THE KALIF OF BALDACCA.

BY HENRY WADSWORTH LONGFELLOW.

INTO the city of Kambalu,

By the road that leadeth to Ispahan,
At the head of his dusty caravan,
Laden with treasure from realms afar,
Baldacca and Kelat and Kandahar,
Rode the great captain Alaù.

The Khan from his palace-window gazed:
He saw in the thronging street beneath,
In the light of the setting sun, that blazed
Through the clouds of dust by the caravan raised,
The flash of harness and jewelled sheath,

And the shining scimitars of the guard,

And the weary camels that bared their teeth,

As they passed and passed through the gates unbarred
Into the shade of the palace-yard.

Thus into the city of Kambalu,

Rode the great captain Alaù;

And he stood before the Khan, and said,

"The enemies of my lord are dead;

All the Kalifs of all the West

Bow and obey his least behest;

The plains are dark with the mulberry-trees,

The weavers are busy in Samarcand,

The miners are sifting the golden sand,

The divers are plunging for pearls in the seas,

And peace and plenty are in the land.

Only Baldacca's Kalif alone

Rose in rebellion against thy throne:

His treasures are at thy palace-door,

With the swords and the shawls and the jewels he wore ;

His body is dust o'er the Desert blown.

"A mile outside of Baldacca's gate

I left my forces to lie in wait,

Concealed by forests and hillocks of sand,

And forward dashed with a handful of men

To lure the old tiger from his den

Into the ambush I had planned.

Ere we reached the town the alarm was spread,

For we heard the sound of the gongs from within;

With clash of cymbals and warlike din

The gates swung wide; we turned and fled,

And the garrison sallied forth and pursued,

With the gray old Kalif at their head,
And above them the banner of Mahomed:

Thus we snared them all, and the town was subdued.

"As in at the gate we rode, behold,

A tower that was called the Tower of Gold!
For there the Kalif had hidden his wealth,
Heaped and hoarded and piled on high,
Like sacks of wheat in a granary;

And there the old miser crept by stealth
To feed of the gold that gave him health,
To gaze and gloat with his hungry eye

On jewels that gleamed like a glow-worm's spark,
Or the eyes of a panther in the dark.

"I said to the Kalif,-Thou art old;
Thou hast no need of so much gold;

Thou shouldst not have heaped and hidden it here Till the breath of battle was hot and near,

But have sown through the land these useless hoards To spring into shining blades of swords,

And keep thine honour sweet and clear.

These grains of gold are not grains of wheat;

These bars of silver thou canst not eat;

These jewels and pearls and precious stones
Cannot cure the aches in thy bones,
Nor keep the feet of death one hour
From climbing the stairways of thy tower!'
"Then into this dungeon I locked the drone,
And left him to feed there all alone

In the honey-cells of his golden hive:
Never a prayer, nor a cry, nor a groan
Was heard from those massive walls of stone,
Nor again was the Kalif seen alive!

"When at last we unlocked the door,
We found him dead upon the floor;

The rings had dropped from his withered hands;
His teeth were like bones in the Desert sands;
Still clutching his treasures he had died;

And, as he lay there, he appeared

A statue of gold with a silver beard,
His arms outstretched as if crucified."

This is the story, strange and true,
That the great captain Alaù
Told to his brother the Tartar Khan,
When he rode that day into Kambalu
By the road that leadeth to Ispahan.

THE LAST DAYS OF SIMON DE MONTFORT: A FRAGMENT.

