The Knight Of The Golden Melice by John Turvill Adams (cat reading book txt) 📕

Song Wherewith To Waken The

Echoes Of The Virgin Forest And Shorten The Toils Of Our Way?"

  

 

"I Esteem Not Myself A Singer, Though I Can Troll A Stave Or Two,"

Replied The Young Man. "But I Fear That My Minstrelsy Would Be Rude

And Uncouth To The Cultivated Ears Of One Who, Like You, Sir

Christopher, Hath Listened To The Lays Of Many Lands, And So, Refined

And Perfected His Taste."

  

 

"It Is True," Said The Knight, "That I Have Heard The Songs Of Many

Countries, Warbled By Beauty To The Accompanying Sounds Of Divers

Instruments, From Spain To Persia, From The Andalusian Guitar To The

Turkish Lute. But Fear Me Not. I Am No Supercilious Critic. Thy

Modesty Hides Merit. I Will Be Bound Now That Thy Performance Will

Exceed Thy Promise."

  

 

"But Is There No Danger Of Attracting Wandering Savages, And So Being

Taken Prisoners, Or Shot With Their Arrows?"

 

 

"The Danger Of Being Treated As Enemies Is Less, For What Indian Would

Suspect Such Of Going Singing Through The Woods?"

 

 

"Then Here Is My Song," Said Arundel, "But I Shall Look For A Like

Complaisance On Thy Part."

 

  

  "Who Loves The Greenwood Cool And Sweet,

    O! Let Him Come With Me!

  No Harsher Sound His Ears Shall Greet,

    Than Songs Of Birds So Free;

  No Sight Less Fair His Eyes Shall View,

    Than Trees, And Ferns, And Flowers,

  Sun, Stars, The Branches Shimmering Through,

    To Light The Flying Hours.

 

 

  "Ambition Hither Cannot Come,

    Here Pomp Is Out Of Place,

  And Fawning Flattery Finds No Home

    With Simper And Grimace,

  But Nature, In Her Artless Dress,

    (A Greenwood Nymph Is She,)

  With Eyes So Wild And Flowing Tress,

    And Bare Ungartered Knee.

 

 

  "Then Come, O, Come! O, Come With Me!

    Forgot Be Toil And Care;

  O! Come Beneath The Greenwood Tree,

    For Happiness Is There.

  The Sun Shall Shine With Tempered Ray,

    The Moonbeam Soft, Yet Bright;

  O, Come! Joy Beckons Us Away,

    To Revel In Delight!"

 

 

"Good!" Exclaimed The Knight. "Thy Voice Is As Sweet As A Sky-Lark's,

And Runs With Marvellous Cunning Through The Harmonious Changes Of The

Tune. Why, Never Preface Thy Song Again With An Apology, Or I Shall

Begin To Doubt Thy Sincerity."

 

  

"Wild Woods And Savage Life Have Not Tarnished The Courtly Polish Of

Sir Christopher Gardiner," Said Arundel. "And Now For My Guerdon,

Though In Truth I Feel Shame For The Little I Have Been Able To Do, In

Comparison With What I Expect." 

 

 

"By My Troth, Thou Art A Master In The Science Of Delicate

Compliments. There Was, I Confess, A Time When, With Youthful Vanity,

I Did Esteem Myself Possessed Of Some Skill, And Could Step Along The

Gamut With Any Don Or Signor Of Them All; But That Is Long Since, And

I Fear Me That The Gutturals Of Northern Germany Have Quite Driven Out

Of My Throat The Liquids And Vowels Of Italy. However, To Pleasure Me,

Thou Hast Sung With Infinite Discretion And Wonderful Sweetness, A

Most Delectable Song; And Now It Were Boorish Not To Attempt At Least

To Repay Thy Musical Favor."

