart knight was he, 
 For his king and for his country 
 
 He had fought right valiantly ; 
 But he found his valour useless, 
 
 And he saw his soldiers die, 
 So he came before the English, 
 
 And spake with dignity : 
 
 " "What terms, what terms, King Edward, 
 
 What terms wilt thou accord, 
 If I yield this goodly city 
 
 To own thee for its lord ? " 
 King Edward gave him answer, — 
 
 His wrath was very hot, — 
 " Te rebel hounds of Calais, 
 
 Your crimes I pardon not. 
 
 Six of your richest burghers 
 
 As captives I demand, 
 On every neck a halter, 
 
 A chain on everv hand ; 
 And when their lives have answer'd 
 
 Eor this their city's crime, 
 Then will I think of mercy, — 
 
 Till then, it is not time." 
 The governor was silent, 
 
 His heart was full of pain ; 
 Then spake Sir Walter Manny, 
 
 Chief of the monarch's train : 
 " The fittest time for mercy, 
 
 My liege, is ever — noiv ; 
 Oh, turn away thine anger ! 
 
 Oh, do not knit thy brow ! 
 
 1 Sir John de Yienne, a knight of great valour, was then governor 
 of Calais. 
 
THE SIX BURGHERS OF CALAIS. 
 
 Call back thy words. King Edward. 
 
 Call back what thou hast said. 
 For thou canst not call the spirit 
 
 Back to the gallant dead.*' 
 ; - Now hold thy peace, Sir Walter," 
 
 The monarch sternly cried ; 
 i% I will not be entreated, 
 
 I will not be defied ! 
 Be silent, all my nobles : 
 
 And thou. Sir John de Yienne, 
 Come with six wealthy burghers. 
 
 Or come thou not again ! " 
 The king he spake so fiercely 
 
 That no one dared reply ; 
 Sir John went back to Calais 
 
 Slowly and mournfully. 
 The warriors and the burghers 
 
 He summon' d to his hall. 
 And he told King Edward's pleasure. 
 
 Full sadly, to them all : 
 " ATy friends and fellow-townsmen. 
 
 Ye hear the tyrant" s will ; 
 AYe had better die together. 
 
 And keep our city still ! ' ; 
 There was silence for a moment. — 
 
 They were feeble, they were few. 
 But one spirit was among them, 
 
 Which nothing could subdue ; 
 Out cried a generous burgher : 
 
 " Oh, never be it said 
 That the loyal hearts of Calais 
 
 To die could be afraid ! 
 
 First of the destined captives 
 I name myself for death. 
 
74 LAYS AND BALLADS. 
 
 And in my Saviour's mercy 
 
 Undoubting is my faith." 
 The name of this true hero 
 
 Te should keep with reverent care ; 
 Let it never be forgotten ! — 
 
 It was Eustace de St Pierre. 
 
 Like a watchfire lit at midnight — 
 
 Strike but a single spark, 
 And the eager flame spreads quickly 
 
 Where all before was dark ; 
 So were their spirits kindled 
 
 By the word of bold St Pierre, 
 His faith and his devotion 
 
 Grave strength to their despair. 
 
 Five other noble merchants 
 
 Their names that instant gave, 
 To join with generous Eustace 
 
 Their countrymen to save ; 
 Their comrades wept around them 
 
 Tears for such parting meet ; 
 And they led those willing captives 
 
 To stern King Edward's feet. 
 
 They came in brave obedience 
 
 To Edward's fierce command ; 
 On every neck a halter, 
 
 A chain on every hand. 
 Jfow when the king beheld them, 
 
 Eight fiery grew his eye, — 
 " Strike off their heads ! " he thunder'd ; 
 
 " Each man of them shall die ! " 
 
 But forth stepp'd Queen Philippa, 1 
 The gentle, good, and fair ; 
 
 1 Philippa of Hainault, the fair and virtuous wife of Edward III. 
 
THE SIX BURGHERS OF CALAIS. 75 
 
 She kneel' d before King Edward, 
 
 And thus she spake her prayer : 
 (It was a sight full touching 
 
 That honour'd queen to see, 
 Before the knights and nobles, 
 
 Low kneeling on her knee.) 
 " My loving lord and husband," — 
 
 'Twas thus the fair queen spake, — 
 " Grant me these generous captives, 
 
 Oh, spare them for my sake ! 
 I am thy true companion ; 
 
 I cross'd the stormy sea, 
 A weak and fearful woman, 
 
 And all for love of thee. 
 I have been faithful to thee 
 
 Through all our wedded life, 
 Xor didst thou ever find me 
 
 A disobedient wife ; 
 Then do not thou repulse me 
 
 In this my first request ; 
 Grant me their lives, I pray thee, — 
 
 In nought have they transgress'd." 
 The king looked long upon her : 
 
 " I would thou wert not here ! 
 Yet I refuse thee nothing, 
 
 Because thou art so dear." 
 Up sprang that joyous lady, 
 
 And eagerly she bade 
 That they should loose the fetters 
 
 Upon those captives laid. 
 
 From round their necks she loosen'd 
 
 The cruel halter's band ; 
 To each a golden noble 
 
 She gave with her own hand ; 
 
76 LAYS AND BALLADS. 
 
 She bade them be conducted 
 Back to their native place, — 
 
 To friends, and wives, and children, 
 To the joy of their embrace. 
 
 Oh, who shall paint their meeting ! 
 
 Oh, who shall speak their bliss ! 
 Too weak for aught so mighty 
 
 The power of language is. 
 How did the fond eyes brighten 
 
 Around each quiet hearth ! 
 The peace of such deep rapture 
 
 Is seldom given to earth. 
 Oh, out then spake King Edward : 
 
 " How different are our parts ! 
 I may win fair cities, 
 
 But my queen she winneth hearts. 
 God bless thee, sweet Philippa ; 
 # And mayst thou ever be 
 As dear to all the English 
 
 As now thou art to me ! " 
 
 Reign of Richard II., 1377—1399. 
 
 ®fy little f nmx. 1 
 
 A little child — scarce eight years old — 
 
 And she was crown' d a queen ! 
 Oh, strange and scarcely to be told 
 
 Must her young thoughts have been ; 
 
 1 The princess Isabelle of France, who was married to King Richard 
 II. ere she had completed her ninth year. He was then about thirty 
 years old. 
 
THE LITTLE QUEEN. 77 
 
 For how should pomp, and storm, and strife, 
 
 And pri def ul discontent, 
 With childhood's soft and dreamy life 
 
 Be for an instant blent ? 
 
 They took her from her mother's care, 
 
 They bore her o'er the sea, 
 And to the King of England fair 
 
 "Wedded her solemnly. 
 Oh, much that mother's heart must miss, 
 
 At morn and evening hours. 
 Her little one's accustom' d kiss, 
 
 Dropping like dew on flowers. 
 Beneath grey Windsor's stately shade, 
 
 The aspect of her life 
 Seem'd a green, quiet forest-glade, 
 
 With songs and wood-flowers rife. 
 Or like the picture on a lake 
 
 When breezes are asleep, 
 No cloud to mar, no grief to break 
 
 Its spell so sweet and deep. 
 King Richard was a gentle king ; 
 
 His visits came like those 
 Which the gay sunshine makes in spring 
 
 To rouse the slumbering rose. 
 Her childish tasks were flung away, 
 
 While, laughing at her glee, 
 The monarch mingled in her play, 
 
 And loved its liberty. 
 Or down some cool, dark avenue, 
 
 Hand clasping hand, they roam, 
 While in her gaze his fancy drew 
 
 Pictures of days to come ; 
 Little reck'd she of crown or throne, 
 
 Of regal pomp and pride ; 
 
78 LAYS AND BALLADS. 
 
 " Oh, would I were a woman grown, 
 
 To make thee blest ! " she cried. 
 Ah, little knew'st thou, gentle king, 
 
 Nor thou, fair infant queen, 
 The storms which coming days should bring 
 
 To mar so sweet a scene ; 
 Rebellion through the groaning land 
 
 As a black plague-spot spread ; 
 The sword was rent from Richard's hand, 
 
 The circlet from his head. 
 To Havering Bower the queen was brought, 
 
 "Where, captive and subdued, 
 Too soon her childish heart was taught 
 
 The cares of womanhood. 
 The tempest of her sudden grief 
 
 Came like a frost in spring, 
 That withers every bud and leaf 
 
 Before its blossoming. 
 
 Sternly her sullen guards refuse 
 
 All tidings of her lord ; 
 Her eager quest she oft renews, 
 
 But they answer not a word. 
 Strange fears upon her youthful breast 
 
 With dark forebodings fell ; 
 But still his name in prayer she blest, 
 
 And still she loved him well. 
 At length, one summer's morn, 'tis said, 
 
 Forth journeying from her bower, 
 She met the rebel troop who led 
 
 Her monarch to the Tower. 
 O piteous meeting ! Grave surprise 
 
 Check' d even the gaoler train, 
 When from that child's young earnest eyes 
 
 The tears broke forth like rain. 
 
THE LITTLE QUEEN. 70 
 
 She spoke not many words, but strove, 
 
 In broken phrase and brief, 
 Somewhat of comfort and of love 
 To mingle with his grief ; 
 
 " God will protect thee in thy fall" 
 
 (Thus Bobb'd the captive queen) ; 
 :i Oh, father, mother, husband, all. 
 
 Thou nnto me hast been ! " 
 It is sad to see an infant fade 
 
 Beneath our very gaze, 
 As a lily in some poisonous shade 
 
 Droops, withers, and decays ; 
 It is sad to see the eye's pure light 
 
 Grow fainter day by day, 
 And the young, young life, so fresh and bright, 
 
 Ebb gradually away. 
 But sadder when the heart 9 s young life 
 
 In the glory of its morn 
 Is dimm'd by grief, and marr'd by strife, 
 
 And stifled ere it dawn ; 
 "WTien childhood's hopes are changed to fears, 
 
 And childhood's mirth to gloom, 
 And life's great treasure-house of tears 
 
 Is open'd in life's bloom! 
 His crown, his hopes, his freedom gone. 
 
 King Richard pined away, 
 Till they slew him in his dungeon lone, 
 
 Like a lion brave at bay ; 
 In vain his single strength he sets 
 
 'Gainst the rebels' leagued power, 
 Though the soul of the Plantagenets 
 
 Was strong in him that hour. 
 Long, long the false usurper tried, 
 
 With speech and promise fair, 
 
80 LAYS AND BALLADS. 
 
 To win his captive queen as bride 
 
 For Henry, England's heir. 
 Ever she answer' d steadfastly, 
 
 As one that shrank from strife, 
 " King Bichard's widow will I die, 
 
 As I have lived his wife ! 
 
 Still are mine eyes with weeping dim ; 
 
 And 'twere a fearful thing 
 That I should wed the son of him 
 
 Who slew my gentle king." 
 In woe her snowy hands she wrung, 
 
 And went to weep apart ; 
 'Twas marvel that a child so young 
 
 Should be so true of heart. 
 
 Thus years all bootlessly were spent 
 
 In pleadings strong but vain ; 
 Till, freed at last, the exile went 
 
 Back to her Erance again. 
 Oh, trust me, many tears she shed 
 
 As she forsook the land 
 Where the lord she loved so much lay dead, 
 
 Slain by a traitor's hand. 
 
 A place of grief had England been — 
 
 Of grief, and woe, and wrong, 
 Crushing the heart of that child-queen, 
 
 So desolate and young : 
 Yet firm was she, though wrath might burn, 
 
 And civil war rage wild. 
 Ah, let all men a lesson learn 
 
 Erom that fair, faithful child ! 
 
fags ani |allabs. 
 
 PART SECOND. 
 
 % be STag of Jung |ames f. in bis (Tapttbitg. 
 
 ".James the First was the second son of King Robert III., and became 
 heir to the throne of Scotland at the age of eleven years by the death of hi> 
 elder brother, the tinfortunate Earl of Rothsay, who was barbarously starved 
 to death in prison by his ovrn uncle, the wicked Duke of Albany, .James 
 fell into the hands of the English, and was detained by them in captivity 
 during eighteen years. He was imprisoned in Windsor Castle ; and from the 
 window of his tower he was wont to see the Lady Joanna, the fan daughter 
 of the Earl of Somerset, walking among her flowers in the garden. He fell 
 in love with her: and when he was at length ransomed by his people, he 
 conducted her to Scotland as his Queen. He was a man of high and energetic- 
 intellect, hidomitable resolution, and intense devotion to his country, which 
 he earnestly longed to rescue from the misery and misrule by which it was 
 distracted, while given up to the government of his unprincipled uncle and 
 yet more worthless cousins,] 
 
 iloRX to eve, and eve to morn. 
 
 Listless heart and eyes unsleeping— 
 Want, or woe, or pain, or scorn. 
 
 O'er this lifeless desert sweeping, 
 "Welcome were, as pangs, for me 
 Breaking death's dread lethargy. 
 
 Like the wretch, whose weary pace 
 To and fro, for years alone, 
 6 
 
S2 LAYS AND BALLADS. 
 
 Left at length, an awful trace 
 
 Printed on the unyielding stone, 
 Time's slow footsteps, day by day, 
 "Wear my very soul away. 
 Creeping through this narrow gate, 
 
 Stretching o'er these walls of gloom, 
 Even the air is like a weight, 
 
 Even the sky is like a tomb ; 
 Nature's noble things and free 
 Put on dreariness for me. 
 Nay, it is not thus ! I have 
 
 Empire o'er a world within ; 
 Lo, my kingly wand I wave, 
 
 Lo, the shadowy scenes begin ! 
 Veiled shapes of hours unknown 
 Stand before my spirit's throne. 
 Life — mine own, my coming life ! 
 
 "Well I know what thou shalt be ; 
 Shining bliss and stormy strife, 
 
 Labour, hope, and victory ! 
 Ceaseless efforts upward tending, 
 And at last in triumph ending ! 
 
 Thou hast gifts, and thou hast tasks, — 
 
 Give the last — mine aim is won ! 
 Only this my spirit asks, 
 
 Strength and space to labour on ; 
 Lo, mine eyes exulting see 
 Scotland blest, and blest through me ! 
 Ah, my country ! Prostrate now, 
 
 Crownless, comfortless, forlorn, 
 Like a noble stag brought low, 
 
 Striving, sinking, bleeding, torn ; 
 All thine ancient honour dies, 
 In the dust thy glory lies ! 
 
KING JAMES I. IN HIS CAPTIVITY. 83 
 
 Mine to stanch those gaping wounds, 
 
 Mine to raise that shadow' d face, 
 Mine to chain those ruthless honnds, 
 
 Baying on their bloody chase ; 
 Mine to wreath thy brows once more 
 With the bays which once they wore. 
 Oh, for power ! But it shall come ! 
 
 By thy woods, and steeps, and seas, 
 Every hearth shall be a home, 
 
 Every heart shall be at peace ; 
 In thy hnts no slaves shall be, 
 In thy halls no tyranny ! 
 If then, night and day alike, 
 
 I a wakeful warder stand, 
 Swift to spare, yet prompt to strike, 
 
 Calm of heart, and strong of hand ; 
 Lone were such a lot, and hard, 
 "Were itself its sole reward. 
 But a dearer hope is mine, 
 
 Not unshared my toils shall be — ■ • 
 Shining as a star may shine 
 
 O'er the stern and troubled sea, 
 Hope, and guide, and goal thou art 
 In the brightness of thy heart ! 
 Known but dimly from afar, 
 
 Seen but through a dungeon- grate, 
 Still thine eye hath been my star, — 
 
 Still thy smile shall be my fate ; 
 Throned upon that brow serene, 
 Strength, hope, purity, are seen. 
 
 Wherefore rise those blushes bright, 
 Half ashamed, beneath my gazing ? 
 
 Wherefore sink thine eyes of light, 
 Scarce their ivory veil upraising ? 
 
84 LAYS AND BALLADS. 
 
 'Tis the future stirs within thee, 
 Thou shalt love, and I shall win thee ! 
 
 Fare thee well ! God's favour rest 
 On thy home, thy heart, and thee ! 
 
 Still thou leav'st my spirit blest, 
 Blest in hope and memory ; 
 
 Past and Future round me seem, 
 
 "While the Present is a dream. 
 
 Dungeon-bar and galling chain, 
 Are ye past away from me ? 
 
 Ay, for outward bonds are vain 
 While the kingly heart is free ! 
 
 Father, to my spirit's night 
 
 Thou hast spoken — there is light ! 
 
 Z\z g-eat^ of lantes $♦ 
 
 Past was the day of festal mirth ; 
 
 The monarch stood beside the hearth, 
 
 Whose nickering brands cast changeful glow 
 
 On his bright eye and stately brow ; 
 
 Upon that calm and noble face 
 
 Deep thoughts had left their living trace, — 
 
 Thoughts, such as press, with giant power, 
 
 A common life into an hour ; 
 
 Each line of lofty meaning there 
 
 Was graven by the hand of care, 
 
 And the flash of that triumphant eye, 
 
 That arching lip's stern majesty, 
 
 Told of full many a foe withstood, — 
 
 Without, disdain'd — within, subdued ! 
 
DEATH OF KING JAMES I. 85 
 
 But gentler thoughts arise — and well 
 That smile's subduing light may tell 
 (Like gleams that break the thunder-cloud, 
 Speaking of heaven behind its shroud) 
 How 'neath that haughty aspect lies 
 A heart of kindliest sympathies. 
 Oh, still that smile must shine most bright 
 On her who lives but in its light, 
 His queen, his lady — born to share 
 His fleeting joy, his ceaseless care ; 
 Watching his fame with pride, as prone 
 To think his greatest deeds her own, 
 Yet with deep love, that strives to make 
 Herself as nothing for his sake. 
 
 Xow at his feet she sits, — how fair 
 That spacious brow and shining hair, 
 Those lips no painter's art could reach, 
 Those glistening eyes whose light is speech, 
 That slender form of stately mien, 
 That softest cheek, as crystal sheen, 
 "Wnose hue was of such tender rose 
 As sunset flings on fallen snows ; 
 Xo marvel that the monarch's eye 
 Dwells on her face delightedly, 
 Xo marvel that he loves to meet 
 A gaze so fond, so full, so sweet ! 
 
 Silent around, a graceful band, 
 The maidens of her service stand, 
 AVith snooded brow, and plaided breast, 
 
 And bearing modest, but serene. 
 First 'mid the fairest and the best 
 
 Have Scotia's daughters ever been ; 
 They pass the tale, the song, the jest — 
 
 A blither group was never seen. 
 
86 LAYS AND BALLADS. 
 
 Oh, pause a while, brief hours of bliss ! ' 
 Upon a scene so sweet as this, 
 Oh, ruthless night, forbear to close, 
 "With thy grim train of ghastly woes ! 
 In vain ! It comes, the hour of doom ; 
 These joys but herald deeper gloom, 
 They are as flowers that hide a tomb ! 
 
 "What sound was that ? The clash of mail ? 
 
 Why turns each lovely cheek so pale ? 
 
 Why start they from their seats, and stand 
 
 Each clasping quick her neighbour's hand ? 
 
 Again ! — and nearer ! — hark, a cry 
 
 As of a brave heart's agony ; 
 
 A shriek that rends the quivering air, 
 
 The very cadence of despair ! 
 
 Oh, save the king ! No thought has power 
 
 But this in such a fearful hour ; 
 
 Oh, save the king ! Too well we know 
 
 They come, they come, the traitor foe ! 
 
 All hope is vain, the guards are slain, 
 
 Each faithful to his care, 
 The gates are past, and clattering fast, 
 With a sound like a rushing thunder-blast, 
 
 Their tramp is on the stair ! 
 Not to yon casement fly — beneath 
 Stand the grim messengers of death, 
 Their dull blades in the moonshine gleaming, 
 With the blood of loyal hearts all steaming ! 
 There is a cell beneath the floor, 
 Oh, seek it ere they burst the door ! 
 One effort more, — they lift the board, — 
 By eager hands impell'd, implored, 
 Even in that hour of agony 
 Disdaining from his foes to fly, 
 
DEATH OF KING JAMES I. S7 
 
 The king descends — too late, too late ! 
 His strife is vain who strives with fate ; 
 They come — each step resounding near 
 Strikes like a stab upon the ear ! 
 Shall Scotland's prince thus aidless die, 
 And with a Douglas standing by ? 
 Forbid it, years of faith and fame, 
 Clothing in light that ancient name ! 
 Barr'd is that quivering door, — but how ? 
 'Tis by a slender arm of snow ! 
 A girl hath darted from the band, 
 And, where the weighty bar should stand, 
 She thrusts her soft, slight arm, and cries, 
 With whitening lips and gleaming eyes, 
 " 'Tis fast — a woman's arm is there : 
 jS'ow, men, come onward if ye dare ! " 
 
 Without a sound or start, 
 Breathless she stood — the first fell stroke 
 That fragile barrier crush' d and broke, 
 But not one cry of terror woke 
 
 From that undaunted heart ! » 
 
 Till, as they dropp'd the sheltering plank, 
 Loosing her desperate hold, she sank 
 (Tor then the iron hand of pain 
 Closed on her heart and chill' d each vein) ; 
 She sank, but ere her senses fled, 
 " Thank God ! he's saved ! " she faintly said. 
 Such deeds can woman's spirit do — 
 O Catharine Douglas, fair and true, 
 Let Scotland keep thy holy name 
 Still first upon her ranks of fame ! 
 
 Kind was that swoon ! Thou didst not see 
 
 What deeds of horror then befell ; 
 Well may thy comrades envy thee, 
 
 Blind to that piteous spectacle ! 
 
88 LAYS AND BALLADS. 
 
 Those sounds of woe thou didst not hear, 
 Thou didst not see that sight of fear, 
 
 When banded traitors slew their king ; 
 When, weeping, with dishevel! 5 d hair, 
 In pale but beautiful despair, 
 A queen, a wife, a woman, there 
 Did kneel to men who scorn' d her prayer, 
 Her husband and their prince to spare ! 
 Ah, hapless queen ! As hopeful 'twere 
 Bound the roused tiger in his lair 
 
 For mercy and for aid to cling ! 
 All bleeding sinks she in the dust, 
 
 Pierced by some stern and sayage hand — 
 Let shame's irreparable rust 
 
 For ever stain that ruthless brand ! 
 Let that foul deed recorded be, 
 A warning to futurity, 
 What fiends in man's dark breast awaken 
 When loyal faith is once forsaken ! 
 
 Like a chased lion, wounded, worn, 
 
 But still terrific in his fall, 
 With ebbing strength and eyes of scorn 
 
 The king confronts those traitors all ; 
 Outnumber'd soon, but unsubdued, 
 He sinks before them in his blood — 
 No victors they, — the hero dies, 
 Worn out with useless victories ! 
 
 Weep, Scotland, weep, that tameless soul, 
 That heart, great, generous, warm, and true 
 
 As countless ages onward roll, 
 
 Such spirits come but far and few. 
 
 Weep, Scotland, weep, and not in vain ; 
 
 Thy tears have wash'd aw r ay the stain, 
 
 An hundred deeds of after-time 
 
SIR WILLIAM WALLACE. 89 
 
 Have well redeem' d that hour of crime ; 
 Though darkening shame defile the name 
 And scutcheon of the traitor Grahanie, 
 How Scotsmen for their king can die 
 Let Cameron and Montrose reply ! 
 
 t\t 3Fag of Sir S&illiam SKallatx. 
 
 Tee grey hill and the purple heath 
 
 Are round me as I stand ; t 
 The torrent hoar doth sternly roar, 
 
 The lake lies calm and grand ; 
 The altars of the living rock 
 
 'Keath yon blue skies are bare, 
 And a thousand mountain- voices mock 
 
 Mine accents on the air. 
 
 land most lovely and beloved — 
 Whether in morn's bright hues, 
 
 Or in the veil, so soft, so pale, 
 
 "Woven by twilight dews, 
 God's bounty pours from sun and cloud 
 
 Beauty on shore and wave, — 
 
 1 lift my hands, I cry aloud, 
 
 Man shall not make thee slave ! 
 Te everlasting witnesses, — ■ 
 
 Most eloquent, though dumb, — 
 Sky, shore, and seas, light, mist, and breeze, 
 
 Receive me, when I come ! 
 How could I, in this holy place, 
 
 Stand with unshamed brow, 
 How look on earth's accusing face, 
 
 If I forget my vow ? 
 
90 LAYS AND BALLADS. 
 
 Not few nor slight his burdens are 
 
 Who gives himself to stand 
 Steadfast and sleepless as a star, 
 
 Watching his fatherland ; 
 Strong must his will be, and serene, 
 
 His spirit pure and bright, 
 His conscience vigilant and keen, 
 
 His arm an arm of might. 
 