BY THE REV. F. J. A. HORT,

[The six months, the events of which are described in the following pages, brought to an end one of the great crises of English history. They virtually decided the close of the Barons' war, and the apparent failure of its purpose. In the preceding year King Henry III. and his son Prince Edward had been completely defeated and made prisoners at Lewes. In the preceding month representatives of boroughs had for the first time sat in Parliament beside the knights of the shires, and so the career of the English House of Commons had begun. But the inherent weakness and instability of Simon de Montfort's position had meanwhile begun to shew itself in the midst of his outward triumph. Discordances of interest and feeling, suppressed or forgotten in the stress of warfare, regained their force when the work to be done was government. The strong measures required for the maintenance of authority at a moment of singularly complicated disorder were inevitably unpopular and easily misrepresented. The real incongruity of administering the kingdom for any length of time in the King's name against the King's wishes became every day more manifest. Lastly, the sorely tried loyalty of the nation for the person of its sovereign, which had preserved to him an almost forfeited throne in his childhood, became once more an active power, now that he was vanquished and helpless. The jealousy of Gilbert de Clare Earl of Gloucester, De Montfort's leading coadjutor and rival, struck the first and most deadly blow. The narrative will shew the successive steps by which difficulty became disaster, and disaster ended in ruin.

The story has been constructed directly and exclusively from the original sources. No manuscript authority has however been used. A few unimportant but striking incidents, which seemed to have an air of probability, have been cautiously taken from such comparatively late and romantic chroniclers as Hemingburg, who doubtless heard them current in popular tradition they will be found stated less positively than the rest of the text. With these exceptions, the evidence, fragmentary and conflicting though it sometimes be in details, is that of contemporaries and occasionally of eye-witnesses.]

As the spring of 1265 advanced, the breach between the Earls of Leicester 1 and Gloucester became constantly wider. It would appear that matters were made worse by the thoughtlessness of De Montfort's sons. Being mere soldiers, blind to the necessities of statesmanship, they took advantage of their position to indulge a haughty and pugnacious spirit without regard to consequences, and thus unawares thwarted their father's policy at a most critical season. With incredible folly they treated their powerful rival with especial disdain. A tournament was announced to be held at Dunstaple on Feb. 17, at which the Earl of Gloucester was to contend with Henry de Montfort. Whether the proclamation was actually issued by the

1 Simon de Montfort's grandmother was the eldest sister and coheiress of Robert Fitzparnell, Earl of Leicester. The county of Leicester was conceded by Henry III. to belong to the De Montforts, and transferred to Simon by his elder brother Amalric, in a

Earl or by the young De Montforts, is not clear, but undoubtedly the affair arose from provocations on their part. As the day drew near, it became known that Gloucester was collecting a body of men disaffected to the barons, to accompany him at Dunstaple. Under such circumstances there was great danger of smouldering passions bursting into a flame, even if actual treachery were not already designed. The king was therefore wisely induced to write a letter to the Prior of Dunstaple, peremptorily forbidding the tournament. Gloucester

however threatened to hold it in spite of the prohibition; so that De Montfort had to go down in person with Hugh le Despenser and a body of Londoners, and compel obedience by the display of a superior force.

Gloucester was greatly enraged at the disappointment, and De Montfort must have seen good reason to fear the consequences, for we soon find him taking

"As in at the gate we rode, behold,

A tower that was called the Tower of Gold!
For there the Kalif had hidden his wealth,
Heaped and hoarded and piled on high,
Like sacks of wheat in a granary;

And there the old miser crept by stealth
To feed of the gold that gave him health,

To gaze and gloat with his hungry eye

On jewels that gleamed like a glow-worm's spark,
Or the eyes of a panther in the dark.

"I said to the Kalif,-Thou art old;
Thou hast no need of so much gold;

Thou shouldst not have heaped and hidden it here Till the breath of battle was hot and near,

But have sown through the land these useless hoards

To spring into shining blades of swords,

And keep thine honour sweet and clear.

These grains of gold are not grains of wheat;

These bars of silver thou canst not eat;

These jewels and pearls and precious stones
Cannot cure the aches in thy bones,

Nor keep the feet of death one hour

From climbing the stairways of thy tower!'

"Then into this dungeon I locked the drone,
And left him to feed there all alone

In the honey-cells of his golden hive:
Never a prayer, nor a cry, nor a groan
Was heard from those massive walls of stone,
Nor again was the Kalif seen alive!