  

 

So Saying, The Knight Sung In A Manner And With An Expression That

Proved Him To Be An Accomplished Musician, And In Some Contrast With

The Less Artful Style Of Arundel, The Following Song: 

 

 

  "On Golden Guadalquiver's Banks

    Are Tinkling Gay Guitars,

  To Hail With Song And Smiling Thanks,

    The Soldier From The Wars.

  

 

  "When Glowing Youth And Beauty Met,

    Blush At Each Other's Glance,

  And, Bounding To The Castanet,

    Entwine Th' Impassioned Dance.

  

 

  "And Purple Xeres Sends Her Wine,

    To Laugh In Those Dark Eyes,

  Whose Flashing Orbs The Stars Outshine,

    Of Andalusia's Skies.

  

 

  "Red Lips Repeat The Hero's Name,

    White Hands Are Scattering Flowers;

  Honor Be His And Deathless Fame,

    And Gratitude Be Ours!

 

  

  "Delightful Land Of Orange Blooms,

    Of Chivalry And Song,

  Whose Memory The Past Perfumes--

    O! How For Thee I Long!

 

  

  "Where'er May Stray My Wandering Feet,

    I Never Will Forget,

  Or Guadalquiver's Maidens Sweet,

    Or Merry Castanet.

  

 

  "When Sun, And Moon, And Stars Turn Pale,

    On Nature's Funeral Pyre,

  O'er All Spain's Glory Shall Prevail,

    An Eagle Soaring Higher."

  

 

"You Have Well Profited By Your Opportunities, Sir Christopher," Said

Arundel, At Its Conclusion. "By Mine Honor, Such Sweet And Artful

Notes Never Waked The Echoes Of A Mighty Forest. I Seemed To Mingle In

The Graceful Fandango, And To Taste The Exhilarating Xeres In Your

Song."

  

 

"Ah!" Replied The Knight, With A Half Sigh. "It Is Only A Reminiscence

Of Youthful Follies. But Now It Is Thy Turn Again. I Warrant Me There

Is Store Of Ravishing Melodies In The Treasury Whence Thou Didst Take

Thine."

  

 

"I Dare Not," Said The Young Man Modestly, "Sing After Thee. My Poor

Notes Would Sound Like Those Of The Croaking Raven, In Comparison With

The Warblings Of The Yellow Minstrel Of The Canaries."

  

 

"Out With Thee, Hyperbolical Flatterer! Believe Me--I Set A Higher

Value On Thy Nature Than On My Art. Come, Pipe Up Once More, And I

Will, Meanwhile, Try To Recall Another Ditty."

 

 

 

"If Such Is To Be My Reward, I Will Not Refuse, Although I Do Thereby

Only Expose My Own Incapacity. Here Is A Serenade:

 

  

  "I Stand Beneath Thy Window, Love,

    To Tell My Pleasing Pain:

  O, Flowers Below, And Stars Above,

    Bear To Her Heart My Strain!

  Say That The Charms Of Earth And Sky

  Are Waiting For Her Company,

  And All Sweet Things My Fair Invite,

  To Rise And Perfect Make The Night.

  

 

  "Yet, No! I Would No Earthly Sound

    Might Mar That Tranquil Sleep,

  O'er Which The Angels, Standing Round,

    Admiring Vigil Keep.

  With These Bright Guards I Choose To Share

  The Watching Of My Jewel Rare;

  For Though Their Love May Be Divine,

  I Know It Cannot Equal Mine.

 

 

  "I See Her As She Chastely Lies

    Upon The Linen White;

  Was Ne'er To Man's Or Angel's Eyes

    So Beautiful A Sight!

  O, Mark Her Bosom's Fall And Swell,

  (Profane It Were Of More To Tell.)

  While Hover Round Her Rose-Leaf Mouth,

  Sweets That Excel The Arabian South.

 

 

  "Listen! She Murmurs In Her Dreams,

    And Music Puts To Shame:

  O, Can It Be I She Breathes, Meseems,

    My Too--Too Happy Name!

