The Project Gutenberg EBook of Journeys Through Bookland, Vol. 7, by Charles H. Sylvester This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org Title: Journeys Through Bookland, Vol. 7 Author: Charles H. Sylvester Release Date: November 7, 2007 [EBook #23405] Language: English Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1 *** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK JOURNEYS THROUGH BOOKLAND, VOL. 7 *** Produced by Juliet Sutherland, Julia Miller, and the Online Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net Transcriber’s Note Obvious typographical errors have been corrected. A list of these changes is found at the end of the text. Inconsistencies in spelling and hyphenation have been maintained. A list of inconsistently spelled and hyphenated words is found at the end of the text. The original book used both numerical and symbolic footnote markers. This version follows the original usage. Hunter in birchbark canoe THE CANOE RACE Journeys Through Bookland A NEW AND ORIGINAL PLAN FOR READING APPLIED TO THE WORLD’S BEST LITERATURE FOR CHILDREN BY CHARLES H. SYLVESTER Author of English and American Literature VOLUME SEVEN New Edition Colophon Chicago BELLOWS-REEVE COMPANY PUBLISHERS Copyright, 1922 BELLOWS-REEVE COMPANY [v] [vi] CONTENTS PAGE The Daffodils William Wordsworth 1 To the Fringed Gentian William Cullen Bryant 4 To a Mouse Robert Burns 5 To a Mountain Daisy Robert Burns 8 The Old Oaken Bucket Samuel Wordsworth 11 Bannockburn Robert Burns 15 Boat Song Sir Walter Scott 17 The Governor and the Notary Washington Irving 20 The Rime of the Ancient Mariner Samuel T. Coleridge 29 The Black Hawk Tragedy Edwin D. Coe 58 The Petrified Fern Mary Bolles Branch 77 An Exciting Canoe Race J. Fenimore Cooper 79 The Buffalo Francis Parkman 96 The Charge of the Light Brigade Alfred Tennyson 147 For A’ That and A’ That Robert Burns 149 Breathes There the Man Sir Walter Scott 151 How Sleep the Brave William Collins 151 Queen Victoria Anna McCaleb 152 The Recessional Rudyard Kipling 164 The Star-spangled Banner Francis Scott Key 167 How’s My Boy? Sydney Dobell 169 The Soldier’s Dream Thomas Campbell 170 Make Way for Liberty James Montgomery 172 The Old Continentals Guy Humphreys McMaster 175 The Picket-Guard Mrs. Ethel Lynn Beers 177 My Old Kentucky Home Stephen Collins Foster 179 The Forsaken Merman Matthew Arnold 180 Tom and Maggie Tulliver George Eliot 186 A Gorilla Hunt Paul du Chaillu 247 The Cloud Percy Bysshe Shelley 257 Brute Neighbors Henry David Thoreau 260 Ode To a Skylark Percy Bysshe Shelley 275 The Pond in Winter Henry David Thoreau 280 Salmon Fishing Rudyard Kipling 285 Winter Animals Henry David Thoreau 293 Trees and Ants That Help Each Other Thomas Belt 306 The Family of Michael Arout Emile Souvestre 314 On the Receipt of My Mother’s Picture William Cowper 331 Those Evening Bells Thomas Moore 340 Annabel Lee Edgar Allan Poe 341 The Three Fishers Charles Kingsley 343 The Reaper’s Dream Thomas Buchanan Read 345 The Recovery of the Hispaniola Robert Louis Stevenson 352 John Greenleaf Whittier Grace E. Sellon 381 William Cullen Bryant 391 To a Waterfowl William Cullen Bryant 395 Oliver Wendell Holmes Grace E. Sellon 398 The Cubes of Truth Oliver Wendell Holmes 406 The Lost Child James Russell Lowell 409 James Russell Lowell Grace E. Sellon 411 A Child’s Thought of God Elizabeth Barrett Browning 418 Elizabeth Barrett Browning 419 Don Quixote Cervantes 431 Pronunciation of Proper Names 487 For Classification of Selections, see General Index, at end of Volume X [vii] [viii] [ix] ILLUSTRATIONS PAGE The Canoe Race (Color Plate) R. F. Babcock Frontispiece A Host of Golden Daffodils Albert H. Winkler 2 The Fringed Gentian G. H. Mitchell 4 Thou Need Na Start Awa Albert H. Winkler 6 Robert Burns (Halftone) 8 Thou Bonny Gem Albert H. Winkler 9 Inclined to My Lips Herbert N. Rudeen 12 The Notary Enters the Carriage R. F. Babcock 26 He Cannot Choose but Hear (Heading) Donn P. Crane 29 I Shot the Albatross Donn P. Crane 33 And Straight the Sun Was Flecked With Bars Donn P. Crane 38 I Watched the Water-Snakes Donn P. Crane 42 They Groaned, They Stirred, They All Uprose Donn P. Crane 45 Slowly and Smoothly Went the Skip (Color Plate) Donn P. Crane 48 “O Shrieve Me, Shrieve Me, Holy Man” Donn P. Crane 55 I Pass From Land To Land (Ending) Donn P. Crane 57 Black Hawk and the Two Ruffians R. F. Babcock 63 The Women and Children Crossed the River R. F. Babcock 71 Hawkeye on the Trail R. F. Babcock 80 James Fenimore Cooper (Halftone) 82 Hawkeye R. F. Babcock 85 Gradually I Came Abreast of Him R. F. Babcock 