Herbe pimpernell, I have thee foundGrowing upon Christ Jesus' ground:The same guift the Lord Jesus gave unto thee,When he shed his blood on the tree,Arise up, pimpernell, and goe with me.And God blesse me,And all that shall wearthee.Amen.
Herbe pimpernell, I have thee foundGrowing upon Christ Jesus' ground:The same guift the Lord Jesus gave unto thee,When he shed his blood on the tree,Arise up, pimpernell, and goe with me.And God blesse me,And all that shall wearthee.Amen.
Herbe pimpernell, I have thee foundGrowing upon Christ Jesus' ground:The same guift the Lord Jesus gave unto thee,When he shed his blood on the tree,Arise up, pimpernell, and goe with me.And God blesse me,And all that shall wearthee.Amen.
Herbe pimpernell, I have thee found
Growing upon Christ Jesus' ground:
The same guift the Lord Jesus gave unto thee,
When he shed his blood on the tree,
Arise up, pimpernell, and goe with me.
And God blesse me,
And all that shall wearthee.Amen.
"Say this fifteen dayes together, twice a day, morning earlye fasting, and in the evening full."
Indeed, at last, whatever the peril, a quiet heart and heaven's courage, are charm enough:
I say that we are woundWith mercy round and roundAs if with air: ...Gerald Manley Hopkins
I say that we are woundWith mercy round and roundAs if with air: ...Gerald Manley Hopkins
I say that we are woundWith mercy round and roundAs if with air: ...Gerald Manley Hopkins
I say that we are wound
With mercy round and round
As if with air: ...
Gerald Manley Hopkins
is a fiend that haunts in rivers and desolate waters. It is of horse-shape, and the sound of its neighings is a boding of death to the traveller.
"Thus did the evil creatures often press me hard, but, as was meet, I served them well with my war-sword; they had no joyous fill by eating me, wicked destroyers, sitting round their feast nigh the bottom of the sea; but in the morning, wounded by the sword, slain by the dagger, they lay up along the sea-strand, so that they could never more hinder seafarers on their course in the deep channel.
Light came from the east, the bright beacon of the Lord; the waves were stilled, and I could descry the sea-headlands, those wind-swept walls."
Beowulf, translated byC. B. Tinker
"'And what is the sea?' asked Will.
'The sea!' cried the miller. 'Lord help us all, it is the greatest thing God made! That is where all the water in the world runs down into a great salt lake. There it lies, as flat as my hand and as innocent-like as a child; but they do say when the wind blows it gets up into water-mountains bigger than any of ours, and swallows down great ships bigger than our mill, and makes such a roaring that you can hear it miles away upon the land. There are great fish in it five times bigger than a bull, and one old serpent as long as our river and as old as all the world, with whiskers like a man, and a crown of silver on her head.'"
Robert Louis Stevenson
" ... The usewall Method for a curious Person to get a transient Sight of this otherwise invisible Crew of Subterraneans, ... is to put his left Foot under the Wizard's right Foot, and the Seer's Hand is put on the Inquirer's Head, who is to look over the Wizard's right Shoulder ... then will he see a Multitude of Wights, like furious hardie Men, flocking to him haistily from all Quarters, as thick as Atoms in the Air.... Thes thorow Fear strick him breathless and speechless."
So says "Mr. Robert Kirk, Minister at Aberfoill," in hisSecret Commonwealthof 1691.
Of these invisible wights the womenkind "are said to Spin very fine, to Dy, to Tossue, and Embroyder, but whether only curious Cob-webs, impalpable Rainbows ... I leave to conjecture."
A strip or patch of wild weedy uncropped ground (like the Sluggard's garden) that in England is calledNo Man's Land, the Scots country folk callClootie's Croft(or Clootie's little field). They hand it over by name, as it were, to the Fiend,hoping that he may rest content with its harvest of nettle and bramble and burr, and not range elsewhere. It is an old belief that if, like Christian, the wayfarer meets Apollyon straddling across his path, he may have to withstand him not only with sword and staff, but with his wits. Just so, too, in old times, sovereign princes would test strangers with dark questions and riddles. In this ballad the Fiend disguised as a knight comes wooing at a Widow's door, in the next he is abroad on the high road. Jennifer and the wee boy kept up their hearts, their wits about them, their eyes open, and "had the last word"; which, says Mr. Sidgwick, is a mighty powerful charm against evil spirits—as against Witches are the herbs vervain, dill, basil, hyssop, periwinkle and rue. Iron, too; the cross, and running water.
Here is another such encounter fromThe White Wallet—packed with poems new and old. You can almost hear the voices of the two speakers standing together in the quiet and dust of the morning road:
"Now, pray, where are you going, child?" said Meet-on-the-Road."To school, sir, to school, sir," said Child-as-It-Stood."What have you in your basket, child?" said Meet-on-the-Road."My dinner, sir, my dinner, sir," said Child-as-It-Stood."What have you for your dinner, child?" said Meet-on-the-Road."Some pudding, sir, some pudding, sir," said Child-as-It-Stood."Oh, then I pray, give me a share," said Meet-on-the-Road."I've little enough for myself, sir," said Child-as-It-Stood."What have you got that cloak on for?" said Meet-on-the-Road."To keep the wind and cold from me," said Child-as-It-Stood."I wish the wind would blow through you," said Meet-on-the-Road."Oh, what a wish! Oh, what a wish!" said Child-as-It-Stood."Pray what are those bells ringing for?" said Meet-on-the-Road."To ring bad spirits home again," said Child-as-It-Stood."Oh, then, I must be going, child!" said Meet-on-the-Road."So fare you well, so fare you well," said Child-as-It-Stood.
"Now, pray, where are you going, child?" said Meet-on-the-Road."To school, sir, to school, sir," said Child-as-It-Stood."What have you in your basket, child?" said Meet-on-the-Road."My dinner, sir, my dinner, sir," said Child-as-It-Stood."What have you for your dinner, child?" said Meet-on-the-Road."Some pudding, sir, some pudding, sir," said Child-as-It-Stood."Oh, then I pray, give me a share," said Meet-on-the-Road."I've little enough for myself, sir," said Child-as-It-Stood."What have you got that cloak on for?" said Meet-on-the-Road."To keep the wind and cold from me," said Child-as-It-Stood."I wish the wind would blow through you," said Meet-on-the-Road."Oh, what a wish! Oh, what a wish!" said Child-as-It-Stood."Pray what are those bells ringing for?" said Meet-on-the-Road."To ring bad spirits home again," said Child-as-It-Stood."Oh, then, I must be going, child!" said Meet-on-the-Road."So fare you well, so fare you well," said Child-as-It-Stood.
"Now, pray, where are you going, child?" said Meet-on-the-Road."To school, sir, to school, sir," said Child-as-It-Stood.
"Now, pray, where are you going, child?" said Meet-on-the-Road.
"To school, sir, to school, sir," said Child-as-It-Stood.
"What have you in your basket, child?" said Meet-on-the-Road."My dinner, sir, my dinner, sir," said Child-as-It-Stood.