 Erom the closed temple of his heart, 
 
 Seal'd as a sacred spring, 
 Self must he spurn, and set apart 
 
 As an unholy thing ; 
 Misconstrued where he loves the best, 
 
 Where most he hopes, betray'd, 
 The quenchless watchnre in his breast 
 
 Must neither fail nor fade. 
 
 And his shall be a holier meed 
 
 Than earthly lips may tell ; — 
 Not in the end, but in the deed, 
 
 Doth truest honour dwell. 
 His land is one vast monument, 
 
 Bearing the record high 
 Of a spirit with itself content, 
 
 And a name that cannot die ! 
 
 For this, with joyous heart, I give 
 
 Pame, pleasure, love, and life ; 
 Blest, for a cause so high, to live 
 
 In ceaseless, hopeless strife : 
 Por this to die, with sword in hand, 
 
 Oh, blest and honour' d thrice ! — 
 Grod, countrymen, and fatherland, 
 
 Accept the sacrifice ! 
 
BRUCE AND DOUGLAS. 91 
 
 |)vut£ anb Jbuglns. 
 
 LAY THE FIRST. 
 THE DEATH OF BRUCE. 
 
 There is darkness in the chamber, 
 
 There is silence by the hearth, 
 For pale, and cold, and dying 
 
 Lies a great one of the earth ; 
 That eye's dim ray is faint and grey, 
 
 Those lips have lost their red, 
 And powerless is a people's love 
 
 To lift that langnid head. 
 
 Through hilly Caledonia 
 
 "Woe spreadeth far and fast, 
 As spreads the shadow of a cloud 
 
 Before a thunder-blast, — 
 For it is The Bruce whose mighty heart 
 
 Is beating now its last ! 
 
 A tearful group was gathered 
 
 Around that bed of death : 
 There stood undaunted Bandolph 
 
 Knight of the Perfect Wreath ; 
 And Campbell, strong and steadfast 
 
 Through danger and despair ; 
 And valiant Grrey, and stern La Haye, 
 
 And loyal Lennox there ; 
 There, last in name, but first in fame, 
 
 And faithful to the end, 
 All weeping stood Lord James the Good, 
 
 True knight and constant friend ; 
 
92 LAYS AND BALLADS. 
 
 And there, with eyes of grave surprise, 
 
 Fast rooted to the place, 
 The monarch's son, scarce four years old, 
 
 Grazed in his father's face ! 
 But the stillness of that solemn room 
 
 Was stirr'd by scarce a breath — 
 Silent were all, and silently 
 
 The Bruce encounter'd Death. 
 
 They stood and saw, with reverent awe, 
 
 How ever, upward glancing, 
 He seem'd to watch some dim array 
 
 Of warrior-shapes advancing ; 
 For as he lay in silence, 
 
 There pass'd before his eyes, 
 Like a slow and stately pageant, 
 
 His life's long memories. 
 
 And first — brief days of bitter shame, 
 
 B/epented and disown' d — 
 His early sins before him came, 
 By many an after- deed of fame 
 
 Effaced and well atoned. 
 One passing shade of noble grief 
 Darken' d the brow of the dying chief, 
 But fast it faded from the sight, 
 Lost in his life's remember' d light ; 
 For then of burning thoughts arose 
 
 A shadowy and unnumber'd host, — 
 And Methven's field of blood and woes, 
 
 And Bachrin's unforgotten coast, 
 Where Freedom's form through gloom and storm, 
 
 Did first for Scotland shine, 
 As faint by night a beacon-light 
 
 Glimmers through mist and brine. 
 
BRUCE AND DOUGLAS. 03 
 
 And Arran's isle, by shady Clyde. 
 
 Where, when the summer noon was high. 
 Friends, parted long and sorely tried, 
 
 Met. and went forth to victory ; 
 "Where loud the Bruce his bugle wound. 
 And Douglas answer' d to the sound ! 
 
 Then name by name, and deed by deed. 
 Bright trains of glorious thought succeed ; — 
 The midnight watch, till o'er the foam 
 Gleam' d the lone beacon guiding home, 
 And on old Carrick's well-loved shore 
 The exile plants his foot once more ; 
 The ford, beside whose waters grey 
 His single arm kept hosts at bay ; 
 The hurrying march, the bold surprise, 
 The chase, the ambush, the disguise. 
 Xow leader of a conquering band. 
 
 Xow track' d by bloodhounds swift and stern ; 
 Till Glory's sun, at God's command, 
 
 Stood still at last on Baxnockburn. 
 And stamp 'd in characters of flame 
 On Scottish breasts The Bruce's name. — 
 Oh, seldom deathbed memories 
 Are populous with thoughts like these ! 
 
 To the face of the dying monarch 
 
 Came a sudden glow, and proud, 
 But brief as the tinge of sunset 
 
 Mung on a wandering cloud ; 
 But see — his lips are parting. 
 
 Though scarce a sound be heard,— 
 Down stoops the noble Douglas 
 
 To catch each feeble word ; 
 And all the knights and warriors. 
 
 Holding their tighten' d breath, 
 
94 LAYS AND BALLADS. 
 
 Close in a narrower circle 
 Around the couch of death. 
 
 " Douglas, O my brother ! 
 
 My heart is ill at ease ; 
 Unceasingly mine aching eye 
 
 One haunting vision sees ; 
 It sees the lengthen'd arches, 
 
 The solemn aisles of prayer, 
 And the death of the traitor Comyn 
 
 Upon the altar-stair. 
 Woe's me ! that deed unholy 
 
 Lies like a heavy weight, 
 Crushing my wearied conscience 
 
 Before heaven's open gate. 
 Fain would I wend a pilgrim 
 
 Forth over land and sea, 
 Where G-od's dear Son for sinners died- 
 
 Alas, it must not be ! 
 But if thy love be steadfast 
 
 As it was proved of yore, — 
 When these few struggling pulses 
 
 Are still' d, and all is o'er, 
 Unclose this lifeless bosom, 
 
 Take thence this heart of mine, 
 And bear it safely for my sake 
 
 To holy Palestine : 
 Well pleased my heart shall tarry 
 
 In thy fair company ; 
 For it was wont, while yet in life, 
 
 Ever to dwell with thee." 
 
 The dying king was silent ; 
 
 And down the Douglas kneel' d — 
 A kiss upon his sovereign's hand 
 
 His ready promise seal'd ; 
 
BRUCE AND DOUGLAS. 95 
 
 Never a word lie answer' d, 
 
 In sorrow strong and deep, 
 But he wept, that iron soldier, 
 
 Tears sncli as women weep. 
 The Brace hath prest him to his breast 
 
 With faint but eager grasp, 
 And the strong man's arm was tremulous 
 
 As that weak dying clasp ! 
 
 The last embrace unloosing. 
 
 The monarch feebly cried, 
 " Oh, lift me up, my comrades dear, 
 
 And let me look on Clyde ! " 
 Widely they flung the casement, 
 
 And there in beauty lay 
 That broad and rolling river 
 
 All sparkling to the day. 
 The Bruce beheld its waters 
 
 "With fix ; d and wistful eye, 
 Where calm regret was blending 
 
 With bright expectancy ; 
 And then, with sudden effort, 
 
 Somewhat his arms he raised, 
 As one that would have fain embraced 
 
 The things on which he gazed. 
 And then on those who held him 
 
 There fell a strange deep thrill — 
 For the lifted arms dropp'd heavily, 
 
 The mighty heart was still ! 
 
 Hush'd was the voice of weeping— 
 
 Mutely did Douglas close 
 The eyes of the illustrious dead 
 
 Tor their last, long repose ; 
 And backwards from the couch they drew 
 
 Softly and reverently : 
 
96 LAYS AND BALLADS. 
 
 For solemn is the face of death, ' 
 Though full of hope it be ! 
 
 LAY THE SECOND. 
 THE BETJCE'S HEAET. 
 
 It was Lord James of Douglas 
 
 Set sail across the brine, 
 "With a warrior band, to seek the land 
 
 Of holy Palestine. 
 Stately and gay was his bold array, 
 
 "With plume and pennon streaming, 
 With the sounding horn at break of day, 
 
 With cluster' d lances gleaming. 
 
 A nobler knight than the good Lord James, 
 
 In sooth, is seldom seen : 
 His words, though few, were straight and true 
 
 As his sword so bright and keen ; 
 Dark was his cheek, and dark his eye, 
 
 But lit with a fiery glow, 
 And his form of lofty majesty 
 
 Beseem 5 d a king, I trow. 
 
 Beneath his vest a silver case, 
 
 At a string of silk and gold, 
 For ever lay, by night and day, 
 
 Upon his bosom bold ; 
 That casket none must hope to win 
 
 By force or fraudful art, 
 For priceless was the wealth within — 
 
 It held the Bruce's heart ! 
 
 In far Dunfermline's towers he lay 
 In honour'd sleep, and there 
 
BRUCE AND DOUGLAS. 97 
 
 Had loyal Douglas kneel' d to pay 
 
 His vows, and lift his prayer, 
 When stole along the steeps and glades 
 
 The noiseless tread of Night, 
 And Moonshine with her massy shades 
 
 And cold clear lines of light. 
 And there he laid upon his breast 
 
 The heart of the mighty dead, — 
 Sign that his monarch's last behest 
 
 Should be accomplished. 
 That solemn honr, that awful scene, 
 
 Bare witness to his tow ; 
 And soon the waves of ocean green 
 
 Danced ronnd his daring prow. 
 Lord James hath landed in fair Castile, — 
 
 "Where, waiting by the sea, 
 Alphonso of Spain with a glittering train 
 
 Hath welcomed him royally : 
 Bnt woe was in that lovely land ; 
 
 For, from Granada's towers, 
 Dark Osmyn's fierce and ruthless band 
 
 Ravaged its myrtle bowers. 
 
 The Douglas gazed on the leafy shore, 
 
 He gazed on the ocean blue, 
 And the swarthy light in his eye grew bright, 
 
 And his gleaming sword he drew : 
 " Wert thou at my side, my king," he cried, 
 
 " Thy voice's well-known sounds 
 Would bid me aid these Christian knights 
 
 To chase these Paynim hounds ! " 
 Then joy went forth through all the land ; 
 
 And hurrying thousands came 
 To see the chief whose valorous hand 
 
 Had won him deathless fame. 
 
98 LAYS AND BALLADS. 
 
 There stood a knight on the monarch's right, 
 
 Well proved in bloody wars ; 
 His face, I trow, from chin to brow, 
 
 Was seam'd with ghastly scars. 
 " Lord Douglas, thou hast been," quoth he, 
 
 " In battles from thy youth ; 
 Good faith, I marvel much to see 
 
 Thy manly face so smooth." 
 " I thank my God," the Douglas said, 
 
 " Whose favour and whose grace 
 These hands have ever strengthened 
 
 Thus to protect my face." 
 
 But the clarion's thrilling note was heard, — 
 
 And, loosing each his rein, 
 Their fiery steeds the warriors spurr'd 
 
 Down to the battle-plain ; 
 So swiftly on their way they went, 
 
 So brightly their mail was flashing, 
 That they might seem a mountain- stream 
 
 O'er the edge of a tall cliff dashing. 
 
 In full noonday the fair array 
 
 Of turban'd Moslems shone, 
 Like a cluster strange of gorgeous flowers 
 
 Of form and clime unknown ; 
 But when his arm each lifted, swinging 
 
 His keen and twisted blade, 
 It was like a glittering snake upspringing 
 
 Out of the flower's soft shade. 
 Lord Douglas look'd on the crescent proud, 
 
 And his Christian heart beat high : 
 " Charge, countrymen ! " he shouted loud ; 
 
 " Tor God and Scotland, I ! " 
 Oh, never did eagle on its prey 
 
 Dart with a feller swoop 
 
BRUCE AND DOUGLAS. 99 
 
 Than bounded the angry Scots that day 
 
 On the Saracen's startled troop ! 
 Like hunted tigers o'er the plain 
 
 The Moors are flying fast — 
 Like huntsmen true the Scots pursue 
 
 AVith shout and clarion blast : 
 But track the tiger to his lair, 
 
 And the tiger turns to spring — 
 Brave hearts, beware ; for still despair 
 
 Is a fierce and fearful thing ! 
 
 The Moors have wheel' d on that fatal field, 
 
 They gather and they stand., 
 And the wild long yell of " Allah hu !" 
 
 Is heard on every hand ; 
 They are circling about their daring foes 
 
 In a grim and narrowing bound, 
 As. the walls of a burning jungle close 
 
 The awe- struck traveller round. 
 
 The foremost there fell brave St Clair — 
 
 That saw the Douglas bold, 
 And did unloose the Heart of Bruce 
 
 From its string of silk and gold ; 
 He hurl'd it through the serried spears, 
 
 And his lifted voice rang high — 
 " Pass to the front, as thou wert wont ! 
 
 I follow thee, or die ! " 
 The day hath closed on fair Castile, 
 
 The sinking sun gleams red 
 On shatter' d plumes and broken steel, 
 
 And piles of gallant dead ; 
 In the centre of that bloody field 
 
 Lord Douglas lay in death, — 
 Above him was his own good shield, 
 
 And the Bruce' s heart beneath ! 
 
100 LAYS AND BALLADS. 
 
 ISTo tears for him ! In Honour's light, 
 
 As he had lived, he fell. 
 Good night, thou dauntless soul, good night, 
 
 For sure thou sleep est well ! 
 Full hearts and reverent hands had those 
 
 "Who bare thee on thy bier 
 Back to the place of thy repose — 
 
 Thy Scotland, famed and dear ! 
 
 A valiant knight the casket bore : 
 
 And for that honour' d part, 
 His scutcheon wore for evermore 
 
 A padlock and a heart. 
 They buried the Douglas in St Bride ; 
 
 And the heart of Bruce they laid 
 In Melrose stately aisles, beside 
 
 The altar's sacred shade. 
 
 Not mine, with hand profane, to trace 
 
 Grey Melrose towers around, — 
 There is a Presence in the place, 
 
 Making it holy ground. 
 Strewing their snows on that fair spot, 
 
 May countless years succeed, 
 But they sever not the name of Scott 
 
 From Melrose and from Tweed ! 
 
GRIZZEL HUME. 101 
 
 [Sir Patrick Hume of Polwarth, afterwards Lord Marchmont, was one of 
 the leaders of the Jerviswood plot in the reign of Charles II. When this 
 conspiracy was discovered, Sir Patrick, having narrowly escaped falling into 
 the hands of those who were sent to arrest him, concealed himself in a vault 
 in the churchyard of Polwarth, and remained there till his enemies had given 
 up seeking for him in that neighbourhood. During his sojourn in this dark 
 and melancholy lurking-place, his daughter Grizzel, a girl about eighteen 
 years old, conveyed provisions to her father every night. She was obliged to 
 go forth alone, at midnight, for ' this purpose ; and great must have been her 
 alarm and anxiety during each of these perilous expeditions ; for had chance 
 discovered her to any evil-disposed person, the secret of her father's hiding- 
 place must inevitably have been discovered, and there can be but little doubt 
 that he would have shared the fate of the noble Baillie of Jerviswood, who, 
 having refused to purchase safety by becoming a witness against Lord 
 Russell, suffered death about this time. Vide Scott's Tales of a Grand- 
 father : 2nd Series, vol. ii.] 
 
 "When midnight flung o'er earth and sea 
 
 Her solemn veil of gloom, 
 All fearless and alone was she, 
 
 The Lady Grizzel Hume, — 
 Lighted beneath that sable sky 
 By her young heart's fidelity. 
 "With eyes of hope, and peace, and truth, — 
 
 Violets half hid in snow ; 
 "Wearing the glory of her youth 
 
 Upon a cloudless brow ; 
 Oh, seldom hath the silent night 
 Look'd down upon so fair a sight ! 
 She glides along the shadowy copse, 
 
 By field, and hill, and tree, 
 Light as the noiseless dew, that drops 
 
 "When none can hear nor see ; 
 Before her home at last she stands, 
 And lifts the latch with trembling hands. 
 
102 LAYS AND BALLADS. 
 
 " Oh, speak, my child, the night is dark, 
 
 Thou comest pale and fast ! " 
 " J heard the startled watchdog's bark 
 
 As his lonely lair I past, 
 And hurried on, in fear lest he 
 Should rouse some lurking enemy." 
 " And couldst thou pass the churchyard drear 
 
 Nor pause in chilly dread ? " 
 " Nay, mother, wherefore should I fear 
 
 The mute and peaceful dead ? 
 I only thought, how calm they sleep 
 Who neither feel, nor fear, nor weep." 
 " Did not thy weary footsteps stray ? 
 
 The path was dark and long." 
 " Oh, Grod was with me on my way, 
 
 And so my heart was strong ; 
 I ever thought the stars did shed 
 A gracious blessing on my head." 
 " And didst thou see thy father's face ? " 
 
 (But here she paused to weep.) 
 " Ah, mother, yes ! I pray for grace 
 
 His sweet behest to keep ; 
 He bid me labour still to make 
 Thy spirit happy, for his sake." 
 
 " Bless thee, my comfort and my child ! " 
 
 " I wept — I could not speak — 
 He parted back my hair, and smiled, 
 
 And kiss'd me on the cheek, 
 And said I bravely did, and well, 
 To visit his forsaken cell." 
 " And look'd he pale ? " " Ay, somewhat pale, 
 
 But firm and blithe of cheer, 
 Like one whose heart could never fail, 
 
 Whose spirit never fear ; 
 
GRIZZEL HUME. 103 
 
 And calm and steadfastly he spake 
 
 Of things whereat my heart must break. 
 
 Yes, changeless was his aspect when 
 
 He said that he might die ; 
 But he murmur' d Monmouth's name, and then 
 
 A tear was in his eye, 
 And he brake off, as though in fear 
 That sound of woe to speak or hear. 
 He bade me pray at morn and eve 
 
 That God would make him strong 
 Calmly to die, but never leave 
 
 The right, nor love the wrong. 
 I pray, — sweet mother, join me thus, — 
 God give my father back to us ! " 
 
 Mother and child knelt mutely there, — 
 
 A sight that angels love ; * 
 
 The incense of their tearful prayer 
 
 Bose to the heavens above ; 
 And softer sleep, and hopes more bright, 
 Came to their troubled hearts that night. 
 Pull oft, when fairer days were come, 
 
 Beside a peaceful hearth 
 That father bless' d his God for home, — 
 
 The happiest place on earth ; 
 And bent his head, and smiled to see 
 His daughter's first-born climb his knee. 
 Then, as the wondering child would gaze 
 
 Into the old man's face, 
 He told of dark and troublous clays, 
 
 Defeat, despair, disgrace ; 
 Of Sedgemoor's field — oh, bitter word ! 
 And lone Inchinnan's fatal ford. 
 And how, through many a weary day, 
 
 In want, and woe, and gloom, 
 
104 LAYS AND BALLADS. 
 
 A hunted fugitive he lay 
 
 The tenant of a tomb, 
 With one weak girl, so pale and fair, 
 His ministering spirit there ; 
 How that bold heart and childlike form 
 
 Night after night would brave 
 The blast, the darkness, and the storm, 
 
 To seek his lonely cave — 
 He paused, to show with grateful pride 
 The blushing matron at his side. 
 
 Jtmitia % Jirst nt ITikrig, 
 
 AFTER THAT SHAMEFUL IMPRISONMENT WHICH WAS THE 
 RESULT OF HIS DEFEAT AT PAVIA. 
 
 I am once more a king ! 
 
 Wave forth, my pennon fair ! 
 My foot is on mine own dear soil, 
 
 I am free as my native air ! 
 Spring on, my gallant steed, 
 
 Thou may'st bound blithely on, 
 For thou bear'st to his home a warrior freed, 
 
 And a king to his crown and throne ! 
 Leap from thy sheath, my sword ! 
 
 I may wield thee once again ; 
 I could not brook on thy sheen to look 
 
 While writhing in a chain. 
 I will not bid thee shine 
 
 Now to avenge my wrongs, 
 For, oh, to a heart as light as mine 
 
 No bitterness belongs ! 
 
FRANCIS I. AT LIBERTY. 105 
 
 These are thy vales, fair France ! 
 
 Mine, mine, this matchless land ; 
 Dearer than gold in heaps untold, 
 
 Or aught save faith and brand. 
 The song of thy birds is sweet, 
 
 Thy plains seem doubly fair, 
 And, oh, how my heart leaps forth to meet 
 
 Each breath of thy balmy air ! 
 
 Play on my brow, cool breeze, 
 
 For thou wakenest in my heart 
 High thoughts and generous sympathies, 
 
 Which long have slept apart. 
 It is the voice of France 
 
 TThich breathes upon me now ; 
 I will open my breast to thy glad advance, — 
 
 Play lightly on my brow! 
 I am free ! I am free ! I am free ! 
 
 I may give my full heart way ; 
 Its fire represt hath scorch' d my breast, 
 
 It pants for the open day. 
 I am free ! I am free ! I am free ! 
 
 Oh, is it a dream of joy ? 
 Or do I stand on my native land, 
 
 And. look on mine own blue sky ? 
 I do, I do ! for when 
 
 Did a Spaniard's icy brow 
 Shine in the light of smiles so bright 
 
 As those which meet me now! 
 ]\Iine own — ye are all mine own ! 
 
 I laugh at treason's darts ; 
 For my people's love is my loftiest throne, 
 
 My surest fence their hearts. 
 And, by mine own true sword, 
 
 So wrong shall e'er abase 
 
106 LAYS AND BALLADS. 
 
 The soul on which your love is pour'd, 
 To do that love disgrace ! 
 
 Still in my changeless breast 
 Dwells one unsullied spring ; 
 
 Tree, chained, exalted, or opprest, 
 My soul is still a king ! 
 
 [The legend on which this ballad is founded is narrated in Mr James' s 
 Life of Richard Coeur de Lion.] 
 
 The clear eye of morning was cloudless and blue, 
 And the air was all fresh with the fragrance of dew, 
 And the cheeks of the Christians with watching were 
 
 pale ; 
 But their hearts were as strong as their double-link' d 
 
 mail 
 
 Round the walls of that city so stately and fair 
 
 The Saracen banners were soaring in air ; 
 
 And countless and bright was that host of the brave 
 
 As sparkles of foam on the storm-cloven wave. 
 
 Lo, the gates are flung wide, and the Christian host 
 
 comes, 
 Their plumes waving time to the roll of their drums ; 
 All pale was each cheek, and all proud was each eye, 
 For the souls that spake through "them were purposed 
 
 to die! 
 Like youth in its buoyancy, joyous and proud, 
 Was the shining array of the Saracen crowd ; 
 Like the last hours of manhood, all grief- worn and wan, 
 But unshaken and fearless, the Christians came on. 
 
THE BATTLE OF ANTIOCH. 107 
 
 They met as the hurricane meeteth the storm 
 When the fiend of the tempest unveils his dark form, 
 And the lightnings are marshall'd in heaven's high 
 
 field,— 
 Woe, woe for the Christians ! they waver, they yield ! 
 
 They waver, the weary, the faint, and the few ; 
 But still bold is their front as their spirits are true ; 
 And brave were the hearts that had breathed out their 
 
 life 
 Ere the banner of Tancred went down in the strife. 
 
 Full dark was the shadow which then overspread 
 The face of their leader, as groaning he said, 
 Upstretching his arms to the cold, changeless sky, 
 " Now God to the rescue, for man can but die ! " 
 
 And lo, as he speaks, in the distance appears 
 A band of bright horsemen with star-pointed spears ; 
 Their vesture was white as the sea's snowy surf, 
 And printless the step of their steeds on the turf. 
 
 So mutely they swept o'er the hill's haughty crest, 
 As the snow rushes down on the river's broad breast, 
 All noiseless and swift, all resplendent and white, 
 Like the fires of the north in the loneness of night. 
 
 They turn not, they pause not, they break not their 
 
 ranks, 
 But, fast as a torrent o'er-sweeping its banks, 
 Yet firm as the marching of battle-proved men, 
 They charge and they shatter the false Saracen. 
 
 That charge who withstandeth ? They came like the 
 wind, 
 
 And they went as they came — but what left thev be- 
 hind ? 
 
 In shame and in shrieking, in wounds and in loss, 
 
 The Crescent hath fled from the might of the Cross ! 
 
