Yet small the charm declaimer's theme can bring
(If public wants not pinch the peasant's store,
And teach him jealousy) to village ring,
That meets to tell the rustic business o'er
And themes of home. Their fond attention more
Was won (while yet such kindred theme was given)
While Elder scanned th' assembled preachers' lore,
Whose rival eloquence had fondly striven
To win the hearts of men, and deck the rites of heaven.*
They loved to hear how 'mid some mountain dell
Where emerald grass with pearly daisies shone,
And blooming furze diffused its fragrant smell,
While o'er some neighbouring grove on hillock lone
By ancient church the wandering eye was won-
How mingling here with breeze's fading sound,
Was heard in cadence mild, like hermit's tone,
The preacher's voice; and how innumerous round
Delighted hearers sat, in fond attention wound.
How there that preacher stood, like him of old,
Who, 'mid the wilds of Judah's desart plain,
To gathering thousands awful warning told
Of high Messiah's dread approaching reign;
How there, like him he poured his eager strain
'Mid lonely dell of far sequestered height,
Repentant hearts for christain life to gain,
And trembling souls to fit for awful rite,
Where Saviour's dying love bursts full on mortal sight.
When rose their choral hymn's aerial tide,
How sweet the mellowed sound apart to hear,
Beneath some mountain grove's o'ershadowing side,
Like songs of Eden poured on Adam's ear
From groves where angels walked; while, listening near,
By hillock green, young wedded pair was seen,
Who soothed, with fond caress, their infant's tear,
Lest childish wail invade the listening scene,
And break those sounds of praise where angels heark to men.
Such theme the peasant loved: such scene sublime
By grandsire's foot he oft had tripped to see,
And recollections fond of earliest time,
And charms beloved of native scenery,
Were mingled there with rites that holiest be;
And round the Elder oft, such tale to hear,
They eager thronged beneath their village tree;
To them than senates' lore that tale more dear,
Or all of war and fight that fills the city's ear.
• The celebration of the sacrament in country parishes was, till of late, always accompanied by a " field preaching," which drew together great numbers of hearers. Religious ceremonies, performed under the open heaven, are always peculiarly impressive; and this being the only relict of them left in Britain, it had its full effect on the minds of the people; affording, likewise, a much more eligible subject of conversation than those political matters, which the utter abolition of all festivals, &c. has now left as the only topic of their leisure hours. It were to be wished that ridicule were always as successful in curing real abuses, as it was here in removing both the abuse and the thing abused.
So passed their eve: and then would Elder stray To neighb'ring cot, where, lov'd and welcome guest, He whiled in rural talk the hours away: The father's serious tale, the youngster's jest, The damsel's song, the child in frolic blest; Each gay, by turns amused the cheerful sire: The young enjoy their mirth, the old their rest, And all to please their honoured guest conspire, While, mid the jovial ring, gleams bright their bickering fire.
And might, at times, misfortune's frown severe
Such gladsome scene to hopeless sadness turn;
Did pinching want extort a murmuring tear,
And bid their wearied hearts in silence mourn,
Or urge despair in angry words to burn;
While stranger's kindness half-degrading seemed,
And tore their wounded pride with newer thorn :-
The Elder's step was ne'er intrusive deemed :
Familiar oft before, for kindness still esteemed.
And oft when frightened wealth in vain had tried
Each wonted art the peasant vexed to sooth,
Had smiled, and glozed, and half-concealed his pride,
And mingled promise fair and speeches smooth,
Yet met but sullen looks in every booth;
The Elder's voice, in all its words sincere,
Could lull to peace his brethren's passions wroth;
Their sufferings just in patience taught to bear,
Or shewed by rightful path to reach their ruler's ear.
Even she, that maid, around whose youthful breast Consumption's serpent coils were firmly wound, Whose feverish heart each visit now oppressed, While shrunk her startled ear from every sound, The Elder's converse still delightful found; While he, to win her ear, would cheerful tell Of evenings spent her parents' hearth around, Where friend to friend was joined in social spell: Then led her thoughts from earth on bliss supreme to dwell.
How different he, the haughty pastor, sent
Amid this humble flock "the Word" to preach!
Who ne'er within such humble threshold went,
Save (yearly task) some stern advice to teach,
Or, called perchance, at death's impending breach:
Can dying men of such regard the care,
Whose tardy steps with death the port but reach?
A signal known, his visit speaks despair,
Alarms the feverish heart, and thought bewilders there.