  O Cease, Bliss-Crowded Heart, To Beat

  So Fast, Lest Like Some India Fleet

  Surcharged With Spices, Thou Outright

  Founder, O'erfreighted With Delight!"

  

 

"Excellent," Exclaimed The Knight. Never Talk To Me Of The Wonderful

Little Birds Of The Canaries, Unless To Call Thyself One. I Fancy Thy

Verses A Tribute To The Celestial Attractions Of Mistress Eveline

Dunning."

 

  

"And Now Let Me Hear Thee," Said Arundel.

  

 

"I Did Match My First Lay," Said Sir Christopher, "To Thy Youthful

Blood. Now Will I Give Thee One More Befitting My Years And Gravity,"

And Adapting The Words To A Wild Foreign Air, The Knight Sent His Rich

Full Voice Ringing Through The Wood.

 

  

  "Who, On Glory's Pinion,

    Shall Mount The Upper Air,

  And Write His Name With Sunbeams

                 Sublimely There?

 

 

  "Blare Of Trumpets Shivering

    Above The Reeling Fight,

  Proves The Inhuman Challenge--

                 The Warrior's Right?

 

 

   "Son Of Thoughtful Science,

    Unthinking Of Renown,

  Is Thine The Name To Thunder

                 The Ages Down?"

 

  

"Hist!" He Said, Interrupting The Song. "What Is It I See Gliding In

Yonder Thicket? Stand Fast, Master Arundel, While I Go Forward To

Reconnoitre."

  

 

The Young Man Would Have Accompanied Him, But This Sir Christopher

Imperatively Forbade. "Thou Art Under My Lead And Protection," He

Said, "And Foul Shame Were It, Should I Expose Thee To A Danger Which

I Should Face Myself Alone;" And In Spite Of His Urgency, Arundel Was

Obliged To Remain Behind.

  

 

The Knight Was Gone, Perhaps, A Quarter Of An Hour, And Arundel Began

To Be Anxious At The Length Of His Absence, And Had Stepped Forward A

Few Rods To Seek Him, When He Made His Appearance.

  

 

"If It Were A Wild Beast, Or Anything That Could Harm Us," He Cried,

As He Approached, "It Has Glided Off Into The Bushes." 

 

 

"Then Shall I Entreat The Continuance Of Thy Song. I Would Like To

Hear Resolved The Question Which It Pleases The Poet To Ask."

 

 

"I Care Not To Sing More Now," Returned The Knight. "My Voice, I

Perceive, Begins To Roughen, And Brawls Along More Like A Shallow

Brook, Over Pebbles, Than The Flow Of A Deep, Equable Stream, It Were

To Shame The Brave Words."

  

 

This Determination Arundel Was Unable To Alter, And He Could Not Avoid

Ascribing It Quite As Much To A Change Of Opinion In His Companion,

Respecting The Prudence Of Singing In That Wild Region, As To Any

Assumed Roughness Of Voice. Thinking Thus, He Unslung His Gun, And

Examined Carefully The Priming, Holding Himself In Readiness For Any

Emergency. He Noticed, However, To His Surprise That No Such

Precautions Were Adopted By Sir Christopher, Who, Though In Silence,

Walked With As Fearless A Step As Ever, And Allowed His Piece To

Remain Upon His Back.

  

 

The Shades Of Evening Were Now Beginning To Wrap Objects In Obscurity,

And It Became Necessary To Look Out For A Place Of Rest. In Finding

One Fitted For The Purpose, The Knight Betrayed No Embarrassment.

 

  

"There Should Be," He Said, "A Small Cave In The Neighborhood, Wherein

We May Be Sheltered. I Will Lead Thee Thither In A Short Time."