106 One Vast Host of Buffalo R. F. Babcock 125 On Dune and Headland G. H. Mitchell 165 The Little Gray Church on the Windy Hill Walter O. Reese 181 “Tom’s Coming Home!” Herbert N. Rudeen 188 “Oh, He is Cruel” Herbert N. Rudeen 199 “Is it the Tipsy Cake, Then?” Herbert N. Rudeen 206 “Here, Lucy!” Herbert N. Rudeen 224 “Ah, You’re Fondest O’ Me, Aren’t You?” Herbert N. Rudeen 243 Gorilla With Her Young Herbert N. Rudeen 251 The Battle of the Ants Herbert N. Rudeen 265 Watching for the Loon R. F. Babcock 272 The Skylark R. F. Babcock 276 Kneeling To Drink R. F. Babcock 281 Salmon Fishing (Color Plate) R. F. Babcock 286 The Red Squirrel Stealing Corn R. F. Babcock 296 “How Much Do We Owe You?” Herbert N. Rudeen 320 Michael is Come Back Herbert N. Rudeen 326 “My Mother!” Iris Weddell White 336 In Her Sepulchre There by the Sea Donn P. Crane 342 The Night Rack Came Rolling Up G. H. Mitchell 344 The Crescent Moon Went by G. H. Mitchell 347 I Looked Into the Cabin R. F. Babcock 354 Whittier’s Birthplace (Color Plate) 382 John Greenleaf Whittier (Halftone) 386 William Cullen Bryant (Halftone) 392 Thy Figure Floats Along Jerome Rozen 396 Oliver Wendell Holmes (Halftone) 398 Down the Sunny Glade Walter O. Reese 409 James Russell Lowell (Halftone) 412 Elizabeth Barrett Browning (Halftone) 420 Don Quixote (Heading) Donn P. Crane 431 Don Quixote Tilts with the Windmills Donn P. Crane 439 “Defend Thyself, Miserable Being!” Donn P. Crane 444 The Lion Put His Head Out of the Cage Donn P. Crane 455 Sancho Fell on His Knees Donn P. Crane 464 The Horse Blew Up, with a Prodigious Noise Donn P. Crane 475 [x] [1] THE DAFFODILS By William Wordsworth WANDERED lonely as a cloud That floats on high o’er vales and hills, When all at once I saw a crowd,— A host of golden daffodils Beside the lake, beneath the trees, Fluttering and dancing in the breeze. Continuous as the stars that shine And twinkle on the Milky Way, They stretched in never-ending line Along the margin of a bay: Ten thousand saw I, at a glance, Tossing their heads in sprightly dance. The waves beside them danced, but they Outdid the sparkling waves in glee; A poet could not but be gay In such a jocund company; I gazed—and gazed—but little thought What wealth the show to me had brought. For oft, when on my couch I lie, In vacant or in pensive mood, They flash upon that inward eye Which is the bliss of solitude; And then my heart with pleasure fills, And dances with the daffodils. Daffodils below a tree A HOST OF GOLDEN DAFFODILS When we look at this little poem we see at a glance that the stanzas are all the same length, that the rhyme scheme is ababcc (see “To My Infant Son,” Vol. VI), and that the indentation at the beginning of the lines corresponds with the rhymes. This poem, then, is perfectly regular in form. There are other things, however, which go to make up perfect structure in a poem. First and foremost, the words are so arranged that the accented syllables in any given line come at regular intervals. Take, for instance, the first two lines of this poem. Each line contains eight syllables. If you number these syllables 1, 2, 1, 2, 1, 2, 1, 2, you will see that it is the second one each time that bears the accent, thus: I wan´dered lone´ly as´ a cloud´ That floats´ on high´ o’er vales´ and hills´. Now, if you read the four remaining lines of the stanza you will see that in each one of these the second syllable bears the accent, until you come to the last line, where in the word fluttering, which, by the way, you pronounce flutt´ring, the accent is on the first syllable. If the poet did not now and then change the accent a little it would become tedious and monotonous. It is a very simple matter, you see, to separate every line of poetry into groups of syllables, and in every group to place one accented syllable and one or more syllables that are not accented. Such a group is called a foot. Thus in each of the first two lines in this poem there are four feet. Each foot contains an accented and an unaccented syllable. If you examine To the Fringed Gentian, To a Mouse, and To a Mountain Daisy, the three poems which follow this, you will see the same structure, except that in To a Mouse and in To A Mountain Daisy there are some short lines and some double rhymes, making the last foot a little different in character from the others. When a line of poetry is composed of two-syllable feet in which the second syllable bears the accent we call that meter [1] [2] [3] T iambic. It is the prevalent foot in English poetry, and if you examine the different poems in these volumes