When reapers keen on harvest fields were met, This wight for many an useful deed was loved : Disjointed limb his ready skill could set, And wound from sickle rough his salve removed; Whene'er the youngster's mirth too freely roved, One little word from him its flight restrained; And maid that, blushing, half that flight approved, Yet blessed his care for purer mirth regained, And youth in freedom met-thus age preserved unstained.
At Harvest-home he loved the mirthful feast,
Where master's welcome servants' cares beguiled,
Where met the youth in mutual kindness blessed,
Who late in rival strength had eager toiled:
When down the dance the maiden grateful smiled
On him whose care her harvest's toil had eased;
When rustic mirth flung round in antics wild,
And youth rejoiced from yearly toils released,
While age sat gladsome near, like guardian angel pleased.
And much he wont th' ungenerous pride to blame
Of masters stern, to mushroom riches grown,
Who thus to mix with labour deemed it shame,
And gave for wonted feast the sordid boon;
"Twixt youth and age the bait for discord sown,
That neither pleased, and both with strife defiled;
For careful age will hoard the pittance thrown,
And youth, of age's decent care despoiled,
Will seek unsanctioned mirth, to sinful joys beguiled.
With bitterest smile the Elder oft would list,
When men of wealth, in piteous mood, complained
Of peasants now depraved, of virtues ceased,
And rural manners old, with vice distained,
And schemes of pride where simplest order reigned-
Alas! themselves the cause! their pride of shew
To mix with lowlier toil has long disdained—
Each jealous rank repels each rank below,
Familiar guardian once, a stern inspector now,
How far the ill descends! the farmer's hall,
Where lived the servants once, beneath the care
Of master kind-the friend, the guide of all-
Is changed and lost; reigns pride unbending there,
And forth to cheerless booth must servants fare,
Their hasty mess unblessed, alone to snatch,
And meet unguarded every youthful snare;
While master's stern advice, or hated watch,
But fires their rival pride, his wealthier vice to match.
Yet why in bitter words thus speak severe?
Thus ne'er the Elder's voice would harshly chide;
Oft stubborn vice would draw his secret tear,
And oft his care would indignation hide,
Lest stern reproof might wake the sinner's pride,
And shut the angry ear to all approach:
By kindness still he loved the heart to guide,
On sad remorse would careful ne'er encroach,
And jealous pride could lull, yet waken self-reproach.
As through the western pane of mountain cot,
Where maiden sings and plies her evening wheel,
Across the floor is sunny raylet shot,
Where child pursues the atoms' glittering reel,
And grand-dame loves the sunny warmth to feel;
While sparkling light the beamy wanderer throws
It has of late been customary to discountenance the old Saturnalian festivities of harvest home, &c. under pretence of economy; which has only caused the spirit of conviviality among the lower classes, to seek for other, and certainly not less objectionable modes of enjoyment.
On all that housewife's care would fain conceal,
And o'er her dusky shelves resplendent glows,
And playful pleases still, while every speck it shews;
Thus playful still his kind reproof was shed,
Thus unoffending every fault could shew:→→
Nor less to generous deeds his precepts led;
As when at dawn from orchard's blooming bough
Some feathered songster's notes melodious flow,
And sleeping maid awake to cheerful toil,
Who trims her parent's cot ere forth she go,
To milk her cows or join the harvest's moil;
Thus he to deeds of worth, the heart could wakening wile.
No words sarcastic e'er defiled his tongue,
Those poisoned arrows shot by ambushed pride;
Such oft in sly rebuke the heart have stung,
Oft driven the penitent his faults to hide,
But wanderer ne'er regained to virtue's side;
From lily fallen he dried remorseful shower,
Nor let the worm despair beneath it bide;
And oft with kindly touch revived the flower
That cold neglect or scorn had thrown to vice's power.
No angry satire guided e'er his speech
On class of men a general blame to throw→→
Of kings or mobs, or good or ill to teach :--
For men, he said, in common frailty grow,
By weal corrupted some, and some by woe;
As mid some rocky cavern's darksome hall,
Where stalagmitic veins exuding flow,
Wild shapes arise as drops incessant fall,
Thus men unconscious change, thus custom works on all.
Such truths the Elder taught; but most he loved
Of wayward youth the devious paths to guide;
Their generous warmth to duteous deeds he moved,
And lured their pride of heart to virtue's side:
And many a wanderer bears his memory wide,
Thro' distant lands where Scotia's sons are loved,
And tells on Indian shore with grateful pride,
How first the Elder's praise, to deeds approved,
Amid his native hills, his youthful bosom moved.
