« ForrigeFortsett »
Perchance the bald old eagle
On gray Beth-peor's height, Out his lonely eyrie
Look'd on the wondrous sight;
Still shuns that hallow'd spot,
That which man knoweth not.
But when the warrior dieth,
His comrades in the war,
Follow his funeral car;
They tell his battles won,
While peals the minute gun.
Amid the noblest of the land
We lay the sage to rest,
With costly marble drest,
Where lights like glories fall, And the organ rings, and the sweet choir sings
Along the emblazon'd wall.
This was the truest warrior
That ever buckled sword, This the most gifted poet
That ever breathed a word ;
And never earth's philosopher
Traced, with his golden pen,
As he wrote down for men.
And had he not high honor,
The hillside for a pall,
With stars for tapers tall,
Over his bier to wave,
To lay him in the grave ?
In that strange grave without a name,
Whence his uncoffin'd clay
Before the judgment day,
On the hills he never trod,
With the Incarnate Son of God.
O lonely grave in Moab's land !
O dark Beth-peor's hill !
And teach them to be still.
Ways that we cannot tell ;
CECIL FRANCES ALEXANDER.
BERNARDO AND ALPHONSO.
With some good ten of his chosen men, Bernardo
hath appeared Before them all in the palace hall, the lying King to
beard ; With cap in hand and eye on ground, he came in
reverend guise, But ever and anon he frowned, and flame broke
from his eyes. “A curse upon thee,” cries the King, “who comest
unbid to me; But what from traitor's blood should spring, save
traitors like to thee? His sire, lords, had a traitor's heart; perchance our
champion brave May think it were a pious part to share Don San
" Whoever told this tale the King hath rashness to
repeat," Cries Bernard, “here my gage I fling before THE
LIAR's feet! No treason was in Sancho's blood, no stain in mine
doth lie; Below the throne what knight will own the coward
“ The blood that I like water shed, when Roland The life of King Alphonso I saved at Roncesval,Your words, Lord King, are recompense abundant
did advance, By secret traitors hired and led, to make us slaves
for it all.
" Your horse was down,-your hope was flown,–I
saw the falchion shine, That soon had drunk your royal blood, had I not
ventured mine; But memory soon of service done deserteth the in
grate; You've thanked the son for life and crown by the
father's bloody fate.
“Ye swore upon your kingly faith, to set Don
Sancho free; But, curse upon your paltering breath, the light he
ne'er did see ; He died in dungeon cold and dim, by Alphonso's
base decree, And visage blind, and stiffened limb, were all they
gave to me.
“ The King that swerveth from his word hath
stained his purple black; No Spanish lord will draw the sword behind a liar's
back; But noble vengeance shall be mine, an open hate
I'll show, The King hath injured Carpio's line and Bernard is “ Seize, seize him!” loud the King doth scream;
" there are a thousand here ! Let his foul blood this instant stream. What ! cai tiffs, do
fear? Seize, seize the traitor!"-But not one to move a
finger dareth, Bernardo standeth by the throne, and calm his
sword he bareth.
He drew the falchion from the sheath, and held it
up on high, And all the hall was still as death; cries Bernard :
“Here am I, And here is the sword that owns no lord, excepting
heaven and me; Fain would I know who dares his point,-King,
Conde, or Grandee.”
Then to his mouth the horn he drew (it hung below
his cloak); His ten true men the signal knew, and through the
ring they broke; With helm on head, and blade in hand, the knights
the circle brake, And back the lordlings 'gan to stand and the false
King to quake.
“Ha! Bernard,” quoth Alphonso,
“ what means this warlike guise ? Ye know full well I jested, -ye know your worth I