108 LAYS AND BALLADS. 
 
 The Christians have kneel' d 'mid the dying and slain, 
 And their psalm of thanksgiving soars up from the 
 
 plain : 
 " Now, down with the Paynim ! his power is o'erthrown, 
 For Grod hath been speedy to succour His own ! " 
 
 % g^ilj ai % fiaptal hz §m^ 
 
 [The Captal de Buch was truly a knight sans peur et sans reproche. That 
 fierce and savage insurrection of the populace, called the Jacquerie, was put 
 down by his valour and resolution, almost unassisted. He was the friend 
 and brother in arms of the Black Prince, whose death was communicated to 
 him while languishing in a French prison. On hearing the mournful tidings 
 lie refused all comfort, and died within two or three days— one of the few 
 authentic instances on record of death from what is commonly called " a 
 broken heart." ] 
 
 The royal moon shone silver bright 
 
 Upon a prison-grate, 
 Where, his chains glancing to her light, 
 
 A lonely captive sate ; 
 Strange was it to behold his brow 
 
 So stately and so free, 
 For twice three vears had witness' d now 
 
 His stern captivity. 
 
 K"o change had pass'd upon his face, 
 
 No dimness on his eye, 
 "Where shone in glory and in grace 
 
 The soul of chivalry ! 
 True had he kept his loyal faith, 
 
 And true his knightly sword, 
 ]N"or bribe, nor threat, nor chains, nor death, 
 
 Could turn him from his word. 
 
DEATH OF THE CAPTAL DE BUCH. 109 
 
 Slow moves the bolt — his captors come ; 
 
 He starts with burning cheek ; 
 " Oh, say, what news r what news from home ? 
 
 How fares my chieftain r Speak ! " 
 Their eyes no sympathy evince, 
 
 They answer cold and slow, 
 " Nay, ask not of thy sable prince, 
 
 He died six days ago ! " 
 Stern were their hearts and chill with pride ; 
 
 But when his face they saw, 
 They could not choose but turn aside 
 
 Their gaze in very awe : 
 WTiat years of anguish fail'd to do, 
 
 At once that instant wrought, 
 The heart which nothing could subdue 
 
 Was broken — by a thought I 
 His mailless hands a while he prest 
 
 Over his aching eyes, 
 Until the tumult of his breast 
 
 Broke forth in words and sighs : 
 " Ah, thou, the gentlest, bravest, first. 
 
 Model of friend and foe, 
 How should the heart refuse to burst 
 
 Which hears that thou art low r 
 Not on the battle-plain, my chief, 
 
 Where knightly banners wave, 
 And trumpets sound their warlike grief 
 
 Over the hero's grave ; 
 Not on thy shield or in thy tent, 
 
 "With comrades weeping nigh, — 
 In this thy native element 
 
 Thou wert not given to die ! 
 
 But sickness had its task, to wear 
 Thy glorious soul- away, 
 
110 LAYS AND BALLADS. 
 
 And I, — O G-od ! I was not there 
 
 To soothe thy closing day ! 
 With nought to cheer thy wasting pain 
 
 Save thine unconquer'd heart 
 (That all-sufficient to sustain), 
 
 So, so didst thou depart ! 
 I lift no prayer for thy repose, 
 
 Grod gives the crown to worth, 
 And well I know thou art of those 
 
 Who earn'd it while on earth ; 
 For me — my pilgrimage is done, 
 
 My noon of life is grey, 
 Mine eyes have seen their guiding sun 
 
 Gro down while it was day ! " 
 He ceased, and from his side unbound 
 
 The sword which still he wore ; 
 He cast it sternly on the ground, 
 
 And grasp 'd it never more ! 
 He turn'd him from the oppressive light ; 
 
 Calmly and silently 
 As sets a star in cloudless night, 
 
 So did the hero die ! 
 
 %\t (KJjmce al % Christian ftemg. 
 
 [See Addison's History of the Knights Templars.] 
 
 It was the hour of evening prayer, 
 It was the holy Sabbath night, 
 
 Sunset was glowing in the air, 
 Placid, and calm, and bright ; 
 
 When fierce Saladin did call 
 
 To his side his warriors all, 
 
CHOICE OF THE CHRISTIAN HEROES. Ill 
 
 And in proud array they wound their way 
 
 Up green Tiberias' height. 
 With fetter' d hand and weary soul 
 
 Each Christian captive follow' d on, 
 Submissive to that base control 
 
 Till the fair hill was won ; 
 Oh, what depth of fire supprest 
 Must have burn'd in every breast ! 
 For they were the knights of a thousand fights, 
 
 Of the Temple and St John. 
 They stood and held their very breath, 
 
 With rising heart and filling eye, 
 For the blue sea of Grenesareth 
 
 Beneath their feet did lie ; 
 Ton hills are guardians of the shore 
 Where oft their Saviour trod before ; 
 And their hands are bound, and the holy ground 
 
 Is the prey of Moslemrie ! 
 And lo ! it is the very hour 
 
 When on their far, their Christian shore, 
 Those they best love, from hall and bower 
 
 Wend to the church's door ; 
 Pull many a heart is lifting prayer 
 For them — the lonely captives there ; 
 And some they frown, and some look down, 
 
 For their eyes are running o'er. 
 Stately and sad, an old knight spake : 
 
 " Why, tyrants, have ye brought us here ? 
 Say, did ye wish to see them break 
 
 The hearts which cannot fear ? 
 Know, our Grod will give us might 
 Even to look upon this sight. 
 My brethren, dry each drooping eye ; 
 
 The foe beholds your tear ! " 
 
112 LAYS AND BALLADS. 
 
 The Moslem chieftain answer' d him : 
 
 " Captives, look round ye, as ye stand ; 
 Look, ere the twilight closeth dim, 
 
 Upon this lovely land ; 
 See how the clouds yon hills enfold, 
 Turning their purple into gold ! 
 For the sun's last light makes all things bright 
 Save you, the captive band. 
 
 Is not the earth around ye fair ? 
 
 And do your hearts desire to die, 
 Nor breathe once more the gladsome air, 
 
 When morning paints the sky ? 
 A precious thing is the light of day, 
 And life should not be flung away ; 
 Say, would ye be on the green earth free ? 
 
 Pine ye for liberty ? 
 Free shall ye be, by a Sultan's word, 
 
 A word that ne'er was broken yet, 
 Take ye but Allah for your Lord, 
 
 And bow to Mahomet. 
 Your trusty swords I will restore, 
 Tour heads shall wear the helm once more, 
 By the Moslem band who rule this land 
 
 Te shall be as brethren met. 
 
 Refuse — yon scimiters are keen — 
 
 A stern and speedy death is near ! " 
 Full awful where those words, I ween ; 
 
 They thrill' d against the ear ! 
 What did that true band reply ? 
 Every knight kneel' d down to die, 
 For they look'd on the sea of Galilee, 
 
 And one word they answer' d — " Here ? ,: 
 Here, should the brave deny their God ? 
 
 Here, should the true forsake their faith ? 
 
CHOICE OF THE CHRISTIAN HEROES. 113 
 
 Here, where the living footsteps trod 
 
 Of Him they own'd in death ? 
 Sere, where the silent earth and sea 
 Bare witness to the Deity ? 
 There was not a heart would from Christ depart 
 By bine Genesareth ! 
 
 So, one by one, they kneel'd and died, 
 
 That band of heroes and of saints, 
 And the deep, dark stain of a crimson tide 
 
 The hill's lone greenness taints. 
 The hurrying work of death was done 
 Ere in the pure wave sank the sun, 
 And the twilight air was full of prayer, 
 But not of weak complaints. 
 
 Oh, many tears, ye brave and true, 
 Oh, many tears for those were shed 
 
 "Whose corpses by the waters blue 
 Lay piled — unhonour'd dead ! 
 
 Shrined in many a bleeding heart, 
 
 Xever did their name depart ! 
 And heaven's own light for many a night 
 Play'd round each sleeping head. 
 
 But a purer light than that whose ray 
 Around their tombless corpses shone, 
 
 "Was kindled in hearts far away 
 By the deed which they had done ! 
 
 And if the warriors' tempted faith 
 
 Grew feeble in the hour of death, 
 " Remember," they cried, " how the Templars died, 
 And the true knights of St John ! " 
 
114 LAYS AND BALLADS. 
 
 fflyz §5r*%m ai |3tfrf $StogaI. 
 
 [The Jansenist settlement at Port Royal was composed of men whose 
 demeanour and occupations realized the purest idea of a monastic life that 
 ever presented itself to the mind of a religious enthusiast. The convent was 
 governed by the celebrated Mere Angelique, and among the brethren were to 
 be counted some of the noblest names in France. When the wars of the Fronde 
 first broke out, De Sericour, one of the brethren, and, like many of his com 
 panions, formerly a knight and a warrior, cast aside his cowl, and laid hand 
 on his sword. His example was speedily followed by the others ; in a few 
 moments the quiet valley was converted into a camp— the peaceful band of 
 monks became a gallant and eager army. Fortifications were commenced ; 
 and the work of disciplining forces, not indeed inexperienced, but forgetful, 
 through long disuse, of their former soul- stirring experience, was entrusted to 
 De Sericour. In the midst of these warlike preparations, De Sacy, another of 
 their number, and a relation of the impetuous De Sericour, recalled to the 
 minds of the brethren their vow and sacred profession. In an instant their 
 arms were cast aside, the note of the trumpet was exchanged for the solemn 
 sound of the organ and the plaintive tones of the penitential psalm ; and the 
 valley, with its singular inhabitants, was restored to the calm and peace 
 of its original aspect, in a space of time yet shorter than that which had 
 sufficed for the first change.] 
 
 Upon St Mary's night 
 
 "Was met a holy band, 
 In prayer and fasting to unite 
 
 For their afflicted land ; 
 The moon shone clear and pale 
 
 Upon the house of prayer, 
 And the solemn organ-tones did sail 
 
 Along the steadfast air. 
 Upon a kneeling crowd 
 
 That silver radiance shone, 
 With hearts upraised and faces bow'd 
 
 At God's eternal throne ; 
 And strange was it to see, 
 
 As ye pass'd their ranks along, 
 The difference and the unity 
 
 Of that assembled throng. 
 
THE BRETHREN OF PORT ROYAL. 115 
 
 Some were in youth's first bloom, 
 
 And some in manhood's prime, 
 Some verging on the open tomb, 
 
 And waiting God's good time ; 
 From ploughing summer's earth 
 
 Some to those walls were come, 
 And the high stamp of noble birth 
 
 Was on the brows of some. 
 But a holy band they were, — 
 
 One Lord, one faith, one heart, 
 A brotherhood of praise and prayer, 
 
 From the vain world apart : 
 Beneath war's iron rod 
 
 Their groaning land was cast ; 
 But in simple toils, and serving God. 
 
 Their quiet days they past. 
 
 Hard must it be to bow 
 
 Beneath that steadfast chain. 
 Though no irrevocable vow 
 
 Their willing hearts restrain. 
 Seest thou yon kneeler there ? 
 
 Ay, mark him well — the hand 
 Xow clasp 'd in penitential prayer 
 
 Once shook the knightly brand. 
 Does not that govern' d eye 
 
 Full many a story tell 
 Of struggle, strife, and victory, 
 
 Won in his narrow cell ; 
 The world's vain lore unlearn' d, 
 
 Its vainer hopes unfelt ? — 
 But, ah, how the warrior-heart hath burn'd 
 
 Beneath that iron belt ! 
 Long, long he strove to lift 
 
 His spirit with the psalm, 
 
116 LAYS AND BALLADS. 
 
 Pleading and striving for the gift 
 
 Of patience, deep and calm ; 
 But as npon the air 
 
 Those soaring accents float, 
 There blended with the voice of prayer 
 
 One distant trumpet note. 
 
 Like to the purple gloom 
 
 Of storm-clouds on the sea, 
 When earth is silent as the tomb, 
 
 And heaven frowns terribly, 
 Was the darkness that o'er spread 
 
 That soldier-hermit's brow : 
 His eye is proud, his cheek is red — 
 
 He's all the warrior now ! 
 Like to the sudden light 
 
 Upon those storm-clouds breaking, 
 When tempest rushes on the night, 
 
 And hurricanes are waking, 
 Was the spirit that returned 
 
 To his uplifted eye, — 
 A fire long stifled, but which burn'd 
 
 On its old hearth eagerly. 
 " Up, up ! " he cried, " awake ! 
 
 Gather for Prance — for France ! 
 For cowl, and staff, and crosier, take 
 
 The helmet and the lance ! 
 We see our country bleed, 
 
 We hear the trumpet's tone, 
 And how should we need a chief to lead ? — 
 
 Our hearts shall lead us on ! 
 
 Our joyous land of France, 
 
 Our lonely, our adored, 
 Shall she advance, my friends, advance !- 
 
 I cannot speak the word. 
 
THE BRETHREN OF PORT ROYAL. 117 
 
 This is holy war. 
 
 Good angels on ns smile ; 
 Soldiers we were, and monks we are, 
 
 But Frenchmen all the while ! 
 And our hands are now unbound. 
 
 And we all are knights once more. 
 And the old forgotten cry shall sound, 
 
 i God and De Sericour ! '" 
 Their hearts took up that cry ; 
 
 And, like a lion's roar, 
 The long aisles echo thunderinsdv, 
 
 " God and De Sericour ! " 
 And the anthem died away, 
 
 And the sounds of prayer were lost : 
 The monks and the beadsmen, where are they? — 
 
 Ye see an armed host ! 
 An armed host ye see ; 
 
 For, swift as light or thought, 
 Some of its ancient panoply 
 
 Each eager hand hath caught. 
 
 Lances were glimmering then, 
 
 And faded banners streaming, 
 And on the brows of aged mea 
 
 Were helmets faintly gleaming, 
 But dimm'd with many a stain, 
 
 For the rust had eaten through them, 
 But the spirits were themselves again, 
 
 And how should man subdue them ? 
 They march into the field, 
 
 De Sericour the first ; 
 Oh, as his hand resumed the shield, 
 
 Seem'd that his heart would burst ! 
 Beneath the moon's pale lamp 
 
 War's business was begun. 
 
118 LAYS AND BALLADS. 
 
 And the quiet vale became a camp 
 
 Ere rose the morning sun. 
 And the work of war went on, 
 
 There was hurrying to and fro, 
 The trumpet gave its cheering tone, 
 
 " Set forward on the foe ! " 
 How were their spirits stirr'd, 
 
 All panting to begin ! — 
 But lo, a calm, still voice is heard — 
 
 It warneth them of sin ! 
 
 Of Christian love and hope, 
 
 Of their adopted law, 
 Forbidding strife with strife to cope, 
 
 It speaks in holy awe ; 
 It calls them to submit 
 
 To that accustom' d yoke, 
 And to weep that they rejected it, — 
 
 It was De Sacy spoke. 
 Mutely they hear the word, 
 
 And mutely all obey ; 
 Cuirass, and lance, and helm, and sword, 
 
 At once are. flung away ; 
 And the noon-tide sun shines bright 
 
 Upon an alter' d scene, 
 The vale lies placid in its light 
 
 As it hath ever been ! ■ 
 
 Gone — like an April gleam 
 
 When storms are gathering fast ! 
 It is like waking from a dream ! 
 
 That wondrous change hath past. 
 And the daily toils went on, 
 
 As if they ne'er had ceased, 
 And the organ with its stately tone 
 
 Grave answer to the priest. 
 
THE BRETHREN OF PORT ROYAL. 119 
 
 Who first did from him cast 
 
 The weapon that he wore ? 
 'Twas he whom man would name the last — 
 
 It was De Sericour ! 
 His lofty head is bow'd 
 
 'Xeath a heavier weight than years, 
 The eye that was so brightly proud 
 
 Is quench'd in sudden tears ! 
 
 And penitence resumes 
 
 Her intermitted sway, 
 And swift forgetfulness entombs 
 
 The deeds of that bright day. 
 Ah, no ! The thought can be 
 
 From the deep heart banish 5 d never ; 
 'Twas the captive's glimpse of liberty, 
 
 Seen once and lost for ever ! 
 Scorn we a heart like his, 
 
 At God's own footstool laid ? 
 Forget not that of stuff like this 
 
 Martyrs and saints were made ! 
 But our words are bold and free, 
 
 ~We judge, decide, condemn — 
 Ah, Grod forgive us ! — what are we 
 
 That we should sentence tliem ? 
 
 %\i $joto rf fetes. 
 
 "Word was brought where Cortes lay 
 
 On the shores of Coronzel, 
 That, pent from the blessed light of day 
 And the free breath of generous air, 
 A band of Christians captive were 
 In the hands of the Indians fell. 
 
120 LAYS AND BALLADS. 
 
 Up rose in wrath that leader brave, 
 
 And sware by holy cross, 
 Never to rest by land or wave 
 
 Till he had loosed each captive's chain ; 
 So did his gallant heart disdain 
 Death, danger, woe, or loss. 
 
 Eight weary days and nights he stay'd 
 
 On the shores of Coronzel ; 
 Par and wide his messengers stray' d, 
 Oft they went and oft return' d, 
 But nought of that sad band they learn'd 
 In the hands of the Indians fell. 
 
 And all this while the wind was foul, 
 
 The sky was stern and dark, 
 Dark as a despot's threatening scowl ! 
 
 But on the ninth bright morning, lo, 
 The wind blows fair for Mexico, 
 Wooing each idle bark. 
 
 The skies are lucid, clear, and smooth, 
 
 As a sleeping infant's cheek, 
 The breeze is like the voice of youth, 
 The sea is like a maiden's smile, 
 Sparkling and gay, yet shy the while, 
 On lips afraid to speak. 
 
 Sighing o'er dreams of fame withheld, 
 
 Stood Cortes on the shore, 
 His fiery heart within him swell' d 
 
 When he saw his good ships slothfully 
 Cradled on that rocking sea, — 
 " Unmoor ! " he cried, " unmoor ! 
 
 A weary time have we tarried now, 
 But the fruitless search is o'er " 
 (Ah, couldst thou thus forget thy vow ?) — 
 
THE TOW OF CORTES. 121 
 
 " 'Twere sin to lose this favouring breeze, 
 'Twere shame to scorn these courteous seas ; 
 Unmoor, my men, unmoor ! " 
 
 Merrily rustled each napping sail 
 
 Unfurling as it met 
 The soft caress of the buoyant gale ; 
 
 And merrily shouted the seamen brave 
 As their light barks crested each dancing wave, 
 And the vow they all forget ! 
 
 But scarce a league did that gay band sail 
 
 Ere the sky grew overcast, 
 And the good ships reel'd in the clashing hail ; 
 " Courage, my hearts ! " quoth Cortes then, 
 " It shall never be said that Spanish men 
 Were scared by an adverse blast ! " 
 
 The heavens grew blacker as he spoke, 
 
 And their course they could not keep 
 Save for the flashes blue that broke 
 
 Like serpents of fire from the sable sky, 
 While they hear the shrill wind's startled cry, 
 And the roar of the stormy deep. 
 
 But the leader's voice through wind and wave 
 
 Eose calm, and clear, and bold ; 
 " Hurrah, my mates ! the storm we brave ! 
 
 Stand to your posts like men ! " But hark ! 
 A cry of terror shakes the bark, 
 " There's water in the hold ! " 
 
 And to and fro on the slippery deck, 
 
 And up and down the stair, 
 Came faces full of woe and wreck, 
 
 With staring eye and whiten' d lip 
 Hurrying about the fated ship 
 In purposeless despair ! 
 
122 LAYS AND BALLADS. 
 
 " Put back, put back to Coronzel ! " 
 
 Cried the chief in sudden awe, 
 "Put back, put back, — we did not well !" 
 Por bis mighty heart was humbled now, 
 And he bethought him of his vow, 
 And the hand of Grod he saw. 
 
 Then labouring in that dreadful sea, 
 
 Through many an hour of fear, 
 The groaning bark moved doubtfully — 
 Oh, weary men, but glad they were 
 "When they felt the land-breeze stir their hair, 
 And they saw the coast appear ! 
 
 Bold Cortes stood upon the shore 
 
 AVhen morning glimmer' d bright ; 
 The frenzy of the storm was o'er, 
 
 And he saw the calm blue waters lie 
 Under a cloudless canopy, 
 Curling in waves of light. 
 
 A boat, a boat from Yucatan ! 
 It sprang before the wind ; 
 And thence there stepp'd a white-hair'd man ! 
 But not from age that hue of snow ; 
 He walk'd with wavering steps and slow, 
 Like one whose eyes were blind. 
 
 Eager around his path they crowd, 
 
 In wild but earnest glee ; 
 They clasp his hand, they shout aloud ; 
 Por this was one of that sad throng, 
 Pining ' mid pitiless Indians long, 
 And now at last set free. 
 
 But a wondering, troubled countenance 
 
 That white-hair'd stranger's seems, 
 Like a young child's uncertain glance 
 
THE VOW OF CORTES. 123 
 
 ~W T hen reason dawns upon its heart, 
 Not understood as yet, but part 
 Of vague departing dreams. 
 
 " Come I to Christian men ? " he said, 
 
 In eager tones but weak ; 
 " Eight years have blanch' d this weary head, 
 And all the time I have not heard 
 The sound of one familiar word ! 
 If ye be Christians, speak ! 
 
 My brethren were around me slain, 
 
 And I was spared alone ; 
 But I have suffer' d want and pain, 
 
 A captive's grief, an exile's woe ; 
 "What marvel that this early snow 
 Upon my head is strown ? 
 
 A humble priest of Grod am I, 
 
 And I have kept my vow ; 
 I saw, in speechless agony, 
 
 All that I loved on earth depart, 
 And pray'd but for a stainless heart : 
 Thank Grod, I have it now !" 
 
 Around that holy man they stood, 
 
 A hush'd and reverent band ; 
 They wept, those soldiers stern and rude, 
 As long-unwonted words he spake, 
 xlnd blest them all for Jesus' sake, 
 Lifting his wasted hand. 
 
 Strangely and long did Cortes gaze 
 
 Into that stranger's eyes ; 
 They had been friends in earlier days, 
 
 And now his lips half doubting frame 
 A dear but unfamiliar name, — 
 Link'd to long memories ! 
 
124 LAYS AND BALLADS. 
 
 i 
 
 And Cortes seems a boy again, 
 
 Life's guilty paths unknown ; 
 For many a change and many a stain 
 
 Have fallen upon him since they met ; 
 Much hath his hand with blood been wet, 
 And hard his heart hath grown. 
 
 All laden with the sins of years, 
 
 He kneels upon the sod ; 
 He kneels and weeps ! oh, precious tears ! 
 The good man bends beside him there ; 
 And well we know a righteous prayer 
 Availeth much with Grod ! 
 
 [The story on which the following ballad is founded is related in 
 Mrs Jameson's " Lives of Female Sovereigns."] 
 
 PART I. 
 
 Oh, fair was Countess Isadoure, 
 
 The Ladye of Leon, 
 And she unto her highest tower, 
 
 With all her maids, is gone ; 
 A veil of lace, in modest grace, 
 
 Was wrapt her brow around ; 
 Her vesture fair of satin rare 
 
 Swept on the stony ground. 
 
 She spake unto her wardour good : 
 
 " JSTow, wardour, tell thou me 
 How many years thou here hast stood 
 
 To watch the far countree." 
 
THE ENEMIES. 125 
 
 The wardour stout, he straight spake out : 
 
 " Sweet ladye, there have been, 
 Since first I clornbe this lofty dome, 
 
 Methinks full years fifteen. 
 And every night, and every morn, 
 
 Noontide and eve the same, 
 I still was wont to wind my horn, 
 
 For still a stranger came ; 
 Now, twice three days are fully past, 
 
 I gazed both far and wide, 
 Nor have I wound a single blast, 
 
 Nor have I aught espied." 
 The ladye dried her pearly tears, 
 
 That flow'd like summer rain : 
 " Ah, war dour, spare a woman's fears, 
 
 Gro up yet once again ! 
 Perchance thine eye my lord may spy 
 
 Par in the distant west, 
 Por y est ere' en he should have been 
 
 Enfolded to this breast." 
 The wardour clornbe the weary stair, 
 
 And long and closely gazed ; 
 At last his glad shout rent the air, — 
 
 " Hurrah ! Saint James be praised ! 
 I see a knight — the glimmering light 
 
 Just glances from his shield ; 
 His pace is slow, his plume droops low — 
 
 He comes from a fought en field." 
 Then joyful was that ladye bright 
 
 "With measureless content, 
 And forth to meet the coming knight 
 
 In eager haste she went. 
 " Now, maidens mine, bring food and wine, 
 
 And spread the festal board ; 
 
126 LAYS AND BALLADS. 
 
 Soft music bring, rich incense fling, 
 
 To welcome back my lord." 
 She placed her on a palfrey good, 
 
 As well beseem' d her state, 
 And forth she rode in mirthful mood 
 
 Down to the castle- gate : 
 " Now, maidens, stay your pace, I pray, 
 
 And let us gladly wait 
 Till yonder knight shall here alight 
 
 By his own castle-gate." 
 They had not stay'd an hour's brief space 
 
 Beneath that sinking sun, 
 When, lo, with stern and darken' d face 
 
 That stranger knight came on ; 
 The lady saw his brow of awe, 
 
 And mark'd his greeting word, 
 Then yeil'd her eyes in wild surprise, 
 
 And shriek'd, " 'Tis not my lord ! " 
 His mien was sad, his crest defaced, 
 
 His mail besprent with gore, 
 He lighted off his steed in haste, 
 
 Hard by the castle-door ; 
 He flung aside his helm of pride, 
 
 He bent his forehead low, 
 And scarcely knew that war's red dew 
 
 Tell trickling from his brow. 
 "Ah, ladye" (thus the stranger said), 
 
 " 111 tidings must I tell ; 
 Tour lord will surely lose his head 
 
 Before the matin-bell. 
 His gallant host are slain and lost, 
 
 His friends are all dispersed ; 
 The cruel Moor is at his door : 
 
 Yet is not this the worst ! 
 