you will be surprised to find out how many of them are written substantially on the plan of The Daffodils. In naming the meter of a poem two things are considered: First the character of the feet, and second, the number of feet. In this poem the feet are iambic and there are four of them, consequently we name the meter of this poem iambic tetrameter. Whenever you hear those words you think of a poem whose meter is exactly like that of The Daffodils. These words seem long and hard to remember. It may help you to remember them if you think that the word iam´bic contains an iambic foot. In naming the meter we use the Greek numerals—mono (one), di (two), tri (three), tetra (four), penta (five), hexa (six), hepta (seven), and octa (eight), and add to them the word meter, thus: Mo-nom´e-ter, a line containing one foot, dim´e-ter, trim´e-ter, te-tram´e-ter, pen-tam´e-ter, hex-am´e-ter, hep-tam´e-ter, and oc-tam´e-ter. TO THE FRINGED GENTIAN By William Cullen Bryant HOU blossom, bright with autumn dew, And colored with the heaven’s own blue, That openest when the quiet light Succeeds the keen and frosty night; Thou comest not when violets lean O’er wandering brooks and springs unseen, Or columbines, in purple dressed, Nod o’er the ground-bird’s hidden nest. Thou waitest late, and com’st alone, When woods are bare and birds are flown, And frosts and shortening days portend The aged Year is near his end. Then doth thy sweet and quiet eye Look through its fringes to the sky, Blue—blue—as if that sky let fall A flower from its cerulean wall. I would that thus, when I shall see The hour of death draw near to me, Hope, blossoming within my heart, May look to heaven as I depart. TO A MOUSE On Turning Her Up in Her Nest with the Plow, November, 1785 [4] [5] W By Robert Burns EE, sleekit,5-1 cow’rin’, tim’rous beastie, O, what a panic’s in thy breastie! Thou need na start awa sae hasty, Wi’ bickering brattle!5-2 I wad be laith to rin an’ chase thee, Wi’ murdering pattle!5-3 I’m truly sorry man’s dominion Has broken Nature’s social union, An’ justifies that ill opinion Which makes thee startle At me, thy poor earth-born companion, An’ fellow-mortal! I doubt na, whyles, but thou may thieve; What then? poor beastie, thou maun live! A daimen-icker6-4 in a thrave6-5 ’S a sma’ request: I’ll get a blessin’ wi’ the lave6-6 And never miss’t! A man kneeling by a plow THOU NEED NA START AWA Thy wee bit housie, too, in ruin! Its silly wa’s the win’s are strewin’! An’ naething, now, to big a new ane, O’ foggage7-7 green! An’ bleak December’s winds ensuin’, Baith snell7-8 and keen! Thou saw the fields laid bare an’ waste, And weary winter comin’ fast, And cozie, here, beneath the blast, Thou thought to dwell, Till crash! the cruel coulter7-9 past Out thro’ thy cell. That wee bit heap o’ leaves an’ stibble, Has cost thee mony a weary nibble! Now thou’s turn’d out, for a’ thy trouble, But house or hald,7-10 To thole7-11 the winter’s sleety dribble, An’ cranreuch7-12 cauld! But, Mousie, thou art no thy lane,7-13 In proving foresight may be vain; The best-laid schemes o’ mice an’ men, Gang aft a-gley,7-14 [6] [7] An’ lea’e us nought but grief and pain, For promis’d joy. Still them are blest, compar’d wi’ me! The present only toucheth thee: But, Och! I backward cast my e’e On prospects drear; An’ forward, tho’ I canna see,8-15 I guess an’ fear. 5-1 Sleekit means sly. 5-2 Brattle means a short race. 5-3 A pattle is a scraper for cleaning a plow. 6-4 Daimen-icker means an ear of corn occasionally. 6-5 A thrave is twenty-four sheaves. 6-6 Lave is the Scotch word for remainder. 7-7 Foggage is coarse uncut grass. 7-8 Snell means sharp. 7-9 The coulter is the sharp iron which cuts the sod before the plow. 7-10 Hald means a resting place. But here means without. 7-11 Thole is the Scotch word for endure. 7-12 Cranreuch is hoar-frost. 7-13 No thy lane means not alone. 7-14 Gang aft a-gley means often go wrong. 