Chapter 3

And did they twine the laurel-wreath,[10] for those who fought so well 110 And did they honour those who liv'd, and weep for those who fell? What meed of thanks was given to them let aged annals tell. Why should they bring the laurel-wreath,--why crown the cup with wine? It was not Frenchmen's blood that flow'd so freely on the Rhine,-- A stranger band of beggar'd men had done the venturous deed; 115 The glory was to France alone, the danger was their meed, And what cared they for idle thanks from foreign prince and peer? What virtue had such honey'd words the exiled heart to cheer? What matter'd it that men should vaunt, and loud and fondly swear That higher feat of chivalry was never wrought elsewhere? 120 They bore within their breast the grief that fame can never heal,-- The deep, unutterable woe which none save exiles feel. Their hearts were yearning for the land they ne'er might see again,-- For Scotland's high and heather'd hills, for mountains, loch and glen-- For those who haply lay at rest beyond the distant sea, 125 Beneath the green and daisied turf where they would gladly be!

Long years went by. The lonely isle in Rhine's tempestuous flood Has ta'en another name from those who bought it with their blood: And, though the legend does not live,--for legends lightly die-- The peasant, as he sees the stream in winter rolling by, 130 And foaming o'er its channel-bed between him and the spot Won by the warriors of the sword, still calls that deep and dangerous ford The Passage of the Scot.

--_Aytoun_.

[1] serried. crowded.

[2] Mareschal. Marshal, an officer of the highest rank in the French army.

[3] Duguesclin. A noted French commander, famous for his campaigns against the English in the 14th century.

[4] Dundee. John Graham of Claverhouse, Viscount Dundee, a Scottish soldier. He raised a body of Highlanders in 1689 to fight for James II against William of Orange. At the battle of Killecrankie (1689) he was mortally wounded.

[5] The Pass. The Pass of Killecrankie.

[6] Garry. A river in Perthshire, Scotland.

[7] tartan. A Scotch plaid

[8] linn. A waterfall.

[9] claymore. The heavy broadsword used by the Highlanders.

[10] laurel-wreath. The laurel is an evergreen shrub found in parts of Europe. A wreath of laurel was a mark of distinction or honour.

DICKENS IN CAMP.

Above the pines the moon was slowly drifting, The river sang below, The dim Sierras,[1] far beyond, uplifting Their minarets of snow.

The roaring camp-fire, with rude humor, painted 5 The ruddy tints of health On haggard face and form that drooped and fainted In the fierce race for wealth;

Till one arose, and from his pack's scant treasure A hoarded volume drew, 10 And cards were dropped from hands of listless leisure, To hear the tale anew;

And then, while round them shadows gathered faster, And as the firelight fell, He read aloud the book wherein the Master[2] 15 Had writ of "Little Nell."[3]

Perhaps 'twas boyish fancy,--for the reader Was youngest of them all,-- But, as he read, from clustering pine and cedar A silence seemed to fall; 20

The fir-trees, gathering closer in the shadows, Listened in every spray, While the whole camp, with "Nell," on English meadows Wandered and lost their way.

And so in mountain solitudes--o'ertaken 25 As by some spell divine-- Their cares dropped from them like the needles shaken From out the gusty pine.

Lost is that camp, and wasted all its fire: And he who wrought that spell?-- 30 Ah, towering pine and stately Kentish spire,[4] Ye have one tale[5] to tell!

Lost is that camp! but let its fragrant story[6] Blend with the breath that thrills With hop-vines' incense[7] all the pensive glory 35 That fills the Kentish hills.

And on that grave where English oak and holly And laurel wreaths intwine,[8] Deem it not all a too presumptuous folly,-- This spray of Western pine. 40

--Harte.

[1] Sierra. A Spanish term, meaning a mountain range. The name Sierra was applied, of course, to a great many different ranges.

[2] the Master. Dickens.

[3] Little Nell. The heroine of Dickens' novel, _The Old Curiosity Shop_.

[4] Dickens died at Gadshill, Kent, and was buried in Westminster Abbey.

[5] one tale. Both they who heard the story, and he who wrote it, are dead.

[6] Let the fragrance of the western pine blend with the incense of the hop-vines in memory of Dickens. In other words, let me add this story as another tribute to his memory.

[7] hop-vines' incense. The smell of the hop-vines. Kent is the chief hop-growing county of England.

[8] The great writers of England have done honour to Dickens.

A MUSICAL INSTRUMENT.

I

What was he doing, the great god Pan,[1] Down in the reeds by the river! Spreading ruin, and scattering ban, Splashing and paddling with hoofs of a goat, And breaking the golden lilies afloat 5 With the dragon-fly on the river.