"What have you in your basket, child?" said Meet-on-the-Road.
"My dinner, sir, my dinner, sir," said Child-as-It-Stood.
"What have you for your dinner, child?" said Meet-on-the-Road."Some pudding, sir, some pudding, sir," said Child-as-It-Stood.
"What have you for your dinner, child?" said Meet-on-the-Road.
"Some pudding, sir, some pudding, sir," said Child-as-It-Stood.
"Oh, then I pray, give me a share," said Meet-on-the-Road."I've little enough for myself, sir," said Child-as-It-Stood.
"Oh, then I pray, give me a share," said Meet-on-the-Road.
"I've little enough for myself, sir," said Child-as-It-Stood.
"What have you got that cloak on for?" said Meet-on-the-Road."To keep the wind and cold from me," said Child-as-It-Stood.
"What have you got that cloak on for?" said Meet-on-the-Road.
"To keep the wind and cold from me," said Child-as-It-Stood.
"I wish the wind would blow through you," said Meet-on-the-Road."Oh, what a wish! Oh, what a wish!" said Child-as-It-Stood.
"I wish the wind would blow through you," said Meet-on-the-Road.
"Oh, what a wish! Oh, what a wish!" said Child-as-It-Stood.
"Pray what are those bells ringing for?" said Meet-on-the-Road."To ring bad spirits home again," said Child-as-It-Stood.
"Pray what are those bells ringing for?" said Meet-on-the-Road.
"To ring bad spirits home again," said Child-as-It-Stood.
"Oh, then, I must be going, child!" said Meet-on-the-Road."So fare you well, so fare you well," said Child-as-It-Stood.
"Oh, then, I must be going, child!" said Meet-on-the-Road.
"So fare you well, so fare you well," said Child-as-It-Stood.
And here, for titbits andbonnes bouches, are Seven Ancient Riddles fromPopular Rhymes—in case:
The fiddler and his wife,The piper and his mother,Ate three half-cakes, three whole cakes,And three quarters of another.
The fiddler and his wife,The piper and his mother,Ate three half-cakes, three whole cakes,And three quarters of another.
The fiddler and his wife,The piper and his mother,Ate three half-cakes, three whole cakes,And three quarters of another.
The fiddler and his wife,
The piper and his mother,
Ate three half-cakes, three whole cakes,
And three quarters of another.
A house full, a yard full,And ye can't catch a bowl full.
A house full, a yard full,And ye can't catch a bowl full.
A house full, a yard full,And ye can't catch a bowl full.
A house full, a yard full,
And ye can't catch a bowl full.
As I was going o'er London Bridge,I heard something crack;Not a man in all EnglandCan mend that!
As I was going o'er London Bridge,I heard something crack;Not a man in all EnglandCan mend that!
As I was going o'er London Bridge,I heard something crack;Not a man in all EnglandCan mend that!
As I was going o'er London Bridge,
I heard something crack;
Not a man in all England
Can mend that!
I had a little sister,They called her Pretty Peep;She wades in the waters,Deep, deep, deep!She climbs up the mountains,High, high, high;My poor little sister,She has but one eye.
I had a little sister,They called her Pretty Peep;She wades in the waters,Deep, deep, deep!She climbs up the mountains,High, high, high;My poor little sister,She has but one eye.
I had a little sister,They called her Pretty Peep;She wades in the waters,Deep, deep, deep!She climbs up the mountains,High, high, high;My poor little sister,She has but one eye.
I had a little sister,
They called her Pretty Peep;
She wades in the waters,
Deep, deep, deep!
She climbs up the mountains,
High, high, high;
My poor little sister,
She has but one eye.
As I was going o'er yon moor of moss,I met a man on a gray horse;He whipp'd and he wail'd,I ask'd him what he ail'd;He said he was going to his father's funeral,Who died seven years before he was born!
As I was going o'er yon moor of moss,I met a man on a gray horse;He whipp'd and he wail'd,I ask'd him what he ail'd;He said he was going to his father's funeral,Who died seven years before he was born!
As I was going o'er yon moor of moss,I met a man on a gray horse;He whipp'd and he wail'd,I ask'd him what he ail'd;He said he was going to his father's funeral,Who died seven years before he was born!
As I was going o'er yon moor of moss,
I met a man on a gray horse;
He whipp'd and he wail'd,
I ask'd him what he ail'd;
He said he was going to his father's funeral,
Who died seven years before he was born!
As I looked out o' my chamber window,I heard something fall;I sent my maid to pick it up,But she couldn't pick it all.
As I looked out o' my chamber window,I heard something fall;I sent my maid to pick it up,But she couldn't pick it all.
As I looked out o' my chamber window,I heard something fall;I sent my maid to pick it up,But she couldn't pick it all.
As I looked out o' my chamber window,
I heard something fall;
I sent my maid to pick it up,
But she couldn't pick it all.
Black within, and red without,Four corners round about.
Black within, and red without,Four corners round about.
Black within, and red without,Four corners round about.
Black within, and red without,
Four corners round about.
i. 1¾ cakes each; since, if Mr. Piper marries, his wife will be Mr. and Mrs. Fiddler's dear daughter-in-law. ii. Smoke; iii. Ice; iv. A Star; v. The poor soul in the coffin was by trade a dyer; vi. Snuff (!); vii. A Chimney (in Days of Yore).
Such visitants, it would appear, have marvellous power even over faces or shapes in stone:
He's tied his steed to the kirk-stile,Syne wrang-gaites round the kirk gaed he;When the Mer-Man entered the kirk-door,Away the sma' images turned their e'e....
He's tied his steed to the kirk-stile,Syne wrang-gaites round the kirk gaed he;When the Mer-Man entered the kirk-door,Away the sma' images turned their e'e....
He's tied his steed to the kirk-stile,Syne wrang-gaites round the kirk gaed he;When the Mer-Man entered the kirk-door,Away the sma' images turned their e'e....
He's tied his steed to the kirk-stile,
Syne wrang-gaites round the kirk gaed he;
When the Mer-Man entered the kirk-door,
Away the sma' images turned their e'e....
Wrang-gaites must mean widdershins, left to right, West to East, the opposite todeiseal(deshal)—to the right, Sunwards.