8-15 In this poem and the one To a Mountain Daisy, does the allusion to the poet’s own hard fate add to or detract from the beauty of the composition? Do these allusions give any insight into his character? What was always uppermost in his mind? Robert Burns 1759-1796 ROBERT BURNS 1759-1796 TO A MOUNTAIN DAISY [8] W On Turning One Down with the Plough in April, 1786 By Robert Burns EE, modest, crimson-tippéd flower, Thou’s met me in an evil hour, For I maun8-1 crush amang the stoure8-2 Thy slender stem; To spare thee now is past my power, Thou bonny gem. Alas! it’s no thy neibor sweet, The bonny lark, companion meet, Bending thee’ mang the dewy weet, Wi’ spreckled8-3 breast, When upward springing, blithe, to greet The purpling east. Cauld blew the bitter biting north Upon thy early, humble birth; Yet cheerfully thou glinted forth Amid the storm, Scarce reared above the parent earth Thy tender form. A man plowing a field THOU BONNY GEM The flaunting flowers our gardens yield, High sheltering woods and wa’s maun shield. But thou beneath the random bield9-4 O’ clod or stane, Adorns the histie9-5 stibble-field, Unseen, alane. There, in thy scanty mantle clad, Thy snawie bosom sunward spread, Thou lifts thy unassuming head In humble guise; But now the share uptears thy bed, And low thou lies! Such is the fate of artless maid, Sweet floweret of the rural shade! By love’s simplicity betrayed, And guileless trust, Till she, like thee, all soiled, is laid Low i’ the dust. Such is the fate of simple bard, On life’s rough ocean luckless starred! Unskilful he to note the card Of prudent lore, Till billows rage, and gales blow hard And whelm him o’er! [9] [10] H Such fate to suffering worth is given, Who long with wants and woes has striven, By human pride or cunning driven To misery’s brink, Till wrenched of every stay but Heaven, He, ruined, sink! Even thou who mourn’st the daisy’s fate, That fate is thine,—no distant date: Stern Ruin’s ploughshare drives, elate, Full on thy bloom, Till crushed beneath the furrow’s weight, Shall be thy doom! 8-1 Maun is the Scotch word for must. 8-2 Stoure is the Scotch name for dust. 8-3 Spreckled is the Scotch and provincial English form of speckled. 9-4 Bield means shelter. 9-5 Histie means dry or barren. THE OLD OAKEN BUCKET11-1 By Samuel Woodworth OW dear to my heart are the scenes of my childhood, When fond11-2 recollection presents them to view; The orchard, the meadow, the deep, tangled wild-wood, And every loved spot that my infancy11-3 knew. The wide-spreading pond, and the mill11-4 that stood by it; The bridge and the rock where the cataract fell; The cot of my father, the dairy house11-5 nigh it, And e’en the rude bucket which hung in the well— The old oaken bucket, the iron-bound bucket, The moss-covered bucket which hung in the well. That moss-covered bucket I hail as a treasure; For often at noon, when returned from the field, I found it the source of an exquisite pleasure, The purest and sweetest that nature can yield. How ardent I seized it, with hands that were glowing, And quick to the white-pebbled bottom it fell12-6; Then soon with the emblem of truth12-7 overflowing, And dripping with coolness it rose from the well— The old oaken bucket, the iron-bound bucket, The moss-covered bucket arose from the well. A boy drinking from a bucket by a well INCLINED TO MY LIPS [11] [12] How sweet from the green mossy brim to receive it, As poised on the curb,12-8 it inclined to my lips! Not a full blushing goblet13-9 could tempt me to leave it, Though filled with the nectar13-10 that Jupiter sips. And now, far removed from the loved situation,13-11 The tear of regret will oftentimes swell, As fancy returns to my father’s plantation, And sighs for the bucket which hangs in the well— The old oaken bucket, the iron-bound bucket, The moss-covered bucket which hangs in the well. If we compare The Old Oaken Bucket with The Daffodils (page 1), we will see that the lines of the former are longer, and when we read aloud a few lines from the one and compare the other, we see that the movement is very different. In The Old Oaken Bucket the accents are farther apart, and the result is to make the movement long and smooth, like that of a swing with long ropes. Let us examine more closely the lines of The Old Oaken Bucket in a manner similar to that suggested on page 2, for The Daffodils. If we place the accent on the proper syllables in the first four lines, they will read as follows: How dear´| to my heart´| are the scenes´| of my child´|hood, When fond´| rec-ol-lec´|tion pre-sents´| them to view’; The or´|chard, the mead´|ow, the deep´| tan-gled wild´|-wood, And ev´|’ry loved spot´| that my in´|fan-cy knew.´ The vertical lines above are drawn at the ends of the feet. How many feet are there in the first line; how many in the second; how many in the third; how many in the fourth? How many syllables in the first foot in the first line? How many other feet do you find containing the same number of syllables? How many syllables are there in the second foot in the first line? How many other feet are there containing the same number of syllables? Examine the feet that contain three syllables. On which syllable is the accent placed when there are three syllables in the foot? A poetic foot of three syllables which bears the accent on the third syllable is called an anapestic foot. The meter of this poem, then is anapestic tetrameter, varied by an added syllable in most of the odd-numbered lines and by an iambic foot at the beginning of each line. Can you find any other poem in this volume in which the meter is the same? Can you find such poems in other volumes? 