Narrative and Lyric Poems (first series) for use in the Lower School
Chapter 1
NARRATIVE AND LYRIC POEMS
(FIRST SERIES)
FOR USE IN THE LOWER SCHOOL
WITH ANNOTATIONS BY
O. J. STEVENSON, M.A., D.PAED.,
Professor of English, Ontario Agricultural College.
TORONTO
THE COPP, CLARK COMPANY, LIMITED
Copyright, Canada, 1912, by THE COPP, CLARK COMPANY, LIMITED,
Toronto, Ontario.
PREFACE
The Narrative and Lyric Poems contained in this volume are those prescribed by the Department of Education for examination for Junior and Senior Public School Diplomas, and for the Senior High School Entrance, and Entrance into the Model Schools. (Circular 58.)
In arranging the order of the poems, the Editor has taken into consideration the character of the selections with the object both of grading them in the order of increasing difficulty, and of securing variety in the subjects treated. The teacher may, however, follow his own judgment as to the order in which the poems should be taken up in class.
In the annotations the chief points of difficulty have been explained. In the case of a number of the poems, different editions of the poets' works contain different readings. In such cases we have followed the readings that are best known and that have been recognized by the best authorities.
CONTENTS
The Meeting of the Water . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Moore
Jock o' Hazeldean . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Scott
Horatius . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Macaulay
Alice Brand . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Scott
The Solitary Reaper . . . . . . . . . . . . . Wordsworth
The Island of the Scots . . . . . . . . . . . . . Aytoun
Dickens in Camp . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Harte
A Musical Instrument . . . . . . . . . . . . Mrs. Browning
Gradatim . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Holland
The Battle of the Lake Regillus . . . . . . . . Macaulay
The Vision of Sir Launfal . . . . . . . . . . . . Lowell
The Builders . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Longfellow
British Freedom . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Wordsworth
The Courtship of Miles Standish . . . . . . . . Longfellow
Sohrab and Rustum . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Arnold
NARRATIVE AND LYRIC POEMS
THE MEETING OF THE WATERS.
There is not in the wide world a valley so sweet As that vale in whose bosom the bright waters meet! Oh! the last rays of feeling and life must depart Ere the bloom of that valley shall fade from my heart.
Yet it _was_ not that nature had shed o'er the scene 5 Her purest of crystal and brightest of green; 'Twas _not_ the soft magic of streamlet or hill, Oh! no--it was something more exquisite still.
'Twas that friends, the beloved of my bosom, were near, Who made every dear scene of enchantment more dear, 10 And who felt how the best charms of nature improve, When we see them reflected from looks that we love.
Sweet vale of Avoca![1] how calm could I rest In thy bosom of shade with the friends I love best, Where the storms that we feel in this cold world should cease, 15 And our hearts, like thy waters, be mingled in peace!
--_Moore_.
[1] Avoca. A valley and river in the County of Wicklow, Ireland. The name signifies "The Meeting of the Waters."
JOCK O' HAZELDEAN.
"Why weep ye by the tide, ladie? Why weep ye by the tide? I'll wed ye to my youngest son, And ye sall[1] be his bride: And ye sall be his bride, ladie, 5 Sae comely to be seen"-- But aye she loot[2] the tears down fa' For Jock o' Hazeldean.
"Now let this wilfu' grief be done, And dry that cheek so pale; 10 Young Frank is chief of Errington, And lord of Langley-dale; His step is first in peaceful ha', His sword in battle keen"-- But aye she loot the tears down fa' 15 For Jock o' Hazeldean.
"A chain of gold ye sall not lack, Nor braid to bind your hair; Nor mettled hound, nor managed[3] hawk, Nor palfrey fresh and fair; 20 And you, the foremost o' them a' Shall ride our forest-queen"-- But aye she loot the tears down fa' For Jock o' Hazeldean.
The kirk was deck'd at morning-tide, 25 The tapers glimmer'd fair; The priest and bridegroom wait the bride, And dame and knight are there. They sought her baith by bower and ha'. The ladie was not seen! 30 She's o'er the border, and awa' Wi' Jock o' Hazeldean!
