Kate Milner Rabb

“ Thou in Argos then Shalt at another's bidding ply the loom, And from the fountain of Messeis draw Water, or from the Hypereian spring, Constrained unwilling by thy cruel lot. And then shall some one say who sees thee weep, 'This was the wife of Hector, most renowned Of the horse-taming Trojans, when they fought Around their city.' So shall some one say, And thou shalt grieve the more, lamenting him Who haply might have kept afar the day Of thy captivity. O let the earth Be heaped above my head in death before I hear thy cries as thou art borne away! ”

“ The line of fires is scant and broke, And thick and murky rolls the smoke. Give leave to seek, in these dark hours, Aeneas at Evander's towers, Soon will you see us here again Decked with the spoils of slaughtered men. Nor strange the road: ourselves have seen The city, hid by valleys green, Just dimly dawning, and explored In hunting all the river-board." Out spoke Aletes, old and gray: "Ye gods, who still are Ilium's stay, No, no, ye mean not to destroy Down to the ground the race of Troy, When such the spirit of her youth, And such the might of patriot truth." ”

“ He grasped then the sword-hilt, knight of the Scyldings, Bold and battle-grim, brandished his ring-sword, Hopeless of living, hotly he smote her, That the fiend-woman's neck firmly it grappled, Broke through her bone-joints, the bill fully pierced her Fate-cursèd body, she fell to the ground then: The hand-sword was bloody, the hero exulted. The brand was brilliant, brightly it glimmered, Just as from heaven gemlike shineth The torch of the firmament. He glanced 'long the building, And turned by the wall then, Higelac's vassal Raging and wrathful raised his battle-sword Strong by the handle. ”

“ His exile in the forest o'er, him home returned to Oude's high town, Oh happy those, that see once more, like Indra from the sky come down. No mortal men, but gods I deem,—moonlike, before whose wondering sight My Rama's glorious face shall beam, from the dark forest bursting bright. Happy that gaze on Rama's face with beauteous teeth and smile of love, Like the blue lotus in its grace, and like the starry king above. Like to the full autumnal moon, and like the lotus in its bloom, That youth who sees returning soon,—how blest shall be that mortal's doom. ”

“ As the magic tones re-echoed, As the singer's song outcircled, Sank the hostess into slumber, On the rocks of many colors, On her watery couch of joyance, Deep the sleep that settled o'er her. Wainamoinen, ancient minstrel, Played one day and then a second, Played the third from morn to even. There was neither man nor hero, Neither ancient dame nor maiden, Not in Metsola a daughter, Whom he did not touch to weeping; Wept the young and wept the aged, Wept the mothers, wept the daughters, At the music of his playing, At the songs of the magician. ”

“ On him who is the father of a son like thee! May destiny ever favor thy wishes! May the vault of heaven be the ground thou walkest on! The dark night is turned into day by thy countenance; The world is soul-enlivened by the fragrance of thy presence! Thou hast travelled hither on foot from thy palace; Thou hast pained, to behold me, thy royal footsteps!" When the hero heard the voice from the battlement, He looked up and beheld a face resplendent as the sun, Irradiating the terrace like a flashing jewel, And brightening the ground like a naming ruby. ”

“ Love's potent ties Are flattering fond regards, kind looks, and smiling eyes. If 't were not Love that touched his flinty soul, Desire it was, 't was wonder, 't was delight: "Safe be thy race!" he said, "reveal the whole, And not a sword shall on thy people light." Then she: "The guilty is before thy sight,— The pious robbery was my deed; these hands Bore the blest Image from its cell by night; The criminal thou seek'st before thee stands,— Justice from none but me her penalty demands." Thus she prepares a public death to meet, A people's ransom at a tyrant's shrine: Oh glorious falsehood! ”

“ If they succeed in making out the noble game, They will win applause and augment enjoyment: Then slaves and money and tribute and taxes, I will send to him as far as I have the means; For a monarch is to be esteemed for his wisdom, Not for his treasure, or his men, or his lofty throne. But if the King and his counsellors are not able to do all this And their minds are not bright enough to comprehend it, He ought not to desire from us tribute or treasure, And his wise soul, alas! must come to grief; And when he seeth our minds and genius to be subtler than theirs. ”

“ The abode thou know'st not, The dangerous place where thou'rt able to meet with The sin-laden hero: seek if thou darest! For the feud I will fully fee thee with money, With old-time treasure, as erstwhile I did thee, With well-twisted jewels, if away thou shalt get thee." Beowulf answered, Ecgtheow's son: "Grieve not, O wise one! for each it is better, His friend to avenge than with vehemence wail him; Each of us must the end-day abide of His earthly existence; who is able accomplish Glory ere death! To battle-thane noble Lifeless lying, 't is at last most fitting. ”

“ Mine olifant is cleft, Its gems and gold all scattered by the blow." Aoi. Now feels Rollánd that death is near at hand And struggles up with all his force; his face Grows livid; Durendal, his naked sword, He holds; beside him rises a gray rock On which he strikes ten mighty blows through grief And rage. The steel but grinds; it breaks not, nor Is notched; then cried the count: "Saint Mary, help! O Durendal! Good sword! ill starred art thou! Though we two part, I care not less for thee. What victories together thou and I Have gained, what kingdoms conquered, which now holds White-bearded Carle! ”

