FLORA MACIVOR'S SUMMONS. TO-MORROW, do thy worst, for I have lived TO-DAY ! The joys I have possessed, in spite of fate, are mine. But what has been, has been, and I have had my hour. But with an inclination to be ill, Promotes, degrades, delights in strife, I can enjoy her while she's kind; But when she dances in the wind, And shakes her wings and will not stay, The little or the much she gave is quietly resigned: 319 And virtue, though in rags, will keep me warm. What is 't to me, who never sail in her unfaithful sea, black; If the mast split, and threaten wreck? Then let the greedy merchant fear For his ill-gotten gain; And pray to gods that will not hear, While the debating winds and billows bear For me, secure from fortune's blows, In my small pinnace I can sail. DRYDEN. XXII. FLORA MACIVOR'S SUMMONS. THERE is mist on the mountain, and night on the vale, The dirk and the target lie sordid with dust, It is only to war with the heath-cock or deer. The deeds of our sires if our bards should rehearse, But the dark hours of night and of slumber are past, And the streams of Glen-fin'nan leap bright in the blaze. O, high-minded Mo'ray!—the exiled! — the dear! Ye sons of the strong, when that dawning shall break, Awake on your hills, on your islands awake, 'Tis the summons of heroes for conquest or death, SIR WALTER SCOTT. XXIII. THE LORD OF BUTRAGO. The incident to which the following ballad relates is supposed to have occurred on the famous field of Aljubarrota, where King Juan the First, of Castile, was defeated by the Portuguese. The king, who was at the time in a feeble state of health, exposed himself very much during the action; and, being wounded, had great difficulty in making his escape. The battle was fought A. D. 1385. “YOUR horse is faint, my king—my lord! Your gallant horse is sick,His limbs are torn, his breast is gored, on his eye the film is thick; BERNARDO AND ALFONZO 321 Mount, mount ou mine, — O, mount apace, I pray thee, mount and fly! Or in my arms I'll lift your grace, their trampling hoofs are nigh! "My king my king! you 're wounded sore: the blood runs from your feet; But only lay a hand before, and I'll lift you to your seat: "Stand, noble steed! this hour of need be gentle as a lamb : "Nay, never speak; my sires, Lord King, received their land from yours, How could I stand 'mong gentlemen, such scorn on my gray head? "Castile's proud dames shall never point the finger of disdain, And say, There's one who ran away when our good king was slain ! Strike, strike the spur, and never spare! God's blessing on your grace!' So spake the brave Montanez, - Butrago's lord was he, He fought he died, but not before his sword had drunk its fill! LOCKHART. HAVE ye heard of King Alfonzo how he pledged his royal truth With some good ten of his chosen men Bernardo hath appeared, "A curse upon thee," cries the king, "who com'st unbid to me! "Whoever told this tale the king, hath rashness to repeat," Below the throne what knight will own the coward calumny? *To introduce the subject more distinctly to the hearer, we have added the first stanza above to Lockhart's admirable version. "Ye swore, upon your kingly faith, to set my father free; But, curse upon your paltering breath! the light he ne'er did see : "The king that swerveth from his word hath stained his purple black : No Spanish lord will draw the sword behind a liar's back. But noble vengeance shall be mine; an open hate I'll show; "Seize -seize him!" loud the king doth scream : "there are a thousand here; Let his foul blood this instant stream! - What! caitiffs, do ye fear? He drew the falchion from its sheath, and held it up on high; * Then to his mouth his horn he drew — (it hung below his cloak); LOCKHART. XXV. REGULUS.+ URGE me no more your prayers are in vain, And even the tears ye shed; When Reg'ulus can lead again When he can raise your legions slain To vengeance from the dead; And lift a freeman's voice in Rome! *Here is an opportunity for the picturesque imitative action of drawing a sword and holding it up on high. But the action, if ventured on at all, must be correctly imitative. The left hand should first rise to the hip, as if to hold the scabbard; and the right arm, in drawing the sword, must not be curved across the body, but straightly drawn out, as if it had a yard of steel behind it. The speaker should rise to his full height, and stretch his arm up perpendicularly (the hand closed as if grasping a sword), while uttering Bernard's splendid defiance. See the story of Regulus, page 195. REGULUS. Accursed moment! when I woke Betrayed no sign of agony, Wherefore, of all that fought, was I To darkness and to chains consigned, I recked not; - could they chain the mind, Or plunge the soul in gloom? And there they left me, dark and lone, They led me forth, I thought to die,- But no kind Heaven had yet in store For me, a conquered slave, A joy I thought to feel no more, Or feel but in the grave. They deemed perchance my haughtier mood They bade me to my country bear They would have trained my lips to swear, Silent their base commands I heard ; I go, prepared to meet the worst, They sue for peace, I bid you spurn I bid you still, with aspect stern, 323 |