--_Scott_
[1] sall. shall.
[2] loot. let.
[3] managed. trained.
HORATIUS.
A LAY MADE ABOUT THE YEAR OF THE CITY CCCLX.
According to legend, Tarquinius Superbus, or Tarquin the Proud, the last of the early kings of Rome, was driven out of the city, partly on account of his own tyranny, and partly because of the misdeeds of his son Sextus Tarquin. The immediate cause of the expulsion of the Tarquins was "the deed of shame," committed by Sextus against Lucretia, the wife of one of the Roman governors. After two unsuccessful attempts to regain the throne, Tarquinius Superbus sought the aid of the Etruscans and Latins, and under the leadership of Lars Porsena, the head of the Etruscan League, the combined forces marched upon Rome. It was then that the incident recorded in the story of _Horatius_ is supposed to have taken place. After the defence of the bridge by Horatius, Lars Porsena laid siege to the city and at last reduced it to submission. He did not, however, insist upon the reinstatement of the Tarquins. A fourth and last attempt was made by Tarquin the Proud to regain the throne, by the aid of his Latin allies, under Mamilius of Tusculum. The story of this expedition forms the subject of _The Battle of Lake Regulus_.
I
Lars[1] Porsena of Clusium[2] By the Nine Gods[3] he swore That the great house of Tarquin Should suffer wrong no more. By the Nine Gods he swore it, 5 And named a trysting day,[4] And bade his messengers ride forth, East and west and south and north, To summon his array.
II
East and west and south and north 10 The messengers ride fast, And tower and town and cottage Have heard the trumpet's blast. Shame on the false Etruscan, Who lingers in his home, 15 When Porsena of Clusium Is on the march to Rome.
III
The horsemen and the footmen Are pouring in amain From many a stately market-place, 20 From many a fruitful plain, From many a lonely hamlet, Which, hid by beech and pine, Like an eagle's nest, hangs on the crest Of purple Apennine; 25
IV
From lordly Volaterrae,[5] Where scowls the far-famed hold Piled by the hands of giants For godlike kings of old; From seagirt Populonia, 30 Whose sentinels descry Sardinia's snowy mountain-tops Fringing the southern sky;
V
From the proud mart of Pisse,[6] Queen of the western waves, 35 Where ride Massilia's triremes[7] Heavy with fair-haired slaves, From where sweet Olanis[8] wanders Through corn and vines and flowers, From where Cortona lifts to heaven 40 Her diadem of towers.
VI
Tall are the oaks whose acorns Drop in dark Auser's[9] rill; Fat are the stags that champ the boughs Of the Ciminian hill;[10] 45 Beyond all streams Clitumnus[11] Is to the herdsman dear; Best of all pools the fowler loves The great Volsinian mere.[12]
VII
But now no stroke of woodman 50 Is heard by Auser's rill; No hunter tracks the stag's green path Up the Ciminian hill; Unwatched along Clitumnus Grazes the milk-white steer; 55 Unharmed the waterfowl may dip In the Volsinian mere.
VIII
The harvests of Arretium,[13] This year, old men shall reap, This year, young boys in Umbro[14] 60 Shall plunge the struggling sheep; And in the vats of Luna, This year, the must[15] shall foam Round the white feet of laughing girls Whose sires have marched to Rome.
IX
There be thirty chosen prophets, The wisest of the land, Who alway by Lars Porsena Both morn and evening stand: Evening and morn the Thirty 70 Have turned the verses o'er, Traced from the right[16] on linen white By mighty seers of yore,
X
And with one voice the Thirty Have their glad answer given: 75 "Go forth, go forth, Lars Porsena; Go forth, beloved of Heaven: Go, and return in glory To Clusium's royal dome; And hang round Nurscia's[17] altars 80 The golden shields[18] of Rome."
XI
And now hath every city Sent up her tale[19] of men: The foot are fourscore thousand, The horse are thousands ten. 85 Before the gates of Sutrium[20] Is met the great array. A proud man was Lars Porsena Upon the trysting day.