THE ENEMIES. 
 
 Pent in Albania's fort he lies, 
 
 Bereft of every hope ; 
 In vain his utmost strength he tries 
 
 "With triple force to cope ; 
 The Moor hath sworn, ere break of morn 
 
 The fortress shall be won, 
 And he will hang in ruthless scorn 
 
 Its valiant garrison. 
 Tour lord commends him to your love, 
 
 And prays, in piteous kind, 
 That ere the morrow shine above, 
 
 Some succour thou may'st find, 
 He bade me tell, that, if he fell, 
 
 Ere life's last pang were o'er "— 
 Oh, cease thy tale, thou warrior pale ! 
 
 The la dye hears no more ! 
 Then loud her maidens wail and weep. 
 
 And mourn so sad an hour, 
 They lift her up in deathful sleep, 
 
 They bear her to her bower ; 
 And loyal grief for their good chief 
 
 Spreads far on every part, 
 Through all Leon there is not one 
 
 But bears a heavy heart, 
 
 127 
 
 PART II. 
 
 In proud Medina's castle fair 
 The rosy wine flows bright, 
 
 For proud Medina's valiant heir 
 Brings home his bride to-night. 
 
 Mirth smiles on every lip, and shines 
 In every gleaming eye, 
 
128 LAYS AND BALLADS. 
 
 And the sound of merry laughter joins 
 With lutes and minstrelsy. 
 
 Pull many a knight of high degree 
 
 Sate at Medina's board, 
 But the morning- star of chivalry 
 
 "Was he, their stately lord. 
 The haughtiest monarchs bow'd them down 
 
 In reverence of his fame, 
 And the trumpet-tones of loud renown 
 
 Were weary of his name. 
 The health pass'd joyously about 
 
 That table fair and wide, 
 And every guest with eager shout 
 
 Grave honour to the bride. 
 The old hall rang to their joyous peal ; — 
 
 While, on its sides so high, 
 The clattering sound of the shaken steel 
 
 Grave faint but stern reply ! 
 
 Was that the sound of lance or sword 
 
 'Grainst the mailed hauberk ringing, 
 
 Which circles above the festive board, 
 
 And the lordly banners swinging ? 
 Lo, every lip forsakes the cup ! 
 Lo, every knight starts breathless up ! 
 For wheeling around 
 
 That ancient hall, 
 Came the murmuring sound 
 Of a trumpet-call, — 
 Sinking and swelling, slow and soft, 
 And lost in the night-wind's whistle oft. 
 It ceased, that low and fitful sound, 
 
 It died on the evening gale, 
 And the knights they all gazed grimly round. 
 And the ladies all wax'd pale ; 
 
THE ENEMIES. 129 
 
 The baron bold was first to break 
 
 The silence of his hall : 
 " What may this bode r " — 'twas thus he spake — 
 
 *• Now rede me. warriors all." 
 Then up spake Guzman of Mlndore — 
 
 A holy monk waa he — 
 " 'Tis the sound," quoth he. " of the coming IMoor ; 
 
 Oh. let us turn and flee ! " 
 Him answered straight Sir Leoline. 
 
 A true and stalwart knight, 
 " Tis the sound of the coming Moor 3 I ween , 
 
 Let us go forth and fight,'" 
 
 Then every gauntlet sought its sword 
 
 With a quick and friendly greeting. 
 And a clash arose at the festive board, 
 
 But not of goblets meeting. 
 Up sprang each knight ; like a beam of light 
 
 Forth flash' d each trenchant blade. 
 And the backward start of the quivering sheath 
 
 A stirring answer made — 
 AVhen, lo, on the breeze again was borne 
 The cadence wild of that echoing horn ! 
 
 And see, where up the hall proceeds 
 
 A sad yet stately group ; 
 A ladye. clad in mourning weeds. 
 
 Is foremost of the troop. 
 Her tearful eyes betray her grief, 
 
 Her mien shows her degree ; 
 And forward to the wondering chief 
 
 She steps right gracefully. 
 She wrung her hands, and down she kneel' d. 
 
 So sorrowful, so fair, 
 That heart must have been triply steel' d 
 
 That could resist her prayer, 
 9 
 
130 LAYS AND BALLADS. 
 
 Scarce have her trembling lips the power 
 
 Their suppliant words to frame, 
 She sinks upon the marble floor, 
 
 Murmuring her husband's name ! 
 Her husband's name ! — unwelcome sound 
 
 In proud Medina's ears : 
 A wrathful whisper circles round 
 
 The band of knights and peers ; 
 Prom lip to lip is past the word, 
 
 In tones of fierce rebuke, 
 " Is it the wife of Cadiz' lord 
 
 Who seeks Medina's duke ? " 
 Alas, that deadly feud should be 
 Between two hearts so brave and free ! 
 Alas, that long ancestral hate 
 Such kindred souls should separate ! 
 Up rose that ladye at the word, 
 
 And spake with queenly brow : 
 " It is the wife of Cadiz' lord 
 
 "Who seeks Medina now ! 
 I come to tell my husband's plight, — 
 
 A captive doom'd is he ; 
 And I charge thee as a Christian knight 
 
 Gro forth and set him free ! 
 Pent in Alhama's fort he lies, 
 
 Bereft of every hope ; 
 In vain his utmost strength he tries 
 
 With triple force to cope ; 
 The Moor hath sworn, ere break of morn 
 
 The fortress shall be won, 
 And he will hang in ruthless scorn 
 
 Its valiant garrison. 
 Then canst thou, wilt thou, not forget 
 The stormy words when last ye met ? " 
 
THE ENEMIES. 131 
 
 " Say rather, will I not contemn 
 
 The heart that could remember them ? 
 
 Pear nothing, gentle ladye, — I 
 
 Am slave to love and chivalry. 
 
 Let each who keeps his hononr bright 
 
 And holds his conscience free, 
 Let each who boasts the name of knight, 
 
 Forward and follow me ! " 
 He spake, and shook his flashing sword, 
 Then darted from the festal board. 
 
 Him followed Guzman of Mindore 
 
 With words of counsel wise : 
 " Oh, cross not thou thy castle-door 
 
 On such a mad emprise ! 
 Recall, recall thy hasty word, 
 
 Nor set false Cadiz free ! " 
 But out then spoke that generous lord, 
 
 " He is mine enemy ! " 
 
 And never another word spoke he, 
 
 But on his steed he sprang ; 
 And forth he rode right joyously, 
 As though for his wedding revelry 
 
 The merrv church-bells rang : 
 glorious time, and noble race, 
 "Where hate to honour thus gave place ! 
 
 Behind him then his vassals crowd 
 
 In legions bold and bright, 
 The prancing of their coursers proud, 
 
 It was a stately sight ; 
 And the music of their eager swords, 
 
 In warlike fury clashing, 
 Was a stirring sound, like the wild rebound 
 
 Of waves o'er dark rocks dashing. 
 9 * 
 
132 lays a:n t d ballads. 
 
 Like the torrent plunging from the rock, 
 
 Or the lightning from the skies, 
 So roll'd the thunder of their shock 
 
 Against their enemies ! 
 How should a mortal foe resist 
 
 The charge of such a band ? 
 They scatter' d like an April mist 
 
 Cleft by the sun-god's hand ! 
 
 Oh, brightly on Alhama's fort 
 
 The morning sun was beaming, 
 Where many a chief of lordly port 
 
 Stood in his armour gleaming ; 
 Pair is the scene its towers disclose 
 
 In their high banquet-hall ; 
 But the first embrace of those two foes 
 
 Was a fairer sight than all ! 
 
 Oh, fast through all the Spanish land 
 
 That victory was told, 
 Eight gladsome was King Ferdinand, 
 
 Eight gay his warriors bold ; 
 From lip to lip the bright tale darts, 
 
 All laud the high emprise ; 
 But the union of those generous hearts 
 
 Was dear in Grod's own eyes ! 
 
GUSTAVUS AND CHRISTINE. 1S3 
 
 (Sxtaiate arth (Eljrisihx. 
 
 [Gustavus Adolplms sacrificed his passion for the beautiful Christine to the 
 welfare of his country ; but that the feeling was subdued, not forgotten, 
 seems to be proved (if, indeed, it require proof) by the touching circumstance 
 of his giving her name to his first-born daughter.] 
 
 The lengthening shades of rock and steep 
 Along the level waters creep, 
 And yonder mountain's crest of snows 
 Transparent in the sunset grows ; 
 Ere jet Wight's gradual hand unroll 
 The wonders of her starry scroll — 
 Ere yet the waves that blush and burn 
 To lines of liquid moonlight turn, — 
 Upon that lone and silent shore 
 The lovers meet — to meet no more. 
 
 Pull strangely did the blended light 
 Of parting day and coming night 
 Shine on each pallid face, to show 
 How joy was passing into woe : 
 Even then the hero's lofty will 
 Was master of his anguish still ; 
 Calmly — as one who uttereth 
 The last few solemn words of death — 
 He speaks ; with drooping head she hears, 
 And still makes answer by her tears. 
 
 " Christine, it is not ours to part 
 Plucking fond memories from the heart, 
 Nor feebly o'er our griefs to brood 
 In luxury of solitude ; 
 We go, in patience and in prayer 
 Our daily cross apart to bear ; 
 
134 LAYS AND BALLADS. 
 
 Yet, through the struggle and the strife, 
 The lengthen' d bitterness of life, 
 My soul's unfailing balm shall be, 
 The thought of all thou wast to me. 
 
 Of all thou shalt be ! To my dreams 
 The past for ever present seems. 
 Oh, could that happy magic last, 
 And make the present seem the past ! 
 In vain ! They shine no more for me, 
 Those eyes of readiest sympathy, 
 Whose tears could turn my grief to bliss, 
 And soften every pang — save this." 
 He paused ; his glance, resolved and proud, 
 t Betray' d a dimness and a cloud. 
 
 Kneeling, she hid her face, and strove 
 
 To frame the words, " Forget me, love ! " 
 
 Her trembling hands he clasp'd: " Oh, cease ! 
 
 Dream not forgetfulness were peace ; 
 
 Tears shall not shadow from mine eyes 
 
 One of their bright, sad memories ! 
 
 Still let my heart, though wrung and riven, 
 
 [Reflect how nobly it was given ; 
 
 Still guard its secrets as a shrine 
 
 Worthy of thee — and only thine. 
 
 But thou, Christine ? I dare not gaze 
 
 On the slow current of thy days ; 
 
 ~No breeze to stir, no beam to warm, 
 
 B emote from sunshine as from storm. 
 
 How will that heart, fresh, bounding, young, 
 
 By grief's remorseless clasp be wrung ! 
 
 Oh, weeping much, and suffering long, 
 
 Patient in woe, in weakness strong, 
 
 Thou goest a captive's life to lead, 
 
 And death were liberty indeed ! 
 
GUSTAVUS AND CHRISTINE- 135 
 
 G-od arm thee with endurance ! Yet 
 Thou mayst do all things but forget. 
 Thy pure and lonely love must be 
 Firm to sustain itself and thee — 
 Shining like yonder planet's light, 
 Which brightens with the deepening night ; 
 And still, whene'er the voice of fame 
 Breathes proudly my remember' d name, 
 Think — while thou weepest — think, ' In this 
 ]S"or small nor slight my portion is.' 
 
 Farewell ! Oh, vainest word that e'er 
 Fell from the weakness of despair ! 
 Xor seas, nor worlds, nor fates have power 
 To sever hearts for one brief hour." 
 Grief yields to love ; her streaming eyes 
 She lifts, and with a smile replies, 
 
 OZ. M. ^ A5. AU .&. AS- 
 
 •a" *fc *7r w *S* "W» *?r 
 
 The sea hath lost its edge of gold, 
 The mountain- crest gleams white and cold. 
 The silver moon shines pale on one 
 Who kneels and weeps — he is alone ! 
 
NOTES. 
 
 In these Notes I do not attempt to give anything like a narrative 
 of events connected with the subjects of the Ballads, but 
 simply to explain, and that as briefly as possible, such points 
 as may be supposed to require elucidation for my younger 
 readers, in the hope that they may be induced to drink deeply 
 for themselves of the fountains which they are here but invited 
 to taste. 
 
 CONQUEST OF ENGLAND.' P. 1. 
 
 Eor the details of this, and of many other Ballads, I am in- 
 debted to aLlss Strickland's valuable and interesting Lives of the 
 Queens of England, to wMch I beg, once for all, to acknowledge 
 my frequent obligations. 
 
 "Bui Saxon Harold;' fyc. 
 
 I take this opportunity of correcting a blunder, noticed by a 
 critic in Bentlefs Miscellany. The (e right of a sovereign to name 
 his successor/' though acknowledged even in the days'of Queen 
 Bess, never extended so far as to enable him to will away his 
 kingdom to a foreigner. Nevertheless, we cannot acquit Harold 
 
138 LAYS AND BALLADS. 
 
 of bad faith in swearing allegiance to William. I am quite aware 
 that the historical knowledge displayed in these pages is neither 
 profound nor extensive ; but I am anxious that it should be cor- 
 rect ; and shall therefore feel obliged to those who may point out 
 errors or inaccuracies. 
 
 " And their spears shine bright as the stars of night" 
 
 It is bad policy to remind my readers of Byron's exquisite 
 line — 
 
 " And the sheen of their spears was like stars on the sea ;" 
 
 but I suppose that, were I to omit such reference, I should incur 
 the charge of plagiarism. 
 
 " 'Tis the Duchess Matilda'' fyc. 
 
 Matilda, daughter to Baldwin Y., surnamed the Gentle Earl of 
 Flanders. She was married to William the Conqueror in the year 
 1052. She was a woman of remarkable beauty, great talents, 
 and strong affections; and the only serious stain upon her 
 character is the unworthy vengeance which she took against 
 Brihtric Meaw, a Saxon noble, to whom she was attached, and 
 by whom she was slighted in early youth. The warm affection 
 between herself and the Conqueror subsisted unimpaired through- 
 out the whole of their wedded life ; and history offers us few 
 tales of deeper pathos than that of the rebellion of her first-born, 
 Bobert — her own bitter struggles between a mother's love and 
 a wife's duty — the touching and passionate reproaches of the 
 injured husband and father — and eventually the death of the 
 heart-broken Matilda, worn out by hopeless sorrow ; a fitting 
 end for this domestic tragedy. The reader is again referred to 
 Miss Strickland's Lives of the Queens of England, 
 
NOTES. 139 
 
 THE NEW FOREST. P. 9. 
 
 " It was the ruthless Conqueror" 
 
 I am not sorry for this opportunity of exhibiting the darker 
 side of the character of William L, lest it should be supposed by 
 any that I wished to hold him up as a specimen of knightly 
 virtues. His claims to such a character are destroyed by the 
 recklessness and fierceness of his tyranny. That he was sensible, 
 however, of his offences against the requirements of that spirit of 
 chivalry, which, in many instances, it was his pride to obey, is 
 sufficiently shown by his confessions on his death-bed. He ex- 
 pressed the bitterest remorse for his acts of cruelty and oppress- 
 ion, especially for the desolation of that portion of Hampshire 
 called the New Eorest ; ordered large sums to be distributed to 
 the poor, and applied to the erection of churches ; set at liberty 
 all Saxons whom he had retained in imprisonment ; and finally, 
 speaking of the inheritance of the crown of England, declared 
 fi that lie had so misused that fair and beautiful land, that he 
 dared not appoint a successor to it, but left the disposal of that 
 matter in the hands of God." 
 
 THE KNIGHTING OP COUNT GEOFFREY OF ANJOTJ. P. 12. 
 
 " That name Count Geoffrey did first assume" 
 
 Such is the account of the origin of the name Plantagenet 
 given by French chroniclers. It is, however, a matter of dispute 
 whether the honour belongs to Count Geoffrey. 
 
140 LAYS AND BALLADS. 
 
 " The Empress Matilda" fyc. 
 
 She was the daughter of Henry I. by his wife Matilda of 
 Scotland, and was espoused at the early age of five years to 
 Henry Y., emperor of Germany, then forty years old. She was 
 the first female claimant to the sovereignty of England ; and 
 from her, according to Miss Strickland, the title of our present 
 gracious Queen is derived. Left a widow in 1125, she was be- 
 trothed to Count Geoffrey of Anjou two years afterwards ; but 
 their marriage proved most unhappy, having been concluded 
 against her will by the authority of her father. She was haughty, 
 ambitious, and impetuous, though not destitute of talents nor of 
 the warmth of heart which is generally supposed to accompany 
 heat of temper. The following reign, which historians have 
 agreed to call that of Stephen, was almost entirely occupied by a 
 struggle for the crown between that prince and the Empress 
 Matilda, whose son, Henry II., finally succeeded to the throne : 
 thus virtually proving the validity of his mother's claims, though 
 in the singular contract between himself and Stephen he is 
 said to be adopted ff as son and successor to that prince by here- 
 ditary right." 
 
 " Bear thou this blovj" 8fc. 
 
 Such were the words which frequently accompanied the 
 accolade, or stroke on the shoulder, by which knighthood was 
 conferred. It was customary at the conclusion of the ceremony 
 for the new-made knight, or novice, as he was called, to mount 
 his horse, and show himself in the streets of the city, amid the 
 shouts of the populace and acclamations of the heralds. 
 
 iC Two cuisses of steel I give to thee." 
 
 It was impossible to include in the ballad an entire list of the 
 gifts presented by King Henry as sponsor to Count Geoffrey, 
 
NOTES. 141 
 
 his godson in arms. Miss Strickland thus enuiu hem: 
 
 fC A Spanish steed, a steel coat of mail, cuisses of proof 
 
 against sword and arrow, spurs of gold, a scutcheon adorned with 
 golden lions, a helmet enriched with jewels, a lanee of ash 3 with 
 a Poictiers head, and a sword made by Gallard, the most famous 
 of the ancient armourers." The oration here addressed by King 
 Henry to the count is strictly in keeping with the customs of 
 knighthood, which required that the novice should be solemnly 
 instructed in his future duties either by the godfather who 
 dubbed him knight, or the bishop whose oiSce it was to consecrate 
 his sword. 
 
 Count Geoffrey was valiant and learned, handsome in person 
 and refined in deportment. Altogether it would be difficult to 
 select a more interesting hero of the ceremony of knight- 
 hood. 
 
 IHE ENGLISH MERCHANT AND THE SABACEN LADY. P. 19. 
 
 It was common for merchants to accompany the great body of 
 Crusaders in their eastern progress, in the hope of opening a trade 
 with, the Syrians for many rich and valuable commodities un- 
 known or difficult to be procured in Europe. 
 
 " Theii 'first-born son was airiest of power." 
 
 I need scarcely say, that the famous Thomas a Eecket, arch- 
 bishop of Canterbury in the reign of Henry II.. is the personage 
 to whom I here allude. With his name most of my readers 
 must be familiar, although the many conflicting views taken of 
 his character and history render it somewhat difficult to arrive at 
 an accurate estimate of either. It would be idle to discuss such 
 questions bere, or to attempt to compress, within the narrow 
 limits of these pages, a narrative so full of important and in- 
 
142 LAYS AND BALLADS. 
 
 teresting events. For this I must refer my readers to the 
 History of the Early English Churchy by the Rev. Edward Chur- 
 ton — a work with which I am not myself acquainted, but which 
 is said to contain a detailed and accurate account of the period 
 to which I refer. 
 
 EARL STRONGBOW. P. 26. 
 
 The invasion of Ireland by Richard de Clare, Earl of Pem- 
 broke, surnamed Strongbow, in the reign of Henry II., is rather 
 a romance than a history. He was invited to enter the green 
 isle by Dermot, one of its kings, who had been expelled by his 
 fellows for repeated treachery. Strongbow fell in love with 
 Eva, the beautiful daughter of this worthless prince, married 
 her, and afterwards rapidly conquered the island. The conquest 
 was, of course, attended by many adventures, and interrupted by 
 some reverses, among which I have selected one, which seemed 
 to me peculiarly interesting, as the theme of the present ballad. 
 Eitzstephen was a pennyless knight, who, however, attained to 
 such honour by his deeds of prowess during the invasion, that he 
 was finally rewarded by the hand of the fair Basilia, sister to the 
 Earl of Pembroke, to whom he had long been hopelessly attached. 
 He is honourably distinguished from his companions by his 
 gentleness and generosity towards his vanquished foes. It is 
 said that the harbour of Dublin was defended by two towers, 
 respectively denominated Castle Hook and Castle Crook. When 
 Earl Strongbow' s fleet came in sight of shore, he pronounced the 
 following oracular words, " We will take the city by Hook or by 
 Crook ;" and this is supposed to be the origin of the proverbial 
 expression of getting anything by hook or by crook. It must, 
 however, be observed that this explanation only substitutes one 
 difficulty for another, as no satisfactory reason is suggested for 
 
NOTES. 143 
 
 the singular taste of the Irish in giving two such unaccountable 
 names to their castles. 
 
 THE CAPTIVITY OF CCEUR DE LION. P. 30. 
 
 " The lord of Frances lovely land" 
 
 Philip Augustus, king of France, was one of the principal chiefs 
 of the crusade. Many were the differences which arose between 
 him and the impetuous Richard ; not unnaturally, for their 
 characters were as dissimilar as those respectively assumed by 
 the leader of a forlorn hope and the contriver of a mine. In 1191 
 Philip abandoned the crusade, not without subjecting himself to 
 a bitter reproach from his lion-hearted colleague, who might well 
 be doubtful of receiving a welcome in Prance when he also was 
 reluctantly compelled to return. cf If Philip think," cried the 
 King of England, " that a long residence here will be fatal to 
 him, let him go, and cover his kingdom with shame ! " — Mack- 
 intosh's Hist, of England. 
 
 u And Austria's dukeP 
 
 Leopold, duke of Austria, whose character, as drawn by Sir TT. 
 Scott in his exquisite romance The Talisman, exactly corresponds 
 with the brief description here given. He appears to have 
 suffered from an incessant and feverish desire to maintain his 
 own dignity, the claims of which were frequently overlooked or 
 despised by the energetic and disdainful Richard. At Ascalon, 
 where the Duke refused to work in the trenches wherein Coeur 
 de Lion himself laboured like a common soldier, it is said that 
 the angry monarch spurned him with his foot. 
 
144 LAYS AND BALLADS. 
 
 THE COMPLAINT OP CCEUR DE LION. P. 33. 
 
 The lays composed by this monarch form no unfavourable 
 specimens of Provencal poetry. They are little known, but ought 
 not to be omitted in our estimate of his character ; and are in 
 themselves a sufficient evidence of his vast superiority to the 
 coarse and savage Hufus, to whom Miss Strickland has compared 
 him. 
 
 et Thy land, Jerusalem" 
 
 This expression is intended to designate the Holy Land, of 
 which Jerusalem was the capital. Coeur de Lion never obtained 
 entrance within the walls of Jerusalem ; and when, to his bitter 
 grief, and in spite of his prodigious efforts, the crusade was finally 
 abandoned, and he was led to the summit of a neighbouring hill 
 to take his first and last look of the Holy City, the high-souled 
 warrior covered his face with his shield, to hide the tears which 
 deep sorrow and bitter shame wrung from the lion heart. 
 
 " Specious Burgundy" 
 
 The jealousy of Richard's superior prowess felt by the Duke of 
 Burgundy is supposed to have been chiefly instrumental in 
 procuring the final abandonment of the crusade. 
 
 THE LAY OP THE PEAELESS DE COURCY. P. 41. . 
 
 Several members of the family of De Courcy accompanied 
 Strongbow, Earl of Pembroke, in his invasion of Ireland in 
 1169-70, and the individual who is the hero of our ballad con- 
 quered the province of Ulster. 
 
NOTES. 145 
 
 " The beauteous queen." 
 