 

  

Accordingly, They Descended The Side Of A Pretty Steep Declivity, And,

At The Bottom, Forming A Sort Of Miniature Valley, Found The Object Of

Their Search. It Was Certainlyf A Very Small Cave, If, Indeed, The

Recess, Which Was Not Twelve Feet Deep, Made By The Jutting Out Of

Some Huge Rocks From The Side Of The Hill, Deserved The Name. A Brook

Came Dashing Round Before The Cave, Separating It As It Were From Its

Surroundings, And Deepening Its Privacy; And Over The Entrance Hung

Immense Hemlock Branches, Sweeping With Their Evergreen Plumes The

Rocky Roof, And Almost Hiding The Aperture. It Seemed Impossible To

Have Selected A Place Better Adapted For Concealment.

  

 

"We Need Not Fear," Said The Knight, "To Make A Fire In This Secluded

Spot. It Will Serve To Keep Off Wild Animals, And As For Indians, They

Can Hardly Be Expected To Stumble On Us."

  

 

Arundel, As Being Only A Follower, And Inferior In Experience Of

Wood-Craft To His Elder Friend, Made No Objection, But Addressed

Himself To Prepare For Passing The Night. The Two, With Their Hunting

Hatchets, Cut From The Moist Land, Watered By The Brook, A Quantity Of

Hemlock Boughs, Wherewith To Compose Their Beds, Making Couches More

Comfortable, And Even Luxurious To A Tired Wanderer, Than One Would

Suppose Who Had Never Tried Them. Next, They Kindled A Fire, Whereupon

Supper Was Prepared--Some Small Game, Consisting Of Partridges And

Rabbits Which They Had Shot In The Course Of The Day. These, Together

With The Parched Corn They Brought From Home, Not Without A Draught Or

Two Of Aqua Vitae Tempered By The Pure Stream, Satisfied The Cravings

Of Appetite.

  

 

"And Now, Master Arundel," Said The Knight, After The Repast Was

Finished, During Which He Had Looked With Admiring Eyes On The

Achievements Of His Companion, "Tell Me, Didst Ever, At Princely

Banquet In Courtly Hall, Enjoy With Keener Zest The Artificial Dishes

Of Cunning Cooks, Designed To Tickle The Delicate And Difficultly

Pleased Palate?" 

 

 

"Never," Answered Arundel. "Knew The Epicures Of Europe The Efficacy

Of A Forest Tramp, We Should Meet Them Oftener Than Indians In The

Woods."

 

  

"Thus Deals Boon Nature With Her Children," Said Sir Christopher. "Out

Of The Richness Of Her Abundance Doth She Prodigally Supply What Man,

With All His Devices, Cannot Obtain. The Scent Of The Woodland, The

Winged Minstrelsy, The Murmur Of The Brook, And Tripping Of The Deer,

Say I, Before The Inventions And Appliances Of Dissatisfied Man,

Whereby He Vainly Tries To Procure To Himself Pleasures Which He Might

Have For The Asking. But How Fares It Otherwise With Thee? Art Not

Tired? With Me, Who Am An Old Campaigner, Our Tramp Should Be A

Trifle, And Yet I Confess My Limbs Are Not As Supple As In The

Morning. Thou Wert Excusable Shouldest Thou Feel It More." 

 

 

"I Feel No Fatigue Now," Said Arundel, "Though An Hour Ago I Might

Have Confessed It. But What Is That?" He Exclaimed, Grasping His Gun.

"Methought I Saw Two Eyes Peering From The Thicket. Shall I Fire?" He

Added, Bringing The Piece To His Shoulder.

 

  

"For Thy Life, No!" Interposed The Knight Quickly, Striking Up The

Muzzle Of The Gun. "That Were To Inform Any Wandering Savages Of Our

Retreat."

 

  

"I Will Then Explore The Bush To Find Out What It Is, Whom Curiosity

Has Attracted--Whether Beast Or Indian."

  

 

"It Were Well Not To Do So," Said The Knight. "It Would Only Be

Unnecessary Exposure; And An Enemy, If It Be One, Would Have Every

Possible Advantage In Waiting For