Here is another such visitor—one who considerately intrudes not all at once but little by little, bone by bone:
A wife was sitting at her reel ae night;And aye she sat, and aye she reeled, and aye she wished for company.In came a pair o' braid braid soles, and sat down at the fireside;And aye she sat, and aye she reeled, and aye she wished for company.In came a pair o' sma' legs, and sat down on the braid braid soles;And aye she sat, and aye she reeled, and aye she wished for company.In came a pair o' muckle muckle knees, and sat down on the sma' sma' legs;And aye she sat, and aye she reeled, and aye she wished for company.In came a pair o' sma' sma' thees, and sat down on the muckle muckle knees;And aye she sat, and aye she reeled, and aye she wished for company.In came a pair o' muckle muckle hips, and sat down on the sma' sma' thees;And aye she sat, and aye she reeled, and aye she wished for company.In came a sma' sma' waist, and sat down on the muckle muckle hips;And aye she sat, and aye she reeled, and aye she wished for company.In came a pair o' braid braid shouthers, and sat down on the sma' sma' waist;And aye she sat, and aye she reeled, and aye she wished for company.In came a pair o' sma' sma' arms, and sat down on the braid braid shouthers;And aye she sat, and aye she reeled, and aye she wished for company.In came a pair o' muckle muckle hands, and sat down on the sma' sma' arms;And aye she sat, and aye she reeled, and aye she wished for company.In came a sma' sma' neck, and sat down on the braid braid shouthers;And aye she sat, and aye she reeled, and aye she wished for company.In came a great big head, and sat down on the sma' sma' neck;And aye she sat, and aye she reeled, and aye she wished for company."What way hae ye sic braid braid feet?" quo' the wife."Muckle ganging, muckle ganging.""What way hae ye sic sma' sma' legs?""Aih-h-h!—late—andwee-e-emoul.""What way hae ye sic muckle muckle knees?""Muckle praying, muckle praying.""What way hae ye sic sma' sma' thees?""Aih-h-h!—late—andwee-e-emoul.""What way hae ye sic big big hips?""Muckle sitting, muckle sitting.""What way hae ye sic a sma' sma' waist?""Aih-h-h!—late—andwee-e-emoul.""What way hae ye sic braid braid shouthers?""Wi' carrying broom, wi' carrying broom.""What way hae ye sic sma' sma' arms?""Aih-h-h!—late—andwee-e-emoul.""What way hae ye sic muckle muckle hands?""Threshing wi' an iron flail, threshing wi' an iron flail.""What way hae ye sic a sma' sma' neck?""Aih-h-h!—late—andwee-e-emoul.""What way hae ye sic a muckle muckle head?""Muckle wit, muckle wit.""What do you come for?""For YOU!"
A wife was sitting at her reel ae night;And aye she sat, and aye she reeled, and aye she wished for company.In came a pair o' braid braid soles, and sat down at the fireside;And aye she sat, and aye she reeled, and aye she wished for company.In came a pair o' sma' legs, and sat down on the braid braid soles;And aye she sat, and aye she reeled, and aye she wished for company.In came a pair o' muckle muckle knees, and sat down on the sma' sma' legs;And aye she sat, and aye she reeled, and aye she wished for company.In came a pair o' sma' sma' thees, and sat down on the muckle muckle knees;And aye she sat, and aye she reeled, and aye she wished for company.In came a pair o' muckle muckle hips, and sat down on the sma' sma' thees;And aye she sat, and aye she reeled, and aye she wished for company.In came a sma' sma' waist, and sat down on the muckle muckle hips;And aye she sat, and aye she reeled, and aye she wished for company.In came a pair o' braid braid shouthers, and sat down on the sma' sma' waist;And aye she sat, and aye she reeled, and aye she wished for company.In came a pair o' sma' sma' arms, and sat down on the braid braid shouthers;And aye she sat, and aye she reeled, and aye she wished for company.In came a pair o' muckle muckle hands, and sat down on the sma' sma' arms;And aye she sat, and aye she reeled, and aye she wished for company.In came a sma' sma' neck, and sat down on the braid braid shouthers;And aye she sat, and aye she reeled, and aye she wished for company.In came a great big head, and sat down on the sma' sma' neck;And aye she sat, and aye she reeled, and aye she wished for company."What way hae ye sic braid braid feet?" quo' the wife."Muckle ganging, muckle ganging.""What way hae ye sic sma' sma' legs?""Aih-h-h!—late—andwee-e-emoul.""What way hae ye sic muckle muckle knees?""Muckle praying, muckle praying.""What way hae ye sic sma' sma' thees?""Aih-h-h!—late—andwee-e-emoul.""What way hae ye sic big big hips?""Muckle sitting, muckle sitting.""What way hae ye sic a sma' sma' waist?""Aih-h-h!—late—andwee-e-emoul.""What way hae ye sic braid braid shouthers?""Wi' carrying broom, wi' carrying broom.""What way hae ye sic sma' sma' arms?""Aih-h-h!—late—andwee-e-emoul.""What way hae ye sic muckle muckle hands?""Threshing wi' an iron flail, threshing wi' an iron flail.""What way hae ye sic a sma' sma' neck?""Aih-h-h!—late—andwee-e-emoul.""What way hae ye sic a muckle muckle head?""Muckle wit, muckle wit.""What do you come for?""For YOU!"
A wife was sitting at her reel ae night;And aye she sat, and aye she reeled, and aye she wished for company.
A wife was sitting at her reel ae night;
And aye she sat, and aye she reeled, and aye she wished for company.
In came a pair o' braid braid soles, and sat down at the fireside;And aye she sat, and aye she reeled, and aye she wished for company.
In came a pair o' braid braid soles, and sat down at the fireside;
And aye she sat, and aye she reeled, and aye she wished for company.
In came a pair o' sma' legs, and sat down on the braid braid soles;And aye she sat, and aye she reeled, and aye she wished for company.
In came a pair o' sma' legs, and sat down on the braid braid soles;
And aye she sat, and aye she reeled, and aye she wished for company.
In came a pair o' muckle muckle knees, and sat down on the sma' sma' legs;And aye she sat, and aye she reeled, and aye she wished for company.
In came a pair o' muckle muckle knees, and sat down on the sma' sma' legs;
And aye she sat, and aye she reeled, and aye she wished for company.
In came a pair o' sma' sma' thees, and sat down on the muckle muckle knees;And aye she sat, and aye she reeled, and aye she wished for company.
In came a pair o' sma' sma' thees, and sat down on the muckle muckle knees;
And aye she sat, and aye she reeled, and aye she wished for company.
In came a pair o' muckle muckle hips, and sat down on the sma' sma' thees;And aye she sat, and aye she reeled, and aye she wished for company.
In came a pair o' muckle muckle hips, and sat down on the sma' sma' thees;
And aye she sat, and aye she reeled, and aye she wished for company.
In came a sma' sma' waist, and sat down on the muckle muckle hips;And aye she sat, and aye she reeled, and aye she wished for company.
In came a sma' sma' waist, and sat down on the muckle muckle hips;
And aye she sat, and aye she reeled, and aye she wished for company.
In came a pair o' braid braid shouthers, and sat down on the sma' sma' waist;And aye she sat, and aye she reeled, and aye she wished for company.
In came a pair o' braid braid shouthers, and sat down on the sma' sma' waist;
And aye she sat, and aye she reeled, and aye she wished for company.
In came a pair o' sma' sma' arms, and sat down on the braid braid shouthers;And aye she sat, and aye she reeled, and aye she wished for company.
In came a pair o' sma' sma' arms, and sat down on the braid braid shouthers;
And aye she sat, and aye she reeled, and aye she wished for company.
In came a pair o' muckle muckle hands, and sat down on the sma' sma' arms;And aye she sat, and aye she reeled, and aye she wished for company.