 The story of this lovely and high-spirited princess is full of deep 
 and romantic interest. She was betrothed ere she had attained 
 the age of fifteen years to Hugh of Lusignan, Count de la 
 Marche, one of the most renowned warriors of his time. King 
 John, captivated by her surpassing beauty, prevailed on her 
 parents to break off the marriage, and espoused her himself. At 
 first her childish spirit was dazzled and enchanted by the brilliancy 
 of her destiny ; but she soon recoiled in horror from the baseness 
 of its partner, and remembered with bitter repentance the gallant 
 knight whom she had been induced to abandon. The indignant 
 Lusignan adopted the cause of Prince Arthur ; but was taken 
 prisoner by John, and subjected to the vilest indignities : indeed 
 it is supposed that his life was only spared at the entreaty of the 
 queen, Afterwards, when, having regained his liberty and 
 proved himself a formidable antagonist, King John was desirous 
 of obtaining him as an ally, the only condition of peace on which, 
 he insisted was, that the infant daughter of Isabella should be 
 given to him in marriage. This request, which sufficiently attests 
 the chivalrous devotion felt by Lusignan to the memory of his 
 slighted affections, was granted ; but when Isabella, being left a 
 widow at thirty-four, proceeded to deliver her child into his 
 charge, the force of their old and unforgotten attachment revived 
 at once, and the name of the mother was speedily substituted in 
 the bridal contract for that of her daughter. Nearly twenty 
 years of misery and humiliation had not taught Isabella to bridle 
 that ambitious spirit which had so misled her in her days of girl- 
 hood; and she eventually died of a broken heart, caused by the 
 shame and scorn brought upon her husband and his family by the 
 rash and rebellious wars in which her pride and vehemence had 
 involved them. " She was a queen," she said, when Lusignan 
 was about to pay homage to his sovereign, Ci and she scorned to be 
 the wife of any man who must kneel to another." 
 
 10 
 
146 LAYS AND BALLADS. 
 
 THE PRINCE AND THE OUTLAW. P. 51. 
 
 " I am Adam de Gordon." 
 
 Adam de Gordon was one of the last adherents of Simon de 
 Montfort, whose daring and temporarily successful rebellion 
 rendered troublous a great part of the reign of Henry III. In 
 those days, when vast forests covered many parts of England, it 
 was easy for an outlawed rebel, who was too proud to submit to 
 authority, to conceal himself and live for years in a character 
 strangely compounded of the hermit and the robber. 
 
 THE TOURNAMENT. P. 58. 
 
 In this ballad I have attempted to give an accurate description 
 of the ceremonies attendant on a tournament ; and I have selected 
 the reign of Edward II. as belonging to the period during which 
 these warlike diversions were at their zenith in England. I 
 cannot touch on this subject without mentioning how much and 
 how frequently this little book has been indebted to Mr. James's 
 interesting historical works. 
 
 " When gleaming shields were hanging" 
 
 Before the day of tourney it was customary for such knights as 
 intended to appear in the lists to suspend their shields in the 
 churches or abbeys of the nearest city. Heralds were stationed 
 in the cloisters to hear and answer all questions concerning the 
 knights. If any one, and especially if any female, had a com- 
 plaint to prefer against one of the combatants, it was necessary 
 to touch with a wand the shield of the offender : the herald then 
 advanced, inquired into and registered the accusation ; and if it 
 
NOTES. 147 
 
 was subsequently decided by the judge of the field to he well- 
 founded, the culprit was forbidden to appear in the lists. If he 
 was bold enough to venture to the field after this prohibition, he 
 was driven thence by the other knights, who struck him with 
 their truncheons, and chased him from the place with every mark 
 of contempt. 
 
 " Sir Piers de GavestonP 
 
 The unworthy and unfortunate favourite of Edward II. 
 Reckless, insolent, and prodigal in the hour of his prosperity, he 
 incurred the bitter hatred of the queen, whom he treated as a 
 child, and the nobles, whom he slighted and ridiculed on every 
 possible occasion. In 1312 he was beheaded, or rather murdered 
 by his enemies, after the mockery of a trial, on the summit of 
 Blacklow Hill, near Warwick. In memory of this outrage the 
 place still bears the name of Gaveshead. 
 
 " The scowling gloom of Pembroke " 
 
 In this stanza the names of those nobles who afterwards con- 
 federated against the life of Gaveston are enumerated. Their 
 jealousy of him was conspicuously manifested at this tournament ; 
 and he, on his part, did not fail to meet it in his usual spirit of 
 disdainful scoffing. He called Pembroke, who was lean and 
 sallow of aspect, " Joseph the Jew ; " Warwick, who foamed at 
 the mouth when transported by passion, ff the wild boar of 
 Ardennes ; " and Lancaster, who indulged an extravagant taste 
 in his dress, " the stage-player.' 5 Shortly after this public exhibi- 
 tion of his folly, he was temporarily dismissed at the instance of 
 the queen and the nobility. At parting, Edward bestowed upon 
 him all the jewels which he had received as love-tokens from his 
 fair and royal bride. He was recalled in the fatal year of 1318. 
 
 10* 
 
148 LAYS AND BALLADS. 
 
 " Fair Queen Isabelle." 
 
 Isabelle of France, at that period a beautiful girl of fifteen. Her 
 name has since become synonymous with everything that is 
 darkest and most hateful in human nature. Faithless beyond the 
 falsest of women, sanguinary and vindictive beyond the sternest 
 of men, she united the worst vices of both sexes, and appears not 
 to have possessed one redeeming virtue of either. Eew ideas 
 arise more forcibly on contemplating the splendour of this tour- 
 nament, than that of the undeveloped germs of crime, horror, and 
 misery which lay unsuspected beneath so fair and bright a 
 surface. 
 
 "By the sM?iing rein of a silver chain" 
 
 A lady frequently led her warrior's steed to the barrier by a 
 silver chain. Sometimes whole processions of knights were thus 
 conducted to the lists. 
 
 " Like walls of glittering armour" 
 
 When the two bodies of knights were drawn up in full array 
 opposite to each other, a rope was stretched across the breasts of 
 the horses, and held at either end by a herald. At the signal to 
 charge, the rope was dropped, and the released and impatient 
 steeds at once galloped forwards. The lists were generally 
 marked out by wooden palings, above which were erected galleries 
 for the spectators. The barrier was the entrance to the lists 
 guarded by heralds, whose business it was to admit every knight 
 who was deemed worthy of a place in the tournament. 
 
NOTES. 149 
 
 THE SIX BURGHERS OF CALAIS. P. 70. 
 
 " Then spake Sir Walter Manny" 
 
 Sir Walter, or Gaultier, de Manny, was a knight of matchless 
 courage and spotless fame, who came over to England when quite 
 a youth in the train of Queen Philippa. His deeds of valour, 
 unstained by any darkening tinge of ferocity, are in themselves a 
 romance, and might fill a volume. 
 
 THE DEATH OE EJNG JA3IES L P. 84. 
 
 James I., having incurred the hatred of his nobles by the 
 unalterable resolution with which he restrained their excesses, 
 and the stern uprightness with which he did justice between those 
 tyrants of the soil and the unfortunate vassals whom they had 
 been accustomed to oppress at their pleasure, was murdered by a 
 band of traitors led by Sir Robert Grahame, at Perth, in the year 
 1437. So valiantly did he defend himself, that, although entirely 
 unarmed, he succeeded in mastering two of the ruffians who 
 attempted his life, and was only overcome at last by the assault of 
 numbers. Sixteen wounds were found in his breast alone. 
 
 (i Let Cameron and Montrose reply ! " 
 
 The clan Cameron was distinguished for its devoted loyalty to 
 the unfortunate Charles Edward. At the battle of Culloden 
 many Camerons were slain, and Lochiel, the chief of the clan, 
 was borne from the field dangerously wounded. The name of 
 Montrose at once calls up before our eyes an image of everything 
 that is high-minded, chivalrous, and loyal. He suffered death by 
 sentence of parliament shortly after the murder of Charles I. 
 
150 LAYS AND BALLADS. 
 
 THE LAY OF SIR WILLIAM WALLACE. P. 89.' 
 
 The name and story of Wallace must be familiar as a household 
 word even to the very youngest of my readers. Eor the particu- 
 lars of his heroic life I would refer to Scott's Tales of a Grand- 
 father, or to the Lives of Scottish Worthies in the "Family 
 Library." 
 
 BRUCE AND DOUGLAS. P. 91. 
 
 " undaunted Randolph, 
 
 Knight of the Perfect Wreath." 
 
 Randolph, Earl of Murray, one of the bravest of Bruce's 
 followers, between whom and Douglas there was ever a generous 
 rivalry in arms. Immediately before the battle of Bannockbum, 
 the Bruce, perceiving that a body of English cavalry was 
 attempting to force a passage into Stirling on the east, which 
 quarter had been committed to the guardianship of Randolph, 
 addressed that warrior in the words which have since become 
 almost proverbial : " See, Randolph, a rose has fallen from your 
 chaplet ! " The sequel is well known ; and the whole story is a 
 beautiful specimen of the gallantry and generosity of Douglas and 
 Randolph. 
 
 " And valiant Grey, and stern La Haye" 
 
 Sir Andrew Grey was one of the two brave soldiers who, in 
 company with Randolph, led the adventurous band who took 
 Edinburgh Castle by night assault. 
 
 Gilbert de la Haye, Earl of Errol, was one of Bruce's most 
 faithful adherents, and was created Lord High Constable of 
 Scotland. 
 
NOTES. 151 
 
 n And loyal Lennox there" 
 
 Bruce, when flying for his life and in great jeopardy after the 
 battle of Met liven, was warmly received by the Earl of Lennox, 
 who lamented with tears that he could not afford him any effectual 
 assistance. 
 
 ce Effaced and well atoned" 
 
 Having been informed that this expression has been deemed 
 objectionable by high authority, I beg to explain that I am here 
 speaking not of any sins which Brace committed against God, 
 but of those of which he was guilty towards his country, and for 
 which his after-life may well be considered a sufficient atone- 
 ment. 
 
 " Methven *s field of blood and woes" 
 
 The first battle fought by Bruce, after he took arms in behalf 
 of his country, took place at Methven, near Perth, on the 19th 
 of June, 1306, and was a total and disastrous defeat. 
 
 " Rachrm's unf or gotten coast" 
 
 It was in the small and desolate island of Rachrin, on the 
 coast of Ireland, that Bruce, a hunted and despairing exile, lay 
 on his couch watching the efforts of a spider, and learning hope 
 from the unwearied perseverance and final success of the insect. 
 The story is too well known for repetition here. 
 
 cc Arrays isle by shady Clyde" 
 
 Bruce landed in the island of Arran on his return to Scotland, 
 and made his presence known to his friends, who were hunting 
 in the woods, by winding a blast on his horn. ci Yonder is the 
 
152 LAYS AND BALLADS. 
 
 king ! " cried Douglas, when he heard the sound \ " I know him 
 by his manner of blowing." 
 
 " The midnight watch" 
 
 The story of the beacon on Turnberry Head is familiar to all 
 readers of Sir Walter Scott's poetry — in other words, its notoriety 
 is universal. 
 
 C( The death of the traitor Corny nP 
 
 The Red Comyn was stabbed by Bruce in a burst of indignation 
 at discovering that he was engaged in treasonable correspondence 
 with the English. This fatal act was committed in the church of 
 the Minorites at Dumfries; and it was in answer to Bruce's 
 wild and broken exclamation, as he rushed in remorseful agitation 
 from the desecrated sanctuary, "I doubt I hae slain the red 
 Comyn," that Kirkpatrick uttered the celebrated words, se I will 
 mak sicker ;" and, hurrying to the spot, despatched the wounded 
 man with his dagger. 
 
 " Oh, lift me up, my comrades dear, 
 And let me look on Clyde ! " 
 
 The Bruce died in a castle on the banks of the Clyde ; and 
 one of his principal amusements, during the last days of his life, 
 was to go out upon the river in a ship. 
 
 the bruce's heart, p. 96. 
 
 " A valiant knight the casket bore." 
 
 Sir Simon Lockhard of Lee f whose name was changed to 
 Lockhart in memory of his guardianship of the Bruce's heart. 
 
NOTES. 153 
 
 GRIZZEL HUME. P, 101. 
 
 " But lie murmured Monmouth's name" Src. 
 
 The Duke of Monmouth, a prince of generous and gentle 
 temper, was the personal friend of Sir Patrick Hume. He was 
 engaged in the Jerviswood plot, and was leader of that more 
 dangerous enterprise organized in London, which cost the lives 
 of Lord Russell and Algernon Sydney. Monmouth was beheaded 
 in the reign of James II. 
 
 "His daughter's first-born" Src. 
 
 The Lady Grizzel Hume married the son and heir of that 
 Baillie of Jerviswood whom we have before named as chief of the 
 conspiracy in which Sir Patrick Hume was so deeply engaged. 
 
 " Sedgemoor } s field" 
 Monmouth, was taken prisoner at the battle of Sedgemoor. 
 
 " Lone Inchinnanh fatal ford" 
 
 The Duke of Argyle was commander-in-chief of an army 
 which invaded Scotland about the year 1638, and in which Sir 
 Patrick Hume held a high post. He was taken captive by the 
 enemy's forces while endeavouring to cross the ford of Inchin- 
 nan. 
 
154 LAYS AND BALLADS. 
 
 THE CHOICE OE THE CHRISTIAN HEROES. P. 110. 
 
 " And heaven's own light for many a night 
 Play'd round each sleeping head/ 3 
 
 The death of these heroic captives occurred exactly as narrated 
 in the ballad. It was believed that beams of light irradiated the 
 unburied corpses during many successive nights. Let not this 
 goodly battalion of the noble army of martyrs be ever forgotten. 
 
 THE VOW OE CORTES. P. 119. 
 
 The story on which this ballad is founded is related by Mr 
 Prescott in his History of Mexico, which is throughout rich in 
 romantic incident and picturesque narration. Aguilar, the aged 
 captive whose liberation is here described, is included among the 
 companions of Columbus, whose lives are related in a volume of 
 the " Family Library/ 5 supplementary to the biography of that 
 great discoverer. 
 
EXPLANATIONS 01 SOME UNUSUAL WORDS 
 
 EMPLOYED IX TEE PRECEDING PAGES 
 
 Beeghee, or burgess — A citizen ; that is, one who possesses the 
 freedom of a city and the privileges connected therewith. The 
 number and nature of these were, of course, dependent on the 
 terms of the charter by which they were granted, and which 
 was obtained either from the sovereign, or from the chief baron 
 of the district in which the city was situated. The power of 
 bearing arms, and the establishment of independent municipal 
 governments, which continue to this day in the mayors and 
 corporations of our towns, were the principal rights awarded 
 to free cities. The first germ of citizenship in England is 
 probably discoverable in the division of the country under 
 Alfred into hundreds and tythings, in one of which every in- 
 habitant was obliged to enrol himself under penalty of being 
 treated as an outlaw. But in no country did the power of 
 cities rise to so great a height as in Italy, where the most 
 illustrious nobles were often subjected to the jurisdiction of 
 the city near which they dwelt. The freedom of a city was 
 frequently presented to a knight or a nobleman : but though 
 lie thus virtually became a burgess, it is not customary to apply 
 the name to any person of noble birth. Burghers were first 
 summoned in England to attend parliament, which had hither- 
 to been exclusively composed of nobles and ecclesiastics, by 
 the revolted barons under Henry TIT. in 1265. 
 
 Casque. — A helmet ; which, in its fullest signification, consisted 
 
156 LAYS AND BALLADS. 
 
 of the steel cap covering the head, the beaver or beevor be- 
 neath the chin, and the movable vizor which defended the face. 
 The beaver was also movable, and could be drawn up at 
 pleasure to cover the chin and meet the lower rim of the vizor. 
 The word beaver is often incorrectly used for vizor, or even for 
 helmet. 
 
 Corbel. — A carved projection from the wall of a building, on 
 which the supports of the roof, or of a parapet beneath the 
 roof, rested. No ornament which does not form the base of a 
 support receives the name of corbel. 
 
 Cuirass. — A breastplate; to which were generally added the 
 gorget or collar around the throat, the back-piece, and brassets 
 or sleeves, forming altogether a complete vest of steel covering 
 the upper part of the body. 
 
 Cuisses. — Steel-plates covering the thighs. The legs were also 
 defended by steel-plates, denominated greaves. 
 
 Hauberk. — A shirt of mail. It extended from the throat to the 
 thigh or knee, and was composed of links of interwoven steel, 
 fitting more or less closely to the body, and so pliant as not to 
 restrain the movements of the wearer. The hauberk was with- 
 out sleeves ; and the name is also applied to a shirt of mail 
 composed of plates. 
 
 Herald. — The office of herald in the times of chivalry compre- 
 hended far more than is implied by its modern and popular 
 signification in tale or drama — that of a messenger from one 
 armed power to another. The respect which was entertained 
 for the character amounted almost to reverence ; it was a mor- 
 tal offence to strike a herald ; and to assume the office without 
 being really qualified for it, or to counterfeit without in fact 
 possessing it, were crimes worthy of the deepest condemnation. 
 The business of the herald, besides proficiency in that minute 
 science of genealogies and armorial bearings from which the 
 
EXPLANATIONS OF UNUSUAL WORDS. 157 
 
 name is derived, was, to receive from every knight a full and 
 particular account of all his exploits, whether successful or in- 
 glorious, confirmed by oath. Every warrior, on his return 
 from any expedition, was bound to make such a report to the 
 heralds, who thus became depositories of all records of fame or 
 of dishonour, and accurate judges of the respective merits of 
 such knights as presented themselves in the field or the tour- 
 ney. It was the part of the herald to receive all complaints, and 
 answer all questions concerning the warriors who intended to 
 tilt in the lists ; it was his part also to greet each knight as 
 he presented himself before the barrier (see notes to the Tour- 
 nament) with words of courtesy or of compliment, appropriate 
 to the degree of his fame in arms, and to encourage the com- 
 batants by cries and shouts as they rode to the attack. Sir 
 "Walter Scott notices that the character of herald must have 
 begun to deteriorate from its august dignity by the time of 
 Louis XI. of Trance — that is to say. towards the middle of 
 the 15th century ; because that prince ventured to despatch a 
 counterfeit herald to Edward IV. of England ; and the act is 
 recorded by the contemporary historian, Philip des Comines, 
 without any expressions of horror or disgust. 
 
 Knight. — In the days of chivalry the dignity of knighthood was 
 conferred only on persons of noble birth, who had previously 
 filled the offices of page and squire in due succession. The 
 manner in which the ceremony was usually performed is de- 
 scribed in the ballad of Count Geoffrey of Anjou. The virtues 
 imposed upon a knight, namely, those of piety, courage, self- 
 denial, generosity, honour, loyalty, courtesy, scrupulous ad- 
 herence to truth, and indefatigable advocacy of the oppressed 
 or helpless, were such as would grace and dignify our own 
 enlightened days ; and it may certainly be questioned whether 
 they are more universally practised now than they were of old. 
 At any rate the (: few noble," who may be said to have realized 
 the idea of knighthood — such as Godfrey of Bouillon, the Black 
 
158 LAYS AND BALLADS. 
 
 Prince, or the Chevalier Bayard — may fearlessly challenge com- 
 parison with any members of the list of modern worthies. It 
 is the fashion with many to decry chivalry, as though it were 
 the cause of all those evils of which it was in fact the correc- 
 tive and remedy. Those historical iconoclasts whose business 
 it is to deface and destroy whatever has of old been held de- 
 serving of admiration or reverence, are apt, like their parallels 
 in the religious world, to erect, in place of the idols which they 
 dethrone, others far less worthy of worship and praise ; but so 
 long as utilitarianism stands ready to assume the place of hon- 
 our, we think that no one possessing any degree of imagination 
 or highmindedness will ask chivalry to descend from it. 
 
 Liegeman. — A subject or dependant.. (See Vassal.) 
 
 Melee. — This was the general engagement, hand to hand, in the 
 tournament, as distinguished from the jousts, where the knights 
 tilted together in pairs. The word is also applicable to a 
 battle. 
 
 Mobion. — A helmet. (See Casque.) 
 
 Page. — This was the office bestowed on children of noble 
 birth when they had attained the age of seven years, previous 
 to their induction into the duties of an esquire, which generally 
 took place at fourteen. The page seldom resided under the 
 roof of his parents, as it was supposed that their indulgence 
 might materially interfere with the prosecution of his educa- 
 tion ; but he was generally committed to the charge of some 
 renowned baron, on whose person it was his business to wait, 
 though he passed the greater part of his time among the 
 females of the family and household. He was sedulously in- 
 structed in all martial exercises suitable to his age, and inured 
 to obedience, courtesy of deportment, and indifference to 
 fatigue or hardship. Many of the offices which were included 
 among his duties would now be considered menial ; but we 
 may regard his position as somewhat analogous to that of a 
 
EXPLANATIONS OF UNUSUAL WORDS. 150 
 
 fag in one of our public schools, who, though he be a duke's 
 sou, is not supposed to be disgraced by blacking his master's 
 shoes. 
 
 Selle. — A poetical word for saddle. 
 
 Serf. — A slave, the lowest kind of vassal, who was as much the 
 property of his lord as was the soil which he was employed to 
 cultivate, or the herds which he led to pasture. 
 
 Squire (or esquire). — This office, though necessarily preliminary 
 to that of knight, was not always conferred on such as were 
 capable of being advanced to the dignity of knighthood. The 
 position of a squire was still that of a servant, his duty being 
 to attend on the person of the knight, to clean his armour, and 
 watch his proceedings in the battle or the tourney, keeping in 
 readiness to ny to his assistance when in imminent danger. The 
 squire was not permitted to engage in the tournament at the 
 same time with his master ; but there was a day appointed 
 beforehand on which it was lawful for squires to contend in the 
 lists, and on which they might possibly win their spurs. \Then 
 a squire had attained the age of twenty-one years, if his con- 
 duct had been unimpeachable, and he had won honour in arms, 
 he might demand knighthood from his master as a right. If he 
 encountered a refusal, he might apply to any other knight for 
 the accolade ; and unless there were sufficient grounds for re- 
 jecting him, he was certain to obtain the boon which he sought. 
 
 Suzerain. — The feudal lord, or sovereign of a district. The 
 king was suzerain of his whole country ; his nobles were all 
 vassals to him, but suzerains to those beneath them. 
 
 Vassal. — One dependent on another ; a subject, though not 
 necessarily a serf or slave. A king might be the vassal of 
 another king, if he possessed territories within the dominions 
 of his brother sovereign. He was then bound to do homage 
 for them, to give military service to his suzerain, and to 
 
160 LAYS AND BALLADS. 
 
 appear, if summoned, to answer any charge made against him 
 in his character of vassal. His nobles, or great vassals, owed 
 him a similar duty, which they exacted, in turn, from their 
 own dependants. But the effect of this system was to limit the 
 power of the crown, and increase that of the aristocracy ; for 
 each one of the great vassals, with whom alone the king came 
 in contact, was, in himself, so powerful as to be capable of re- 
 sisting his sovereign with good chance of success. The spirit of 
 loyalty, which was an integral part of chivalry, was one great 
 corrective of this evil, as, except in gross cases of oppression 
 on the part of the sovereign, it restricted the probability of re- 
 bellion to a few restless and unprincipled barons, and dis- 
 couraged a league of the vassals against their suzerain. Another 
 check was in time supplied by the progress of citizenship (see 
 Burgher). The number of free and chartered cities, no 
 longer in a state of vassalage, of course abridged the power of 
 the nobles, while it tended rather to increase that of the 
 monarch, to whom such cities continued to owe fealty and 
 allegiance. 
 
 "Wassail. — Derived from Wees heal, two Saxon words signifying 
 " Health to thee." The wassail-cup, or bowl filled with spiced 
 wine, w^hich was the favourite beverage at the feasts of our 
 Saxon forefathers, received its name from the words pro- 
 nounced by Rowena, the beautiful daughter of Hengist, when 
 she presented it at a banquet to Prince Yortigern, her future 
 husband. She advanced modestly towards him, and offered 
 him the goblet, saying at the same time, Wees heal hlaford 
 corning — "Health to thee, my lord king." In its more 
 general application, the word wassail signifies merriment or 
 revelry. 
 
 JOHN CHILDS AND SOX, PKINTEKS. 
 
&a 
 
 &**$/ 
 
A Series of Works is here prefented to all interefted in the 
 mental cultivation and improvement of the Rifing Generation, 
 which cannot be too highly commended, either for their material 
 or intellectual beauty. They are effentially of a high order, in 
 conftruction, character, and incident. Nor is there anything 
 likely to injure that pure and tender fpirit of childhood, for 
 whofe perufal thefe works are more efpecially intended. They 
 have been moft carefully edited (fome have been revifed 
 five times) and every word, of each, may be read aloud in 
 a Family : fo that Parents or Teachers of every Denomination, 
 may, with the greateft confidence, place thefe works in the hands 
 of the Young. Among them are fome of the moft popular Ger- 
 man Romances, and other moft charming works of Fiction, 
 together with attractive Biographies, Hiftories, and Poems. 
 