XII
For all the Etruscan armies 90 Were ranged beneath his eye And many a banished Roman, And many a stout ally; And with a mighty following To join the muster came 95 The Tusculan Mamilius,[21] Prince of the Latian[22] name.
XIII
But by the yellow Tiber Was tumult and affright: From all the spacious champaign 100 To Rome men took their flight. A mile around the city, The throng stopped up the ways; A fearful sight it was to see Through two long nights and days. 105
XIV
For aged folks on crutches, And women great with child, And mothers sobbing over babes That clung to them and smiled, And sick men borne in litters 110 High on the necks of slaves, And troops of sunburnt husbandmen With reaping-hooks and staves,
XV
And droves of mules and asses Laden with skins of wine, 115 And endless flocks of goats and sheep, And endless herds of kine, And endless trains of wagons That creaked beneath the weight Of corn-sacks and of household goods, 120 Choked every roaring gate.
XVI
Now, from the rock Tarpeian,[23] Could the wan burghers spy The line of blazing villages Red in the midnight sky. 125 The Fathers[24] of the City, They sat all night and day, For every hour some horseman came With tidings of dismay.
XVII
To eastward and to westward 130 Have spread the Tuscan bands; Nor house nor fence nor dovecote In Crustumerium[25] stands. Verbenna down to Ostia[26] Hath wasted all the plain; 135 Astur hath stormed Janiculum,[27] And the stout guards are slain.
XVIII
I wis,[28] in all the Senate, There was no heart so bold, But sore it ached, and fast it beat; 140 When that ill news was told. Forthwith up rose the Consul, Up rose the Fathers all; In haste they girded up their gowns, And hied them to the wall. 145
XIX
They held a council standing Before the River-Gate[30]; Short time was there, ye well may guess, For musing or debate. Out spake the Consul roundly: 150 "The bridge[31] must straight go down; For, since Janiculum is lost, Naught else can save the town."
XX
Just then a scout came flying, All wild with haste and fear; 155 "To arms! to arms! Sir Consul: Lars Porsena is here." On the low hills to westward The Consul fixed his eye, And saw the swarthy storm of dust 160 Rise fast along the sky.
XXI
And nearer fast and nearer Doth the red whirlwind come; And louder still and still more loud, From underneath that rolling cloud, 165 Is heard the trumpet's war-note proud, The trampling, and the hum. And plainly and more plainly Now through the gloom appears, Far to left and far to right, 170 In broken gleams of dark-blue light, The long array of helmets bright, The long array of spears.
XXII
And plainly, and more plainly Above that glimmering line, 175 Now might ye see the banners Of twelve fair cities[32] shine; But the banner of proud Clusium Was highest of them all, The terror of the Umbrian,[33] 180 The terror of the Gaul.[34]
XXIII
And plainly and more plainly Now might the burghers know, By port and vest,[35] by horse and crest, Each warlike Lucumo.[36] 185 There Cilnius of Arretium On his fleet roan[37] was seen; And Astur of the fourfold shield,[38] Girt with the brand none else may wield; Tolumnius with the belt of gold, 190 And dark Verbenna from the hold By reedy Thrasymene.[39]
XXIV
Fast by the royal standard, O'erlooking all the war, Lars Porsena of Clusium 195 Sat in his ivory car. By the right wheel rode Mamilius, Prince of the Latian name; And by the left false Sextus, That wrought the deed of shame. 200
XXV
But when the face of Sextus Was seen among the foes, A yell that rent the firmament From all the town arose. On the house-tops was no woman 205 But spat towards him and hissed, No child but screamed out curses, And shook its little fist.
XXVI
But the Consul's brow was sad, And the Consul's speech was low. 210 And darkly looked he at the wall, And darkly at the foe. "Their van will be upon us Before the bridge goes down; And if they once may win the bridge, 215 What hope to save the town?"
XXVII
Then out spake brave Horatius, The Captain of the Gate: "To every man upon this earth Death cometh soon or late, 220 And how can man die better Than facing fearful odds, For the ashes of his fathers, And the temples of his Gods,
XXVIII
And for the tender mother 225 Who dandled him to rest, And for the wife that nurses His baby at her breast, And for the holy maidens[40] Who feed the eternal flame, 230 To save them from false Sextus That wrought the deed of shame?"