But if from roamings far such wanderer come,
And bend his path the Elder's cot to find ;
Alas! no more is there the sage's home;
Along the hill all lonely sweeps the wind,
Nor mark is there of social humankind;
Of scattered sheep is heard the tinkling bell,
And shivering lad is there, by rock reclined,
To watch his flock, that seeks on desert fell,
Some spot of greener sward, or kindlier sheltered dell.
That shepherd points afar the sacred ground, Where now the Elder sleeps in silent grave; And leaves his flock, to guide the wanderer round The site, where once the cot its shelter gave; Where now some lonely trees their branches wave, Sole remnant left of all that there had been, Which he who crushed the rest had deigned to save, To deck, perchance like ancient tomb, the scene, To wanderer's grieving heart, memorial sad I ween.
EXTRACTS FROM THE " HISTORÍA MAJOR" OF MATTHEW PARIS, MONK OF
(Continued from vol. vi. p. 276.)
Adventures of King Richard 1st, on his return from Palestine.
I. IN the autumn of the year 1192, the ships being prepared, and every thing rightly disposed of, King Richard, with his queen, his sister Jane, Queen of Sicily, and the rest of his nobles, crossed the Mediterranean, all of whom were subjected to unusually tempestuous weather at sea, and to various evils when they touched the land. Some escaped to the shore al most naked, with the destruction of their ships, and the loss of their trea sures, and but few gained the port destined for their safety. Those who escaped the dangers of the sea, beheld everywhere hostile forces arising a gainst them. Many had a heavy ran som set upon their heads; nor had they any means of escape, as though sea and land had both conspired to punish the deserters from the cross; whence it is manifest, that their re treating before the accomplishment of their pilgrimage was displeasing to the Lord; who had decreed that they should prosper in the Holy Land, sub duing their enemies for them, and delivering to them that land for which they had undertaken so grievous a pilgrimage; for on the feast of Quad ragesima following their departure, Sa ladin, the invader of Christendom and of the Holy Land, finished his accursed life by a miserable death; and had they been present, they might easily have recovered the country, during the quarrels and disputes maintained by the sons and neighbours of the aforesaid Saladin for the possession of his kingdom.
II. As to King Richard, he having, with several of his followers, been afflicted for six weeks by grievous storms at sea, and as he approached the coast of Barbary, (being three days' sail distant from Marseilles) having heard the growing rumour, that the court de S. Gilles and the other princes, through whose territories he had to pass, had, with one accord, conspired against him, and laid snares for him, determined to return to England by way of Germany, in disguise. And having changed his course accordingly, landed with a few of his followers, namely, Baldwin de Bethun, and Master Philip, his clerk,
and Anselm, his chaplain, and a
few Templars, at a certain sea-port
in the territory of Sclavonia, by
name Zara; and sending forthwith a
messenger to the nearest castle, de
manded a safe conduct and undisturb
ed passage from the lord of the pro-
vince. The king, on his passage, had
bought three precious stones, namely,
carbuncles, vulgarly called rubies, of
a certain. Pisan, for 900 byzants; one
of which, set in a golden ring, he sent
to the lord of the castle by the afore
said messenger, who being asked by
the said lord, what persons they were
who demanded safe conduct, answer
ed, that they were pilgrims returning
from Jerusalem; and being asked their
names, he replied, "one of them is
called Baldwin de Bethun, the other
Hugh, a merchant, who also hath sent
you this ring;" but he, having inspect.
ed it for some time, said, "his name
is not Hugh, but King Richard;" and
added," although I have sworn to lay
violent hands on all pilgrims who re
turn from those parts, and not to re
ceive any presents from them, yet, re
gard being had both to the value of
the gift and the giver, in that he hath
so much honoured me, who am un
known to him, I both return the jewel,
and give him license to depart." The
messenger on his return related these
things to the king, who, with his com
panions, having bought some horses,
departed from the city in secret, and
proceeded some way undisturbed. But
the aforesaid lord had privately sent a
messenger to his brother, that he
might seize the king in passing through
his territory, which lay on his road.
At which territory, when the king had
arrived, and had entered the city where
the brother of the aforesaid lord was
lying in wait for him, the latter im
mediately called to him one of his
most faithful adherents, of Norman
parentage, by name Roger de Argen-
ton, (who had remained with him
twenty years, and had given his niece
in marriage to him,) and ordered him
diligently to examine the houses where
those pilgrims might sojourn, and, if
possible, to discover the king either by
his speech, or by any other token,
promising him half the city for a re-
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