 The Arabefque borders, which are in the German tafle, are 
 fanciful and elegant. The beautiful illuftrations confift of pic- 
 turefque defigns, very fuperior, elaborate, and flriking. The 
 Editor of the" Publisher's Circular" declared that the Illuftra- 
 tions in thefe Works, were fo perfect, that none have fubfe- 
 quently equalled them. This can hardly be a matter of furprife. 
 Is it likely that Tenniel, Pickerfgill, Horfley, Dyce, Franklin, 
 Prout, Warren, Corbould, etc., could be furpaffed ? The en- 
 graving itfelf is in the higheft flyle of art. 
 
 They are calculated, whilft affording the moft pleafurable 
 amufement, to effect the higher purpofe of improving, enlarging, 
 and enriching the MIND. 
 
 "Moft admirable in their leffons of 
 
 focial wisdom, and in all thofe qualities 
 
 which can make writings acceptable to 
 
 the circles of the good and refined." — 
 
 Howitt. 
 
 "Truth is, I would not give one tear 
 fhed over Little Red Riding Hood, for 
 all the benefits to be derived from a 
 
 hundred hiftories of Jemmy Goodchild. 
 Our own wild fictions — like our own 
 fimple mufic — will have more effect 
 in awakening the fancy and elevating 
 the difpofition than the colder and 
 more elaborate compofitions of modern 
 authors and compofers." — Sir Walter 
 Scott. 
 
 I have often heard this expreffion from the beft poffible judges, 
 " There are no Young Peoples books like thefe" both from their 
 Contents, and from the Artiftic Merit of the Engravings, with 
 which they are embellifhed. 
 
 They are now offered at reduced Prices. 
 
 A love of reading, if cultivated in early youth, will bear fruits 
 in after life, not only in fubduing that conftant fenfe of weari- 
 nefs which diftreffes fo many unemployed adults, but by giving 
 a cheerfnl reliance on intellectual purfuits, for the enjoyment of 
 which ample means are on every fide within our reach. A tafte 
 for legendary lore and purely imaginative fictions mould efpe- 
 cially be encouraged, that the mind may be filled, and fo, as it 
 were, preoccupied, as to leave no craving for the more fenfual 
 illuftrations of the development of thr daffions. 
 
 V.B. — Thofe without prices are either out of print or reprint- 
 ing. 
 
MR. LUMLEY, 40, GOWER STREET. 
 
 ARABIAN 
 
 NIGHTS. 
 
 Price 4s. 
 
 ARABIAN NIGHTS.— New Edition, care- 
 fully revifed. Cloth, very handfomcly and 
 richly gilt, numerous engravings, 4s. 
 
 An Eminent Modern Author was fo anx- 
 ious that his Children mould read the Ara- 
 bian Nights, that he was about to deflroy his 
 own library copy by preparing it for their ufe, 
 when he joyfully heard of this edition. It 
 feems needlefs to obferve that the " Arabian 
 Nights" is, in its original form, a fealed book 
 to the young, and that this is the only edition 
 which can for an inflant be allowed in their 
 hands. "Who at all concerned in the Edu- 
 cation of the Young, or careful for their amufe- 
 ment, will not rejoice at this ■ expurgated edi- 
 tio?i ' of a work which is the delight of half 
 the inhabitants of the globe? Mankind have 
 in all ages delighted in works of fiction, and 
 this fafcination is greatly increafed by the 
 productions of the funny regions of the South 
 and Eaft — the dazzling gorgeoufnefs of East- 
 ern Scenery, Hiftory, Manners, Opinions, 
 Prejudices, Religion, etc." 
 
 It is difficult fufficiently to appreciate the benefits conferred 
 upon children by the perufal of Fairy Stories : their imagina- 
 tion is the moft active faculty of their being, and they feem 
 the natural proprietors of Fairyland. Seldom is the poetical 
 pait of their nature allowed to unfold itfelf, not only is it cor- 
 rupted by the worldlinefs of the ftories written for them, but it 
 is crufhed, almoft in infancy, by the cuftom which prevails of 
 attempting to teach at the earlieft age the elements of fcienti- 
 fic knowledge, checking the growth of fancy, and deftroying 
 the charm which childhood's ignorance throws over the Exter- 
 nal world. 
 
 A faithful and as it were a living picture of Eaftern man- 
 ners, and of the myftery of Arab fife. Man} r will remember 
 the time whenevery faculty was as it were abforbed in the 
 contemplation of thefe imaginary fcenes of delight, whenthefe 
 bewitching pages ufed to rivet their attention and engrofs all 
 their time, thoughts, affections. 
 
 After forty years, they have loft none of their charms for me. 
 I doubt whether any man except Shakefpeare has afforded fo 
 much delight. The author was the greateft benefactor the 
 Eaft ever had, not excepting Mahomet. How many hours of 
 pure happinefs has he beftowed upon fix-and-twenty millions 
 of perfons? All the fprings of the Defert have lefs -refrefhed 
 the Arabs than these delightful tales, and they eaft their gems 
 and genii over our benighted and foggy regions. — W. S. Lan- 
 DOR. 
 
 Only EDITION for YOUNG with PLATES. 
 
MR. LUMLEY, 40, GOWER STREET. 
 
 ASLAUGA'S 
 
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 Thimm. 
 
 Sj>eci7nen of Illujlratiotis [fee page 5). 
 
 "Twas when the feas were roaring, with hollow blafts of wind." 
 
MR. LUMLEY, 40, GOIVER STREET. 
 
 5 
 
 ANCIENT 
 
 BALLADS, 
 
 METRICAL 
 
 TALES. 
 
 2s. 6d. 
 
 Thefe BALLADS or LEGENDS, chiefly 
 thofe which have excited mofl intereft in the 
 old days of England (but with others of All 
 Lands, and Songs of All Time) form the very 
 Poetry and Mufic of the Heart. They are 
 now firfl felecled from the coftly and very 
 fcarce Collections, of Percy, Ritfon, Evans, 
 Jamiefon, Scott's Minflrelfy of the Scottifh 
 Border, &c. (the publication price of which 
 amounts to £7 17s. 6d.) Befides being ably 
 edited, Full Notes, and a Copious Index, 
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 by^ Tenniel, Selous, Corbould, Franklin^Pickers- 
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 " The firft time I could fcrape a few (hillings together I 
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 enthufiafm. " — Sir Walter Scott. 
 
 "The moft agreeable compilation in any age or country." 
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 Ballads are defcribed by Puttenham, a Critic in the reign 
 of Elizabeth, as fmall and popular fongs, fung by the Canta- 
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 other audience than boys or country fellows that pafs by 
 them in the ftreets ; or elfe by blind harpers, or fuchlike 
 tavern minftrels that give a fit of mirth for a groat. Such 
 were thefe "Reliques of Ancient Englifh Poetry," fays D'lf- 
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 cious to us than they were to our anceftors ; ftrangers as we 
 have become to their pure paftoral feelings, and more eccen- 
 tric habits of life." 
 
 The Englifh have always been a great Ballad Nation, and 
 once abounded with various Songs of Trades, and numerous 
 Songs for the People The Ballad, fays Aikin, in his " Ef- 
 fay on Ballads and Paftoral Songs," may be confidered as the 
 native pieces of poetry in this country, 
 
 Songs or Ballads, fays Addifon, the creation and the de- 
 light of the commonality, cannot fail to pleafe all fuch read- 
 ers as are not unqualified for the entertainment, by their affec- 
 tation or their ignorance ; and the reafon is plain, because 
 the fame paintings of nature which recommend them to the 
 moft ordinary reader, alfo recommend them to the moft re- 
 fined. 
 
 The celebrated Cowper was ftrongly attached to this ftyle 
 of Ballad compofition, and fays it is a fpecies of poetry pecu- 
 liar to this country, and well adapted to the drolleft fubjecls. 
 Simplicity and eafe are its peculiar characleriftics. Our fore- 
 fathers excelled in it, but we moderns have loft the art. It 
 is obferved that we have few good Englifh Odes : but to 
 make amends we have many excellent Ballads, not inferior, 
 perhaps, in true poetical merit to fome of the very beft Odes 
 that the Greek or Latin languages can boaft of. 
 
MR LUMLEV, 4 o, COWER STREET. 
 Specimen oj Illujlrations oj Ballads and Metrical Tales, page 5. 
 
 " Nowe fain thee and fave thee, thou little foot- page, 
 Nowe welcome art thou to me ; 
 Oh, tell me how does thy ladye gaye, 
 And what may thytydinges be." 
 
 '* My lady me is all woebegone, 
 
 And the teares they falle from her eyne, 
 And aye fhe laments the deadlye feude 
 Betweene her houfe and thine." 
 
BALLADS, 
 NORTHERN, 
 
 SCOTCH 
 MINSTRELSY. 
 
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 Scottifh dialed, but varied more or lefs in 
 their ftyle and language by the Provincialifms 
 which prevail in the North. 
 
 Many are fo remarkably beautiful that they 
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 to affift which, a copious Gloffary is added. 
 
 This Exquifitely Printed, Lavifhly Illus- 
 trated Book, will delight both Young and Old, 
 and this, with great profit to the heart. 
 
 {H&N x 
 
 Tljz jjoltitcrs &cturn. 
 
 She gazed— me redden'd like a rofe— 
 
 Syne pale as ony lily : 
 She fank within my arms, and cried, 
 
 "Art thou my ain dear Willie? 
 
 " By Him, who made yon fun and iky, 
 By whom true love's regarded, 
 
 I am the man ' and thus_may ftill 
 True lovers be rewarded. 
 
8 MR. LUMLEY, 40, GOWER STREET. 
 
 A ci charming volume," comprifes forty-fix 
 Poetical Pieces, Best Translations (moflly 
 BALLADS new) from Uhland, Schiller, Burger, Fouque, 
 AND SONGS: Korner, Schmid, Goethe, Chamisso, Becker, 
 * Von Stoterforth ; alfo Originals, and a few of 
 
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 Young Roland, to the ci 
 
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 This ingenious and admirable Chart pre- 
 fents a figurative Synchronology or bird's-eye 
 BELL view of the Hiitory of the IV. Quarters of the 
 
 Globe. By a feries of Chronological Streams 
 S T R E A M or Rivers, the origin and progrefs, the preva- 
 lence or decay of every Nation, down to our 
 own times, is exhibited, each converging or 
 TIME diverging, according to the viciffitudes of their 
 
 fortunes. 
 12s. Thefe are covered with memoranda of 
 
 Events, and are brought into comparifon, in a 
 feparate column, by a uniform Chronology of 
 Dates, Inventions, Difcoveries, Progrefs of 
 Science. 
 
 This the 14th, or a Beft Edition," is no mean 
 evidence of its fuccefs. There is no doubt that 
 by this method of inftruction, Contemporane- 
 ous Hiftory mull be more eafily underflood 
 than by any other. 
 
 The Choiceft Specimens, almoft entirely from 
 
 our Beft Poets, some Ancient, but chiefly from 
 the Moderns, an acquaintance with whom, 
 mould be at once the pride and delight of 
 BOOK OF every one. It includes the Works of Southey, 
 Wordfworth, Elliott, Macaulay, Coleridge, 
 POETRY. Wolfe, Bryant, Hemans, Campbell, Herrick, 
 Ken, Hickes, Shakfpere, Taylor, Cowper, 
 2S - Bowles, DeVere, Sandys, Keble, Scott, Hood, 
 
 Crafhaw, Alford, &c, a very elegant Selec- 
 tion, by the Rev. B. G. Johns, cloth, frontif- 
 piece by Warren, 2s. 
 
 Precifely the volume fo long wanted in fchools and families : 
 rich materials for deep reflection, tending - not only to exalt 
 and purify the tafte, but to amufe and inftrucl, by the moft 
 
IO 
 
 MR. LUMLEY, 40, GOWER STREET. 
 
 important method, the cultivation of the imagination. 
 
 Every Parent or other Guardian of the Young mould en- 
 deavour, by every poffible means, to induce the child to learn 
 by heart, the Pieces of Poetry here prefented. In Seafons of 
 Sorrow, during Wakeful Nights, in Converfation, in Public 
 Speaking, &c., Poetical Extracts are invaluable. 
 
 CHILDREN'S BOOKS, 
 
 Chiefly from the German, Inftrudlive and Unexceptionable, 
 admirably adapted, Three-pence each. 
 
 Adventures of a Fly, extremely interefling 
 and valuable little Work, directing Chil- 
 dren's attention to Infecl Life, and incul- 
 cating humanity. Many editions have been 
 fold, and the Work is in the Society's Lift. 
 
 Beautiful Little Rose, from the German 
 of Guido Goerres. This Story has a Roman 
 Catholic tendency. 
 
 Birds' Nest, Daifies, Sluggard, Lobflers, 
 Feftival of Rofes, from the German, engrav- 
 ings. 
 
 Cherries, or Overseer of Mahlbourg. 
 Story during the French and German War. 
 
 Heinrich and Blanca. Faithful Picture of 
 Foreign Peafant Life. 
 
 King and Woodman, by Fouque, tranflated. 
 Truly charming ftory, (hewing how true 
 ariflocracy of feeling is independent of rank 
 or pofition. Frontifpiece. 
 
 Louis the Little Emigrant. Child Loft 
 in the Wood, Night's Lodging, Mother's 
 Grief, Peafant of the Village, Clergyman, 
 Country Life, Foreign Soldiers, Wounded 
 Man, etc. 
 
 May Day, or Influence of Early Training. 
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 ances,, how wrong to judge from fuch. 
 
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MR. LUMLEY, 40, GOWER STREET. 
 
 II 
 
 Stories from Venerable Bede, with his Life 
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 Thou venerable good old man, I fee thee ftill, 
 Difcouriing fweetly to the foul and ear. — Coleridge. 
 
 The Wren, or the Fairy of the Green 
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 1 8 beautiful engravings. 
 
 For Others, /ee Schmid. 
 
 CHILDREN'S STORIES, COLLECTED, 
 
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 Useful Knowledge for Children, Com- 
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 CHURTON. 
 ENGLISH 
 CHURCH, 
 
 4s. 
 
 HISTORY OF THE EARLY ENGLISH 
 CHURCH from the earliefl records of old 
 times, to Henry VIII., by Archdeacon Chur- 
 ton. Cloth, maps, vjoodcuts, 4s. 
 
 A faithful picture of our Chriflian anceftors : 
 mewing how from time to time, Chriftianity 
 gained ground among our Saxon v Danim^ and 
 
12 
 
 MR. LUMLEY, 40, GOWER STREET, 
 
 CHURTON. 
 
 ENGLISH 
 
 CHURCH, 
 
 4s. 
 
 Norman forefathers ; pointing out the changes 
 it wrought in governors and people, and how 
 its own condition was improved or made 
 worfe by the changes in the fovereignty. 
 
 Depicting thus examples of characters and 
 manners, and leaving to general hiflory the 
 records of more public events, good or bad 
 (fee companion work, " Palmer's Church Hif- 
 tory"), and touching on wars and conquefls, 
 victories or defeats, only fo far as the ftate of 
 the Church, or the character of fome eminent 
 Chriflian, is concerned in them. A plan re- 
 commended by the pattern of Scripture, the 
 hiftorical books of which, are as much a record 
 of private as of public life. 
 
 Authorities. — Contemporary Authors, 
 Saxon Hiflories and Chronicles, from time of 
 Bede, Alcuin; and Norman, from Ingulph, 
 by Eadmer, Malmesbury, Ufher, Tanner, Stil- 
 lingfleet, Collier, Warburton, Soames, Kemble, 
 Guizot, Maitland, Fuller, Foxe, Southey, Li- 
 braries of Oxford, York Minfter, &c. 
 
 Contents. — Ancient Britifh Churches; Saxons; Auguf- 
 tine ; Converfion of Kent and Northumbria, from death of 
 Edwin to Archbifhop Theodore ; Eftablifhment of Chrifti- 
 anity ; Early Englifh Monafteries ; Effects, Benefits, Defects, 
 Pilgrimages, Hermits ; Eminent Teachers — Adhelm, Acca, 
 Venerable Bede ; Early Miffionaries ; Converfion of Frief- 
 land and Saxony; Wilbrord, firft Archbifhop of Utrecht ; Win- 
 frid, ditto of Mayence ; Progrefs of Arts and Learning ; 
 School of York ; Egbert, Albert, Alcuin, Charlemagne ; State 
 of Church at Clofe of the Seven Kingdoms ; Egbert, Ethel- 
 wolf, and his Sons ; Inroads of Danes ; D effraction of Churches 
 in the North ; Alfred to Archbifhop Dunftan ; Troubles in 
 Dark Ages ; Edmund to Ethelred ; Rife of Benedictine 
 Monks ; Dunftan ; Religious Noblemen of Old England ; 
 Troubles and changes by Norman Conqueft ; Laft Saxon 
 Bifhops ; Beginning of Popery in England ; Norman Monaf- 
 teries and New Religious Orders ; Becket ; S. JLangton : 
 King John; Clergymen forbidden to Marry ; Popery at its 
 height ; Privileged Monafteries : Begging Friars ; Corrup- 
 tions ; Perfecutions ; Good Men in Evil Times ; Bifhop Grof- 
 tefte and Friends ; Pious Founders of Churches and Colleges; 
 Tyranny of Henry VIII. 
 
 " We need not fay that coming from this author, it is a 
 volume of much learning and refearch ; containing in a fmall 
 fpace a great deal of information which it is difficult other- 
 wife to obtain, and by its candid and temperate tone will do 
 good fervice to ecclefiaftical ftudents." — British Critic. 
 
MR. LUMLEY, 40, GOWER STREET. 
 
 13 
 
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 on page 15. 
 
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 15 
 
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 EAGLE AND 
 
 LION, 
 
 FOUQUE, 
 
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 EVENINGS WITH OLD STORY-TEL- 
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 famed "Gefta Romanorum," and other kindred 
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 of the morals of the Tales, and their relation 
 
i6 
 
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 EVENINGS 
 WITH OLD 
 
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 TELLERS, 
 
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 Contents. — Origin: Probable Author; Morals; Sources 
 of Fiction ; Progrefs of ditto, from eaft to weft ; Early Chrif- 
 tians ; Monks ; Spanifh Arabians ; Englifh Gefta ; Illustra- 
 tions of Early Manners; Curiofities of the Gefta; Three 
 Maxims ; Modern Conversions ; Middle Age Allegories ; An- 
 cient Fairs. 
 
 Tales. — Jovinian the Proud Emperor; King and Glut- 
 ton ; Guido, the Perfect Servant ; the Knight and King of 
 Hungary ; Three Black Crows ; Emperor of Rome and his 
 Three Daughters; Angel and the Hermit; Fulgentius and 
 Wicked Steward ; The Wicked Prieft ; Emperor's Daughter ; 
 Emperor Leo and the Three Images ; Lay of the Little Bird ; 
 Burdens of this Life; Suggeftions of the Evil One: Cotono- 
 lapes, the Magician ; Sir Guido, the Crufader ; The Knight 
 and the Necromancer ; the Clerk and the Image ; Demon 
 Knight of the Vandal Camp ; Trials of Euftace ; Queen Se- 
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 rad and Count's Son ; Knight and the Three Queftions : Jo- 
 nathan and the Three Talifmans, &c. 
 
 The Popular Literature of Archaeology, a Collection of 
 Tales and Apologues whieh in the middle ages held, for 
 popular amufement, the place of the modern novel. 
 
 Moral and entertaining Stories, invented by the Monks of 
 old as a fireiide recreation, and ufed by them for amufement 
 as well as inft.ru6t.ion, and commonly applied in their Dif- 
 courfes from the Pulpit, from whence the moft celebrated of 
 our own Poets, and others, as Boccaccio, Shakfpeare, La 
 Fontaine, &c, from earlieft times have extracted their plots. 
 
 Col. Stanley's edition of this popular and amufmg work 
 fold for ;£i2. 
 
 FABLES 
 AND 
 
 ALLEGO- 
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 FABLES, STORIES, andALLEGORIES, 
 a Selection of 131 of Beft Specimens extant, 
 " Excellent book for the young" cloth, mtme- 
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 " A very delightful little volume, one of the 
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 of Fables ever publifhed in this country, and 
 being divefted of the ufual vulgarities and 
 prolix morals, this may well ferve as a Read- 
 ing Book for Schools, etc., and take the place' 
 of objectionable publications. 
 
 Fables, or "wifdom in difguife," from the 
 
MR. LUMLEY, 40, GOIVER STREET. 
 
 pleafure with which they are perufcd, are ex- 
 tremely valuable as a medium of conveying 
 inftruction." 
 
 I took a particular delight in hearing the Fables that are 
 come from father to fon, and are moft in vogue ; for it is im- 
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 aptnefs to pleafe and gratify the mind of man. —Speclator. 
 
 ^^T 
 
 FABLES 
 
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 PARABLES, 
 
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 FEMALE 
 
 HEROISM, 
 
 TALES OF, 
 
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 FABLES and PARABLES, both Ancient 
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 of Fabulous Literature. Volume of rare merit, 
 the moft compact and unexceptional ever pub- 
 lifhed in this country Alfo 122 Fables, from 
 ^Efop, Phaedrus, Dodfley, Croxall, &c, cloth 
 gilt, 2S. 
 
 Contents. — Fables and Parables, chiefly translated, for 
 the firft time, from the Germans, that moft reflecting people of 
 modern times. Many, efpecially the allegorical Parables of 
 Herder, are marked by great beauty of expreffion, thofe of 
 Leffmg are amongft the beft models of the Fable, ftrictly 
 fo called. Of Krummacher, Gellert, Herder, Schreiber, 
 Meiffner, and others, it is unneceffary to fpeak. They can- 
 not fail to intereft. 
 
 Moft inftructive, as well as highly entertaining. 
 
 FEMALE HEROISM, or PLUTARCH, 
 24 moft interefting and authentic Biographi- 
 cal Stories of HEROINES, of modern 
 times and of various countries. Selected and 
 written in a manner that reflects the very 
 higheft credit on the Biographer, and with 
 
18 
 
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 excellent Prefatory Remarks {by Mifs Mofely) 
 2 vols in 1 (430 pages) , cloth elegant, gilt leaves, 
 illvjlrated by Warren, 5s. 
 
 Illustration to "Female Heroifm? 
 
MR. LUMLEY, 40, COWER STREET. 
 
 19 
 
 Admirable Examples, with touching Incidents, of the Con 
 ftancy and Courage, Fortitude, and Devotion, of which 
 Women are capable. The characters depicted ar^ chiefly- 
 drawn from domeftic life, having nothing mafculine about 
 them, but gentle as the moll modeft and timid of their fex. 
 
 Thefe Tales embrace the ftirring fcenes in the Lives of 
 Lady Fanfhaw, Mrs. Lane, who affifted in the efcape of 
 Charles II. ; of Lady Nithfdale, Helen Walker (the real 
 Jenny Deans) ; Flora Macdonald ; Madame Rochejaquelin, 
 Gertrude Von der Wart, Maid of Saragoffa ; Lady Grifelle 
 Baillie ; Joan of Arc ; Mil's Mackay, Mademoifelle Ambos, 
 Gentile Moutalti, Lady Sale, Lady Banks, defender of Corfe 
 Caftle, and others celebrated in fong and ftory. 
 
 It would be difficult to place in youthful hands a more in- 
 ftructive work, and it may be truly characterized as one of 
 the bell that can be brought into a houfe. Few books indeed 
 contain fo much deeply interelling reading in fo fmall a com- 
 pafs. The Title itfelf fpeaks to Imagination and the Heart. 
 Facls of the mo ft furpaffing intereft are related with admir- 
 able force and feeling, wholefome fentiment abounds, and 
 the Moral is pointed with good judgment, being implied 
 rather than obtruded. Beautifully written with force and 
 feeling. 
 
 It is by fuch narratives that the virtues which animated 
 thefe heroines are kept alive in this degenerate age, and that 
 reverence for felf-devotion is cherifhed, amidft the felfifhnefs 
 and luxury which have fo deeply corrupted all native fimpli- 
 city of character. 
 
 MINIATURE ROMANCES, Tranflated. 
 BARONESS *• The Phyfician of Marfeilles, or Sophie 
 
 FOUQUE. IL The chriftmas Tree. 
 
 III. The Revolutionifts. 
 
 Romances. IV. Valerie. Frontifpiece by Franklin. 
 
