The Poetical Works of Henry Wadsworth Longfellow

[merged small][merged small][merged small][merged small][merged small][merged small][merged small][merged small][merged small][ocr errors][merged small][merged small][merged small][merged small][merged small][merged small]

THE BLACK KNIGHT.

FROM THE GERMAN OF UHLAND.

'TWAS Pentecost, the Feast of Gladness, When woods and fields put off all sadness, Thus began the King and spake; "So from the halls

Of ancient Hofburgh's walls,

A luxuriant Spring shall break."

Drums and trumpets echo loudly,
Wave the crimson banners proudly.
From balcony the King looked on;
In the play of spears,
Fell all the cavaliers,

Before the monarch's stalwart son.

To the barrier of the fight
Rode at last a sable Knight.

"Sir Knight! your name and scut-
cheon say!"

"Should I speak it here,

Ye would stand aghast with fear;

I am a Prince of mighty sway!"

When he rode into the lists,

Danced in sable iron sark,
Danced a measure weird and dark,
Coldly clasped her limbs around.
From breast and hair
Down fall from her the fair

Flowerets, faded, to the ground.

To the sumptuous banquet came
Every Knight and every Dame.

Twixt son and daughter all dis
traught,

With mournful mind

The ancient King reclined,

Gazed at them in silent thought.

Pale the children both did look,
But the guest a beaker took;

"Golden wine will make you whole!" The children drank,

Gave many a courteous thank;

"Oh, that draught was very cool!"

The arch of heaven grew black with Each the father's breast embraces,

mists,

And the castle 'gan to rock.

At the first blow,

Fell the youth from saddle-bow, Hardly rises from the shock.

Pipe and viol call the dances,
Torch-light through the high hall glances;
Waves a mighty shadow in;
With manner bland

Doth ask the maiden's hand,
Doth with her the dance begin;

Son and daughter; and their faces Colourless grow utterly. Whichever way

Looks the fear-struck father grey,

He beholds his children die.

"Woe the blessed children both Takest thou in the joy of youth;

Take me, too, the joyless father!" Spake the grim Guest,

From his hollow, cavernous breast, "Roses in the spring I gather!"

SILENT LOVE.
WHO love would seek,
Let him love evermore

And seldom speak;
For in love's don ain
Silence must reign;
Or it brings the heart
Smart

And pain.

THE LUCK OF EDENHALL.

FROM UHLAND.

[The tradition upon which this ballad is founded, and the "shards of the Luck of Edenhall," still exist in England. The goblet is in the possession of Sir Christopher Musgrave, Bart., of Eden Hall, Cumberland; and is not so entirely shattered as the ballad leaves it.]

OF Edenhall, the youthful lord

Bids sound the festal trumpet's call;
He rises at the banquet board,

And cries, 'mid the drunken revellers all,
"Now bring me the Luck of Edenhall!"

The butler hears the words with pain,
The house's oldest seneschal

Takes slow from its silken cloth again
The drinking glass of crystal tall;
They call it the Luck of Edenhall.

Then said the lord: "This glass to praise,
Fill with red wine from Portugal!"

The grey-beard with trembling hand obeys;
A purple light shines over all,

It beams from the Luck of Edenhall.

Then speaks the lord, and waves it light,
"This glass of flashing crystal tall
Gave to my sires the Fountain-Sprite;
She wrote in it; If this glass doth fall,
Farewell then, O Luck of Edenhall!

""Twas right a goblet the Fate should be
Of the joyous race of Edenhall!

Deep draughts drink we right willingly;
And willingly ring, with merry call,
Kling! klang! to the luck of Edenhall!"

First rings it deep, and full, and mild,
Like to the sound of a nightingale;

Then like the roar of a torrent wild;

Then mutters at last like the thunder's fall,
The glorious Luck of Edenhall.

"For its keeper takes a race of might,

The fragile goblet of crystal tall;

It has lasted longer than is right;

Kling! klang! with a harder blow than all
Will I try the Luck of Edenhall!"

« Previous Continue »

Books