"When at last we unlocked the door,
We found him dead upon the floor;

The rings had dropped from his withered hands;
His teeth were like bones in the Desert sands;
Still clutching his treasures he had died;
And, as he lay there, he appeared

A statue of gold with a silver beard,
His arms outstretched as if crucified."

This is the story, strange and true,
That the great captain Alaù
Told to his brother the Tartar Khan,
When he rode that day into Kambalu
By the road that leadeth to Ispahan.

THE LAST DAYS OF SIMON DE MONTFORT; A FRAGMENT.

BY THE REV. F. J. A. HORT,

[The six months, the events of which are described in the following pages, brought to an end one of the great crises of English history. They virtually decided the close of the Barons' war, and the apparent failure of its purpose. In the preceding year King Henry III. and his son Prince Edward had been completely defeated and made prisoners at Lewes. In the preceding month representatives of boroughs had for the first time sat in Parliament beside the knights of the shires, and so the career of the English House of Commons had begun. But the inherent weakness and instability of Simon de Montfort's position had meanwhile begun to shew itself in the midst of his outward triumph. Discordances of interest and feeling, suppressed or forgotten in the stress of warfare, regained their force when the work to be done was government. The strong measures required for the maintenance of authority at a moment of singularly complicated disorder were inevitably unpopular and easily misrepresented. The real incongruity of administering the kingdom for any length of time in the King's name against the King's wishes became every day more manifest. Lastly, the sorely tried loyalty of the nation for the person of its sovereign, which had preserved to him an almost forfeited throne in his childhood, became once more an active power, now that he was vanquished and helpless. The jealousy of Gilbert de Clare Earl of Gloucester, De Montfort's leading coadjutor and rival, struck the first and most deadly blow. The narrative will shew the successive steps by which difficulty became disaster, and disaster ended in ruin.

The story has been constructed directly and exclusively from the original sources. No manuscript authority has however been used. A few unimportant but striking incidents, which seemed to have an air of probability, have been cautiously taken from such comparatively late and romantic chroniclers as Hemingburg, who doubtless heard them current in popular tradition: they will be found stated less positively than the rest of the text. With these exceptions, the evidence, fragmentary and conflicting though it sometimes be in details, is that of contemporaries and occasionally of eye-witnesses.]

As the spring of 1265 advanced, the breach between the Earls of Leicester 1 and Gloucester became constantly wider. It would appear that matters were made worse by the thoughtlessness of De Montfort's sons. Being mere soldiers, blind to the necessities of statesmanship, they took advantage of their position to indulge a haughty and pugnacious spirit without regard to consequences, and thus unawares thwarted their father's policy at a most critical season. With incredible folly they treated their powerful rival with especial disdain. A tournament was announced to be held at Dunstaple on Feb. 17, at which the Earl of Gloucester was to contend with Henry de Montfort. Whether the proclamation was actually issued by the

1 Simon de Montfort's grandmother was the eldest sister and coheiress of Robert Fitzparnell, Earl of Leicester. The county of Leicester was conceded by Henry III. to belong to the De Montforts, and transferred to Simon by his elder brother Amalric, in a

Earl or by the young De Montforts, is not clear, but undoubtedly the affair arose from provocations on their part. As the day drew near, it became known that Gloucester was collecting a body of men disaffected to the barons, to accompany him at Dunstaple. Under such circumstances there was great danger of smouldering passions bursting into a flame, even if actual treachery were not already designed. The king was therefore wisely induced to write a letter to the Prior of Dunstaple, peremptorily forbidding the tournament. Gloucester however threatened to hold it in spite of the prohibition; so that De Montfort had to go down in person with Hugh le Despenser and a body of Londoners, and compel obedience by the display of a superior force.

Gloucester was greatly enraged at the disappointment, and De Montfort must have seen good reason to fear the consequences, for we soon find him taking