11-1 Samuel Woodworth, the author of this familiar song, was an American, the editor of many publications and the writer of a great many poems; but no one of the latter is now remembered, except The Old Oaken Bucket. 11-2 This means that the author remembers fondly the scenes of his childhood, or remembers the things of which he was fond in his childhood. 11-3 As the term is used in the law-books, a person is an infant until he is twenty-one years of age; though, probably the word infancy here means the same as childhood. 11-4 Let us picture a large mill-pond with a race running out of one side of it past the old-fashioned mill, which has a big wooden water wheel on the outside of it. 11-5 The dairy house was probably a low, broad building through which the water from the stream ran. The milkpans were set on low shelves or in a trough so that the water could run around them and keep the milk cool. 12-6 If he could see the white-pebbled bottom of the well, it must have been a shallow one, or perhaps merely a square box built around a deep spring. 12-7 Water is usually spoken of as an emblem of purity, not of truth; but sometimes truth is spoken of as hiding at the bottom of a well. 12-8 The curb is the square box usually built around the mouth of the well to a height of a few feet, to protect the water from dirt. Sometimes three of the sides are carried up to a height of six or eight feet, and a roof is built over the whole, making a little house of the curb. The fourth side is left open, except for two or three feet at the bottom. In these old wells two buckets were often used. They were attached to a rope which ran over a wheel suspended from the roof of the well house. When a bucket was drawn up it was often rested on the low curb in front, while people drank from it. 13-9 Blushing goblet alludes to wine or some other liquor that has a reddish color. 13-10 Nectar was the drink of the old Greek gods, of whom Jupiter was the chief. 13-11 Situation and plantation do not rhyme well, and situation is scarcely the right word to use. Location would be better, so far as the meaning is concerned. [13] [14] S BANNOCKBURN Robert Bruce’s Address to His Army By Robert Burns COTS, wha hae wi’ Wallace bled; Scots, wham Bruce has aften led; Welcome to your gory bed, Or to glorious victorie! Now’s the day and now’s the hour— See the front o’ battle lour; See approach proud Edward’s power— Edward! chains and slaverie! Wha will be a traitor knave? Wha can fill a coward’s grave? Wha sae base as be a slave? Traitor! coward! turn and flee! Wha for Scotland’s king and law Freedom’s sword will strongly draw! Freeman stand or freeman fa’, Caledonian! on wi’ me! By oppression’s woes and pains! By our sons in servile chains! We will drain our dearest veins, But they shall be—shall be free! Lay the proud usurpers low! Tyrants fall in every foe! Liberty’s in every blow! Forward! let us do or die! On pages 2, and 13, of this volume we talked about the different meters in which poetry is written. In iambic poetry each foot contains two syllables, the second of which is accented. There is another kind of foot composed of two syllables. In this the accent falls on the first syllable. Bannockburn gives examples of this. To illustrate, we will rewrite the first stanza, using the words in their English form, and mark off the feet and the accent: Scots´, who | have´ with | Wal´-lace | bled´, Scots´, whom | Bruce´ has | of´-ten | led´; Wel´-come | to´ your | go´-ry | bed´, Or´ to | glo´rious | vic´-to | ry´. Each one of these lines ends with an accented syllable, but that may be disregarded in studying the feet. This foot is called the trochee, and it will help you to remember it if you will think that the word tro´chee has two syllables and is accented on the first. This poem, then, is in trochaic trimeter, with added accented syllables at the ends of the lines. Read the other stanzas carefully, throwing the accent prominently on the first syllable of each foot. When you read to bring out the meter of a poem you are said to be scanning it. When you are in the habit of scanning poetry you will find that you can do it very nicely and without