Narrative and Lyric Poems (first series) for use in the Lower School

The Project Gutenberg EBook of Narrative and Lyric Poems, by O. J. Stevenson

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Title: Narrative and Lyric Poems (first series) for use in the Lower School

Author: O. J. Stevenson

Release Date: August 15, 2004 [EBook #13184]

Language: English

*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK NARRATIVE AND LYRIC POEMS ***

Produced by Al Haines

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