II

He tore out a reed, the great god Pan, From the deep, cool bed of the river. The limpid water turbidly ran, And the broken lilies a-dying lay, 10 And the dragon-fly had fled away, Ere he brought it out of the river.

III

High on the shore sat the great god Pan, While turbidly flowed the river, And hacked and hewed as a great god can, 15 With his hard bleak steel, at the patient reed, Till there was not a sign of the leaf indeed To prove it fresh from the river.

IV

He cut it short, did the great god Pan, (How tall it stood in the river!) 20 Then drew the pith, like the heart of a man, Steadily from the outside ring, And notched the poor, dry, empty thing In holes, as he sat by the river.

V

"This is the way," laughed the great god Pan, 25 (Laughed while he sat by the river,) "The only way, since gods began To make sweet music, they could succeed." Then, dropping his mouth to a hole in the reed, He blew in power by the river. 30

VI

Sweet, sweet, sweet, O Pan! Piercing sweet by the river! Blinding sweet, O great god Pan! The sun on the lull forgot to die, And the lilies revived, and the dragon-fly 35 Came back to dream on the river.

VII

Yet half a beast is the great god Pan, To laugh as he sits by the river, Making a poet out of a man: The true gods[2] sigh for the cost and pain,-- 40 For the reed which grows nevermore again As a reed with the reeds in the river.

--Mrs. Browning.

[1] Pan. In Greek mythology, the god of pastures, forests and flocks. He was represented as half-man, half-goat, in appearance. He was the inventor of the shepherd's flute.

[2] Pan was not one of the gods of Olympus, and was literally "half a beast."

GRADATIM.[1]

Heaven is not reached at a single bound; But we build the ladder by which we rise From the lowly earth to the vaulted skies, And we mount to the summit round by round.

I count this thing to be grandly true, 5 That a noble deed is a step toward God-- Lifting the soul from the common sod[2] To a purer air and a broader view.

We rise by things that are under our feet;[3] By what we have mastered of good and gain; 10 By the pride deposed and the passion slain, And the vanquished ills that we hourly meet.

We hope, we aspire, we resolve, we trust, When the morning calls us to life and light; But our hearts grow weary, and ere the night, 15 Our lives are trailing the sordid[4] dust.

We hope, we resolve, we aspire, we pray, And we think that we mount the air on wings Beyond the recall of sensual things, While our feet still cling to the heavy clay. 20

Wings for the angels, but feet for the men![5] We may borrow the wings to find the way-- We may hope, and resolve, and aspire, arid pray. But our feet must rise, or we fall again.

Only in dreams is a ladder[6] thrown 25 From the weary earth to the sapphire walls; But the dreams depart, and the vision falls, And the Sleeper wakes on his pillow of stone.

Heaven is not reached at a single bound; But we build the ladder by which we rise From the lowly earth to the vaulted skies, 30 And we mount to the summit round by round.

--_Holland_.

[1] Gradatim. A step at a time.

[2] the common sod. earthly things.

[3] See Longfellow, _The Ladder of Saint Augustine_.

[4] sordid. mean; base.

[5] Good resolves and aspirations ("wings") are not sufficient. We can rise only step by step by overcoming the petty difficulties of everyday life.

[6] ladder. A reference to Jacob's ladder (Genesis xxviii, 12).

THE BATTLE OF THE LAKE REGILLUS.[1]

A LAY SUNG AT THE FEAST OF CASTOR AND POLLUX,[2]

ON THE IDES OF QUINTILIS,[3]

IN THE YEAR OF THE CITY CCCCLI (B.C. 303).

[_This is the feast of Castor and Pollux, and the anniversary of the battle of Lake Regillus, which they did so much to win. Let us remember them, and sing their praises_.]

I

Ho, trumpets, sound a war-note! Ho, lictors,[4] clear the way! The Knights[5] will ride, in all their pride, Along the streets to-day, To-day the doors and windows 5 Are hung with garlands all, From Castor[6] in the forum,[7] To Mars without the wall. Each Knight is robed in purple, With olive each is crowned, 10 A gallant war-horse under each Paws haughtily the ground. While flows the Yellow River,[8] While stands the Sacred Hill,[9] The proud Ides of Quintilis, 15 Shall have such honour still. Gay are the Martian Kalends:[10] December's Nones[11] are gay: But the proud Ides, when the squadron rides, Shall be Rome's whitest[12] day. 20

II

Unto the Great Twin Brethren We keep this solemn feast. Swift, swift, the Great Twin Brethren Came spurring from the east. They came o'er wild Parthenius[13] 25 Tossing in waves of pine, O'er Cirrha's dome,[14] o'er Adria's[15] foam, O'er purple Apennine, From where with flutes and dances Their ancient mansion rings, 30 In lordly Lacedaemon,[16] The city of two kings, To where, by Lake Regillus, Under the Porcian[17] height, All in the lands of Tusculum, 35 Was fought the glorious fight.