In came a pair o' muckle muckle hands, and sat down on the sma' sma' arms;
And aye she sat, and aye she reeled, and aye she wished for company.
In came a sma' sma' neck, and sat down on the braid braid shouthers;And aye she sat, and aye she reeled, and aye she wished for company.
In came a sma' sma' neck, and sat down on the braid braid shouthers;
And aye she sat, and aye she reeled, and aye she wished for company.
In came a great big head, and sat down on the sma' sma' neck;And aye she sat, and aye she reeled, and aye she wished for company.
In came a great big head, and sat down on the sma' sma' neck;
And aye she sat, and aye she reeled, and aye she wished for company.
"What way hae ye sic braid braid feet?" quo' the wife."Muckle ganging, muckle ganging.""What way hae ye sic sma' sma' legs?""Aih-h-h!—late—andwee-e-emoul.""What way hae ye sic muckle muckle knees?""Muckle praying, muckle praying.""What way hae ye sic sma' sma' thees?""Aih-h-h!—late—andwee-e-emoul.""What way hae ye sic big big hips?""Muckle sitting, muckle sitting.""What way hae ye sic a sma' sma' waist?""Aih-h-h!—late—andwee-e-emoul.""What way hae ye sic braid braid shouthers?""Wi' carrying broom, wi' carrying broom.""What way hae ye sic sma' sma' arms?""Aih-h-h!—late—andwee-e-emoul.""What way hae ye sic muckle muckle hands?""Threshing wi' an iron flail, threshing wi' an iron flail.""What way hae ye sic a sma' sma' neck?""Aih-h-h!—late—andwee-e-emoul.""What way hae ye sic a muckle muckle head?""Muckle wit, muckle wit.""What do you come for?""For YOU!"
"What way hae ye sic braid braid feet?" quo' the wife.
"Muckle ganging, muckle ganging."
"What way hae ye sic sma' sma' legs?"
"Aih-h-h!—late—andwee-e-emoul."
"What way hae ye sic muckle muckle knees?"
"Muckle praying, muckle praying."
"What way hae ye sic sma' sma' thees?"
"Aih-h-h!—late—andwee-e-emoul."
"What way hae ye sic big big hips?"
"Muckle sitting, muckle sitting."
"What way hae ye sic a sma' sma' waist?"
"Aih-h-h!—late—andwee-e-emoul."
"What way hae ye sic braid braid shouthers?"
"Wi' carrying broom, wi' carrying broom."
"What way hae ye sic sma' sma' arms?"
"Aih-h-h!—late—andwee-e-emoul."
"What way hae ye sic muckle muckle hands?"
"Threshing wi' an iron flail, threshing wi' an iron flail."
"What way hae ye sic a sma' sma' neck?"
"Aih-h-h!—late—andwee-e-emoul."
"What way hae ye sic a muckle muckle head?"
"Muckle wit, muckle wit."
"What do you come for?"
"For YOU!"
I have included only these few stanzas of this familiar magical poem because a book is but one book, and to print everything as lovely or almost as lovely would need many.
In reading it, as Coleridge explained, all that is necessary to ensure its lilt and cadence is to remember that every line, however few or many its words or syllables, has four accents, and that these fall in accord with the meaning of the lines as one reads them with clear eyes, attentive ear, and understanding. In his tale of Genevieve there is yet another false and lovely Fiend:
... But when I told the cruel scornThat crazed that bold and lovely Knight,And that he crossed the mountain-woods,Nor rested day nor night;That sometimes from the savage den,And sometimes from the darksome shade,And sometimes starting up at onceIn green and sunny glade,—There came and looked him in the faceAn angel beautiful and bright;And that he knew it was a Fiend,This miserable Knight——
... But when I told the cruel scornThat crazed that bold and lovely Knight,And that he crossed the mountain-woods,Nor rested day nor night;That sometimes from the savage den,And sometimes from the darksome shade,And sometimes starting up at onceIn green and sunny glade,—There came and looked him in the faceAn angel beautiful and bright;And that he knew it was a Fiend,This miserable Knight——
... But when I told the cruel scornThat crazed that bold and lovely Knight,And that he crossed the mountain-woods,Nor rested day nor night;
... But when I told the cruel scorn
That crazed that bold and lovely Knight,
And that he crossed the mountain-woods,
Nor rested day nor night;
That sometimes from the savage den,And sometimes from the darksome shade,And sometimes starting up at onceIn green and sunny glade,—
That sometimes from the savage den,
And sometimes from the darksome shade,
And sometimes starting up at once
In green and sunny glade,—
There came and looked him in the faceAn angel beautiful and bright;And that he knew it was a Fiend,This miserable Knight——
There came and looked him in the face
An angel beautiful and bright;
And that he knew it was a Fiend,
This miserable Knight——
Here is a description of onewithteeth—a dog seldom seen now. It is taken from a German book on husbandry, translated by Barnaby Goodge, and is quoted inAnimal Lore:
"First the mastie that keepeth the house: for this purpose you must provide you such a one, as hath a large and a mightie body, a great and a shrill voyce, that both with his barking he may discover, and with his sight dismay the theefe, yea, being not seene, with the horror of his voice put him to flight; his stature must neither be long nor short, but well set, his head great, his eyes sharpe, and fiery, ... his countenance like a lion, his brest great and shaghayrd, his shoulders broad, his legges bigge, his tayle short, his feet very great; his disposition must neither be too gentle, nor too curst, that he neither fawne upon a theefe, nor flee (fly) upon his friends; very waking, no gadder abroad, not lavish of his mouth, barking without cause. Neither maketh it any matter though he be not swift: for he is but to fight at home, and to give warning of the enemie." And his name is little Bingo!
The radiant palace of this poem is indeed far away—the other side of dream and night. Its monstrous word,Porphyrogene, means a prince, a child-Royal, one born in the chamber of some Eastern palace walled with rare porphyry.
On a poet's lips I sleptDreaming like a love-adeptIn the sound his breathing kept;Nor seeks nor finds he mortal blisses,But feeds on the aërial kissesOf shapes that haunt thought's wildernesses.He will watch from dawn to gloomThe lake-reflected sun illumeThe yellow bees in the ivy-bloom,Nor heed nor see, what things they be;But from these create he canForms more real than living man,Nurslings of immortality!...Percy Bysshe Shelley
On a poet's lips I sleptDreaming like a love-adeptIn the sound his breathing kept;Nor seeks nor finds he mortal blisses,But feeds on the aërial kissesOf shapes that haunt thought's wildernesses.He will watch from dawn to gloomThe lake-reflected sun illumeThe yellow bees in the ivy-bloom,Nor heed nor see, what things they be;But from these create he canForms more real than living man,Nurslings of immortality!...Percy Bysshe Shelley
On a poet's lips I sleptDreaming like a love-adeptIn the sound his breathing kept;Nor seeks nor finds he mortal blisses,But feeds on the aërial kissesOf shapes that haunt thought's wildernesses.He will watch from dawn to gloomThe lake-reflected sun illumeThe yellow bees in the ivy-bloom,Nor heed nor see, what things they be;But from these create he canForms more real than living man,Nurslings of immortality!...Percy Bysshe Shelley
On a poet's lips I slept
Dreaming like a love-adept
In the sound his breathing kept;
Nor seeks nor finds he mortal blisses,
But feeds on the aërial kisses
Of shapes that haunt thought's wildernesses.
