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Lorsqua la documant ast trop grand pour ttra raproduit an un saul clicha, il ast fllma i partir da I'angla suptriaur gaucha. da gaucha a droita, at da haut an bas, an pranant la nombra d'imagaa nacassaira. Laa diagrammas suivants illuatrant la mathoda. 1 2 3 1 2 3 4 5 6 MICROCOPY RESOIUTION TEST CHART (ANSI ond ISO TEST CHART No. 2) 1.0 !fi^ I 2.5 12.2 1.1 f.-^ I 2.0 i^ j^ APPLIED IN/HGE In ^S-^ '65 J East Mam Street S*,^ Rochester, New York 14609 USA ■^= (716) 482 - OJOC Phone ^= (716) 288 - 5989 - Fax Ballads of Lost Haven C'l Hi: Contents A Son of THi SiA . The Gravediggek g The Yule Guest u The Makking of Malyn 25 The Nancy's Pkide ., Arnold, Master of the Scud ^g The Ships of St. John The King of Ys „ The Kelpie Riders {g Noons of Poppy 03 Legends of Lost Haven j. The Shadow Boatswain gg The Master of the Isles 104 The Last Watch ,,0 -Outbound ,,5 ^t A SON OF THE SEA I v'4s born for deep-sea faring; I was bred to put to sea; Stories of my father's daring Filled me at my mother's knee. I was sired among the surges; I was cubbed beside the foam'; All my heart is in its verges, And the sea wind is my home. All my boyhood, from far vernal Bourns of being, came to me Dream-like, plangent, and eternal Memories of the plun-ing sea. 7 A i u • I THE GRAVEDIGGER Oh, the shambling sea is a sexton old, And well his work is done. With an equal grave lor lord and knave. He buries them every one. Then hoy and rip, with a rolling hip. He makes for the nearest shore; And God, who sent him a thousand ship, Will send him a thousand more; But some he'll save for a bleaching grave. And shoulder them in to shore,— Shoulder them in, shoulder them in. Shoulder them in to shore. 8 ti Tht Gravediggtr Oh, the ,hip, of Greece and the .hip, o( Tyre Wen* out, and where are they? In the port they made, they are dela- ed With the ships of yesterday. He followed the ships of Fngland far, As the ships of long ago; And the ships of France they led him a dance But he laid them all arow. Oh, a loafing, idle lubber to him Is the sexton of the town; For sure and swift, with a guiding lift, He shovels the dea-* men down. But though he delves so fierce and grim. His honest graves are wide. As well they know who sleep below The dredge of the deepest tide. 9 7r % The Gravedigger Oh, he works with a rollicking stave at lip, And loud is the chorus skirled; With the burly rote of his rumbling throat He batters it down the world. He learned it once in his father's house, Where the ballads of eld were sung; And merry enough is the burden rough. But no man knows the tongue. Oh, fair, they say, was his bride to see. And wilful she must have been, That she could bide at his gruesome side When the first red dawn came in. And sweet, they say, is her kiss to those She greets to his border home; And softer than sleep her hand's first sweep That beckons, and they come. ID The Gravedigger Oh, crooked is he, but strong enough To handle the tallest mast; From the royal barque to the slaver dark. He buries them all at last. Then hoy and rip, with a rolling hip, He makes for the nearest shore; And God, who sent him a thousand ship. Will send him a thousand more; But some he'll save for a bleaching grave. And shoulder them in to shore,— Shoulder them in, shoulder them in. Shoulder them in to shore. i f m THE YULE GUEST And Yanna by the yule log Sat in the empty hall, And watched the goblin firelight Caper upon the wall: The goblins of the hearthstone, Who teach the wind to sing. Who dance the frozen yule away And usher back the spring; The goblins of the Northland, Who teach the gulls to scream. Who dance the autumn into dust. The ages into dream. 12 The Yule Guest Like the tall corn was Yanna, Bending and smooth and fair,— His Yanna of the sea-gray eyes And harvest-yellow hair. Child of the low-voiced people Who dwell among the hills, She had the lonely calm and poise Of life that waits and wills. Only to-night a little With grave regard she smiled. Remembering the mom she woke And ceased to be a child. Outside, the ghostly rampikes. Those armies of the moon. Stood while the ranks of stars drew on To that more spacious noon,— 13 '%, The Yule Guest While over them in silence Waved on the dusk afar The gold flags of the Northern light Streaming with ancient war. And when below the headland The riders of the foam Up from the misty border rode The wild graj horses home, And woke the wintry mountains With thunder on the shore, Out of the night there came a weird And cried at Vanna's door. "O Yanna, Adrianna, They buried me away In the blue fathoms of the deep, Beyond the outer bay. «4 Th* Yule Guest "But in the yule, o Yanna, Up from the round dim sea And reeling dungeons of the fog i am come back to thee!" The wind slept in the forest, The moon was white and high Only the shifting snow awoke ' To hear the yule guest cry. "O Yanna, Yanna, Yanna, Be quick and lot me ini JP-or bitter is the trackless way And far that I have been!" Then Yanna by the yule log Starts from her dream to hear „V;f '*'''''' ''^^ ^^°°ding heart Shudder with joy and fear. IS u Th* Yule Guest The wind is up a moment And whistles at the eaves, And in his troubled iron dream The ocean moans and heaves. She trembles at the door-lock That he is come again, And frees the wooden bolt for one No barrier could detain. "O Garvin, bonny Garvin, So late, so late you come!" The yule log crumbles down and throws Strange figures on the gloom; But in the moonlight pouring Through the half-open door Stands the gray guest of yule and casts No shadow on the floor. i6 The Yule Guest The change that is upon him She knows not in her haste- About him her strong arms with glad Impetuous tears are laced. She's led him to the fireside, And set the wide oak chair And with her warm hands brushed away The sea-rime from his hair. "O Garvin, I have waited,— Have watched the red sun sink. And clouds of sail come flocking in Over the world's gray brink, "VVith stories of encounter On plank and mast and spar- But never the brave barque /launched And waved across the bar. c 17 ;i'f' Tht Yule Guest "How come you so unsignalled, When I have watched so well? Where rides the Adrianna With my name on boat and bell?" "O Yanna, golden Yanna, The Adrianna lies With the sea dredging through her ports, The white sand through her eyes. "And strange unearthly creatures Make marvel of her hull, Where far below the gulfs of storm There is eternal lull. "O Yanna, Adrianna, This midnight I am here. Because one night of all my life At yule tide of the year, i8 The Yule Guest -With the stars white in heaven, And peace upon the sea Wit)- all „,, „o„d i„ y„„, ^ou gave yourself to me. "For that one night, my Yanna, Withm the dying year, «'as it not well to love, and now t-an It be well to fear?" "O Garvin, there is heartache in tales that are half told- But ah thy cheek is pale 'to-night. And thy poor hands are cold! "Tell me the course, the voyage, The ports, and the new stars- E^d the long rollers make gre'en surf On the white reefs and bars?" »9 I ;i' The Yule Guest "O Yanna, Adrianna, Though easily I found The set of those uncharted tides In seas no line could sound, "And made without a pilot The port without a light, No log keeps tally of the knots That I have sailed to-night. "It fell about mid-April; The Trades were holding free; We drove her till the scuppers hissed And buried in the lee. "O Yanna, Adrianna, Ix)ose hands and let me go! The night grows red along the East, And in the shifting snow 20 i Tht Yule Guest "I hear my shipmates calling, Sent out to search for me In the pale lands beneath the moon Along the troubling sea." ' O Garvin, bonny Garvin, What is the booming sound Of canvas, and the piping shrill, As when a ship comes round?" "It is the shadow boatswain Piping his hands to bend The looming sails on giant yards Aboard the Nomansfriend. "She sails for Sunken Harbor And ports cf y ester year; The tern are shrilling in the lift, The low wind-gates are clear. 