III

Now on the place of slaughter Are cots and sheepfolds seen, And rows of vines, and fields of wheat, And apple-orchards green; 40 And swine crush the big acorns That fall from Corne's[18] oaks. Upon the turf by the Fair Fount[19] The reaper's pottage smokes. The fisher baits his angle; 45 The hunter twangs his bow; Little they think on those strong limbs That moulder deep below. Little they think how sternly That day the trumpets pealed; 50 How in the slippery swamp of blood Warrior and war-horse reeled; How wolves came with fierce gallop, And crows on eager wings, To tear the flesh of captains, 55 And peck the eyes of kings; How thick the dead lay scattered Under the Porcian height: How through the gates of Tusculum Raved the wild stream of night; 60 And how the Lake Regillus Bubbled with crimson foam, What time the Thirty Cities[20] Came forth to war with Rome.

IV

But, Roman, when thou standest 65 Upon that holy ground, Look thou with heed on the dark rock. That girds the dark lake round, So shall thou see a hoof-mark[21] Stamped deep into the flint: 70 It was no hoof of mortal steed That made so strange a dint; There to the Great Twin Brethren Vow thou thy vows, and pray That they, in tempest and in fight, 75 Will keep thy head alway.

[_The Latins send a message calling on the Romans to restore the Tarquins. The consul proudly refuses, and a dictator is appointed. The Roman army encamps hard by Lake Regillus_.]

Since last the Great Twin Brethren Of mortal eyes were seen, Have years gone by an hundred And fourscore and thirteen. 80 That summer a Virginius[22] Was Consul first in place;[23] The second was stout Aulus, Of the Posthumian race. The Herald of the Latines 85 From Gabii[24] came in state: The Herald of the Latines Passed through Rome's Eastern Gate The herald of the Latines Did in our Forum stand; 90 And there he did his office, A sceptre in his hand.

VI

"Hear, Senators and people Of the good town of Rome, The Thirty Cities charge you 95 To bring the Tarquins home: And if ye still be stubborn, To work the Tarquins wrong, The Thirty Cities warn you, Look that your walls be strong." 100

VII

Then spake the Consul Aulus, He spake a bitter jest: "Once the jay sent a message Unto the eagle's nest:-- Now yield thou up thine eyrie 105 Unto the carrion-kite, Or come forth valiantly, and face The jays in deadly fight.-- Forth looked in wrath the eagle; And carrion-kite and jay, 110 Soon as they saw his beak and claw, Fled screaming far away."

VIII

The Herald of the Latines Hath hied him back in state; The Fathers of the City 115 Are met in high debate. Then spake the elder Consul, An ancient man and wise: "Now hearken, Conscript Fathers,[25] To that which I advise. 120 In seasons of great peril Tis good that one bear sway; Then choose we a Dictator, Whom all men shall obey. Camerium[26] knows how deeply 125 The sword of Aulus bites, And all our city calls him The man of seventy fights. Then let him be Dictator For six months and no more, 130 And have a Master of the Knights,[27] And axes twenty-four."[28]

IX

So Aulus was Dictator, The man of seventy fights He made Aebutius Elva 135 His Master of the Knights. On the third morn thereafter, At dawning of the day, Did Aulus and Aebutius Set forth with their array. 140 Sempronius Atratinus Was left in charge at home With boys, and with grey-headed men, To keep the walls of Rome. Hard by the Lake Regillus 145 Our camp was pitched at night: Eastward a mile the Latines lay, Under the Porcian height. Far over hill and valley Their mighty host was spread; 150 And with their thousand watch-fires The midnight sky was red.

[_The names of the towns which contributed to the Latin army of threescore thousand men, and their order of battle. All Latium was there to fight with Rome_.]

Up rose the golden morning Over the Porcian height, The proud Ides of Quintilis 155 Marked evermore with white. Not without; secret trouble Our bravest saw the foes; For girt by threescore thousand spears The thirty standards rose. 160 From every warlike city That boasts the Latian name, Foredoomed to dogs and vultures, That gallant army came; From Sofia's purple vineyards, 165 From Norba's ancient wall, From the white streets of Tusculum, The proudest town of all; From where the Witch's Fortress[29] O'erhangs the dark-blue seas; 170 From the still glassy lake that sleeps Beneath Aricia's trees-- Those trees in whose dim shadow The ghastly priest[30] doth reign, The priest who slew the slayer, 175 And shall himself be slain; From the drear banks of Ufens,[31] Where nights of marsh-fowl play, And buffaloes lie wallowing Through the hot summer's day, 180 From the gigantic watch-towers, No work of earthly men, Whence Cora's sentinels o'erlook The never-ending fen; From the Laurentian[32] jungle, 185 The wild hog's reedy home; From the green steeps whence Anio leaps In floods of snow-white foam.