spoiling the sound. At first you will probably accent the syllables too strongly, and then people will say that you are reading in a sing-song way, a thing to be avoided. Of course you will understand that the only way to bring out the meter of a poem is to read it aloud, but after you have become familiar with the various meters and have read aloud a great deal, you will be conscious of the rhythm when you read to yourself. It is this consciousness of rhythm that gives much of the enjoyment to those who love poetry, even when they do not read it aloud. BOAT SONG From Lady of the Lake By Sir Walter Scott AIL to the Chief who in triumph advances! [15] [16] [17] Honored and blest be the evergreen pine! Long may the tree, in his banner that glances, Flourish, the shelter and grace of our line! Heaven send it happy dew, Earth lend it sap anew, Gayly to bourgeon, and broadly to grow, While every Highland glen Sends our shout back again, “Roderigh Vich Alpine dhu, ho! ieroe!” Ours is no sapling, chance sown by the fountain, Blooming at Beltane, in winter to fade; When the whirlwind has stripped every leaf on the mountain The more shall Clan Alpine exult in her shade. Moored in the rifted rock, Proof to the tempest’s shock, Firmer he roots him the ruder it blow: Menteith and Breadalbane, then Echo his praise again, “Roderigh Vich Alpine dhu, ho! ieroe!” Proudly our pibroch has thrilled in Glen Fruin, And Bannochar’s groans to our slogan replied; Glen Luss and Ross-dhu, they are smoking in ruin, And the best of Loch-Lomond lie dead on her side. Widow and Saxon maid Long shall lament our raid, Think of Clan Alpine with fear and with woe; Lennox and Leven-glen Shake when they hear again, “Roderigh Vich Alpine dhu, ho! ieroe!” Row, vassals, row for the pride of the Highlands! Stretch to your oars for the evergreen pine! O that the rosebud that graces yon islands Were wreathed in a garland around him to twine! O that some seedling gem, Worthy such noble stem, Honored and blessed in their shadow might grow! Loud should Clan Alpine then Ring from her deepmost glen, “Roderigh Vich Alpine dhu, ho! ieroe!” The last of the common feet which we shall have to consider in reading English poetry is called dactyl. This foot consists of three syllables, the first of which is accented. Scott’s Boat Song is a very fine example of dactylic tetrameter, in which the last foot consists either of a trochee (see page 16) or of a single accented syllable. In every stanza there are four short lines of dactylic dimeter. Study the four lines which we have divided for you below: Hail´ to the | chief´ who in | tri´umph ad|van´ces! Hon´ored and | blest´ be the | ev´er green | pine!´ Long´ may the | tree´, in his | ban´ner that | glan´ces, Flou´rish, the | shel´ter and | grace´ of our | line.´ This is one of the finest meters in which poetry may be written, and one which you will learn to recognize and like whenever you see it. To assist you in remembering what we have said on this subject in the four poems we have studied, we will give this brief outline: Poetic feet 1. Consisting of two syllables: Iambic, when the second syllable is accented. Example: I wan´|dered lone|ly as´| a cloud´. Trochaic, when the first syllable is accented. Example: Scots´, who | have´ with | Wal´lace | bled´. 2. Consisting of three syllables: Anapestic, when the third syllable is accented. Example: How dear´ | to my heart´ | are the scenes´ | of my child´|hood. Dactylic, when the first syllable is accented. Example: Hail´ to the | chief´ who in | tri´umph ad|van´ces. There are two other feet which are found occasionally in English poetry, namely the spondee, which has two accented [18] [19] syllables, and the amphilbrach, which consists of three syllables with the accent on the middle one. Of course it is not necessary for you to know the names of these different feet in order to enjoy poetry, but it is interesting information. What you must do is to notice whenever you read poetry the kind of feet that compose the lines and how many there are in the line. After a while this becomes second nature to you, and while you may not really pause to think about it at any time, yet you are always conscious of the rhythm and remember that it is produced by a fixed arrangement of the accented syllables. If you would look over the poems in these volumes, beginning even with the nursery rhymes, it would not take you long to become familiar with all the different forms. While study of this kind may seem tiresome at first, you will soon find that you are making progress and will really enjoy