21 ■'.11 % ih ,i'; I' i Th* Yuh Guest "O Yanna, Adrianna, The little while is done. Thou wilt behold the brightening tea Freshen before the sun, "And many a morning redden The dark hill slopes of pine; But I must sail hull-down to-night Lelow the gray sea-line. " I shall not hear the snowbirds Their morning litany, For when the dawn comes over dale I must put out to sea." "O Garvin, bonny Garvin, To have thee as I will, I would that never more on earth The dawn came over hill." 13 Thi Yult Gutst n Then on the snowy pillow, Her hair about her face, He laid her in the quiet room. And wiped away all trace Of tears from the poor eyelids That were so sad for him, And soothed her into sleep at last As the great stars grew dim. Tender as April twilight He sang, and the song grew Vague as the dreams which roam about This world of dust and dew: "O Yanna, Adrianna, Dear Love, look forth to sea And all year long until the yule, Dear Heart, keep watch for me! »3 11 •! The Yule Guest "O Yanna, Adrianna, I hear the calling sea, And the folk telling tales among The hills where I would be. "O Yanna, Adrianna, Over the hills of sea The wind calls and the morning comes, And I must forth from thee. "But Yanna, Adrianna, Keep watch above the sea; And when the weary time is o'er, Dear Life, come back to me ! " "O Garvin, bonny Garvin — " She murmurs in her dream. And smiles a moment in her sleep To hear the white gulls scream. »4 Tke Yule Guest Then with the storm foreboding Far in the dim gray South, He kissed her not upon the cheek Nor on the burning mouth, But once above the forehead Before he turned away; And ere the morning light stole in. That golden lock was gray. "O Yanna, Adrianna—" The wind moans to the sea; And down the sluices of the dawn A shadow drifts alee. J »S /I' I THE MARRING OF MALYN I THE MERRYMAKERS Among the wintry mountains beside the Northern sea There is a merrymaking, as old as old can be. Over the river reaches, over the wastes of snow, Halting at every doorway, the white drifts come and go. They scour upon the open, and mass along the wood, The burliest invaders that ever man withstood. With swoop and whirl and scurry, these riders of the drift a6 The Merrymakers Will mount and wheel and column, and pass into the iTt T,*' ""''" ^°" ""'" *-' *^-d go by. And a.l^n,ght long the streamers are dancing on th^ And Malyn of the mountains is theirs for evermore. f She fancies them a people in saffron and in green Bancng for her. For Malyn is only seventeeT Out there beyond her window, from frosty deep to deep Her heart .s dancing with them until she faL asleep.' Then all-night long through heaven, with stately to To music of no measure, the gor .us dancers go. *7 CI f V. The Merrymakers The stars are great and splendid, beryl and gold and blue, And there are dreams for Malyn that never will come true. Yet for one golden Yule-tide their royal guest is she. Among the wintry mountains beside the Northern sea. 28 11 A SAILOR'S WEDDING There is a Norland laddie who sails the round sea- rim, And Malyn of the mountains is all the world to him. The Master of the Snowflake, bound upward from the line, He smothers her with canvas along the crumbling brine. He crowd, her till she buries and shudders from his hand, For in the angry sunset the watch has sighted land; And he will brook no gainsay who goes to meet his bride. 29 ''U f H :i A Sailc . Wedding But their will is the wind's will who traffic on the tide. Make home, my bonny schooner ! The sun goes down to light The gusty crimson wind-halls against the wedding night. She gathers up the distance, and grows and veers and swings, Like any homing swallow with nightfall in her wings. The wind's white sources glimmer with shining gusts of rain; And in the Ardise country the spring comes back again. It is the brooding April, haunted and sad and dear, When vanished things return not with the returning year. 30 A Sailor's Wedding Only, when evening purples the light in Malyn's dale. W.th sound o, brooks and robins, by ™any a hidden trail. With stir of lulling rivers along the forest floor. The dream-folk of the gloaming come back to Malyn's door. ' The dusk .-s long and gracious, and far up in the sky Vou hear the chimney-swallows twitter and scurry by The hyacinths are lonesome and white in n^u^, room; ^ And out at sea the Snowflake is driving through the gloom. The whitecaps froth and freshen; in squadrons of white surge They th d ^ ^^^ ^^^ ^^^^^ ^^^ The ,,ft .s black above them, the sea is mirk below. And down the world's wide border they perish as they go. 31 \ I i.'i A Sailor's Wedding They comb and seethe and founoer, they mount and glimmer and flee, Amid the awful sobbing and quailing of the sea. They sheet the flying schooner in foar-i from stem to stern, Till every yard of canvas is drenched from clew to ear'n'. And where they move uneasy, chill is the light and pale; They are the Skipper's daughters, who dance before the gale. They revel with the Snowflake, and down the close of day Among the boisterous dancers she holds her dancing way; And then the dark has kindled the harbor light alee, With stars and wind and sea-room upon the gurly sea. 3* T Tl 'I'c Wl An A 1 Foi For A Sailor's Wtdding The storm gets up to windward ^o v and brawl; ° ^""""^ '">'' ''«g The dancers of the nn.