“ He spake, and nodded to Telemachus, His well-beloved son, who girded on His trenchant sword, and took in hand his spear, And, armed with glittering brass for battle, came And took his station by his father's seat. Then did Ulysses cast his rags aside, And, leaping to the threshold, took his stand On its broad space, with bow and quiver filled With arrows. At his feet the hero poured The winged shafts, and to the suitors called:— "That difficult strife is ended. Now I take Another mark, which no man yet has hit. Now I shall see if I attain my aim, And, by the aid of Phoebus, win renown." ”

“ Many a silk pavilion and many a gorgeous tent The plain before the city fill'd in its whole extent. King Günther's kinsmen ceas'd not to press to that fair show. And now was begg'd each princess from the sun to go Close by, with their attendants, where shade was overhead. By bold Burgundian warriors thither were they led. Then clomb to horse the heroes, and scour'd the sounding field; Many a joust was practis'd with order'd spear and shield; Right well were prov'd the champions, and o'er the trampled plain, As though the land were burning, the dust curl'd up amain. ”

“ Far and near were the lands of the Goths devastated, and ere long, tidings were borne to Beowulf that his great hall, his gift seat, was destroyed by fire. Saddened, and fearing that he had in some way angered God, he turned his mind to vengeance, and girded on his armor. A stout shield of iron he took, knowing that the dragon's fiery breath would melt the wood, and with foreboding of his fate, bade farewell to his hearth-mates. "Many times have I battled, great deeds have I done with sword and with hand-grip; now must I go forth and battle with hand and sword against the hoard-keeper." ”

“ I gave his steed to you; To no man have I told the tale from that hour hitherto. Before the Cid and all his men you got yourself a name, How you in single combat slew a Moor—a deed of fame; And all believed in your exploit; they wist not of your shame. You are a craven at the core; tall, handsome, as you stand: How dare you talk as now you talk, you tongue without a hand? Again, Ferrando, call to mind—another tale for you— That matter of the lion; it was at Valencia too. My Cid lay sleeping when you saw the unchained lion near; What did you do, Ferrando, then, in your agony of fear? ”

“ But the King answered: "O thou wisest One, Who know'st what was, and is, and is to be, Still one more grace! This hound hath ate with me, Followed me, loved me; must I leave him now?" "Monarch," spake Indra, "thou art now as we,— Deathless, divine; thou art become a god; Glory and power and gifts celestial, And all the joys of heaven are thine for aye: What hath a beast with these? Leave here thy hound." Yet Yudhi-sthira answered: "O Most High, O Thousand-Eyed and Wisest! can it be That one exalted should seem pitiless? ”

“ There, as to rise the trembler strove, Deep in his breast the sword he drove, And bathed in death withdrew. The lips disgorge the life's red flood, A mingled stream of wine and blood: He plies his blade anew. Now turns he to Messapus' band, For there the fires he sees Burnt out, while coursers hard at hand Are browsing at their ease, When Nisus marks the excess of zeal, The maddening fever of the steel, And checks him thus with brief appeal: "Forbear we now; 't will soon be day: Our wrath is slaked, and hewn our way." ”

“ We must mourn for France so sweet and fair, From henceforth widowed of such valiant knights. Carle, 'would you were amongst us, King and friend! What can we do, say, brother Olivier, To bring him news of this sore strait of ours!" Olivier answers: "I know not; but this I know; for us is better death than shame." Aoi. Rollánd says: "I will blow mine olifant, And Carle will hear it from the pass. I pledge My word the French at once retrace their steps." Said Olivier: "This a great shame would be, One which to all your kindred would bequeathe A lifetime's stain. ”

“ What should he do? what force employ To rescue the beloved boy? Plunge through the spears that line the wood, And death and glory win with blood? Not unresolved, he poises soon A javelin, looking to the Moon: "Grant, goddess, grant thy present aid, Queen of the stars, Latonian maid, The greenwood's guardian power; If, grateful for success of mine, With gifts my sire has graced thy shrine, If e'er myself have brought thee spoil, The tribute of my hunter's toil, To ornament thy roof divine, Or glitter on thy tower, These masses give me to confound, And guide through air my random wound." ”

“ Among the beauteous landscapes of Italy lies proud Venice, queen of the sea, and north of her tower the lofty Alps. The olive groves and vineyards of fair Gallia next greet the eye, and then the valorous fields of Spain, Aragon, Granada, and—the pride of Spain—Castile. On the west, a crown to it, lies Lusitania, on whom last smiles the setting sun,—against whose shores roll the waves of the western sea.
"Noble are the heroes of my country. They were the first to rise against the Moors and expel them from the kingdom. The forces of Rome were routed by our shepherd-hero, Viriatus. ”

“ Spake Yama, smiling: "Beautiful! thy words Delight me; they are excellent, and teach Wisdom unto the wise, singing soft truth. Look, now! Except the life of Satyavan, Ask yet another—any—boon from me." Sâvitrî said: "Let, then, the pious King, My husband's father, who hath lost his throne, Have back the Raj; and let him rule his realm In happy righteousness. This boon I ask." "He shall have back the throne," Yama replied, "And he shall reign in righteousness: these things Will surely fall. But thou, gaining thy wish, Return anon; so shalt thou 'scape sore ill." ”