He will watch from dawn to gloom
The lake-reflected sun illume
The yellow bees in the ivy-bloom,
Nor heed nor see, what things they be;
But from these create he can
Forms more real than living man,
Nurslings of immortality!...
Percy Bysshe Shelley
This, 353, 355 and 356 are four more Singing-Game Rhymes, worn down into almost nonsensical jingle by multitudinous tongues in long long usage. (See No. 41, page 36).
And—since in my humble opinion it is not easy to get too much of this kind of good thing—here is another:
Bobby Shaft is gone to sea,With silver buckles at his knee;When he'll come home he'll marry me,Pretty Bobby Shaft!Bobby Shaft is fat and fair,Combing down his yellow hair;He's my love for evermair,Pretty Bobby Shaft!
Bobby Shaft is gone to sea,With silver buckles at his knee;When he'll come home he'll marry me,Pretty Bobby Shaft!Bobby Shaft is fat and fair,Combing down his yellow hair;He's my love for evermair,Pretty Bobby Shaft!
Bobby Shaft is gone to sea,With silver buckles at his knee;When he'll come home he'll marry me,Pretty Bobby Shaft!
Bobby Shaft is gone to sea,
With silver buckles at his knee;
When he'll come home he'll marry me,
Pretty Bobby Shaft!
Bobby Shaft is fat and fair,Combing down his yellow hair;He's my love for evermair,Pretty Bobby Shaft!
Bobby Shaft is fat and fair,
Combing down his yellow hair;
He's my love for evermair,
Pretty Bobby Shaft!
King Edelbrode cam owre the sea,Fa la lilly.All for to marry a gay ladye,Fa la lilly.Her lilly hands, sae white and sma',Fa la lilly.Wi' gouden rings were buskit braw,Fa la lilly....
King Edelbrode cam owre the sea,Fa la lilly.All for to marry a gay ladye,Fa la lilly.Her lilly hands, sae white and sma',Fa la lilly.Wi' gouden rings were buskit braw,Fa la lilly....
King Edelbrode cam owre the sea,Fa la lilly.All for to marry a gay ladye,Fa la lilly.
King Edelbrode cam owre the sea,
Fa la lilly.
All for to marry a gay ladye,
Fa la lilly.
Her lilly hands, sae white and sma',Fa la lilly.Wi' gouden rings were buskit braw,Fa la lilly....
Her lilly hands, sae white and sma',
Fa la lilly.
Wi' gouden rings were buskit braw,
Fa la lilly....
And here is a Bride of Elizabeth's day whom I chanced on in that packed and inexhaustible book,Shakespeare's England. When "buskit braw," she must have been as lovely to see as a hawthorn in May or a wax candle in a silver shrine:
"The bride being attired in a gown of sheeps russet, and a kirtle of fine worsted, her head attired with a billiment of gold, and her hair as yellow as gold hanging down behind her, whichwas curiously combed and pleated, according to the manner in those days: she was led to church between two sweet boys, with bride-laces and rosemary tied about their silken sleeves.... Then was there a fair bride-cup of silver and gilt carried before her wherein was a goodly branch of rosemary, gilded very fair, hung about with silken ribands of all colours: next was there a noise of musicians, that played all the way before her: after her came all the chiefest maidens of the country, some bearing great bride-cakes, and some garlands of wheat, finely gilded, and so she passed to the Church."
As for the silken ribands they may have been of Drakes colour or Ladies blush or Gozelinge colour or Marigold or Isabel or Peas porridge tawny or Popingay blew or Lusty gallant, but they were certainly not Judas colour, Devil in the hedge, or Dead Spaniard.
The Yellow-haired Laddie sat down on yon brae,Cries—Milk the ewes, Lassie! let nane o' them gae!And ay she milked, and ay she sang—The Yellow-haired Laddie shall be my gudeman!And ay she milked, and ay she sang—The Yellow-haired Laddie shall be my gudeman!...Allan Ramsay
The Yellow-haired Laddie sat down on yon brae,Cries—Milk the ewes, Lassie! let nane o' them gae!And ay she milked, and ay she sang—The Yellow-haired Laddie shall be my gudeman!And ay she milked, and ay she sang—The Yellow-haired Laddie shall be my gudeman!...Allan Ramsay
The Yellow-haired Laddie sat down on yon brae,Cries—Milk the ewes, Lassie! let nane o' them gae!And ay she milked, and ay she sang—The Yellow-haired Laddie shall be my gudeman!And ay she milked, and ay she sang—The Yellow-haired Laddie shall be my gudeman!...Allan Ramsay
The Yellow-haired Laddie sat down on yon brae,
Cries—Milk the ewes, Lassie! let nane o' them gae!
And ay she milked, and ay she sang—
The Yellow-haired Laddie shall be my gudeman!
And ay she milked, and ay she sang—
The Yellow-haired Laddie shall be my gudeman!...
Allan Ramsay
This old song, which was set to music in the reign of Henry VIII., comes (like Dallyaunce of No. 35), out of a Morality Play,Lusty Juventus, the author of which is said to be one "R. Wever," whose body has now for many a century been slumbering on in its cocoon.
This is the only poem I have ever seen in which the midmost feature of a pretty face is compared to a cherry. And yet a frosty morning must have given many a dainty nose that fair bright coral colour.
So too, Bob Cherry, in these linesTo His Lady:
Black-heart were mine to love not thyWhite-heart so sweet and tender;Be kind, my dear, for—Summer by—What fruits hath cold December?
Black-heart were mine to love not thyWhite-heart so sweet and tender;Be kind, my dear, for—Summer by—What fruits hath cold December?
Black-heart were mine to love not thyWhite-heart so sweet and tender;Be kind, my dear, for—Summer by—What fruits hath cold December?
Black-heart were mine to love not thy
White-heart so sweet and tender;
Be kind, my dear, for—Summer by—
What fruits hath cold December?
In old times the "Governor" of a Bee Hive was sometimes referred to as the King and sometimes as the Queen. The choice depended in part on which kind of monarch was on the throne. There is an entrancing story of the middle ages, told by Mr. Tickner Edwardes in his book on the Honey Bee.
