away on a crusade. Richard has returned incognito, and is looking on at the various tournaments held by his brother John, and now and then exhibiting his prodigious strength and skill in behalf of those oppressed by the tyranny of John or his minions. Robin Hood, the ideal of perfection in English archery, makes his appearance at the trial of archers here described, under the name of Locksley. He has been chief of the highwaymen in Sherwood Forest, and desires to attach himself to Richard's service. Malvoisin (măl-vwä-zăng') is one of the favorites of Prince John, who finally succeeded Richard as king. II. South'-ern (suth'-), al-low'-ing, pre-çēd'-ence, prov'-ost (prov'ust), yeō'-man-like, for'-est-er, ăn'-swered (-serd), whis'-tled (hwis'ld), in-terrupt'-ed, ex-hôrt'-ed, guärdş (gärdz), strāight (strāt). III. "Sith" (old form for since); "it be no better" ("be" was the correct form in old English; we should now say, Since it is no better"). IV. Target, lists, "contending archers," access, previously, "order of precedence," shafts, inferior, provost, "held degraded," ranged, "try conclusions," baldric, jerkin, braggart, deliberation, runagate, "set speech," resumed, competitor, antagonist, adversary, dexterity, composure, “headless shaft," bucklers, whittle, vindicated, "jubilee of acclamations," livery, reluctance. V. "Sports of the yeomanry." (Archery belonged to the common people; to fight, or "joust," with spears, and on horseback, belonged to the nobles.) "In the clout " (piece of white cloth on the center of the target). "An it were the stout King Richard himself” (“an was formerly much used where we now use if). Is there any sarcasm in Locksley's allusion to Hubert's grandsire at Hastings, as he gives him the twenty nobles? LXXXVII. ELEGY WRITTEN IN A COUNTRY 1. The curfew tolls the knell of parting day; 2. Now fades the glimmering landscape on the sight, And all the air a solemn stillness holds, Save where the beetle wheels his droning flight, 3. Save that, from yonder ivy-mantled tower, The moping owl does to the moon complain 4. Beneath those rugged elms, that yew-tree's shade, Where heaves the turf in many a moldering heap, Each in his narrow cell for ever laid, The rude forefathers of the hamlet sleep. 5. The breezy call of incense-breathing morn, The swallow twitt'ring from the straw-built shed, The cock's shrill clarion, or the echoing horn, No more shall rouse them from their lowly bed. 6. For them no more the blazing hearth shall burn, No children run to lisp their sire's return, 7. Oft did the harvest to their sickle yield, Their furrow oft the stubborn glebe has broke; How jocund did they drive their team a-field! How bowed the woods beneath their sturdy stroke 8 Let not Ambition mock their useful toil, Their homely joys, and destiny obscure; Jac Nor Grandeur hear with a disdainful smile, mo? I The short and simple annals of the pood T 9. The boast of heraldry, the pomp of power, And all that beauty, all that wealth e'er gave, The paths of glory lead but to the grave. 10. Nor you, ye proud, impute to these the fault, If Memory o'er their tomb no trophies raise, Where, through the long-drawn aisle and fretted vault, The pealing anthem swells the note of praise. 11. Can storied urn, or animated bust, Back to its mansion call the fleeting breath? Or Flattery soothe the dull, cold ear of Death? 12. Perhaps in this neglected spot is laid Some heart once pregnant with celestial fireHands that the rod of empire might have swayed, Or waked to ecstasy the living lyre: 13. But Knowledge to their eyes her ample page, Rich with the spoils of time, did ne'er unroll; Chill Penury repressed their noble rage, And froze the genial current of the soul. 14. Full many a gem of purest ray serene The dark, unfathomed caves of ocean bear; 15. Some village Hampden, that, with dauntless breast, The little tyrant of his fields withstood; Some mute, inglorious Milton here may rest— 16. The applause of listening senates to command, And read their history in a nation's eyes, 17. Their lot forbade; nor circumscribed alone Forbade to wade through slaughter to a throne, 18. The struggling pangs of conscious truth to hide, 19. Far from the madding crowd's ignoble strife, Their sober wishes never learned to stray; Along the cool, sequestered vale of life They kept the noiseless tenor of their way. 20. Yet e'en these bones from insult to protect, With uncouth rhymes and shapeless sculpture decked, 21. Their name, their years, spelt by the unlettered Muse, The place of fame and elegy supply; And many a holy text around she strews, 22. For who, to dumb forgetfulness a prey, This pleasing, anxious being e'er resigned, Left the warm precincts of the cheerful day, Nor cast one longing, lingering look behind? 23. On some fond breast the parting soul relies, 24. For thee, who, mindful of the unhonored dead, Dost in these lines their artless tale relate, If chance, by lonely contemplation led, Some kindred spirit shall inquire thy fate— 25. Haply some hoary-headed swain may say : "Oft have we seen him, at the peep of dawn, Brushing with hasty steps the dews away, To meet the sun upon the upland lawn. 26. "There, at the foot of yonder nodding beech, That wreathes its old, fantastic roots so high, His listless length at noontide would he stretch, And pore upon the brook that babbles by. 27. "Hard by yon wood, now smiling as in scorn, Muttering his wayward fancies, he would rove; Now drooping, woful-wan, like one forlorn, Or crazed with care, or crossed in hopeless love. 28. "One morn I missed him on the customed hill, Along the heath, and near his fav'rite tree; Another came, nor yet beside the rill, Nor up the lawn, nor at the wood was het |
