"Let the men of lore appear, The wisest of the earth, Chaldæa's seers are good, But here they have no skill; Are wise and deep in lore; A captive in the land, A stranger and a youth, — He saw that writing's truth. The morrow proved it true. "Belshazzar's grave is made, His kingdom passed away, He in the balance weighed, Is light and worthless clay. The shroud, his robe of state; His canopy, the stone; The Mede is at his gate! The Persian on his throne!" BYRON. SIR PAVON AND ST. PAVON. PART I. ST. MARK'S hushed abbey heard, Through prayers, a roar and din; A brawling voice did shout, "Knave shaveling, let me in!" The caged porter peeped, All fluttering, through the grate, Like birds that hear a mew. A knight was at the gate. His left hand reined his steed, Still smoking from the ford; His crimson right, that dangled, clutched Half of his broken sword. His broken plume flapped low; Was clogged; he wavered in his seat; "Who cometh in such haste?" "Sir Pavon, late, I hight, Of all the land around The stanchest, mightiest knight. "My foes-they dared not faceBeset me at my back In ambush. Fast and hard "Now wilt thou let me in, Or shall I burst the door ?" The grating bolts ground back; the knight Lay swooning in his gore. As children, half afraid, Him to their spital soon The summoned brethren bore, And searched his wounds. He woke, And roundly cursed and swore. The younger friar stopped his ears; The elder chid. He flung His gummy plasters at his mouth, And bade him hold his tongue. But, faint and weak, when, left He viewed the valley, framed within His window's carven stone, He learned anew to weep, To see the smoke-wreaths from his towers Climb up the clouds among. The abbot came to bring A balsam to his guest, On soft feet tutored long To break no sufferer's rest, And heard his sobbing heart Drink deep in draughts of woe; Then "Benedicite, my son," He breathed, in murmurs low. Right sharply turned the knight But changed his shaggy face, as when, Down through a stormy sky, "(I was a new-breeched boy, "But then I thought a flood Came down to drown them all, And that they only now in stone Stood on the minster wall, "Or painted in the glass Upon the window high, Where, swelled with spring-tides, breaks the sea Beneath, and leaves them dry, "Quite out of danger's way, And breathed and walked no more Upon the muddy earth, to do The deeds they did of yore, "When still the sick were healed Where e'en their shadows fell; But here is one that's living yet, And he shall make me well." The patient priest benign His watch beside him kept, Until he dropped his burning lids, And like an infant slept. PART II. Some weary weeks were spent Before the knight's huge frame was braced With strength and steel again. To prop him up," he said.) Unbidden at the board He sat, a mouthful took, And shot it spattering through his beard, Sprang up, and cursed the cook. If some bowed friar passèd by, He chucked him 'neath the chin, And cried, "What cheer?" or, "Dost thou find That hair-cloth pricks the skin?" Through shadowy aisle, 'neath vaulted roof, His faltering steps were led; Beside him was the living saint, Beneath, the sainted dead. Bespread with nun-wrought tapestry, Above it, carved by martyr hands, Burned round it, tipped with tongues of flame, Vowed candles white and tall; And frosted cup and patine, clear, In silver, painted all. The prisoned giant Music in The rumbling organ rolled, And roared sweet thunders up to heaven, Through all its pipes of gold. He started. 'Mid the prostrate throng "Henry de Joyense, Comte du Bouchage, Frère puine du Duc de Joyeuse, tué à Contras. Un jour qu'il passoit à Paris à quatre heures du matin, près du Couvent des Capucins, après avoir passé la nuit en débauche, il s'imagina que les Anges chantoient Matines dans Couvent. Frappé de cette idée, il se fit Capucin, sous le noin de Frère-Ange.'. . . Cette anecdote est tirée des Notes sur l'Henriade." - Mémoires de Sully, Livre Dixieme, Note 67. le "My knee is stiff with steel, And will not bend it well. "My sins! A peerless knight like me, What should he have to tell? "I never turned in fight Till treason wrought my harm, Nor then, before my shattered sword Weighed down my shattered arın. "I never broke mine oath, Forgot my friend or foe, Nor left a benefit unpaid With weal, or wrong with woe. "Keep thee from me!' * I said, "Observing every rule And maid and matron ever found "What gallantly I won In war, I did not hoard, But spent as gallantly in peace, With neighbors round my board." "Thy neighbors, son? The serfs For miles who tilled thy ground?" "Tush, father, nay! The high-born knights For many a league around. "They were my brethren sworn, In battle and in sport. 'Twere wondrous shame, should one like me With beggar kernes consort! "Clean have I made my shrift," With words both soft and keen, *The regular form of announcement that a single combat had begun between knights. "To smyte a wounded man that may not stonde, God deffende me from such a shame." "Wyt thon well, Syr Gawayn, I wyl neuer smyte a fellyd knight."- Prose Romance of King Arthur. |