XI

Aricia, Cora, Norba, Velitrae, with the might; 190 Of Setia and of Tusculum, Were marshalled on the right: The leader was Mamilius, Prince of the Latian name, Upon his head a helmet 195 Of red gold shone like flame: High on a gallant charger Of dark-grey hue he rode: Over his gilded armour A vest of purple flowed, 200 Woven in the land of sunrise By Syria's dark-browed daughters, And by the sails of Carthage[33] brought Far o'er the southern waters.

XII

Lavinium and Laurentum 205 Had on the left their post, With all the banners of the marsh, And banners of the coast. Their leader was false Sextus, That wrought the deed of shame: 210 With restless pace and haggard face To his last field he came. Men said he saw strange visions Which none beside might see, And that strange sounds were in his ears 215 Which none might hear but he. A woman[34] fair and stately, But pale as are the dead, Oft through the watches of the night Sat spinning by his bed. 220 And as she plied the distaff, In a sweet voice and low, She sang of great old houses, And fights fought long ago. So spun she, and so sang she, 225 Until the east was grey, Then pointed to her bleeding breast, And shrieked, and fled away.

XIII

But in the centre thickest Were ranged the shields of foes, 230 And from the centre loudest The cry of battle rose. There Tibur[35] marched and Pedum Beneath proud Tarquin's rule, And Ferentinum of the rock, 235 And Gabii of the pool. There rode the Volscian succours: There, in a dark stern ring, The Roman exiles gathered close, Around the ancient king. 240 Though white as Mount Soracte,[36] When winter nights are long, His beard flowed down o'er mail and belt, His heart and hand were strong: Under his hoary eyebrows 245 Still flashed forth quenchless rage, And, if the lance shook in his gripe, 'Twas more with hate than age. Close at his side was Titus On an Apulian[37] steed, 250 Titus, the youngest Tarquin, Too good for such a breed.

[_The battle begins. False Sextus flees from Herminius, one of the defenders of the bridge. Aebutius slays Tubero, but is severely wounded by Mamilius of Tusculum, and retires from the fight_.]

XIV

Now on each side the leaders Gave signal for the charge; And on each side the footmen 255 Strode on with lance and targe;[38] And on each side the horsemen Struck their spurs deep in gore; And front to front, the armies Met with a mighty roar: 260 And under that great battle The earth with blood was red; And, like the Pomptine[39] fog at morn, The dust hung overhead; And louder still and louder 265 Rose from the darkened field The braying of the war-horns, The clang of sword and shield, The rush of squadrons sweeping Like whirlwinds o'er the plain, The shouting of the slayers, 270 And screeching of the slain.

XV

False Sextus rode out foremost: His look was high and bold; His corslet was of bison's hide, 275 Plated with steel and gold. As glares the famished eagle From the Digentian rock[40] On a choice lamb that bounds alone Before Bandusia's[41] flock, 280 Herminius glared on Sextus, And came with eagle speed, Herminius on black Auster,[42] Brave champion on brave steed; In his right hand the broadsword 285 That kept the bridge so well, And on his helm the crown[43] he won When proud Fidenae fell. Woe to the maid whose lover Shall cross his path to-day! 290 False Sextus saw, and trembled, And turned, and fled away. As turns, as flies, the woodman In the Calabrian[44] brake, When through the reeds gleams the round eye 295 Of that fell speckled snake; So turned, so fled, false Sextus, And hid him in the rear, Behind the dark Lavinian ranks, Bristling with crest and spear. 300

XVI

But far to north Aebutius, The Master of the Knights, Gave Tubero of Norba To feed the Porcian kites. Next under those red horse-hoofs 305 Flaccus of Setia lay; Better had he been pruning Among his elms[45] that day. Mamilius saw the slaughter, And tossed his golden crest, 310 And towards the Master of the Knights Through the thick battle pressed. Aebutias smote Mamilius So fiercely, on the shield That the great lord of Tusculum 315 Well nigh rolled on the field. Mamilius smote Aebutius, With a good aim and true, Just where the neck and shoulder join, And pierced him through and through; 320 And brave Aebutius Elva Fell swooning to the ground: But a thick wall of bucklers Encompassed him around. His clients[46] from the battle 325 Bare him some little space, And filled a helm from the dark lake, And bathed his brow and face; And when at last he opened His swimming eyes to light, 330 Men say, the earliest word he spake Was, "Friends, how goes the fight?"

[_The struggle in the centre, where the ancient Tarquin is struck down. The Latins fight over him as he lies, and Titus kills Valerius, round whose body the struggle waxes hot_.]

XVII