„ k • '^ '-e is in theLdan "" '° '""^" ''"" ""• D 33 ■■■* A Sailor's WtddtHg In the etciijal silence below the twilight's rim. The borders of that country are slumberous and wide; And they are well who marry the fondlers of the tide. Within their arms immortal, no morUl fear can be; But Malyn of the mountains is fairer than the sea. And so the scudding Snowflake Hies with the wind astern, And through the boding twilight are blown the shrill- ing tern. The light is on the headland, the harbor gate is wide; But rolling in with ruin the fog is on the tide. Fate like a muffled steersman sails with that Norland gloom ; The Snowflake in the offing is neck and neck with doom. Ha, ha, my saucy cruiser, crowd up your helm and run! There'll be a merrymaking to-morrow in the sun. A cloud of straining canvas, a roar of breaking foam, 34 A Sailer's Wedding The Snowflake and the sea-drift are racing in for home. Her heart is dancing shoreward, but silently and pale The swift relentless phantom is hungering on her trail They scour and fly together, until across the roar He signals for a pilot -and Death puts out from shore. A moment Malyn's window is gleaming in the lee, And then -the ghost of wreckage upon the iron sea. Ah, Malyn, lay your forehead upon your folded arm. And hear the grim marauder shake out the reefs of storm ! Loud laugiis the surly Skipper to feel the fog drive in Because a blue-eyed sailor shall wed his kith and kin, And the red dawn discover a rover spent for breath Among the merrymakers who fondle him to death. And all the snowy sisters are dancing wild and grand. For him whose broken beauty shall slacken to their hand. 35 i- 'I A Sailor's Wtdding They wanton in their triumph, and ikirl at Malyn's plight; Lilt up their hands in chorus, and thunder to the night. The gulls are driven inland; but on the dancing tide The master of the Snowflake is taken to his bride. And there when daybreak yellows along the far sea- plain, The fresh and buoyant morning comes down the wind again. The world is glad of April, the gulls are wild with glee, And Malyn on the headland alone looks out to sea. Once more that gray Shipmaster smiles, for the night is done. And all his snow-white daughters are dancing in the sun. 36 Ill THE LIGHT ON THE MARSH MolIZr^'r '° ''""^'' "•= ""^"y '■"" burn Along the marsh, and hillward .he road, are sweet with fern. All day the Windless heaven pavilions the .ea-blue. Then .w,l,gh. comes and drenches the sultry dells with """' 'Tlir'" "" °' '"""" """ °"' =""°"8 'h* And in the dnrkling forest be,i„ the whip.p or-wil,s And all the w.ld.ng vagrants of summer dusk and dream, 37 ■ The Light on the Marsh Have all their will, and reck not of any after thing, Inheriting no sorrow and no foreshadowing. The wind forgets to whisper, the pines forget to moan, And Malyn of the mountains is there among her own. Malyn, whom grief nor wonder can trouble nevermore, Since that spring night the Snowflake was wrecked beside her door. And strange her cry went seaward once, and her soul thereon With the vast lonely sea-winds, a wanderer, was gone. But she, that patient beauty which is her body fair, Endures on earth still lovely, untenanted of care. The folk down at the harbor pity from day to day; With a "God save you, Malyn!" they bid her on her way. She smiles, poor feckless Malyn, the knowing smile of those Whom the too sudden vision God sometimes may disclose 38 The Light on the Marsh Of his wild, lurid » -Id-Wietk ! - hu j j • , sheen. "^"^"^'-^^ ' 3> blinded with its Then, with a fond insis.^.c. pa.hetic and serene They p^s^among their fellows for lost ™inds none In Bent on their single business, and marvel why .en rave. Now far away a s.ghing .omes fron. the buried reef AS though^the sea were mourning above an ancient WentTwn*? r"\^°*- °' ^" ^he weary lands Went down to h.m .n beauty, with trouble in her hands And gave to hi. forever all memory to Iceep, ' But to her wayward children oblivion and sleep. That no .mmortal burden might plague one living thing Bu death should sweetly visit us vagabonds of X And so h.s heart forever goes inland with the L S^arcmg With many voices among the marshes wid'e. Under the quiet starlight, up through the stirring reeds, 39 M 'I I ?!. iv The Light on the Marsh i t With whispering and lamenting it rises and recedes. All night the lapsing rivers croon to their shingly bars The wizardries that mingle the sea-wind and the stars. And all night long wherever the moving waters gleam, The little hills hearken, hearken, the great hills hear and dream. And Malyn keeps the marshes all the sweet summer night. Alone, foot-free, to follow a wandering wisp-light. For every day at sundown, at the first beacon's gleam, She calls the gulls her brothers and keeps a tryst with them. "O gulls, white gulls, what see you beyond the slop- ing blue? And where away's the Snowflake, she's so long over- due?" Then, as the gloaming settles, the hilltop stars emerge And watch that plaintive figure patrol the dark sea verge. 40 The Light on the Marsh She ollows the marsh fire; her heart laughs and is glad; She knows that light to seaward is her own sailor lad i What are these tales they tell her of wreckage on the shore ? Delay but makes his coming the nearer than before - Surely h„ eyes have sighted his schooner in the lift- But the great tide he homes on sets with an outward drift. So will-o'-the-wisp deludes her till dawn, and she turns home In unperturbed assurance, "To-morrow he will come " This .s the tale of Malyn, whom sudden grief so marred. And still each lovely summer resumes that sweet re gard,— The old unvexed eternal indifference to pain- The sea sings in the marshes, and June comes back again. 41 m Vr Il ' The Light on the Marsh I ' All night the lapsing rivers lisp in the long dike grass, And many memories whisper the sea-winds as they pass; The tides disturb the silence; but not a hindrance bars The wash of time, where founder even the galleon stars. And all night long wherever the moving waters gleam. The little hills hearken, hearken, the great hills hear and dream. 4» THE NAN'CY'S PRIDE On the long slow heave of a lazy sea, To the flap of an idle sail, The Nancy's Pride went out on the tide; And the skipper stood by the rail. All down, all down by the sleepy town, With the hollyhocks a-row In the little poppy gardens, The sea had her in tow. They let her slip by the breathing rip, Where the bell is never still. And over the sounding harbor bar. And under the harbor hill. 43 I ??. r1 The Nancy's Pride She melted into the dreaming noon, Out of the drowsy land, In sight of a flag of goldy hair, To the kiss of a girlish hand. For the lass who hailed the lad who sailed. Was — who but his April bride? And of all the fleet of Grand Latite, Her pride was the Nancy's Pride. So the little vessel faded down With her creaking boom a-swing. Till a wind from the deep came up with a creep. And caught her wing and wing. She made for the lost horizon line. Where the clouds a-captled lay. While the boil and seethe of the open sea Hung on her frothing way. The Nancy's Pride She lifted her hulllike a breasting gu„ Where the rolling valleys be, And dipped whe-e the shining porpoises Put ploughshares through the sea. A fading sail on the far sea-line, About the turn of the tide, As she made for the Banks on her maiden cruise Was the last of the Nancy's Pride. To-day a boy with goldy hair. In a garden of Grand Latite, From his mother's knee look's out to sea For the coming of the fleet. They all may home on a sleepy tide, To the fiap of the idle sail; But it's never again the Nancy's Pride That answers a human hail. 4S % ■A m ,j". Mj The Nancy's Pride They all may home on a sleepy tide To the sag of an idle sheet; But it's never again the Nancy's Pride That draws men down the street. I i On the Banks to-night a fearsome sight The fishermen behold, Keeping the ghost watch in the moon When the small hours are cold. When the light wind veers, and the white fog clears, They see by the after rail An unknown schooner creeping up With mildewed spar and sail. Her crew lean forth by the rotting shrouds, With the Judgment in their face; And to their mates' "God save you!" Have never a word of grace. 