 " Beautiful Stories, fuperior to thofe by her Hufband, the 
 Baron Fouque. " — Spectator. 
 
 FOUQUE. 
 
 SINTRAM. 
 
 People's 
 
 Edition. 
 
 is. 
 
 FOUaTJE, BARON. 
 
 SINTRAM AND HIS COMPANIONS. 
 
 New and moil accurate Tranilation of this 
 exquifite and univerfally favourite Allegorical 
 Romance, finely printed, Eleven fuperior En- 
 gravings ^ including Albert Duress Knight in 
 Armour and Death , One Shilling. 
 
 For Specimen of Ilhcft rations, fee next page. 
 
20 
 
 MR. LUMLEY, 40, GOWER STREET. 
 
 Illustration to People s Edition of " S bit ram and his Companions." 
 
 SINTRAM SINTRAM. Beft Ariftocratic Literary and 
 
 Artiftic Edition, printed by Meffrs. Clay, in 
 
 Illustrated their beft ftyle, and well calculated to fpread 
 
 ARISTOCRATIC its fame yet more widely and delightfully, 
 
 -p cloth binding, elegantly tooled^wilh gilt 
 
 leaves, 18 refined and characlerijtic Ilhtjlra- 
 
 5 s * tions by Selous, engraved by Gray, 5 s. 
 
lustration to "Stntram. 
 
22 
 
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 We cannot fpeak too highly of the general beauty and 
 power of thefe Engravings, particularly of the additional 
 ones. Efpecially to be admired is the graceful way in which 
 the Arabefque Bordering melts into, and, as it were, acts as 
 a myftical and fpiritual fhadowing of the fcene, thus embody- 
 ing the one leading idea of Sintram, that half-defined virion, 
 or fenfe of unearthly agencies, for evil and for good, which 
 battle for the child of heaven, in this woeful world. 
 
 For Specimen of Illustrations to this Edition, fee page 21. 
 
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 People's 
 
 Edition, 
 
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 People's Cheap Edition of this Popular and 
 Delightful Romance, the moil delicate, per- 
 fect, and enchanting fpecimen of the Roman- 
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 Good Tranflation, including the Author's laft 
 Preface, explaining the Origins and Founda- 
 tions of his various Works (fee page 24). 
 Neatly printed, 5 Engravings. Ninepence. 
 
 UNDINE, 
 
 Aristocratic 
 
 Illustrated 
 
 Edition, 
 
 5s. 
 
 UNDINE.— ARISTOCRATIC ILLUS- 
 TRATED EDITION.— Beyond Compari- 
 fon the mofl faithful and literal Tranflation, 
 evidently by one who has caught the fpirit 
 and quaintnefs of its fatherland, writing rather 
 as the Author than the Tranflator. This ver- 
 fion undoubtedly reflects the beauties of the 
 original much more accurately than does any 
 other. Made from the Author's laft edition, 
 it includes his Explanatory Preface. Ever 
 welcome in any form or drefs, this fanciful 
 and fafcinating legend is peculiarly well calcu- 
 lated for Illuftration, and it is efpecially ac 
 ceptable in the elegant form here offered. L 
 is printed by MeJ/rs. Clay in their bejljlyl^ 
 boundin cloth, elegantly tooled, and gilt leaves, 
 embellifhed with Eleven beautiful Illuflra- 
 tions by the celebrated TENNIEL, deftgned 
 with great tajle, and difplaying high finijh^ 
 artiftic fkill, matured judgment 5s. 
 
 Undine, a univerfal favourite, one of the mofl fimple, beau- 
 tiful, and perfectly conftructed ftories, in the whole German 
 Literature. One of thefe conceptions of genius, which, once 
 taken into the mind, feed it for ever. Sweet ftory, furely the 
 
MR. LUMLEV, 40, GOIVER STREET. 
 
 23 
 
 moft graceful ficftion of modern times. — Southey. Undine 
 is ravifhing. The fufferingof the heroine is a real one, though 
 it be the fuffering of a fantaftic being.— Sir W. Scott. Very 
 charming ; it difplays delicacy blended with great power, a 
 heart-born truthfulnefs, and a divine fpirit ; beauty and 
 poetry in every page, life and love in its alternating phafes 
 of ardent defire, and ofexquifite forrow. Moft exquifite ; the 
 character of the Heroine before me receives a Soul is mar- 
 velloufly beautiful. So fays Coleridge : and his admiration 
 of Undine was unbounded. It was one and fmgle in projec- 
 tion, and it had prefented to his mind what Scott had never 
 done — an abfolutely new idea. The fentiment of the ftory is 
 as pure and unbroken as the fountains so often introduced, 
 which in the midft of perpetual change and action are always 
 the fame. The whole atmofphere of the piece is vapory and 
 gauzclike. 
 
 Illustration to " Undine.' 
 
24 
 
 MR. LUMLEY, 40, GOWER STREET. 
 
 FOUQUE. 
 
 WORKS, 
 6 Vols, 
 £*. 4s. 
 
 FOUQUE, Baron, Complete Works, In- 
 imitable Tales, and Romances : the beft Trans- 
 lations, with the beft I lluft rations, now Col- 
 lected, and offered together in 6 vols, cloth, 
 gilt leaves, for £1 4s. 
 
 Among the beft fpecimens of their clafs which the German 
 language poffeffes, and they form one of the moft interefting 
 fedtions in the recent Hiftory of Literature. Fouque is not 
 as familiar as he deferves to be with the general Englifti 
 reader. He is the great mafter of the myfterious Poetical 
 Romance of the Chivalrous Ages. The only Romance Writer 
 who knows how to mingle fublime allegories with ftrange pic- 
 turefque adventures. He may be faid to have invented this 
 fpecies of writing. He has had hundreds of Imitators, but he 
 ftands alone without one rival. 
 
 One of the moft original epic and lyric Romancifts Germany 
 has ever produced. His works are original in defign and 
 beautiful in execution. His defcriptions nature itfelf, replete 
 with fine thoughts and reflections, and exhibit an enchanting 
 romanticifm. His language is of a moft comprehenfive cha- 
 racter, mild, delicate, tender, and melancholy. His ftyle 
 lucid and poetical in a high degree, and his mind endued with 
 a deep knowledge of Northern Legends and Mythology. 
 
 Unqueftionably a true poet, calling up, as he advanced, the 
 moft beautiful pictures, and prefenting them to us, as they 
 arofe in his own mind, in all their primitive frefhnefs and fim- 
 plicity. 
 
 His Tales are commended to the attention of all thofe 
 amongft us who are loversof what is noble and beautiful in 
 external nature as well as in the human heart and life. We 
 do fo with hearty confidence ; nor do we fear that they will 
 fuffer even by oft-repeated perufal. Manly Chriftian grace, 
 virgin purity, hoary wifdom, happy childlike innocence, the 
 grand, the fevere, the tender, the lowly, the affectionate, and 
 whatever elfe is calculated to touch and elevate the heart, fet 
 off at times by the exhibition of the darker and more repulfive 
 traits of human character (held up, however, only to be 
 avoided), find in the writings of our author their happy and 
 appropriate exemplification. 
 
 THE FOUR 
 
 SEASONS, 
 
 UNDINE, &c, 
 
 Illuflrated, 
 
 6s. 
 
 MAGICRING, 
 4& 
 
 THE FOUR SEASONS. Spring, UN- 
 DINE ; Summer, TWO CAPTAINS ; 
 Autumn, ASLAUGA'S KNIGHT; Winter, 
 SINTRAM ; with Author's laft Introduftion, 
 &c. Cloth, 30 illuftrations, in higheji Jlyle oj 
 art, by Franklin, Selous, TennieL 6s. 
 
 THE MAGIC RING: a Knightly Ro- 
 mance of Love and War and Minftrel Song. 
 A famous production, the firft that eflablifhed 
 Fouque's reputation as a romance writer, and 
 
\ 
 
 Specimen of Illustrations to " Wild Love' 
 
26 
 
 MR. LUMLEY, 40, GOWER STREET. 
 
 from which Sintram was a kind of offshoot 
 Now firft entirely Tranflated, including all the 
 Poetry. Cloth, beautiful Frontifpiece by Ten- 
 nieL 4s. 
 
 We have frequently borne teftimony to the peculiar attract 
 tions, the wild genius, and fanciful imagination of Fouque'j 
 creations ; but of his works this appears the moft interesting 
 and the beft. 
 
 FOUQUE. 
 
 MINSTREL 
 
 LOVE, 
 
 Illuftrated, 
 4s. 
 
 MINSTREL LOVE : a beautiful Romance 
 of Chivalry, elegantly Tranflated, and the Poetry 
 abundantly interfperfed, gracefully rendered. 
 9 clever Illuftrations by Corbould. 4s. 
 
 One of the moft beautiful of Fouque's Works, high-toned 
 fentiment, glowing defcriptions, impaffioned language. 
 
 Perhaps there is no modern romance which requires for its 
 
MR. LUMLEY, 40, GOIVER STREET. 
 
 27 
 
 enjoyment fo complete an abnegation of felf, of felfifhnefs, 
 and of that fyftem of felfifhnefs which is called civilifed life, as 
 " Minftrel Love." The author in the very outfet draws an 
 adamantine wall between his heroes and the beings of the 
 prefent ; and the reader who, in his impatience or his criti- 
 cifm, wilfully places himfelf on the world-fide of that muni- 
 ment, inflantly lofes fight of Fouque s creations. . . . The fin- 
 gular and exquifite purity of the work is fuftained to the very 
 clofe, where the minftrel warrior expires : not amid the fires 
 or from the wounds of battle, but in a cloudy funfet, and ex- 
 haufted and worn out by the exertions of a pilgrimage under- 
 taken to fave the life of a fick child. A more beautifully 
 written termination to a tale has perhaps never been con- 
 ceived, or a more lovely incident than that of the clouds part- 
 ing at the moment of Arnold's diffolution, and the ftar of his 
 miftrefs fhining down upon his death-damp brow. 
 
 The more familiar fuch compofitions become to the Englifh 
 reader the better, and the greater will be his contempt for the 
 ordinary mawkifh whinings of the circulating library. 
 
 liberation to " Romantic Fiction." See next page. 
 
28 
 
 MR. LUMLEY, 40, GOWER STREET. 
 
 FOUQUE. 
 
 ROMANTIC 
 FICTION, 
 Illuflrated, 
 
 4s. 
 
 ROMANTIC FICTION. Twelve moll 
 beautiful of the fhorter Tales, moft perfecl 
 fpecimens in any language : the Eagle and 
 Lion, Prince's Sword, Rofe, the Vigors 
 Wreath, the Unknown Patient, &c. Cloth, 
 beautiful illujlrations. 4s. 
 
 In his fimple domeftic pieces Fouque' is no lefs happy than 
 in the high and chivalric. . „,»_,. ,, fllfl 
 
 The Unknown Patient is an unrivalled Tale, as alfo the 
 Privy Councillor. 
 
 THIODOLF 
 
 THE 
 
 ICELANDER, 
 
 4s. 
 
 THIODOLF, the Icelander, an Adventu- 
 rous Story, affording an interefting pifture of 
 Northern and Byzantine manners of the 1 entn 
 Century. Fine illujlrations by Corbould. 4s. 
 
 One of the very belt, if not the moll popular, of Fouque's 
 orodudSons and certainly equal to the moft fuccefsful of his 
 Romances Fouque reprefents the fpirit of Ancient Chivalry 
 hi nobler forms than did the clumfy writers of the earlier 
 Ch al He Romances. Although at times fantaftic and vague 
 he has thoroughly fucceeded in refufcitatmg poetically thofe 
 merry days of chivalry and fong at the end of the i,th cen- 
 
 ^hrSralways confidered it as his moft fuccefsful 
 ine autnor *™*y , -, f it « n tne hieheft terms 
 
 ^S^^'^d^SdSS a° Mr. Gordon to attempt a 
 
 ofhis^^^^ 
 
 rather more ^n f e ^ c 
 
 IhecontraAofthe^ ^ m ^ 
 
 ^l«^^^ eflfem ^'JS&^SS e fi of the Northern or 
 mg, the ftern an ^ ff^ic rougnn f whom was Thiodolf 
 
 Scandinavian refidents at tne nea fuperiority, 
 
 forms the leading *'^*ttoT™%iiS>o* for the t 
 
 figned and executed, full of ^«SSld 
 mind of the writer is fo deeply imbl ^- 'V' one of the 
 ancient intelligence that, while often remmdijg o ne ot t ne 
 force and ftvle of the Northern Sagas., every page tnrows a 
 light upon the earlier ages of Hiftory. TTndine it 
 
 Thiodolf does not poffefs the ethereal beautv of Undine it 
 takes a ftronger hold upon our fympathies. The ^hero 1 he 
 imperfonation of the unfophifticated P*™*™^™^ the 
 true illuftration of the character of his countrymen in 
 early times to which the ftory has reference. 
 
 We cannot too highly commend the Y\*f£%2m 
 tranflation, now for the firft time prefented in Enghln. 
 
MR. LUMLEV, 40, GOIVER STREET. 
 
 29 
 
 Specimen of Illustrations to " Thiodolfthe Icelander: 1 
 
 WILD LOVE, 
 
 Illuflrated, 
 4s. 
 
 WILD LOVE and Other Tales. Beauti- 
 fully Illuflrated by Selous, Franklin, &*c. 4s. 
 
 1. WILD LOVE. Tale of olden time, when the Lombard 
 Kings governed the fertile Upper Italy in full might and 
 glory. It is full of Fouque's beauties. 2. ROSAURA and 
 her KINSFOLK. Wild, but beautiful and fkilful, fhowing 
 the fearful confequences often entailed by the wicked act of 
 one man. The humble, the pathetic, the heroic, and the 
 tender are finely blended. 3. OAK of the IDOLS. Story 
 of old Saxon times, when the light of Chriftianity was juft 
 breaking in upon heathenifm, and when the noble heroes and 
 gentle maidens of Saxony bent their necks to the yoke of the 
 
3<> 
 
 MR. LUMLEY, 40, GOIVER STREET. 
 
 Gofpel. A favourite fubject with the author, and treated 
 with great judgment and delicacy. 4. THE FIELD of 
 TERROR. Founded on one of the traditions of the Giant 
 Mountains. A fimple domeftic piece. This mows beautifully 
 the innate fuperhuman ftrength of an honeft, upright Chrif- 
 tian foul, and it teaches how a man with a good confcience, 
 a bold heart, and the fear of God before his eyes, is enabled 
 to fubject everything to his fway, whether in the natural or 
 fpiritual world. 
 
 FROISSART. 
 CHRONICLES, 
 
 Condenfed. 
 
 FROISSART, CHRONICLES of Eng- 
 land, France, Spain, etc., adapted, with Notes 
 and Illuflrations, by Rev. H. P. Dunster. 2 
 vols, cloth) gilt) fine illuflrations by Tenniel. 
 
 GERMAN 
 
 LITERATURE, 
 
 BEAUTIES. 
 
 BEAUTIES OF GERMAN LITERA- 
 TURE, Selected and Tranilated. Cloth. 
 
 Contents : HOFFMAN, Matter Martin and his Work- 
 men ; JEAN PAUL RICHTER, Death of an ANGEL : 
 PICHLER, Johannes Schoreel ; ZSCHOKKE, Broken 
 Cup ; TIECK, Camoens, Death of the Poet. 
 
 The German Literatme refembles no other on the face of 
 the earth. Vigour, direclnefs, boldnefs, imagination, and 
 other qualities of impulfe. The impulfive fpirit furrounded 
 by the critical, and of courfe in fome meafure influenced 
 thereby." — Poe. 
 
 GRIMM. 
 
 EASTERN 
 
 TALES, 
 
 2S. 
 
 A Series of CHOICE TALES from Eafl- 
 ern Land, Jalaladdeen of Bagdad, Has- 
 chem, Jussuf, the Merchant of Balsora ; 
 Enchantress, or Misnar, Sultan of India. 
 Thefe beautiful Tales, hitherto unknown in 
 this country, are from the German Verfions 
 of the celebrated Grimm. Cloth, gilt leaves, 
 engravings, 2s. 
 
 Many great and good men have borne teftimony to the 
 value and importance of Works of Fiction, but none appreci- 
 ated them more highly, or felt their influence more deeply, 
 than Martin Luther, who declared, "I would not for any 
 quantity of gold part with the Wonderful Tales which I have 
 retained from my earlieft childhood or have met with through 
 life." 
 
32 
 
 MR. LUMLEY, 4 o, GOWER STREET. 
 
 GROSSI. 
 
 MARCO 
 
 VISCONTI. 
 
 GULLIVER'S 
 TRAVELS, 
 
 Children's, 
 
 2S. 
 
 HAUFF. 
 
 POPULAR 
 
 TALES, 
 
 2s» 6d. 
 
 GROSSI, MARCO VISCONTI, an Italian 
 Tale of the Fourteenth Century, tranflated from 
 the Italian of GROSSI ; hardly inferior in intereft 
 to the celebrated " Betrothed Lovers ;? of Man- 
 zoni, to whom it is dedicated "with the reve- 
 rence of a difciple, and the love of a brother." 
 llluftrations by Warren. 
 
 Its ftyle is quaint and fimple, after the manner of early- 
 romances, and it abounds with pictures of the moil vivid cha- 
 racter, and fnatches of pathos, which come from the depths 
 of the heart. The date of the novel is in the early part of the 
 fixteenth century ; fo, as might be expected, it is full of the 
 wild, chivalric fpirit of the turbulent Italy of that period. 
 This is, we think, the only Englifh tranflation of a nove- 
 which every one mould read. 
 
 " Marco Vifconti" is a remarkably well-executed tranfla- 
 tion of a romance, founded on hiftorical facts, which has ex- 
 cited much intereft in Italy. _ There is a terfenefs andquaint- 
 nefs in the ftyle of Groffi which render a faithful tranflation 
 difficult ; but the gentleman who has undertaken, it has fuc- 
 ceeded mod happily in conveying all the beauties which dif- 
 tinguifh the original, without diffiguring it by too minute an 
 Imitation. 
 
 For Specimen of Illustrations, fee next page. 
 
 DEAN SWIFT'S GULLIVER'S TRA- 
 VELS, celebrated work, now for the fTrft time 
 prefented in an entirely unexceptionable form 
 for Family Reading, cloth, very clever plates 
 by Brown {Phiz), cloth gilt, 2s. 
 
 " When will the day come when Gulliver mall be forgotten 
 or unread? Une galled in its fkill and genuine fatire, even 
 Robinfon Crufoe hardly excels it in gravity and verifimili- 
 tude." — Sir Walter Scott. 
 
 " One of the only works of fatirical fiction which delights 
 alone, as if no medicine in the fweetened cup ; it is doubtful 
 whether the pleafure be increafed or diminifhed by a know- 
 ledge of the political tendency."— Dr. Taylor. 
 
 Dear, dear Gulliver, companion and chafer of our care — 
 irrefiftible, incomparable, by the one great original mind of 
 the age in which he flourifhed. This popular and unequalled 
 Fiction has amufed and will continue to delight thoufands. 
 This is the only Edition fitted for domeftic reading, the ori- 
 ginal work being fo grofs. 
 
 1 6 Popular Tales, Tranflated, 
 
 HAUFF, 
 cloth, 2s. 6d. 
 
 Contents : The Caravan : Caliph Stork ; Speclre Ship ; 
 Severed Hand ; Fatima's Refcue ; Little Fly ; Falfe Prince ; 
 Cold Heart ; Sheik of Alexandria and his Slaves ; Nofey, 
 
MR. LUMLEY % 40, GOWER STREET. 
 
 33 
 
 Specimen of Illustrations to "Marco Vijconti: 
 
34 
 
 MR. LUMLEY, 40, GOWER STREET. 
 
 the Dwarf ; Abner, the Jew ; The Fate of Said ; Almanafor ; 
 Legend of the Hirfchgulden ; Portrait of the Emperor ; The 
 Grunweifel Dancer. 
 
 " A fet of ftories of great variety^ romantic, grave, and 
 comic, and generally poffeffing much intereft and adventure. 
 Hauff is juftly popular in Germany, and this little volume 
 will, we are fure, make him no lefs a favourite with * Young 
 England.' " — Literary Gazette. 
 
 " Moft amufing and entertaining writer ; a mailer in fiction, 
 his defcriptions are rare and neatly executed, and what he has 
 to tell is always of a ftartling nature. By a few linking 
 touches he rapidly delineates character with a life-like faith- 
 fulnefs. His works abound with witty and clever portraiture. 
 Few writers have been more popular in their own country." 
 
 HISTORY, 
 FRAGMENTS 
 
 OF, 
 
 3s. 
 
 HISTORY, Fragments of, Narratives of 
 the moft remarkable Events in Ancient and 
 Modern Times, Fall of Babylon, Plague at 
 Athens, Retreat of the Ten Thoufand Greeks, 
 Victories of Alexander the Great, Jerufalem 
 in Ruins, Deflrudlion and Recovery of Hercu- 
 laneum and Pompeii, Pizarro, Earthquake at 
 Lisbon, Plague and Fire of London, Napoleon, 
 Ruffian Campaign, &c. — fele£led with a view- 
 to illuftrate God's Providence, by the Rev. H. 
 P. Dunster. Cloth, 3s. 
 
 Moft ufeful and neceflary reading, fhowing that there is in 
 all and every one, a Power unfeen, planning circumftances, 
 directing contingencies, governing refults. 
 
 HOUSEHOLD 
 
 TALES, 
 
 is. 6d. 
 
 HOUSEHOLD TALES. Alfo other TRA- 
 DITIONS of England, France, Germany, &c. 
 Fifty-two of the moft interefting and popular 
 of the Legends and Traditions, which have 
 been told immemorially, in the nurferies or at 
 the firefides of the people, in our own and other 
 countries. The different verfions have been 
 carefully collated ; 21 engravings, is. 6d. 
 
 Contents : Three Soldiers and the Dwarf ; Hanfel and 
 Grettel ; King Crooked Chin ; Little Red Cap ; Stories of 
 the Dwarfs : The Grateful Beafts ; Waits of Bremen ; Golden 
 Bird ; FrogPrinee ; The Brownie ; Rumpel-Stilts-Kin ; Thorn 
 Rofe,' or, the Sleeping Beauty ; Dwarfs in Cologne ; Goofe 
 Girl ; Snow- Flake ; The Cheefe going to Market ; The Blue 
 Lights ; and Thirty-five others. 
 
MR. LUULEY, 40, COWER STREET. 
 
 35 
 
 i&k. 
 
 
 
 
 Specimen ofIllustratio7i$ to " HoufeJiold Tales" page 34. 
 
 HOWARD. 
 
 NEW 
 
 TESTAMENT 
 
 2S. 
 
 DrJOHNSON 
 
 LIFE. 
 
 BOSWELL. 
 
 3s. 
 
 LEGENDS, 
 
 TRADITIONARY 
 STORIES, 
 
 2s. 6d. 
 
 Scripture Hiftory of the New Teftament, in 
 Familiar Lectures, by H. E. J. Howard, Dean 
 of Lichfield. Cloth, 7 engravings, 2s 
 
 JOHNSON'S LIFE, by BOSWELL. 
 Our great Moralift, moft agreeable and amuf- 
 ing Life, with his Sayings, Anecdotes, &c, 
 alfo great additions from Piozzi, Hawkins, 
 &c. ; adapted, by the Rev. J. F. Ruff ell. Cloth, 
 frontif piece, 3s. (pub. 4s. 6d.) 
 
 " This fafcinating and truly original composition is a work 
 for all times. Such a piece of domeftic painting is, perhaps, 
 nowhere elfe to be feen." — Dibdin. 
 
 " Not in the whole hiftory of human intellect fo Angular a 
 phenomenon as this work, one of the beft in the world, by 
 the beft of all Biographers." — Edinburgh Review. 
 
 LEGENDS, Traditionary Stories, Profe, 
 Verfe, fuch as the Wild Huntfman, Lucky 
 Hans, Frog Prince, Northumberland Dwarfs, 
 Crookened-Back, Snow Flake, Lord of the 
 
36 
 
 MR. LUMLEY, 40, GOWER STREET, 
 
 Bloody Hand, Thorn Rofe, Men of Gotham 
 Fifhing, Three Golden Pippins, Shoe Maker 
 and Friendly Dwarfs, and 36 others. Cloth 
 elegant^ gilt leaves, 21 fine engravings, 2s. 6d. 
 