it, and you will never be sorry that you took the time when you were young to learn to understand the structure of poetry. THE GOVERNOR AND THE NOTARY By Washington Irving N former times there ruled, as governor of the Alhambra20-1, a doughty old cavalier, who, from having lost one arm in the wars, was commonly known by the name of El Gobernador Manco, or the one-armed governor. He in fact prided himself upon being an old soldier, wore his mustachios curled up to his eyes, a pair of campaigning boots, and a toledo20-2 as long as a spit, with his pocket handkerchief in the basket- hilt. He was, moreover, exceedingly proud and punctilious, and tenacious of all his privileges and dignities. Under his sway, the immunities of the Alhambra, as a royal residence and domain, were rigidly exacted. No one was permitted to enter the fortress with firearms, or even with a sword or staff, unless he were of a certain rank, and every horseman was obliged to dismount at the gate and lead his horse by the bridle. Now, as the hill of the Alhambra rises from the very midst of the city of Granada, being, as it were, an excrescence of the capital, it must at all times be somewhat irksome to the captain-general, who commands the province, to have thus an imperium in imperio,21-3 a petty, independent post in the very core of his domains. It was rendered the more galling in the present instance, from the irritable jealousy of the old governor, that took fire on the least question of authority and jurisdiction, and from the loose, vagrant character of the people that had gradually nestled themselves within the fortress as in a sanctuary, and from thence carried on a system of roguery and depredation at the expense of the honest inhabitants of the city. Thus there was a perpetual feud and heart-burning between the captain-general and the governor; the more virulent on the part of the latter, inasmuch as the smallest of two neighboring potentates is always the most captious about his dignity. The stately palace of the captain-general stood in the Plaza Nueva, immediately at the foot of the hill of the Alhambra, and here was always a bustle and parade of guards, and domestics, and city functionaries. A beetling bastion of the fortress overlooked the palace and the public square in front of it; and on this bastion the old governor would occasionally strut backward and forward, with his toledo girded by his side, keeping a wary eye down upon his rival, like a hawk reconnoitering his quarry from his nest in a dry tree. Whenever he descended into the city it was in grand parade, on horseback, surrounded by his guards, or in his state coach, an ancient and unwieldy Spanish edifice of carved timber and gilt leather, drawn by eight mules, with running footmen, outriders, and lackeys, on which occasions he flattered himself he impressed every beholder with awe and admiration as vicegerent of the king, though the wits of Granada were apt to sneer at his petty parade, and, in allusion to the vagrant character of his subjects, to greet him with the appellation of “the king of the beggars.” One of the most fruitful sources of dispute between these two doughty rivals was the right claimed by the governor to have all things passed free of duty through the city, that were intended for the use of himself or his garrison. By degrees, this privilege had given rise to extensive smuggling. A nest of contrabandistas22-4 took up their abode in the hovels of the fortress and the numerous caves in its vicinity, and drove a thriving business under the connivance of the soldiers of the garrison. The vigilance of the captain-general was aroused. He consulted his legal adviser and factotum, a shrewd, meddlesome Escribano or notary, who rejoiced in an opportunity of perplexing the old potentate of the Alhambra, and involving him in a maze of legal subtilities. He advised the captain-general to insist upon the right of examining every convoy passing through the gates of his city, and he penned a long letter for him, in vindication of the right. Governor Manco was a straightforward, cut-and-thrust old soldier, who hated an Escribano worse than the devil, and this one in particular, worse than all other Escribanoes. “What!” said he, curling up his mustachios fiercely, “does the captain-general set this man of the pen to practice confusions upon me? I’ll let him see that an old soldier is not to be baffled by schoolcraft.” He seized his pen, and scrawled a short letter in a crabbed hand, in which he insisted on the right of transit free of search, and denounced vengeance