46 The Nancy's Pride Then into the gray they sheer away. On the awful polar tide; And the sailors know thL k O' «>e .issin, Ka:;r?ridr ^"" '"^ ''"^''' I 47 ARNOLD, MASTER OF THE SCUD There's a schooner out from Kingsport, Through the morning's dazzle-gleam, Snoring down the Bay of Fundy With a norther on her beam. How the tough wind springs to wrestle, Wher. the tide is on thi flood! And .i.tween then stands young daring — Arnold, master of the Scud. He is only "Martin's youngster," To the Minas coasting fleet, "Twelve year old, and full of Satan As a nut is full of meat." 48 "^"^'d' Masur of the Scud ^Vi.h a wake o/ /ro.h behind him ^"f the goM green waste befor r* us a ., .^^ ^^^ ^^^^ ^^^^. "•^ h-s boat pond by the door, Legs a-straddle, grips the tiller Jh's young waif of the old sea; ^^hen t e wind con,es harder, ^nly Whs '.Hurrah," and holds her free. Li^e wonder, as you watch him "«h the dash in his blue eye ,^on« ago his father called him •^™°Id, Master," on the sly, ''"";; "- -other's heart foreboded Reckless father makes rash son So to-day the schooner carries 7' "-ese two whose will is one. 49 I \\ 'I i Arnold, Master of th* Scud Now the wind grows moody, shifting Point by point into the east. Wing and wing the Scud is flying With her scuppers full of yeast. And the father's older wisdom On the sea-line has descried, Like a stealthy cloud-bank making Up to windward with the tide. Those tall navies of disaster, The pale squadrons of the fog, That maraud this gray world border Without pilot, chart, or log, Ranging wanton as marooners From Minudie to Manan. "Heave to, and we'll reef, my master!" Cries he; when no will of man 50 Arnold, Masttr of tht Scud SpilU the foresail, but a clumsy Wiml-flaw with a hand like (tone Hurls the boom round. In an instant Arnold, Master, there alone Sees a crushed corpse shot to seaward. With the gray doom in its face; And the climbing foam receives it To its everlasting place. What does Arnold, Master, think you? Whimper like a child for dread? That's not Arnold. Foulest weathei Strongest sailors ever bred. And this slip of tout sea-faring Grows a man who throttles fear. Let the storm and dark in spite now '^o their worst with valor here I SI i i Arnold, Master of the Scud Not a reef and not a shiver, While the wind jeers in her shrouds, And the flauts of foam and sea-fog Swarm upon her declc in crowds, Flies the Scud like a mad racer; And with iron in his frown. Holding hard by wrath and dreadnought, Arnold, Master, rides her down. Let the taffrail shriek through foam-heads! Let the licking seas go glut Elsewhere their old hunger, bafBed! Arnold's making for the Gut. Cleft sheer down, the sea-wall mountains Give that one port on the coast; Made, the Basin lies in sunshine! Missed, the little Scud is lost! Arnold, Master of the Scud Come now, fog-horn, L your warning K'P the wind to starboard there t Suddenly that burly-throated Welcome ploughs the cumbered air. The young master hauls a little Crowds her up and sheets her liome, Heading for the narrow entry Whence the safety signals come. Tlien the wind lulls, and an eddy Tells of ledges, where away Veers the Scud, sheet free, 'sun breaking, Through the rifts, and-there's the bay. Like a bird in from the storm-beat. As the summer sun goes down Slows the schooner to her moorings By the wharf at Digby town. S3 % V Arnold, Master of the Scud All the world next morning wondered. Largest letters, there it stood, "Storm in Fundy. A Boy's Daring. Arnold, Master of the Scud." 54 THE SHIPS OF ST. JOHN Smile, you i„,a„d hills and rivers- ^lush, you mountains in the dawnl But my roving heart is seaward W:th the ships of gray St. John. Fair the land lies, full of August, Meadow island, shingly bar. Open barns and breezy twilight, Peace and the mild evening sUr. Gently now this gentlest country The old habitude takes on But my wintry heart is outbound With the great ships of St. John. 55 l\ i < ■ The Ships of St. John Once in your wide arms you held me, Till the man-child was a man, Canada, great nurse and mother Of the young sea-roving clan. Always your bright face above me Through the dreams of boyhood shone; Now far alien countries call me With the ships of gray St. John. Swing, you tides, up out of Fundy! Blow, you white fogs, in from sea! I was born to be your fellow; You were bred to pilot me. At the touch of your strong fingers, Doubt, the derelict, is gone; Sane and glad I clear the headland With the white ships of St. John. S6 The Ships of St. John Loyalists, my fathers, builded This gray port of the gray sea, When the duty to ideals Could not let well-being be. When the breadth of scarlet bunting Puts the wreath of maple on, I must cheer too,-slip my moorings """ ^he ships of gray St. John. Peerless-hearted port of heroes. Be a word to lift the world, Till the many see the signal Of the few once mo.e unfurled. Past the lighthouse, past the nunbuoy, Past the crimson rising sun. There are dreams go down the harbor With the tall ships of St. John. 57 ^ The Ships of St. John In the morning I am with them As they clear the island bar, — Fade, till speck by speck the midday Has forgotten where they are. But I sight a vaster sea-line, Wider lee-way, longer run. Whose discoverers return not With the ships of gray St. John. 58 II THE KING OF YS Wild across the Rr»f».. V u, ^ Breton country, Fabled centuries ago Riding from tl>e blaclc sea border, C^-^e tlie squadrons of the snow. Piping dread at every latch-hole, Moanmg death at every sill The white Yuie came down in vengeance Upon Ys, and had its will. JValled and dreamy stood the city, Wuie and dazzling shone the sea ;?7'''^^°^-"''-d to smother ^'' ">« P'lde of Brittany. 59 li ' « The King of Ys i ■ i! Morning drenched her towers in purple; Light of heart were king and fool; Fair forebode the merrymaking Of the seven days of Yule. I.iughed the king, "Once more, my mistress. Time and place and joy are one!" Bade the balconies with banners Match the splendor of the sun; Eyes of urchins shine with silver. And with gold the pavement ring; Bade the war-horns sound their bravest In T/ie Mistress of the King. Mountebanks and ballad-mongers And all strolling traffickers Should block up the market corners With none other name than hers. 60 ):i The King of Ys laughed the fool, "To-day, my Folly, Thou Shalt be the king of Ys ' " O wise fool! How long must wisdom Under motley hold her peace? Then the storm came down. The valleys Wailed and ciphered to the dune Like huge organ pipes; a midnight Stalked those gala streets at noon; And the sea rose, rocked and tilted Like a beaker in the hand. Till the moon-hung tide broke tether And stampeded in for land. All day long with doom portentous, Shreds of pennons shrieked and flew Over Ys; and black fear shuddered On the hearthstone all night through. 