Narrative Poems, part 6, Pennsylvania Pilgrim | Page 8

patience? It were vain to?guess.
Nay, were the plant itself but mythical,?Set in the fresco of tradition's wall?Like Jotham's bramble, mattereth not at all.
Enough to know that, through the winter's frost?And summer's heat, no seed of truth is lost,?And every duty pays at last its cost.
For, ere Pastorius left the sun and air,?God sent the answer to his life-long prayer;?The child was born beside the Delaware,
Who, in the power a holy purpose lends,?Guided his people unto nobler ends,?And left them worthier of the name of Friends.
And to! the fulness of the time has come,?And over all the exile's Western home,?From sea to sea the flowers of freedom bloom!
And joy-bells ring, and silver trumpets blow;?But not for thee, Pastorius! Even so?The world forgets, but the wise angels know.
KING VOLMER AND ELSIE.?AFTER THE DANISH OF CHRISTIAN WINTER.
WHERE, over heathen doom-rings and gray stones?of the Horg,?In its little Christian city stands the church of?Vordingborg,?In merry mood King Volmer sat, forgetful of his?power,?As idle as the Goose of Gold that brooded on his?tower.
Out spake the King to Henrik, his young and faithful?squire?"Dar'st trust thy little Elsie, the maid of thy?desire?"?"Of all the men in Denmark she loveth only me?As true to me is Elsie as thy Lily is to thee."
Loud laughed the king: "To-morrow shall bring?another day, [18]?When I myself will test her; she will not say me?nay."?Thereat the lords and gallants, that round about?him stood,?Wagged all their heads in concert and smiled as?courtiers should.
The gray lark sings o'er Vordingborg, and on the?ancient town?From the tall tower of Valdemar the Golden Goose?looks down;?The yellow grain is waving in the pleasant wind of?morn,?The wood resounds with cry of hounds and blare?of hunter's horn.
In the garden of her father little Elsie sits and?spins,?And, singing with the early birds, her daily task,?begins.?Gay tulips bloom and sweet mint curls around her?garden-bower,?But she is sweeter than the mint and fairer than?the flower.
About her form her kirtle blue clings lovingly, and,?white?As snow, her loose sleeves only leave her small,?round wrists in sight;?Below, the modest petticoat can only half conceal?The motion of the lightest foot that ever turned a?wheel.
The cat sits purring at her side, bees hum in?sunshine warm;?But, look! she starts, she lifts her face, she shades?it with her arm.?And, hark! a train of horsemen, with sound of?dog and horn,?Come leaping o'er the ditches, come trampling?down the corn!
Merrily rang the bridle-reins, and scarf and plume?streamed gay,?As fast beside her father's gate the riders held?their way;?And one was brave in scarlet cloak, with golden?spur on heel,?And, as he checked his foaming steed, the maiden?checked her wheel.
"All hail among thy roses, the fairest rose to me!?For weary months in secret my heart has longed for?thee!"?What noble knight was this? What words for?modest maiden's ear??She dropped a lowly courtesy of bashfulness and?fear.
She lifted up her spinning-wheel; she fain would?seek the door,?Trembling in every limb, her cheek with blushes?crimsoned o'er.?"Nay, fear me not," the rider said, "I offer heart?and hand,?Bear witness these good Danish knights who round?about me stand.
"I grant you time to think of this, to answer as?you may,?For to-morrow, little Elsie, shall bring another day."?He spake the old phrase slyly as, glancing round?his train,?He saw his merry followers seek to hide their?smiles in vain.
"The snow of pearls I'll scatter in your curls of?golden hair,?I'll line with furs the velvet of the kirtle that you?wear;?All precious gems shall twine your neck; and in?a chariot gay?You shall ride, my little Elsie, behind four steeds?of gray.
"And harps shall sound, and flutes shall play, and?brazen lamps shall glow;?On marble floors your feet shall weave the dances?to and fro.?At frosty eventide for us the blazing hearth shall?shine,?While, at our ease, we play at draughts, and drink?the blood-red wine."
Then Elsie raised her head and met her wooer face?to face;?A roguish smile shone in her eye and on her lip?found place.?Back from her low white forehead the curls of?gold she threw,?And lifted up her eyes to his, steady and clear and?blue.
"I am a lowly peasant, and you a gallant knight;?I will not trust a love that soon may cool and turn?to slight.?If you would wed me henceforth be a peasant, not?a lord;?I bid you hang upon the wall your tried and trusty?sword."
"To please you, Elsie, I will lay keen Dynadel?away,?And in its place will swing the scythe and mow?your father's hay."?"Nay, but your gallant scarlet cloak my eyes can?never bear;?A Vadmal coat, so plain and gray, is all that you?must wear."
"Well, Vadmal will I wear for you," the rider?gayly spoke,?"And on the Lord's high altar I'll lay my scarlet?cloak."?"But mark," she said, "no stately horse my peasant?love must ride,?A yoke of steers before the plough is all that he?must guide."
The knight looked down upon his steed: "Well,?let him wander free?No other man must ride the horse that has been?backed by me.?Henceforth I'll tread the furrow and to my oxen?talk,?If only