"A certaine simple woman, on finding that her bees were storing little honey for her and were perishing of "the murraine," stole one of the holy wafers from the priest, and for miraculous remedy concealed it in one of her hives. "Whereupon the Murraine ceased and the Honie abounded. The Woman, therefore lifting up the hive at the due time to take out the Honie, saw there (most strange to be seene) a Chappell built by the Bees, with an altar to it, the wals adorned by marvellous skill of architecture, with windowes conveniently set in their places: also a doore and a steeple with bells. And the Host being laid upon the altar, the Bees making a sweet noise, flew around it." Apart from "the singing masons building roofs of gold," the gluttonous drones, the sentries, wax-makers, bread-kneaders, nurses, etc., there are the Queen's Ladies-in-waiting. "For difference from the rest they beare for their crest a tuft or tossell, in some coloured yellow, in some murrey, in manner of a plume; whereof some turne downward like an Ostrich-feather, others stand upright like a Hern-top." But for truths even stranger than fantasy regarding bees and their kind, go to Henri Fabre.
As Flora slept and I lay waking,I smiled to see a bird's mistaking,For from a bough it down did skipAnd for a cherry pecked her lip....
As Flora slept and I lay waking,I smiled to see a bird's mistaking,For from a bough it down did skipAnd for a cherry pecked her lip....
As Flora slept and I lay waking,I smiled to see a bird's mistaking,For from a bough it down did skipAnd for a cherry pecked her lip....
As Flora slept and I lay waking,
I smiled to see a bird's mistaking,
For from a bough it down did skip
And for a cherry pecked her lip....
How many times do I love thee, dear?Tell me how many thoughts there beIn the atmosphereOf the new fall'n year,Whose white and sable hours appearThe latest flake of eternity:So times do I love thee, dear!How many times do I love again?Tell me how many beads there areIn a silver chainOf evening rainUnravelled from the tumbling main,And threading the eye of a yellow star:So many times do I love again!Thomas Lovell Beddoes
How many times do I love thee, dear?Tell me how many thoughts there beIn the atmosphereOf the new fall'n year,Whose white and sable hours appearThe latest flake of eternity:So times do I love thee, dear!How many times do I love again?Tell me how many beads there areIn a silver chainOf evening rainUnravelled from the tumbling main,And threading the eye of a yellow star:So many times do I love again!Thomas Lovell Beddoes
How many times do I love thee, dear?Tell me how many thoughts there beIn the atmosphereOf the new fall'n year,Whose white and sable hours appearThe latest flake of eternity:So times do I love thee, dear!
How many times do I love thee, dear?
Tell me how many thoughts there be
In the atmosphere
Of the new fall'n year,
Whose white and sable hours appear
The latest flake of eternity:
So times do I love thee, dear!
How many times do I love again?Tell me how many beads there areIn a silver chainOf evening rainUnravelled from the tumbling main,And threading the eye of a yellow star:So many times do I love again!Thomas Lovell Beddoes
How many times do I love again?
Tell me how many beads there are
In a silver chain
Of evening rain
Unravelled from the tumbling main,
And threading the eye of a yellow star:
So many times do I love again!
Thomas Lovell Beddoes
The word screen (line 4) means, I think, "Hide and shelter those smiles away that in their beauty seem to burn in the air": for all beauty resembles radiance in its influence on the mind. And this recalls to memory Southwell's poem,The Burning Babe, No. 256.
The closer one looks at and examines a finesonnet—its way of rhyming, its rise, poise, flight and fall, the ease and exactitude with which what is said in it fills its mould or form—the more, I was going to say, one should hesitate before attempting to write another. This particular sonnet (like No. 361), is of the English or Shakespearean kind, and is so lovely a thing that only a close attention would notice the carelessness of its rhymes. No. 342 is an example of the form which our sixteenth century poets borrowed from Italy. Comparison of them shows that, as with the old Chinese ginger jars, so in poetry: not only is the syrup delightful, but even the pot may be interesting.
Coleridge wrote few sonnets, and this is his explanation of the length one must be: "It is confined to fourteen lines, because as some particular number is necessary, and that particular number must be a small one, it may as well be fourteen as any other number. When no reason can be adduced against a thing, Custom is a sufficient reason for it."
When I read this last remark for the first time it was as if my mind had been startled into attention as one's body is when it collides with a stranger in the street. There is a wide wisdom in it. How many natural, human and delightful things there are in this world indeed for which Custom is a sufficient reason: Children, for instance, daisies in the grass,skylarks in the clouds, dreams in sleep, rhymes, gay clothes, friendship, laughter.
There is the apparition of a lovely face in the Moon—proud and mute—to be discovered by careful eyes usually on the extreme right of the disc, her own eyes gazing towards the left.
This old Scottish song was a favourite of Oliver Goldsmith's in his childhood. "The music of the finest singer," he said, "is dissonance to what I felt when our old dairy-maid sung me into tears withJohnny Armstrong's Last Good-night, orThe Cruelty of Barbara Allen.
As with the Scottish ballads so with this last poem—it is the brevity and bareness with which the story is told and is not told that sets it apart. Without one express word to prove it so, we know that Sir John had always loved the proud Barbara even though he had spoken lightly of her, and that she too had always loved him, though she refuses the word that would have saved his life.
Yet another tragic and sorrowful poem of which, to some fancies, there may be too many in this book already. Well, here is the story of the beautiful Princess Uillanita: She cared only for flowers white and colourless as dew in the first light of day, or as laundered linen blanching on a hedge of thorn. And she came one still evening, when she was in search of what she could not find, to a valley wherein a forest gloomed above a deep but placid river. Within the forest, refreshed by the mists of the river, grew none but flowers blue and dark and purple, and such was the young Princess's hatred of them that she covered her eyes with her hands, fled on, and so lost her way.
In the middle of the night and long after she had wept herself to sleep, the wailing of a nocturnal bird pierced into her dreams, and she woke to find one solitary star of the colourlessness of Vega shining alone in radiance in the space of skybetwixt the branches above her head. Its thin ray silvered down—spearlike in its straightness—and of a beam easily sufficing to irradiate a tiny clustering flower which stood scarcely visible in the moss at her hand's side, and was drenching the air with its fragrance. It was a flower utterly strange to her, whiter than hoarfrost, fairer than foam.
The enravished Princess gazed spellbound. "Why," whispered she to herself, in the quiet of the dark gigantic forest; "if I had not wept at the flowers of this sombre forest, if I had not lost my way, if I had not been moved in my sleep to awaken, I never should have seen this crystal thing; that is lovelier than I deemed Paradise itself could bring to bloom." And she kissed the thin-spun petals, and happily fell again asleep.
Only two stanzas out of six, and these, maybe, a little difficult in the old Scots:
Depart, depart, depart!Alas! I must departFrom her that has my heartWith heart full sore;Against my will indeedAnd can find no remede—I wait the pains of death—Can do no more....Adieu mine own sweet thing,My joy and comforting,My mirth and solacingOf earthly gloir:Farewell, my lady bright,And my remembrance right,Farewell, and have good night—I say no more.
Depart, depart, depart!Alas! I must departFrom her that has my heartWith heart full sore;Against my will indeedAnd can find no remede—I wait the pains of death—Can do no more....Adieu mine own sweet thing,My joy and comforting,My mirth and solacingOf earthly gloir:Farewell, my lady bright,And my remembrance right,Farewell, and have good night—I say no more.