6i % The King of Ys Fear, which Ireeies up the marrow Of the heart, trom door to door Like a plague went through the city, And filled up the devil's score; Filled her tally of the craven, To the sea-wind's dismal note; While a panic superstition Toolt the people by the throat. As with morning still the sea rose With vast wreckage on the tide. And their pasture rills, grown rivers. Thundered in the mountain side, "Vengeance, vengeance, gods to vengeance! Rose a storm of muttering; And the human flood came pouritu To the palace of the king. 61 i< ffJi Tkt King of Ys "Save. O king, before we perish In the whirlpools of the sea, Ys thy city, us thy people'" Growled the king then, MVhat would ye?' f'''''*°"''«y" talked defiance. Ann his bearded mouth meant scorn. O our king, the gods are angrj-j And no longer to be borne "Is the shameless face that greets u, irom thy windows, at thy side. Smiling infamy. And therefore Thou Shalt take her up. and ride "Down with her into the sea's mouth. And there leave her; else we die. And thy name goes down to story A new word for cruelty." 63 ''I. , ( Thi King of Ys Ah, but she was (air, this woman t Warm and flaxen waved her hair; Her blue Breton eyes made summer In that bleak December air. There she stood whose burning beauty Made the world's high rooftree ring, A white poppy tall and wind-blown In the garden of the king. Her throat shook, but not with terror; Her eyes swam, but not with (ear; While her two hands caught and clung to The one man they had (ound dear. "Lord and lover," — thus she smiled him Her last word,— " it shall be so, Only the sea's arms shall hold me. When (rom out thine arms I go." 64 ili Tkt King of Ys Thou Shalt have queen's burial Pearls and amber sh.ll thy tomb be; Shot w„h gold and green thy pall. "And a million throated choru, Shall take up ,hy dirge to-night; V ere thy slumber's starry watch-fire, Shall a thousand years be bright." And a path through that scared rabble Rode in pageant to the sea And the coal-black mane was mingled «"h gold hair against his knee. 65 ft . The King of Ys Sure as the wild gulls make seaward, From the west gate to the beach Rode these two for whom now freedom Landward lay beyond their reach. And the great horse, scenting peril, Snorted at the flying spume, Flicked with courage, as how often. When the tides were racing doom, Ridden, he had plunged to rescue From that seething icy hell Some poor sailor wrecked a-fishing On the coast. What fears should quell That high spirit? Knee to shoulder. King and stallion reared and sprang Clear above the long white combers And that turmoil's iron clang. 66 m The King of Kj What a launching! For a n,oment. And a thousand eyes looked wonder Sw.n,n,.ng in that trough of death Steering seaward through the welter. Ere they settled out of sight, Valor, bid the world good-night! ^^'arm the heart of Brittany, Save one stone of V« ,„ Fnr u- ' ^^ remnant, for a white mark in the sea. 67 1^, . il I THE KELPIE RIDERS I Buried alive in calm Rochelle, Six in a row by a crystal well, All Summer long on Bareau Fen Slumber and sleep the Kelpie men; By the side of each to cheer his ghost, A flagon of foam with a crumpet of frost. Hear me, friends, for the years are fleet; Soon I leave the noise and the street 68 Jii'l The Kelpie Riders !r *« "'em u„compa„,.„„,, ,,, "^"ere the Kelp.e riders have .heir wi,,. ^or never a wind dare stir or stray Over those marshes salt and gray; No ^t Of shade as big as your hand ° '— - tra.„,el the sleeping land. Save where a dozen poplars fleck '-S ^-y grass and the well's blue beck W^hile round the bole of on,. ; Black in »!, ^ '^ a "'"e, ffl-k:n the wash of the bleaching noon 69 t If It I The Kelpie Riders "Ride, for the wind is awake and away. Sleep, for the han'est grain is gray." No word more. And many a mile, A ghostly bivouac rank and file, They sleep to-day on the marshes wide; Some far night they viU wake and ride. Once they were riders hot with speed, "Kelpie, Kelpie, gallop at need!" With hills of the barren sea to roam. Housing their horses on the foam. But earth is cool and the hush is long Beneath the lull of the slumber song The crickets falter and strive to tell To the dragon-fly of the crystal well; The Kelpie Riders And love is a forgotten jest, Where the Kelpie riders take their rest. And blossoming grasses hour by hour Bum in the bud and freeze in the flower. But never again shall their roving be On the shifting hills of the tumbling sea, VVith the salt, and the rain, and the glad desire strong as the wind and pure as fire. II One doomful night in the April tide With riot of brooks on the mountain side. The goblin maidens of the hills Went forth to the revel-call of the rills. 71 J'h I i'i The Kelpie Riders Many as leaves of the falling year, To the swing of a ballad wild and clear They held the plain and the uplands high; And the merry-dancers held the sky. The Kelpie riders abroad on the sea Caught sound of that call of eerie glee, Over their prairie waste and wan; And the goblin maidens tolled them on. The yellow eyes and the raven hair And the tawny arms blown fresh and bare, Were more than a mortal might behold And live with the saints for a crown of gold. The Kelpie riders were stricken sore; They wavered, and wheeled, and rode for the shore. 7» The Kelpie Riders "Kelpie, Kelpie, treble your stride 1 Never again on the sea we ride. "Kelpie, Kelpie, out of the storm; On, for the fields of earth are warm!" Knee to knee they are riding in; "Brother, brother, —the goblin kin!" The meadows rocked as they clomb the scaw; The pines re-echo for evermore The sound of the host of Kelpie men; But the windflowers died on Bareau Fen. Over the marshes all night long The stars went round to a riding song: "Kelpie, Kelpie, carry us through!" And the goblin maidens danced thereto. 73 .( iV> The Kelpie Riders Till dawn,— and the revel died with a shout, For the ocean riders were wearied out. They looked, and the grass was warm and soft; The dreamy clouds went over aloft; A gloom of pines on the weather verge Had the lulling sound of their own white surge; A whip-poor-will, far from their din, Was saying hi? litanies therein. Then voices neither loud nor deep: "Tired, so tired; sleep! ah, sleep! "The stars are calm, and the earth is warm. But the sea for an earldom is given to storm. "Come now, inherit the houses of doom; Your fields of the sun shall be harried of gloom." 74 The Kelpie Riders They laid them down; but over long They rest,- for the goblin maids are strong. The sun goes round; and Bareau Fen Is a door of earth on the Kelpie men,- Buried at dawn, asleep, unslain. With not a mound on the sunny plain. Hard by the walls of calm Rochelle, Row on row by the crystal well. And never again they are free to ride Through all the years on the tossing tide. Barred from the breast of the barren foam, Where the heart within them is yearning home,- For one long drench of the surf to quell The cursing doom of the goblin spell. 