 An elegant and fupericr felec~lion of Tales, the moil popu- 
 lar and interesting, which have been told immemorially in the 
 Nurferies or Firefides of the People of England, France, 
 Germany, Scotland, Ireland ; Ancient Traditions of the 
 North, Irifh Legends, Tales of Chivalry, &c. ; alfo Notes. 
 One of the beft means by which the youthful mind may 
 ramble through the enchanting fields of Romance and Fiction. 
 Ample juftice being done to the Fairies, grotefque, playful, 
 fanciful, of every age and country, together with a fort of 
 Wild Fairy Lament, which makes them better adapted to 
 awaken the imagination and found the heart of childhood 
 than the " good boy " ftories of late years. 
 
 See Companion Volume t Popular Tales and Legends. 
 
 LETTERS (84) of the Great and Good) 
 whofe Lives and Converfation form, as is 
 LETTERS, fhewn by Hiflory,— profitable fubjecls of 
 EMINENT Contemplation. Selected for the Young of 
 P^PQnisjq either fex * Edited by the Rev. T. Cham- 
 ri^KSUiND, berlain. Portraits and very neat illujlra- 
 2S. tions, 2s. 
 
 A moft valuable work to be put into the hands of the young 
 of either fex. The art of writing letters or of interchanging 
 ideas, the power of relating events, of giving advice in writ- 
 ing, cannot be taught too early. A long life and experience 
 
MR. LUMLEY, 4 o, COWER STREET. 
 
 37 
 
 have fully convinced me that a parent, in any rank of 
 fociety, fhould attend primarily to thefe matters in education. 
 In the firft place, a habit fhould be acquired of reading and 
 fpeaking well and diftinctly ; then the art of writing legibly 
 and rapidly ; and this fhould be followed by a conftant 
 practice of correfponding, without difficulty. This would 
 neceffarily lead to a clear difcrimination and methodical 
 arrangement of ideas. 
 
 The primary object of this publication has been the bring- 
 ing together of a mafs of found Chriftian Advice and Opinion 
 bearing upon the daily concerns of Human Life, for convey- 
 ing which the Epiftolary form affords proverbially the bed 
 vehicle. Thus it happens that a well-written Letter combines 
 in a remarkable degree both Intereft and Inftruclion Edu- 
 cation and Entering on Life, Character and Conduct in Pri- 
 vate ditto, Public Duties, chiefly Hiftorical, Religion, Diffi- 
 culties, etc., are here treated of. 
 
 It is a good work, and fuitable to thefe times, to familiarife 
 people with the names of Jeremy Taylor, Hooker, Ken, 
 Walton, Jones of Nayland, Nelfon, Nich. Farrar, Colling- 
 wood, Mrs Bowdler, Sir T. Wyatt, Sir H. Sydney. Kirke 
 White, Sir T. More, Evelyn, Bp. Bedell, Bp. Jebb, Bp. Bull, 
 Cowper, Cranmer, Derby, Strafford, Laud, Hammond, 
 Charles I., Wilberforce, Alex Knox, Leighton, <&x. 
 
 LIESLI. 
 
 CLAUREN, 
 
 6d. 
 
 LIESLI, a Swifs Tale, from the German of 
 Clauren. This popular ftory has been trans- 
 lated into almoft every European language. 
 Alfo Heinrich and Blanca, or the Three Bro- 
 thers. Engravings ', 6d. 
 
 MANZONI. 
 I PROMESSI 
 SPOSI. ' 
 
 MAXIMS. 
 
 GEMS OF 
 
 GENIUS. 
 
 2S. 
 
 MANZONI, I PROMESSI SPOSI; or, the 
 Betrothed Lovers. The only complete tranf- 
 lation of this remarkable work. In 2 hand- 
 fome volumes, sm. 8vo, fancy covers ', with 60 
 beautiful vignettes. 
 
 MAXIMS for MEDITATION, Gems of 
 Genius, Pearls of Great Price, Conceits for 
 Converfation, Mental Food for the Rail. 2s. 
 
 " Why are not more gems fcattered over the country ? Let 
 every bookworm, when he difcovers a fentence, an illuftra- 
 tion, that does his heart good, haften to give it." — Coleridge. 
 
 " Employ all your leifure moments in eagerly attending to 
 the lips of Wifdom. For thus, what others have invented with 
 difficulty and labour, you will attain to the knowledge of, with 
 eafe. " — Ifocrates. 
 
 " I felected from each volume the moft curious paffages, 
 from every nutfhell I extracted the kernel, and from the 
 whole I formed this treafury of a compilation." — Nizam. 
 
38 
 
 MR. LUMLEY, 40, GOWER STREET. 
 
 MUSAEUS. 
 
 POPULAR 
 
 TALES. 
 
 2S. 
 
 MUSAEUS, Popular Tales, a Selection 
 of the moft popular and pleafing, from the 
 German : Mute Love, Nymph of the Foun- 
 tain, Peter Block, The Three Sillers, Richilda, 
 Roland Squires ; alfo " magnificently told" 
 Legends of the renowned Mountain Spirit, 
 Rubezahl. Cloth, six fine engravings, 2 s. 
 
 Wonderful, replete with Incident and Adventure of the moft 
 exciting kind. The author has lavifhed all the treafures of 
 fairyifm on thefe moft extraordinary tales. Long-eftablifhed 
 favourites in their own < country, occupying the higheft por- 
 tion ; moft charming, inftrudlive, lively, moft refrefhing, fo 
 original and ingenious. 
 
 * *www i iini»»ri fflt»^ftgag 
 
 NATURAL 
 HISTORY. 
 
 NATURAL HISTORY of Quadrupeds 
 and Birds, interfperfed with Anecdotes, &c, 
 by Dowling, "to affift the imagination in 
 Intellectual Travels among the Deferts, 
 
MR. LUMLEY, 40, GO IYER STREET. 
 
 39 
 
 Forefls, and Cultivated Fields, where Beasts 
 and Birds dwell." Cloth, fine illufirations. 
 
 This is an attractive volume, interesting, and popularly- 
 written. Children are invariably attracted by Stories of the 
 Habits of the Animal Creation. 
 
 NORTHERN 
 
 page 7. 
 
 MINSTRELSY. See 
 
 PALESTINE, 
 
 EGYPT, 
 
 ARABIA. 
 
 2S. 
 
 PALESTINE, EGYPT, ARABIA, Fine 
 Hiflorical MAP, difplaying the Geography, 
 Ancient and Modern, alfo the ROUTES 
 of Celebrated Travellers. Separate Views of 
 BETHLEHEM, GRAND CAIRO, JERU- 
 SALEM {iiicluding Plans, both Ancient and 
 Modern). Indifpenfable accompaniment to 
 Holy Scriptures, by Creighton and Henfhall. 
 Very large and diftinct, 2 meets (2 ft. 9 in. by 
 1 ft. 9 in.) 2s, firfi publifiied at 2 gs. coloured. 
 
 Another Copy, coloured, mounted on can- 
 vas, 5s. 6d. 
 
4o 
 
 MR. LUMLEY, 40, GOWER STREET. 
 
 PALMER, 
 CHURCH 
 HISTORY, 
 
 4s. 
 
 CHURCH HISTORY, from the Earlieft 
 Period to the Prefent Time, by the Rev. W. 
 Palmer, M.A. New Edition, enlarged, cloth, 
 map of the Patriarchates and Provinces of the 
 Chrifiian Church, 4s. 
 
 An efpecial boon to Churchmen. It fupplies a defideratum 
 long felt in our Religious Literature, a Hiftoryof the Church, 
 pious and interefting as Milner's, yet with deeper and truer 
 Theological views. 
 
 PETER 
 
 SCHLEMIHL, 
 
 Shadowless 
 
 Man, 
 6d. 
 
 PICHLER, 
 
 ARTIST 
 
 LOVERS, 
 
 is. 
 
 PILPAY, 
 FABLES, 
 Illuftrated. 
 
 2S. 
 
 SHADOWLESS MAN, Chamisso's cele- 
 brated Romance, befl tranflation from the Ger- 
 man, written in a peculiarly impreffive manner. 
 New edition(with Appendix), 6 engravings, 6d. 
 
 "I fliall never forget the hour when I read Peter Schlemihl 
 to Hoffman for the firft time ; he was quite enraptured ; he 
 hung upon my lips, and liftened with avidity to all I read 
 until I came to the end." — Hitzig. 
 
 For Specimen of Illustrations , fee next page. 
 
 PICHLER (CAROLINE), TWO BEAU- 
 TIFUL ROMAN CES, of Artifts and Lovers : 
 of QUENTIN MATSYS,the Famous Painter 
 of " the Mifers," etc., at Antwerp, and alfo of 
 Johannes Schoreel, the Flemifh Painter, 
 and Friend of Albert Durer. Elegantly tranf- 
 lated from the German, with Notice of the 
 Authorefs, Caroline Pichler. 
 
 " One of the moft celebrated German writers, occupying an 
 important ftation' in the imaginative literature of the prefent 
 age . " — Tk im m. 
 
 Greatly excels in the defcription of character and in paint- 
 ing the human heart, as portrayed in the domeftic or hiftorical • 
 novel, captivating alfo her readers by her fkill in the arrange- 
 ment and management of her fubjedt., and in her maftery over 
 her materials. 
 
 Her ftyle, like her fentiments, is redolent of the fterling 
 nobility of nature, her language both lucid and felecl:. 
 
 PILPAY, FABLES, a Companion to 
 the Arabian Nights. According to Sir 
 Wm. Jones the moft excellent, the moft 
 beautiful, if not the moft Ancient Fables, 
 or more properly fpeaking Tales, extant 
 in the World. They were defcribed as 
 
MR. LUMLEY, 40, COWER STREET. 
 
 41 
 
 Specimen of ' Illujlrations to "Peter Schlemihl" p ag 
 
MR. LUMLEY, 40, COWER STREET. 
 
 containing the Wisdom of All Ages, the 
 Head Spring of Oriental Wifdom, the Touch- 
 flone of Knowledge, and for ages the Wonder 
 and Delight of the Eaft. So greatly admired 
 did they become, that there is no book ex- 
 cept the Bible of which fo manyverfions have 
 been made. Their origin, which it is now 
 impoffible to determine, was undoubtedly in 
 Hindoftan ; and, judging from internal evi- 
 dence, they muft have been compofed fubfe- 
 quently to the Fifth Century. Thefe produc- 
 tions were attributed to Vifhnufarma, whom 
 we ridiculoufly call Pilpay, a corruption of 
 Bidpai, the wife man and the flory teller. He 
 was evidently an Indian Fabulift, a Brahmin, 
 and a Councillor of State to one of the Ra- 
 jahs. So early as the fixth century they were 
 tranflated from the Sanfcrit, the Parent Stock, 
 and more recently from the Hitopadefa, an 
 abridgment. The Arabic verfion firft intro- 
 duced thefe Fables to Weftern Afia and Eu- 
 rope, and they were confidered by the Arabs 
 to have been written by the ancient fage Lok- 
 man, the reputed author of vEfop's Fables, 
 and who was held in fuch repute in the Eafl, 
 that he is ftated in the Koran, to have ob- 
 tained wifdom from God. New and very 
 neatly Illustrated Edition. Cloth, 14 ex- 
 quiftte engravings by T. D. Scott, 2s. 
 
 A feries of Fables, each with a firing of morals, woven one 
 within another, and connected by a leading Story, alluring 
 the attention and inducing the mind, without a paufe, to 
 matter the whole fystem of Ethics. 
 
 "We would fain, if poffible, excite the reader's intereit for 
 this, the moft delightfully entertaining of Oriental Fictions. It 
 enjoys an unbounded popularity in the Eaft, read again and 
 again, with renewed -p\ezi{ure."—Retrq/pecJive Review. 
 
 In other Works, when one has read one Fable, he has done 
 and is fatisfied ; whereas here, when a Fable has been read, 
 the curiofity is excited to go through another, fo that by the 
 excellent contrivance of the author, the fame fet of morals is 
 inculcated, in a variety of beautiful relations. 
 
 "Allegories, well chofen, are like fo many tracks of light 
 in a difcourfe, that make everything about them clear and 
 beautiful. "—^4 ddifon. 
 
MR. LUMLEY, 40, GOIVER STREET. 
 
 43 
 
 Q t 
 
 
 SpecUnen of Illustrations to Popular Tales, page 44. 
 
 PLEASANT 
 
 HOURS. 
 
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 PLEASANT HOURS in Foreign Lands, 
 a feries of 8 fhort Romances, tranflated from 
 the German and French. Clothyfronti/fiiece, 
 2s. 6d. 
 
 Contents : Tale of Auvergne, Soldier in Spite of Him- 
 felf, Broken Cup (by Zfchokke , Artift Dream of Gloiy, 
 Martin the Cooper by Hoffman), Cardan the Galley Slave, 
 Church of the Glafs of Water, &c 
 
 PLUTARCH, 
 
 LIVES, 
 
 ROMANS. 
 
 is. 6d. 
 
 PLUTARCH'S LIVES of CELEBRA- 
 TED ROMANS, with Additions, from Nie- 
 buhr, Gibbon, Fergufon, Adams, alfo from 
 Livy, Tacitus, Salluft, Juflin, &c, is. 6d. 
 
 Contains thofe germs or elements which in after ages pro= 
 duced Philofophers, Legiflatois, and Warriors. 
 
 A valuable treafur- of ancient learning, illufbrative not only 
 of Grecian and Roman affairs, but alfo of the Hiftory of Phi- 
 lofophy. 
 
 They abound with proofs of indefatigable induftry and pro- 
 found erudition, and will always be read with pleafure, from 
 
44 
 
 MR. LUMLEY, 40, COWER STREET. 
 
 POPULAR 
 
 TALES, 
 
 LEGENDS, 
 
 3s. 
 
 PRASCA 
 
 LOUPOULOFF. 
 
 6d. 
 
 the great variety of valuable amufmg information, anecdote, 
 and j uft and ufeful obfervations they contain. On Moral 
 Topics, Plutarch is moft fuccefsful. 
 
 " If all the books in the world were committed at once to 
 the flames, there is no book which I would fo fpeedily refcue 
 from them as the Works of Plutarch. This author never 
 wearies me ; and though 1 read him frequently, I find, at 
 every turn, new beauties in his pages." — Menage. 
 
 34 POPULAR TALES and LEGENDS, 
 STORIES, which in bygone days, delighted 
 the childhood of mafter-fpirits, and formed 
 the intellectual food of children who became 
 great, wife, and good. A book of un- 
 paralleled attraction, each tale conveying a 
 beautiful and inftruclive allegory, or, indirectly, 
 a valuable leffon. Square, elegantly bound in 
 cloth, gilt leaves, beautijnl cuts, 3s. 
 
 Contents : Hanfel and Grettel ; Golden Bird ; Old Widow; 
 Demon of Brockenberg ; Valley Perilous ; Genoefe Merchant 
 and the Cat : Wife Men of Gotham ; Is 1 orwegian Neck, &c. 
 
 Few pleafures more innocent or ufeful than that derived 
 from perufal of well-told tales — "the gay creations of the 
 imagination " — when right principles and good morality are 
 kept in view. 
 
 For Specimen oj ' Illustratiotis ; fee page 43. 
 Co7npanion Volume, fee Legends a7id Traditions {page ). 
 
 PRASCA LOUPOULOFF. A Tale of a 
 Ruffian Female's Marvellous Heroifm, not a 
 poetical fiction, but only too truthful. It is the 
 authentic ftory upon which Madame Cottin 
 founded her Romance of " Elizabeth, or the 
 Exiles of Siberia, " and it will be found to be 
 moft interefling and inftrudlive. Her pilgrim- 
 age from Siberia to the Emperor was one of 
 nearly 2,000 miles, which fhe was 18 months 
 in accomplifhing. Frontif piece, 6d. 
 
 In thefe days, when love and duty towards parents, 
 become lefs and lefs, fuch works as this are invaluable. Their 
 perufal cannot be refilled, and their utility cannot be over- 
 rated. 
 
 RED and WHITE ROSES (fee page 11). 
 
MR. LUMLEY, 40, GOWER STREET. 
 
 45 
 
 ROBINSON 
 CRUSOE. 
 
 ROBINSON CRUSOE, Adventures of, 
 Beautiful Illustrated Edition, carefully 
 edited by Rev. J. F. Ruffell, fine type and 
 paper. Cloth, choice carefully executed Arti/lic 
 plates, by Keeue. 
 
 A new edition of an old favourite, in the publifher's elegant 
 and attractive ftyle. The editor well fays in his preface, that 
 "it is fcarcely needful to apologife for the appearance of 
 another reprint of fo univerfal a favourite as Robinfon 
 Crufoe." 
 
 A better "Gift Book" can hardly be imagined. 
 
 '* No work of inftruction and amufement fo generally read 
 and admired, fafcinating all claffes." — Sir Walter Scott. 
 
 " A moft excellent treatife on Natural Education — my 
 Emilius' Library fhall be this w:>rk only." — RouJJeau. 
 
 "Not only the moft chaiming of books, but the moft in- 
 ftructive. "— Chalmers. 
 
 Moft enchanting domeftic romance in the world. O the 
 delight with which we devour the pages of Crufoe ! 
 
 ROMANTIC FICTION, Fouque's, (fee 
 page 28). 
 
 SACRED VERSES, fee Williams (page 
 52). 
 
 SCHMID, 
 
 HISTORIC 
 
 TALES. 
 
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 SCHMID, CHRIST. VON, Tales, from 
 the GERMAN, Lucius and his Children, 
 Chriftmas Eve, The Brothers, Euftace and his 
 Family. Cloth, gilt, plates a7id cuts, 2s. 
 
 " Schmid's Tales, is a common fchool leffon and reading 
 book, in Bavaria, and Englifh Parents will be glad to know 
 that this is worth getting." — Guardian. 
 
 " The Clergy fhould ufe this book in their parochial fchools. 
 Reading them aloud would produce a better ft.y\oS'-^ Church- 
 man. 
 
 The adroit manner in which Schmid mingles and combines 
 topics of inftruction and amufement with moral and religious 
 precepts, and the fafcinating ftyle of his fimple and beautiful 
 narrative, have wrought for his productions a great and well- 
 deferved popularity. Very attractive and beautiful Tales, 
 from their genuine piety and. tendernefs of fpirit , admirably 
 adapted for the young. Incidents, accidents, natural pheno- 
 mena, thrown into the form of little narratives, defigned to 
 imprefs a leffon, at the fame time that intereft is excited by 
 the Tale, We highly recommend thefe to parents, teachers, 
 and all who have the care of the young, as being an excellent 
 help in developing their moral character. 
 
4 6 
 
 MR. LUMLEY, 40, GOWER STREET. 
 
 SCHMID, 
 
 STORIES. 
 3d. 
 
 SCHMID'S Stories, tranflated, and neatly 
 printed, 3d. each. 
 
 The Brothers. 
 
 Canary Bird, or Val- 
 ley of Schwarzenfels. 
 
 Christmas Eve, or 
 Poor Anthony's Sto- 
 ry :(Forefter ? sFamily, 
 Misfortunes and Dif- 
 afters ; Unexpected 
 Vifit, and Chriflmas 
 Tree). 
 
 Dove, or Caflle of Fal- 
 kenbourg. 
 
 Eustace, or the Ifland 
 Hermitage. 
 
 Henry of Eichen- 
 
 FELS. 
 
 Lost Child, a Tale. 
 Louis the Little Emi- 
 
 grant (Child loft in 
 the Wood, Night's 
 Lodging, Mother's 
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 the Village, Clergy- 
 man, Country Life, 
 Foreign Soldiers- 
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 Lucius and his Chil- 
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 on Fact. 
 
 Nightingale, or 
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 and White Rofes, 
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 Rose Bush. 
 
 XI V. Various, 3d. each. 
 
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 YOUNG. 
 
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 Notes and Illuflrations, Life of Shakfpeare, 
 Gloffary. 
 
 SHORT 
 
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 Contents: The Merchant and Robbers^ Coal Merchant 
 and the Wafherwoman, Roafted Goofe, Squirrel and Wind, 
 Little Fifh Stealer, German Watchman's Song, Wonderful 
 Cafket, Bag of Flax Seed, and 89 others. 
 
 Moft interefting Reading-book or Holiday-book for Young, 
 and one of the cheapeft ever publifhed. 
 
 For Specimen of Illustrations y fee next page. 
 
 SINTRAM, by Fouqud (fee page 19). 
 
MR. LUMLEY, 40, GOWER STREET. 
 
 47 
 
 Specimen of Illujlratious to " Skort Stories" page 46. 
 
 TALES OF 
 ADVENTURE. 
 
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 LAYMEN. 
 
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 indeed with the odour of fanclity; alfo No- 
 tices of their Times, the moft delicate and de- 
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 and Revolution, by Rev. W. H. Teale. Beau- 
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 "Executed fo admirably, luch a combination of diligen. 
 
4 8 
 
 MR. LUMLEY, 40, GOWER STREET. 
 
 refearch, clear difcrimination, and found principle, that we 
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 THIODOLF the Icelander, by Fouque (fee 
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 TIECK, 
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 3S. 
 
 TWELVE 
 NIGHTS' 
 ENTERTAIN- 
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 26. 
 
 TIECK: TALES and ROMANCES.— 
 
 Eleven of the beft and moft popular Fictions of 
 this exquifitely graceful writer, now flrft tranf- 
 lated from the German, with an Introductory 
 Preface by J. A. FROUDE, the celebrated Hif- 
 torian. Cloth, gilt leaves, 6Jine engravings, 3s # 
 
 Contents : The Friends, The Brothers, The Reconcilia- 
 tion, The Elves, The Cup, The White Eckbert, The Faithful 
 Eckart, The Runenberg, The Love Charm, The Tannen- 
 haufer, or Lord of the Fir Woods. 
 
 Mrs. Jamefon fays, it is to be hoped that fome tranflator 
 will do juftice to Tieck. No one, fhe fays, tells a fairy tale 
 like him. His earneft limplicity of ftyle and manner is fo ex- 
 quifite, that he always gives the idea of one vvhofe hair was 
 on end at his own wonders — one entangled by the fpell of his 
 own enchantments. 
 
 Moft beautiful Tales. Through one and all of them, it 
 feems one happy holyday ; an emancipated fpirit, revelling 
 in the profufion of its own beautiful conceptions ; a ferene, 
 funny joyoufnefs : a fancy luxuriating m all that is moft 
 graceful, and humorous, and pathetic ; light and fhade, and 
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 know not where to match, except in Shakefpeare and Sopho- 
 cles. Gladly would I linger in this beautiful region. 
 
 In no writer fo awfully clear a perception of the depend- 
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 an evil act bears fruit and propagates its kind into eternity. 
 
 For Specimen of 'Illustrations, fee next f>age. 
 
 TWELVE NIGHTS' ENTERTAIN- 
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 Unique collection, fome tranflated for firft time. 
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MR. LUMLEY, 40, GOWER STREET. 
 
 49 
 
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So 
 
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 UNDINE, by Fouque. See page 22. 
 
 WHITE 
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 WOLTMANN. 
 IS. 
 
 The beft, trueft verfion of the celebrated 
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 lated with great care from the German of 
 Von Woltmann, by J. D. Haas. Fine 
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 No unworthy companion to the Tales of Fouque and Tieck, 
 Details the retribution operating upon the fpirit of r lady 
 
MR. LUMLEY, 40, GOIVER STREET. 
 
 who wanders to and fro upon this earth, a victim to a felfifh 
 idolatry, Having laid up for herfelf treafures upon this earth, 
 fhe is doomed to remain, though no longer partaker of its 
 life. 
 
 Manifold are the evils produced by the indulgence of felfifh 
 defires or love of felf-eafe and felf-gratification ; but when to 
 thefe is added a determined will, fearful is the tyranny that 
 is exerted, — the unkindnefs, the reckleffnefs of others' happi- 
 nefs, that mars the fweeteft fanctuaries of human life. There 
 is no want fo great in focial and in public life as the fpirit of 
 felf-facrifice ; — bleffing and bleffed in its gentle and hidden 
 workings, its effects are heavenly, as its fource is heaven. 
 
 The affecting hiftory of her death-life, the feeling of her 
 identity, is well kept up ; our pity and fympathy increafe as 
 we proceed, and we look in earneft anxiety for the hour of de- 
 liverance to arrive. . . . The precious boon of death at laft is 
 beautifully portrayed. 
 
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 Contexts : Antediluvian Age, Earth Peopled, AfTyrian, 
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 or Third, Spiritual Kingdom of Grecian Philofophers, Alex- 
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 Exhibiting in a very interefting manner the real fecret of 
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52 
 
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 WILLIAMS, 
 SACRED 
 VERSES. 
 
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 SACRED VERSES, illuftrating Our 
 LORD'S Life, etc., very beautiful, by the 
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MR. LUMLEY, 40, GOWER STREET. 
 
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 Perfons from their earlieft years are delighted with Pictures, 
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54 
 
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 calculated to engage attention than the Perfonification or 
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