Depart, depart, depart!Alas! I must departFrom her that has my heartWith heart full sore;Against my will indeedAnd can find no remede—I wait the pains of death—Can do no more....
Depart, depart, depart!
Alas! I must depart
From her that has my heart
With heart full sore;
Against my will indeed
And can find no remede—
I wait the pains of death—
Can do no more....
Adieu mine own sweet thing,My joy and comforting,My mirth and solacingOf earthly gloir:Farewell, my lady bright,And my remembrance right,Farewell, and have good night—I say no more.
Adieu mine own sweet thing,
My joy and comforting,
My mirth and solacing
Of earthly gloir:
Farewell, my lady bright,
And my remembrance right,
Farewell, and have good night—
I say no more.
Who "the wayworn wanderer" is, I am uncertain; but apart from its rare music, how long a journey awaits the imagination in this poem, and how closely inwoven is its thought. Yet it is said to have been written when Poe was in his early 'teens.
Mr. Nahum's picture for this poem was of a little winged boy at evening, his quiver of arrows on his back, his bow the perch of a nightingale, and himself lying fast asleep under a hawthorn bush in full flower—a narrow green sun-dappled river near-by, rosy clouds and birds in the air, and strange snow-peaked hills afar.
... Only our love hath no decay;This no to-morrow hath, nor yesterday;Running it never runs from us away,But truly keeps his first, last, everlasting day.John Donne
... Only our love hath no decay;This no to-morrow hath, nor yesterday;Running it never runs from us away,But truly keeps his first, last, everlasting day.John Donne
... Only our love hath no decay;This no to-morrow hath, nor yesterday;Running it never runs from us away,But truly keeps his first, last, everlasting day.John Donne
... Only our love hath no decay;
This no to-morrow hath, nor yesterday;
Running it never runs from us away,
But truly keeps his first, last, everlasting day.
John Donne
Silly boy 'tis ful Moon yet, thy night as day shines clearely.Had thy youth but wit to feare, thou couldst not love so dearely.Shortly wilt thou mourne when all thy pleasures are bereavèd;Little knows he how to love that never was deceivèd....Yet be just and constant still! Love may beget a wonder,Not unlike a Summer's frost, or Winter's fatall thunder.He that holds his Sweethart true, unto his day of dying,Lives, of all that ever breathed, most worthy the envỳing.Thomas Campion
Silly boy 'tis ful Moon yet, thy night as day shines clearely.Had thy youth but wit to feare, thou couldst not love so dearely.Shortly wilt thou mourne when all thy pleasures are bereavèd;Little knows he how to love that never was deceivèd....Yet be just and constant still! Love may beget a wonder,Not unlike a Summer's frost, or Winter's fatall thunder.He that holds his Sweethart true, unto his day of dying,Lives, of all that ever breathed, most worthy the envỳing.Thomas Campion
Silly boy 'tis ful Moon yet, thy night as day shines clearely.Had thy youth but wit to feare, thou couldst not love so dearely.Shortly wilt thou mourne when all thy pleasures are bereavèd;Little knows he how to love that never was deceivèd....
Silly boy 'tis ful Moon yet, thy night as day shines clearely.
Had thy youth but wit to feare, thou couldst not love so dearely.
Shortly wilt thou mourne when all thy pleasures are bereavèd;
Little knows he how to love that never was deceivèd....
Yet be just and constant still! Love may beget a wonder,Not unlike a Summer's frost, or Winter's fatall thunder.He that holds his Sweethart true, unto his day of dying,Lives, of all that ever breathed, most worthy the envỳing.Thomas Campion
Yet be just and constant still! Love may beget a wonder,
Not unlike a Summer's frost, or Winter's fatall thunder.
He that holds his Sweethart true, unto his day of dying,
Lives, of all that ever breathed, most worthy the envỳing.
Thomas Campion
In this poem, as in all Christina Rossetti's work, there is a rhythm and poise, a serpentining of music, so delicate that on clumsy lips it will vanish as rapidly as the bloom from a plum. Indeed, each stanza is like a branch (with its twigs) of a wild damson-tree, its wavering line broken and beautified with bud, flower and leaf. And certainly as fresh an air, and as clear a light, stirs and dwells in the poem as on the tree itself in April.
This is from Part II., Act II., Scene i. of "Zapolya." Glycine sings unseen in a cavern—her voice comforting her lover wandering forlorn by night "in a savage wood."
For I'll cut my green coat a foot above my knee,And I'll clip my yellow locks an inch below mine ee.Hey, nonny, nonny, nonny.I'll buy me a white cut, forth for to ride,And I'll go seek him through the world that is so wide.Hey, nonny, nonny, nonny.
For I'll cut my green coat a foot above my knee,And I'll clip my yellow locks an inch below mine ee.Hey, nonny, nonny, nonny.I'll buy me a white cut, forth for to ride,And I'll go seek him through the world that is so wide.Hey, nonny, nonny, nonny.
For I'll cut my green coat a foot above my knee,And I'll clip my yellow locks an inch below mine ee.Hey, nonny, nonny, nonny.
For I'll cut my green coat a foot above my knee,
And I'll clip my yellow locks an inch below mine ee.
Hey, nonny, nonny, nonny.
I'll buy me a white cut, forth for to ride,And I'll go seek him through the world that is so wide.Hey, nonny, nonny, nonny.
I'll buy me a white cut, forth for to ride,
And I'll go seek him through the world that is so wide.
Hey, nonny, nonny, nonny.
In medieval days it seems that a traveller here and there, happily supposing the world to be a floating island of indiscoverable dimensions, hung in the wilds of space, and not knowing that it was merely an "oblate spheroid," would journey clean round it and so come back, to his amazement, to the place from which he started. Here is such an experience from Sir John Mandeville, in his own words: "It was told that a certain worthy man departed some time from our Country for to go search the World.... He passed India and the Isles beyond it, where are more than 5000 Isles, and so long and for so many seasons he went by Sea and Land, and so environed the World, that he came at last to an Isle whereon he heard spoken his own language—a calling of oxen in the Plough—such Words in fact as men were wont to speak to Beasts in his own country. Whereof he greatly marvelled, knowing not how that might be." For there—as if it were a ghost or spectre—therewas the chimney of his own house smoking up into the clear morning air! And what did he do, maybe? He stared; he sighed; he grew pale; he shuddered: and—he turned back!
For the first sight of this poem I most gratefully thank my friend Mr. Ivor Gurney, though no doubt it was in Mr. Nahum's Book somewhere, and I was too indolent at the time to copy it out. The poem was written by William Cleland while he was still at St. Andrews. All else I know of him is that he was born about 1661, and fell at Dunkeld in 1689. There is nothing in English to my knowledge that resembles it.Erra Pater(stanza 4) was the name given to a busy astrologer and almanac-concocter, William Lilly, of the time. King Phalaris's monstrous bull was of brass: he perished in it.