75 v f I ( i The Kelpie Riders Only, when bugling snows alight To smother the maishes stark and white, Or a low red moon peers over the rim Of a winter twilight crisp and dim. With a sound of drift on the buried lands, The goblin maidens loose their hands; A wind comos down from the sheer blue North; And the Kelpie riders get them forth. Ill Twice have 1 been on Bareau Fen, But the son of my son is a man since then. Once as a lad I used to bear St. Louis' cross through the chapel square, 76 The Kelpie Riders leading the choristers' surpliced file Slow up the dusk Cathedral aisle. I was the boy of all Rochelle The pure old father trusted well. But one clear night in the winter's heart. I wandered out to that place apart. The shafts of smoke went up to the stars, Straight as the Northern Streamer spars. From the town's white roofs, so still it was. The night in her dream let no word pass. " Nor ever a breath that one could feel; Only the snow shrieked under my heel'. Yet it seemed when I reached the poplar bole, ihe ghost of a voice was crying, "Skoal! 77 I Ji^i Tht Kelpi* Ridtrs "Rouse thee and drink, ""= hounds on Haric Fell; And something stark as a gust of the sea Had a gr.p of the whimsy boy i„ me. " ''^ '^'"'^^ °' ^"'-^ - abroad on the world. Sudden, the beat of a throbbing sound lost ,n the core of the blue profound: "Kelpie, Kelpie, Kelpie, come!" Was it my hear.?-But my heart was numb. "Kelpie, Kelpie." Was it the sea? Far on, at the verge of Bareau lea, ' 7, "'':^»"»y. shield and casque, The breakers roll in the Roads of L^^e. I K The Kelpie Riders "Kelpie, Kelpie!" Was it the wolves? In the dusk of pines where night dissolves To streamers and stars through the mountain gorge, I heard the blast of a giant forge. Then I knew the wind was awake from the North, And the ocean riders were freed and forth. Time, there is time (now gallop, my heart!) Ere the black riders disperse and depart. The dawn is late, but the dawn comes round. And Fleetfoot Jean has the wind of a hound. The hue and cry of the Kelpie horde Was growing and grim on that white seaboard. It rolled and gathered and died and grew Far off to the rear; a smile thereto U m M The Kelpie Riders orge, orth, I turned; a fathom behind A rider rode with my ear a shadowy leer. I sickened and sped. He laughed alond. VV.nd for a mourner, snow for a shroud!" On and on, half blown, half blind Shadow and self, and the wind behind! I slackened, he slackened; I fled, he flew- I" a swirl of snow-drift all night through ' I scoured along the gusty fen, A quarry for hunting Kelpie men. But only one could hold at my side- Brother, brother, I Jove thy stride. "Wilt thou follow thy whim to win My merry maid of the goblin kin?" 83 w The Kelpie Riders I swerved from my trail, for he haunted my ear With his moaning jibe and his shadowy leer. So by good hap as we sped it fell, I fetched a circuit back for the well. Like a spilth of spume on the crest of the bore When the combing tides make in for shore, That runner ran whose love was a wraith; Uut the rider rode with revenge in his teeth. Another league, and I touch the goal,— The mystic rune on the poplar bole, — When the dusky eyes and the raven hair And the lithe brown arms shall greet me there. I ran like a harrier on the trace In the leash of that ghoul, and the wind gave chase 84 The Kelpie Riders A furlong now; I caught the gleam Of the bubbling well with its tiny stream; An arrowy burst; I cleared the beck; And -the Kelpie rider bestrode my neck. • Dawn, the still red winter dawn; I awoke on the plain; the wind' was gone;- AH gracious and good as when God made The living creatures, and none was afraid. I stooped to drink of the wholesome spring Under the poplars whispering: Face to my face in that water clear - The Kelpie rider's jabbering leer! Ah, God! not me: I was never so! Sainted Louis, who can know 85 The Kelpie Riders S\\ %\ The lords of life from the slaves of death? What help avail the speeding breath Of the spirit that knows not self's abode,— When the soul is lost that knows not God? I turned me home by St. Louis' Hall, Where the red sun burns on the windows tall. And I thought the world was strange and wild. And God with his altar only a child. IV Again one year in the prime of June, I came to the well in the heated noon, Leaving Rochelle with its red roof tiles By the Pottery Gate before St. Giles, — 86 The Kelpie Rid,^, There wh«e the flower market i, "' --^ -rning up u.^ ^^^,^^ The flower girl, come by the Inn . -.- nil: :--■«-.. "«ed the market through. Halting a moment to converse ^-'^-Ba.ette.hoha.he:„m.nur.e. There passed through the stall. ^^•^'^ ^ ^'-e o, e,L.ar I^^.r "' "^''''^ ;^-ng the kerseys biue; and I said "''o - -. Babette, with lifted heai 87 u ' , ' The Kilpie Riders "And the startled look, possessed and strange, Under the paint — secure from change?" "Ah, 'Sieur Jean, do ye not ken Of the eerie folk of Bareau Fen?" ' olenched, and she knew too well I wist The fearsome fate of the goblin tryst. "The street is a cruel home, 'Sieur Jean, But a weird uncanny drives her on. "'Tis a bitter tale for Christian folk. How once she dreamed, and how she woke." "Ay, ay!" I passed and reached the spring Where the poplars kept their whispering, Hid for an hour in the shade. In the rank marsh grass of a tiny glade. 88 4 e. The Kelpie Riders InTJ"""'"" "'" '"°°' '^^ 'he town afar I" kmle of white and cinnabar. ' A wanderer on that plain of tears, Bo-ed w.th a burden not of the year,, As one that goeth sorrowing For many an unforgotten thing. To the cn.U, ,,„ ^ ^^ ^^^ There came that harridan of woe. She stooped to drink- r (,. j ,. "Ah r„i L ^"'^ her cry; Ah. God, how tired out am I! "I called him by the dearest name A g.rl may call; I have my shame. "'Vet death is crueller than life,' Once they said, 'for all the strife • 89 Tht Ktlpii Riders if 'i I'.i "And so I lived; but the wild will, Broken and bitter, drives to ill. "And now I know, what no one saith, That love is crueller than death. "How I did love him! Is love too high, My God, for such lost folk as I?" Her tears went down to the grass by the well, In that passion of grief, and where they fell Windflowers trembled pale and white. A craven I crept away from the sight; And turned me home to St. Louis' Hall, Where the sunflowers burn by the eastern wall. The vesper frankincense that day Rose to the rafters and melted away, 90 The Ktlpie Rij,^, And wa, no «ore than a cloud .ha. „i„ Among .he spire, of Norway f,„. tM T' "''''' ""'^ '°"">de •"e hoary crypt and ,he .„d green wood V " ' '"°"'' ^ "»-' 'here w,„ cole a day,_ ^V'f.en April is over .he Norland town - -loosened .00.3.0. the h-:L«o down. When tears have quenched th. 91 MICROCOPY MSOIUTION TCST CHART (ANSI ond ISO TEST CHART No. 2) A /APPLIED INA^GE Inc S; 1653 EqsI Moin Slreel r^S Rochester. Ne* rork U609 USA '-^SS (715) 482 - 0300 - Phone ^SS (716) 388 -5989 -Fa. The Kelpie Riders And the houses of dark be overthrown; When the goblin maids shall love their own, — Their arms forever unlaced from their hold Of the earls of the sea on that alien wold,— And the feckless light of their golden eyes Shall forget the desire that made them wise; When the hands of the foam shall beckon and flee. And the Kelpie riders ride for the sea; And the whip-poor-will the whole night long Repeat his litanies of song, Till morning whiten the world again, And the flowers revive on Bareau Fen, Over the acres of calm Rochelle Fresh by the stream of the crystal well. .