on any custom-house officer who should lay his unhallowed hand on any convoy [20] [21] [22] [23] protected by the flag of the Alhambra. While this question was agitated between the two pragmatical potentates, it so happened that a mule laden with supplies for the fortress arrived one day at the gate of Xenil, by which it was to traverse a suburb of the city on its way to the Alhambra. The convoy was headed by a testy old corporal, who had long served under the governor, and was a man after his own heart—as trusty and stanch as an old Toledo blade. As they approached the gate of the city, the corporal placed the banner of the Alhambra on the pack saddle of the mule, and drawing himself up to a perfect perpendicular, advanced with his head dressed to the front, but with the wary side glance of a cur passing through hostile grounds, and ready for a snap and a snarl. “Who goes there?” said the sentinel at the gate. “Soldier of the Alhambra,” said the corporal, without turning his head. “What have you in charge?” “Provisions for the garrison.” “Proceed.” The corporal marched straight forward, followed by the convoy, but had not advanced many paces before a posse of custom-house officers rushed out of a small toll-house. “Halloo there!” cried the leader. “Muleteer, halt and open those packages.” The corporal wheeled round, and drew himself up in battle array. “Respect the flag of the Alhambra,” said he; “these things are for the governor.” “A fig for the governor, and a fig for his flag. Muleteer, halt, I say.” “Stop the convoy at your peril!” cried the corporal, cocking his musket. “Muleteer, proceed.” The muleteer gave his beast a hearty thwack, the custom-house officer sprang forward and seized the halter; whereupon the corporal leveled his piece and shot him dead. The street was immediately in an uproar. The old corporal was seized, and after undergoing sundry kicks and cuffs, and cudgelings, which are generally given impromptu by the mob in Spain, as a foretaste of the after penalties of the law, he was loaded with irons, and conducted to the city prison; while his comrades were permitted to proceed with the convoy, after it had been well rummaged, to the Alhambra. The old governor was in a towering passion, when he heard of this insult to his flag and capture of his corporal. For a time he stormed about the Moorish halls, and vapored about the bastions, and looked down fire and sword upon the palace of the captain-general. Having vented the first ebullition of his wrath, he dispatched a message demanding the surrender of the corporal, as to him alone belonged the right of sitting in judgment on the offenses of those under his command. The captain-general, aided by the pen of the delighted Escribano, replied at great length, arguing that as the offense had been committed within the walls of his city, and against one of his civil officers, it was clearly within his proper jurisdiction. The governor rejoined by a repetition of his demand; the captain-general gave a surrejoinder of still greater length, and legal acumen; the governor became hotter and more peremptory in his demands, and the captain- general cooler and more copious in his replies; until the old lion-hearted soldier absolutely roared with fury at being thus entangled in the meshes of legal controversy. While the subtle Escribano was thus amusing himself at the expense of the governor, he was conducting the trial of the corporal; who, mewed up in a narrow dungeon of the prison, had merely a small grated window at which to show his iron-bound visage, and receive the consolations of his friends; a mountain of written testimony was diligently heaped up, according to Spanish form, by the indefatigable Escribano; the corporal was completely overwhelmed by it. He was convicted of murder, and sentenced to be hanged. It was in vain the governor sent down remonstrance and menace from the Alhambra. The fatal day was at hand, and the corporal was put in capilla, that is to say, in the chapel of the prison; as is always done with culprits the day before execution, that they may meditate on their approaching end and repent them of their sins. Seeing things drawing to an extremity, the old governor determined to attend to the affair in person. He ordered out his carriage of state and, surrounded by his guards, rumbled down the avenue of the Alhambra into the city. Driving to the house of the Escribano, he summoned him to the portal. The eye of the old governor gleamed like a coal at beholding the smirking man of the law advancing with an air of exultation. [24] [25] [26]