XXIX
"Hew down the bridge, Sir Consul, With all the speed ye may, I, with two more to help me, 235 Will hold the foe in play. In yon strait path a thousand May well be stopped by three. Now who will stand on either hand, And keep the bridge with me?" 240
XXX
Then out spake Spurius Lartius; A Ramnian[41] proud was he: "Lo, I will stand at thy right hand, And keep the bridge with thee." And out spake strong Herminius; 245 Of Titian blood was he: "I will abide on thy left side, And keep the bridge with thee."
XXXI
"Horatius," quoth the Consul, "As thou sayest, so let it be," 250 And straight against that great array Forth went the dauntless Three. For Romans in Rome's quarrel Spared neither land nor gold, Nor son nor wife, nor limb nor life, 255 In the brave days of old.[42]
XXXII
Then none was for a party; Then all were for the state; Then the great man helped the poor. And the poor man loved the great, 260 Then lands were fairly portioned, Then spoils were fairly sold:[43] The Romans were like brothers In the brave days of old.
XXXIII
Now Roman is to Roman 265 More hateful than a foe, And the Tribunes[44] beard[45] the high, And the Fathers grind the low. As we wax hot in faction, In battle we wax cold: 270 Wherefore men fight not as they fought In the brave days of old.
XXXIV
Now while the Three were tightening Their harness[46] on their backs, The Consul was the foremost man 275 To take in hand an axe: And Fathers mixed with Commons Seized hatchet, bar, and crow, And smote upon the planks above, And loosed the props below. 280
XXXV
Meanwhile the Tuscan army, Right glorious to behold, Came flashing back the noonday light, Rank behind rank, like surges bright Of a broad sea of gold. 285 Four hundred trumpets sounded A peal of warlike glee, As that great host, with measured tread, And spears advanced, and ensigns spread, Rolled slowly towards the bridge's head, 290 Where stood the dauntless Three.
XXXVI
The Three stood calm and silent, And looked upon the foes, And a great shout of laughter From all the vanguard rose; 295 And forth three chiefs came spurring Before that deep array; To earth they sprang, their swords they drew, And lifted high their shields, and flew To win the narrow way; 300
XXXVII
Aunus from green Tifernum,[47] Lord of the Hill of Vines; And Seius, whose eight hundred slaves Sicken in Ilva's[48] mines; And Picus, long to Clusium 305 Vassal in peace and war, Who led to fight his Umbrian powers From that gray crag where, girt with towers, The fortress of Nequinum[49] lowers O'er the pale waves of Nar. 310
XXXVIII
Stout Lartius hurled down Aunus Into the stream beneath: Herminius struck at Seius, And clove him to the teeth: At Picus brave Horatius 315 Darted one fiery thrust; And the proud Umbrian's gilded arms Clashed in the bloody dust.
XXXIX
Then Ocnus of Palerii[50] Rushed on the Roman Three; 320 And Lausulus of Urgo,[51] The rover of the sea;[52] And Aruns of Volsinium, Who slew the great wild boar, The great wild boar that had his den 325 Amidst the reeds of Cosa's[53] fen And wasted fields, and slaughtered men, Along Albinia's[54] shore.
XL
Herminius smote down Aruns: Lartius laid Ocnus low: 330 Right to the heart of Lausulus Horatius sent a blow. "Lie there," he cried, "fell pirate! No more, aghast and pale, From Ostia's walls the crowd shall mark 335 The track of thy destroying bark. No more Campania's[55] hinds[56] shall fly To woods and caverns when they spy Thy thrice accursed sail."
XLI
But now no sound of laughter 340 Was heard among the foes. A wild and wrathful clamor From all the vanguard rose. Six spears' lengths from the entrance Halted that deep array, 345 And for a space no man came forth To win the narrow way.