By "the tapers" (stanza 2) is meant, I fancy, those phosphor-like fires that gather on the yard-arms of ships at sea when the air is electric with tempest. Sir Humphrey Gilbert's sailors were fearful at sight of this apparition, and of a monster, too, that appeared swimming in the waves beside their frigate, theSquirrel, a little before she and her riding lights disappeared for ever.
" ... Men which all their life time had occupied the Sea, never saw more outragious Seas. We had also upon our maine yard, an apparition of a little fire by night, which seamen doe call Castor and Pollux. But we had onely one, which they take an evill signe of more tempest.... The same Monday night, about twelve of the clocke ... suddenly her lights were out ... and withall our watch cryed,the Generall was cast away, which was too true. For in that moment, the Frigat was devoured and swallowed up of the Sea ..."
As for Cupid (stanza 5), he is said to be the slyest archer that ever shot arrow—and a dangerous child either to entertain (as the poem proves that begins as follows):
Cupid abroade was 'lated in the night,His wings were wet with ranging in the raine;Harbour he sought, to mee hee took his flight,To dry his plumes I heard the boy complaine.I opte the doore and graunted his desire,I rose my selfe, and made the wagge a fire....
Cupid abroade was 'lated in the night,His wings were wet with ranging in the raine;Harbour he sought, to mee hee took his flight,To dry his plumes I heard the boy complaine.I opte the doore and graunted his desire,I rose my selfe, and made the wagge a fire....
Cupid abroade was 'lated in the night,His wings were wet with ranging in the raine;Harbour he sought, to mee hee took his flight,To dry his plumes I heard the boy complaine.I opte the doore and graunted his desire,I rose my selfe, and made the wagge a fire....
Cupid abroade was 'lated in the night,
His wings were wet with ranging in the raine;
Harbour he sought, to mee hee took his flight,
To dry his plumes I heard the boy complaine.
I opte the doore and graunted his desire,
I rose my selfe, and made the wagge a fire....
or—as yet another poem shows—to take as a scholar:
I dreamt by me I saw fair Venus stand,Holding young Cupid in her lovely hand,And said, kind Shepherd, I a scholar bringMy little son, to learn of you to sing....
I dreamt by me I saw fair Venus stand,Holding young Cupid in her lovely hand,And said, kind Shepherd, I a scholar bringMy little son, to learn of you to sing....
I dreamt by me I saw fair Venus stand,Holding young Cupid in her lovely hand,And said, kind Shepherd, I a scholar bringMy little son, to learn of you to sing....
I dreamt by me I saw fair Venus stand,
Holding young Cupid in her lovely hand,
And said, kind Shepherd, I a scholar bring
My little son, to learn of you to sing....
And last, the pelican (in stanza 7). She was supposed in old days to be "the lovingest bird that is," since at need she would pierce her breast with her bill to feed her young ones. The plaintive singing of the dying swan I have never heard, except in Tennyson's words:
The plain was grassy, wild and bare,Wide, wild, and open to the air,Which had built up everywhereAn under-roof of doleful gray.With an inner voice the river ran,Adown it floated a dying swan,And loudly did lament.It was the middle of the day.Ever the weary wind went on,And took the reed-tops as it went....Some blue peaks in the distance rose,And white against the cold-white sky,Shone out their crowning snows.One willow over the river wept,And shook the wave as the wind did sigh;Above in the wind was the swallow,Chasing itself at its own wild will,And far thro' the marish green and stillThe tangled water-courses slept,Shot over with purple, and green, and yellow.Hearke canst thou heare me? I will play the Swan,And dye in Musicke: Willough, Willough, Willough....Othello
The plain was grassy, wild and bare,Wide, wild, and open to the air,Which had built up everywhereAn under-roof of doleful gray.With an inner voice the river ran,Adown it floated a dying swan,And loudly did lament.It was the middle of the day.Ever the weary wind went on,And took the reed-tops as it went....Some blue peaks in the distance rose,And white against the cold-white sky,Shone out their crowning snows.One willow over the river wept,And shook the wave as the wind did sigh;Above in the wind was the swallow,Chasing itself at its own wild will,And far thro' the marish green and stillThe tangled water-courses slept,Shot over with purple, and green, and yellow.Hearke canst thou heare me? I will play the Swan,And dye in Musicke: Willough, Willough, Willough....Othello
The plain was grassy, wild and bare,Wide, wild, and open to the air,Which had built up everywhereAn under-roof of doleful gray.
The plain was grassy, wild and bare,
Wide, wild, and open to the air,
Which had built up everywhere
An under-roof of doleful gray.
With an inner voice the river ran,Adown it floated a dying swan,And loudly did lament.It was the middle of the day.Ever the weary wind went on,And took the reed-tops as it went....Some blue peaks in the distance rose,And white against the cold-white sky,Shone out their crowning snows.
With an inner voice the river ran,
Adown it floated a dying swan,
And loudly did lament.
It was the middle of the day.
Ever the weary wind went on,
And took the reed-tops as it went....
Some blue peaks in the distance rose,
And white against the cold-white sky,
Shone out their crowning snows.
One willow over the river wept,And shook the wave as the wind did sigh;Above in the wind was the swallow,Chasing itself at its own wild will,And far thro' the marish green and stillThe tangled water-courses slept,Shot over with purple, and green, and yellow.
One willow over the river wept,
And shook the wave as the wind did sigh;
Above in the wind was the swallow,
Chasing itself at its own wild will,
And far thro' the marish green and still
The tangled water-courses slept,
Shot over with purple, and green, and yellow.
Hearke canst thou heare me? I will play the Swan,And dye in Musicke: Willough, Willough, Willough....Othello
Hearke canst thou heare me? I will play the Swan,
And dye in Musicke: Willough, Willough, Willough....
Othello
" ... The next day, Thursday, October 11, 1492, was destined to be for ever memorable in the history of the world.... The people on theSanta Mariasaw some petrels and a green branch in the water; thePintasaw a reed and two small sticks carved with iron, and one or two other pieces of reeds and grasses that had been grown on shore, as well as a small board. Most wonderful of all, the people of theNinasaw 'a little branch full of dog roses';.... The day drew to its close; and after nightfall, according to their custom, the crews of the ships repeated theSalve Regina. Afterwards the Admiral addressed the people and sailors of his ship, 'very merry and pleasant,'.... The moon was in its third quarter, and did not rise until eleven o'clock. The first part of the night was dark, and there was only a faint starlight into which the anxious eyes of the look-out men peered from the forecastles of the three ships. At ten o'clock Columbus was walking on the poop of his vessel, when he suddenly saw a light right ahead. The light seemed to rise and fall as though itwere a candle or a lantern held in some one's hand and waved up and down. The Admiral called Pedro Gutierrez to him and asked him whether he saw anything; and he also saw the light. Then he sent for Rodrigo Sanchez and asked him if he saw the light; but he did not.... Dawn came at last, flooding the sky with lemon and saffron and scarlet and orange, until at last the pure gold of the sun glittered on the water. And when it rose it showed the sea-weary mariners an island lying in the blue sea ahead of them: the island of Guanahani; San Salvador....
Christopher Columbus,Filson Young