THE WORLD IN THE OPEN AIR. " -I have learned To look on Nature, not as in the hour Of thoughtless youth-but hearing oftentimes Not harsh nor grating, though of ample power Wordsworth. COME, while in freshness and dew it lies, The stock-dove is there in the beechen tree, There is life, there is youth, there is tameless mirth, Yes! we will come-we will leave behind It is well through the rich wild woods to go, And to watch the colours that flit and pass 160 THE CAPTIVE KNIGHT. Joyous and far shall our wanderings be, But if by the forest brook we meet If the cell where a hermit of old hath prayed, Doubt not but there will our steps be sta yed, For what though the mountain and skies be fair, Where it hath suffered and nobly striven, And by that soul amidst groves and rills, TROUBADOUR SONG.-THE CAPTIVE KNIGHT. 'Twas a trumpet's pealing sound! And the Knight look'd down from the Paynim's tower, And a Christian host, in its pride and power, Through the pass beneath him wound. Cease awhile, clarion ! clarion wild and shrill, Cease! let them hear the captive's voice, be still! "I knew 'twas a trumpet's note! And I see my brethren's lances gleam, And their pennon wave, by the mountain's stream, And their plumes to the glad wind float! Cease awhile clarion! clarion wild and shrill, Cease! let them hear the captive's voice,-be still! "I am here, with my heavy chain ! And I look on a torrent, sweeping by, And a host to its battle plain! Cease awhile clarion! clarion wild and shrill, Cease awhile clarion! clarion wild and shrill, "They are gone! they have all pass'd by ! They in whose wars I have borne my part, Sound again clarion clarion, pour thy blast, THE BRIDE'S FAREWELL. WHY do I weep?-to leave the Vine, I leave thee, sister!-we have play'd When the silvery green of the olive shade 162 THE VIGIL OF ARMS. Yes, thou and I, by stream, by shore, I leave thee, father!-Eve's bright moon With the gather'd grapes and lyre in tune, Thou in whose voice, to bless thy child, Whose eye o'er all my youth hath smil'd, I leave thee! let me weep! Mother! I leave thee!--on thy heart I have found that holy place of rest Lips that have lull'd me with your strain, THE VIGIL OF ARMS.* A SOUNDING step was heard by night, He walked in dreams of Power and Fame, He lifted a proud, bright eye, For the hours were few that withheld his name From the roll of Chivalry. *The candidate for knighthood was under the necessity of keeping watch, the night before his inauguration, in a church, and completely armed. This was called the Vigil of Arms. Down the moon-lit aisles he paced alone, But no dim warning of Time or Fate That youth's flushed hopes could chill, He looked to the banners on high that hung, And a royal masque of splendour seemed Through the solemn arches on it streamed, There were crested Knight and gorgeous Dame, And he followed till his bold step came To his Warrior-Father's tomb. But there the still and shadowy night Of the monumental stone, And the holy sleep of the soft lamp's light, And the image of that sire who died These had a power unto which the pride And a spirit from his early years Came back o'er his thoughts to move, Till his eye was filled with memory's tears, And his heart with childhood's love! And he looked, with a change in his softening glance, To the armour o'er the grave, For there they bung, the shield and lance, And the gauntlet of the brave. And the sword of many a field was there, With its cross for the hour of need, When the Knight's bold war-cry hath sunk in prayer, And the spear is a broken reed! |