XLII
But hark! the cry is Astur: And lo! the ranks divide; And the great Lord of Luna Comes with his stately stride. 350 Upon his ample shoulders Clangs loud the fourfold shield, And in his hand he shakes the brand Which none but he can wield. 355
XLIII
He smiled on those bold Romans A smile serene and high; He eyed the flinching Tuscans, And scorn was in his eye. Quoth he, "The she-wolf's litter[57] 360 Stand savagely at bay: But will ye dare to follow, If Astur clears the way?"
XLIV
Then, whirling up his broadsword With both hands to the height, 365 He rushed against Horatius, And smote with all his might. With shield and blade Horatius, Right deftly turned the blow. The blow, though turned, came yet too nigh: 370 It missed his helm, but gashed his thigh: The Tuscans raised a joyful cry To see the red blood flow.
XLV
He reeled, and on Herminius He leaned one breathing-space; 375 Then, like a wild-cat mad with wounds, Sprang right at Astur's face. Through teeth, and skull, and helmet So fierce a thrust he sped The good sword stood a hand-breadth out 380 Behind the Tuscan's head.
XLVI
And the great Lord of Luna Fell at that deadly stroke, As falls on Mount Alvernus A thunder-smitten oak. 385 Far o'er the crashing forest The giant arms lie spread; And the pale augurs, muttering low, Gaze on the blasted head.
XLVII
On Astur's throat Horatius 390 Right firmly pressed his heel; And thrice and four times tugged amain, Ere be wrenched out the steel. "And see," he cried, "the welcome, Fair guests, that waits you here! 395 What noble Lucumo comes next To taste our Roman cheer?"
XLVI
But at his haughty challenge A sullen murmur ran, Mingled of wrath, and shame, and dread, 400 Along that glittering van. There lacked not men of prowess, Nor men of lordly race, For all Etruria's noblest Were round the fatal place. 405
XLIX
But all Etruria's noblest Felt their hearts sink to see On the earth the bloody corpses, In the path the dauntless Three: And from the ghastly entrance 410 Where those bold Romans stood, All shrank, like boys who unaware, Ranging the woods to start a hare, Come to the mouth of the dark lair, Where, growling low, a fierce old bear 415 Lies amidst bones and blood.
L
Was none who would be foremost To lead such dire attack; But those behind cried, "Forward!" And those before cried, "Back!" 420 And backward now and forward Wavers the deep array; And on the tossing sea of steel, To and fro the standards reel; And the victorious trumpet-peal 425 Dies fitfully away.
LI
Yet one man for one moment Stood out before the crowd; Well known was he to all the Three, And they gave him greeting loud. 430 "Now welcome, welcome, Sextus! Now welcome to thy home! Why dost thou stay, and turn away? Here lies the road to Rome."
LII
Thrice looked he at the city; 435 Thrice looked he at the dead And thrice came on in fury, And thrice turned back in dread: And, white with fear and hatred, Scowled at the narrow way 440 Where, wallowing in a pool of blood, The bravest Tuscans lay.
LIII
But meanwhile axe and lever Have manfully been plied; And now the bridge hangs tottering 445 Above the boiling tide. "Come back, come back, Horatius!" Loud cried the Fathers all. "Back, Lartius! back, Herminius! Back, ere the ruin fall!" 450
LIV
Back darted Spurius Lartius, Herminius darted back: And, as they passed, beneath their feet They felt the timbers crack. But when they turned their faces, 455 And on the farther shore Saw brave Horatius stand alone, They would have crossed once more.
LV
But with a crash like thunder Fell every loosened beam, 460 And, like a dam, the mighty wreck Lay right athwart the stream; And a long shout of triumph Rose from the walls of Rome, As to the highest turret-tops 465 Was splashed the yellow foam.
LVI
And like a horse unbroken When first he feels the rein, The furious river struggled hard, And tossed his tawny mane, 470 And burst the curb, and bounded, Rejoicing to be free, And whirling down, in fierce career, Battlement, and plank, and pier, Rushed headlong to the sea. 475
LVII
Alone stood brave Horatius, But constant still in mind; Thrice thirty thousand foes before, And the broad flood behind. "Down with him!" cried false Sextus, 480 With a smile on his pale face. "Now yield thee," cried Lars Porsena, "Now yield thee to our grace."
LVIII