*:' I NOONS OF POPPY Noons of poppy, noons of poppy. Scarlet leagues along the sea; Flaxea hair ifloat in sunlight, Love, come down the world to me! There's a Captain I must ship with, (Heart, that day be far from now!) Wears his dark command in silence With the sea-frost on his brow. Noons of poppy, noons of poppy, Purple shadows by the sea; How should love take thought to wonder What the destined port may be? 93 Noons of Poppy Nay, if love have joy for shipmate For a night-watch or a year, Dawn will light o'er Lonely Haven, Heart to happy heart, as here. Noons of poppy, noons of poppy, Scarlet acres by the sea Burning to the blue above them; Love, the world is full for me. ' *\ 94 LEGENDS OF LOST HAVEN There are legends o( Lost Haven, Come, 1 know not whence, to me', When the wind is in the clover, When the sun is on the sea. There are rumors in the pine-tops. There are whispers in the grass; And the flocking crows at nightfall Bring home hints of things that pass Out upon the broad dike yonder, All day long beneath the sun. Where the tall ships cloud and settle Down the sea-curve, one by one. 95 Legends of Lost Haven And the crickets in ine chorus — Every slim and tiny reed — Strive to chord the broken rhythmus Of the world, and half succeed. There are myriad traditions Treasured by the talking rain; And with memories the moonlight Walks the cold and silent plain. Where the river tells his hill-tales To the lone complaining bar, Where the midgets thread their dances To the yellow twilight star. Where the blossom bends to hearken To the bee with velvet band?;. There are chronicles enciphered Of the yet uncharted lands. 96 ¥ii Legends of Lost Haven All the musical marauders Of the berry and the bloom Sing the lure of soul's illusion Out oi darlcness, out of doom. But the sure and great evangel Comes when half alone I hear, At the rosy door of silence, Love, the lord of speech, draw near. Then for once across the threshold. Darkling spirit, thou art free,— As thy hope is every ship makes Some lost haven of the sea. 97 i THE SHADOW BOATSWAIN Don't you know the sailing orders? It is time to put to sea, And the stranger in the harbor Sends a boat ashore for me. With the thunder of her canvas Coming on the wind again, I can hear the Shadow Boatswain Piping to his shadow men. Is it firelight or morning, That red flicker on the floor? Your good-by was braver, sweetheart, When I sailed away before. 98 .;' 5^' The Shadow Boatswain Tu". your berry cheek so White, ^Vhat a morning; How tl,. ,- SP-'c'es on ,He'ou.er bay '^ """«''' 'otnp anchor and away f Off the freshening sea *,. ■ . U ,t , L. * *° windward, J ' ," "''"« '"n I hear Shnllmg in ,he gusty weather ^^here the far sea-line is clear? 99 " s 'J '1 ,1 TAe Shadow Boatswain What a morning for departure! How your blue eyes melt and shine! Will you watch us from the headland Till we sink below the line? ! can see the wind already Steer the scurf marks of the tide, As we slip the wake of being Down the sloping world and wide. I can feel the vasty mountains Heave and settle under me, And the Doorakeel veer and shudder, Crvmbling on the hollow sea. There's a call, as when a white gull Cries and beats across the blue; That must be the Shadow Boatswain Piping to his shadow crew. 100 The Shadow Boafswain There., a boding sound, ,ike winter When the p,„es begin to quail; inat must be the i?rav u,;„j In fh. ., 1, ^^ '"'^ moaning In the belly of tiie sail. I can feel the icy finger, Creeping in upon my bones- There must be a berg to windward S>^=:=where n these border zones. Stir the fire. i i., A I . • • • I love th" sunlieht . Always loved my s,, ornate sun How the sunflowers beckon to me From the dooryard one by one! How the royal lady roses St;ew this summer world of oursl There'll be none in Lonely Haven; " " *°° f" north for flowers. lOI The Shadow Boatswain I S There, sweetheart! And I must le; the gulls can wheel above me, All day long when I am dead; Where the keening wind can find me With the April rain for guide. And come crooning her old stories Of the kingdoms of the tide. Comrades, comrades, have me buried Like a warrior of the sun; I have carried my sealed orders Till the last command is done. Kiss me on the cheek for courage, (There is none to greet me home,) Then farewell to your old lover Of the thunder of the foam; 114 The Last Watch For the grass is full of slumber In the twilight world for me, And my tired hands are slackened From th-ir toiliig on the sea. "5 OUTBOUND i,. ih I A muELV sail in the vast sea-room, I have put out for the port of gloom. The voyage is far on the trackless tide, The watch is long, and the seas are wide. The headlands blue in the sinking day Kisi me a hand on the outward way. The fading gulis, as they dip and veer, Lift me a voice that is good to hear. The great winds come, and the heaving sea, The restless mother, is calling me. ii6 Outbound The cry of her heart is lone and wild, Searching the night for her wandered child. Beautiful, weariless mother of mine. In the drift of doom I am here, I am thine. Beyond the fathom of hope or fear. From bourn to bourn of the dusk I steer, Swept on in the wake of the stars, in the stream Of a roving tide, from dream to dream. 117 ,<„ ■ 75 cents, ■too, p,p„ b„„<„_ „,„ .__ ^.^ by T B M , . '"^"''' "■ Saturday Evenme f^B^I^P THE ARRAS. A Book of the Unseen .ptosis ^ ration of the critics "^ """ >■«« =8°. aroused "he a'dmT Fir sate at allHZZZII7~ ^^ " "' MAVNARD &. COMPANY . Boston Songs from Vagabondia By BLISS CARMAN 6- RICHARD HOVEY i6mo, paper boardSp with cover and end paper decorations by Tom B. Meteyard. fi.oo. A book full of the rapture of the open air and the open road, of the wayside tavern bench, the April weather, and the " manly love of com- rades." . . . The charm and interest of the book consist in the real, frank jollity of mood and manner, the gypsy freedom, the intimate, natural happiness of these mirching, drinking, fighting, and loving songs. They proclaim a : . the, sane, and hearty Bohemianism in the opening lines. . . . The mood is an unusual one, especially in verse, but welcome, if only as a change, after the desperate melan- choly, the heart-fiickness, and life-weariness of the average verse-writer — London Athenaum. Between the close covers of this narrow book there are some fifty- odd pages of good verse that Bobby Burns would have shouted at his plough to see and Elia Lamb would have praised in immortal essays. These are sound, healthy poems, with a bit of honest pathos here and there, to be sure, but made in the sunlight and nurtured with whole- some, manly humors. There is not a bit of intellectual hypochondria in the little book, and there is not a line that was made in the sweat of the brow. They are the free, untrammelled songs of men who sing because their hearts are full of music, and who have their own way of singing, too. These are not the mere echoes of the old organ voices. They are the merry pipings of song-birds, and they bear the gift of nature. — New York Times. The authors of the small joint volume called " Songs ' \ Vaga- bondia" have an unmistakable right to the name of pc These little snatches have the spirit of a gypsy Omar Khayyim. i'hey have always careless verve, and often careless felicity ; they are masculine and rough, as roving songs should be. . . . You have the whole spirit of the book in such an unforgettable little lyric as " In the House of Idiedaily."