I   Charles the King, our Lord and Sovereign,  Full seven years hath sojourned in Spain,  Conquered the land, and won the western main,  Now no fortress against him doth remain,  No city walls are left for him to gain,  Save Sarraguce, that sits on high mountain.  Marsile its King, who feareth not God's name,  Mahumet's man, he invokes Apollin's aid,  Nor... more...

PRINCESS BELLE-ETOILE. Once upon a time there were three Princesses, named Roussette, Brunette, and Blondine, who lived in retirement with their mother, a Princess who had lost all her former grandeur. One day an old woman called and asked for a dinner, as this Princess was an excellent cook. After the meal was over, the old woman, who was a fairy, promised that their kindness should be rewarded, and immediately disappeared. Shortly after, the... more...

CANTO THE FIRST. I. Ye shores of England, as ye fast recedeThe pain of parting rends my weary breast.I must regret—yet there is little needThat I should mourn, for only wild unrestIs mine while in my native land I roam.Thou gav'st me birth, but cannot give a home. II. Yet happy were the days that have been mine,So happy that those days must needs be few.It could not be that that bright sun would shineFor many months, and while its light... more...

THE SONG OF THE FLAG. I. Up with the country's flag!And let the winds caress it, fold on fold,—A stainless flag, and glorious to behold!It is our honour's pledge;It is the token of a truth sublime,A thing to die for, and to wonder at,When, on the shuddering edgeOf some great storm, it waves its woven joy,Which no man shall destroy,In shine or shower, in peace or battle-time.Up with the flag!The winds are wild to toss it, and to bragOf... more...

The SwordSinging—The voice of the Sword from the heart of the SwordClanging imperiousForth from Time’s battlementsHis ancient and triumphing Song. In the beginning,Ere God inspired HimselfInto the clay thingThumbed to His image,The vacant, the naked shellSoon to be Man:Thoughtful He pondered it,Prone there and impotent,Fragile, invitingAttack and discomfiture:Then, with a smile—As He heard in the ThunderThat laughed over... more...

Foreword My young friend Dennis has honoured me with a request to write a preface to his book. I think a man can best write a preface to his own book, provided he knows it is good. Also if he knows it is bad. "The Sentimental Bloke", while running through the Bulletin, brightened up many dark days for me. He is more perfect than any alleged "larrikin" or Bottle-O character I have ever attempted to sketch, not even excepting my own beloved... more...

SONG THE FIRST. Up Riber’s street the dance they ply,   The Castle’s won, the Castle’s won!There dance the knights most merrily,   For young King Erik Erikson. On Riber’s bridge the dance it goes,   The Castle’s won, the Castle’s won!There dance the knights in scollop’d shoes,   For young King Erik Erikson. ’Twas Riber Wolf the dance who led,  ... more...

THE LIFE OF PETRARCH. The family of Petrarch was originally of Florence, where his ancestors held employments of trust and honour. Garzo, his great-grandfather, was a notary universally respected for his integrity and judgment. Though he had never devoted himself exclusively to letters, his literary opinion was consulted by men of learning. He lived to be a hundred and four years old, and died, like Plato, in the same bed in which he had been... more...

e have no means of knowing the history of Master "Ebenezer Cook, Gentleman," who, one hundred and forty-six years ago, produced the Sot-Weed Factor's Voyage to Maryland. He wrote, printed, published, and sold it in London for sixpence sterling, and then disappeared forever. We do not know certainly that Mr. Cook himself was the actual adventurer who suffered the ills described by him "in burlesque verse." Indeed, "Eben: Cook, Gent." may be a... more...

The Land God Forgot The lonely sunsets flare forlornDown valleys dreadly desolate;The lordly mountains soar in scornAs still as death, as stern as fate.The lonely sunsets flame and die;The giant valleys gulp the night;The monster mountains scrape the sky,Where eager stars are diamond-bright.So gaunt against the gibbous moon,Piercing the silence velvet-piled,A lone wolf howls his ancient rune —The fell arch-spirit of the Wild.O outcast... more...