— Francis Thompson, in Merry England, For sale by all Booksellers, or serU postpaid by the publishers SMALL, MAYNARD 6- COMPANY • Boston More Songs from Vagabondia -^ BUSS C.KMA. ^ K,cH.°o HOVKV fton. Vajabondia "came out Th, . ',"" ""' "*"'' "Sonss over ■„.„ .h. i„,id. of The cc;ers;hfrri'""'^ ''"''"« -"-°"" I^enve, .„ .o.h ,ea. ^o^err^lo^'d To trJ-X^Vi^^l '™' »J"d/cr<^----r-.-.e.,a..^ "e^herobscrenoreonrmonpace «it ilr ' 'k'" "'"' ' ™™" £r^!,:lrj-rr^::s-i--'-"..-co..de. bondia." The poems are full nf I "" ^°"SS from \-aKa. energetic '^yt^Z -n/J^^;;'"^'^"' "tality, with . fi„, /^^ »r.tri?;-ST's;rrc» s4 4 Last Songs from Vagabondia By BLISS CARMAN 6* RICHARD HOVEY i6mo, paper boards, with cover and end paper decorations by Tom B. Meteyard. $i.oo This third collection makes a fitting close to the fresh and exhilarating poetry of the two preceding volumes of the series. It contains, in addition to verses set aside for this purpose by both authors prior to Mr. Hovey's death, certain later poems by Mr. Carman, reminiscent of his friend and fellow-vagabond. " The sight of ' Last Songs from Vagabondia ' must raise a pang in mr/" breasts, a remembrance of two best of comrades sundered, 'ihey were mad carols, those early Vagabondian lays, with here and there a song more seriously tuned, but beyond their joyous ebullition were beauty of no uncertain quality, the riches of Vagabondia — love and youth and com- radeship — and the glamour of the great world unexplored. All those qualities are embodied in these 'Last Songs/ nor is the joy in living absent, only softened to a soberer tone. The themes vary little, the joys if the road are still undimmed, there is ever closer cleaving of comrade to comrade, and there is the old buckling on of bravery against the battle ; under- neath all this a note hitherto unheard in Vagabondia, a sense of the inescapable loneliness of every soul. Both Mr. Carman and Mr. Hovey have perfect command of the lyric form, both the power to imprison in richly colored verse a complete expression of the wander-spirit." — Boston Transcript, " Worthy to take their place alongside their charming and inspiriting predecessors." — Boston yonrnal. " One finds in this volume the breadth of view, the spon- taneous joy, the unexpected outlook, and the felicity of touch which betray the true poet." — TA^ Outlook. " The charm of the verses, especially of the lyrics, is as great in this as in the two previous volumes." — New Orleans Picayune. For sale ctall Booksellers, or seiit postpaid by the publishers SMALL, MAYNARD &» COMPANY • Boston '• ^'"Q^esto/Meriin. ii r*,iif. V. ^'«'H0I.VGRAAL(i„p„p„.,i„„j the men who have becom/Er '^" '-' ■ "" '"''"'■<=»' "<"' "t -orM of English-sperCg ,ea"| s hasTr„~ ""• " "''»' "-« than a generation Hence th.f ""'""B '"""ore of an American poet »"h a work whrn"' " "otewor,l,y front rank of poets of to-day and whtl*" ^'"^ '"'" '■' 'he judgment, tl,e rightful daiSto ,s , ^ "I*"'" ''™' '■> my author, of 'l-ippi Passes .Tn^.TH'",j"f«i=" ""« by the mayseen, to be high, even extrJvaJf "" '"'"B' ^his read, carefully thefe ,hr« book, T,""'' I' """ "■*" °« other judgment than tha; here U a .. ""'•"«« "" be no poem gives promise of splenL .rV. "?°" ""' "»""« decade Thev fom, , !. """"' «'°'''' during the next and power of Bro'^/- ^y^/rhru'cf/f/"" "' '-' P""^" Pearc's plays, a, fi^rsJll" h ",»«„.''""' •" ^''*''"- f 1 Launcelot £^ Guenevere A Potm in Dramas ij- RICHARD HOVEY I. 7"A^ QUEST ^/MERLIN. A Masque. $1.25. "The Quest of Merlin " shows indisputable talent and in- disputable metrical faculty. — The A //tenaum, London. Whatever else may be said of this worlc, it cannot be denied that the singer is master of the technique of his art ; that for him our stubborn English tongue becomes Auent and musical. . . . Underlying all these evidences of artistic skill is a deeper intent, revealing in part the poet's philosophy of being. . . . — Washirtgton Post. " The Quest of Merlin " has all the mystery and exquisite delicateness of a midsummer night's dream. — Wdshington Republic, II. The MARRIAGE of GUENEVERE. A Tragedy. $1.50. It requires the possession of some remarkable equalities in Mr. Richard Hovey to impel me to draw attention to this " poem in dramas "which comes to us from America. . . . The volume shows powers of a very unusual quality, —clearness and vividness of characterization, capacity of seein^^ and, by a few happy touches, making us see, ease and inevitableness of blank verse, free alike from convolution and monotony. . . . If he has caught here and there the echo of other voices, his own is clear and full-throated, vibrating with passionate sensi- bility. — Hamilton Aid^, in The Nineteenth Centufy, London. There are few young poets who start so well as Mr. Richard Hovey. He has the freest lilt of any of the younger Ameri- cans. —Wilmam Sharp, in The Academy, Loudon. The strength and flexibility of the verse are a heritage from the Elizabethans, yet plainly stamped with Mr. Hovey's indi- viduality. — Charles G. D. Roberts, in The- Bookbuyer. For sale at all Bookstores ^ or sent postpaid by the publishers SMALL, MAYNARD ^ COMPANV - Boston Launcelot ^ Guenevere A Poem ,n Dramas by RICHA RD HOVEY .ur.Jin:d'"«I'e„1.^''!5''tg ; '» :^; fi-t "f t^e trilogy, bo.h i„ his risk when he boldly entered T.„rf,. , '■ V "*''>' '""'' "1": ";'„"* '"«"»• -^^"'"fe-. N^w ('o'ril' "•= ""■ masterly manner, but he has someitl" ""'y ?"y ">i"gs in a Nothing modern since the f^^ * ■mpressive to say lanta in Ca°ySon " surp=^se^Xm^ r?K °' Swinburne's ■'Ata: and classical clearnessTnd nerS.f- "S''"J""1 '" "'""'y ^Y;7AL^ESIN. A Masque. $i.oo. Dram«'Tin'r?du''c«;he''seTondtno/"'.°' *"«<' "'■«"> '" Quest of the Graal " It is fn ™i °^'^' '"^^ P^figures " The achievement It is the Vrea?e« r?^ T^% "l° l""""'* "^'shest English. It is th"g?eatfst poetic std°v,h^/.""" T ^^"^ '" artist's relation to life and of hu rf. 7 " "* ''*^« "^ 'he significant study of life itself Tni,?'.?"!:'"'- ^?"' " '^ » Curtis n.^^^lvJlV^t Zkln'^""'^' ^y^^.<.u.-. Henry Stoddard, in r/„ ^/Jrr^.™ri5ew~Vo;k''^'° voLV%trirse7mriii' 'ix^:\^'- ^r^ i ^" -^ -> » their complete training Tn v !i !tJ;" ^' ""= n>™ent of America faslo ^c^e^of her bes^^ '""ti'l "? f"""^' "'^' matic poets. - Edmund ClIrenceItTSma!^""'/"'^ ""■ MB Anthology. "-i-AKENtE STEDMAN, In An Amir- S.MALL, MAYNARD &. COMPANY . Boston ill Launcelot ^ Guenevere ^ ^<>"» «■» Dramas by RICHARD HOVEY ^- '^'\\^P^u 9^^^ Fragments of the Five Unfinished Dramas of the Launcelot <&• Guenevere Series (in preparation). $1.50. It had b«en Mr. Hovey's intention to complete his notable Arthunan .Series m nine dramas, of which oSly four had b«n published at the time of his death. He left fragmenUry Mr" nonsmmanuscript of all the remaining five, an"!he« C ment, have been edited and arranged, »?th no es, ^ his^Sow M the only possible attempt toward completion oFth I match: less monument of American verse. matcn- ALONG THE TRAIL A Book of Lyrics by RICHARD HOVEY Richard Hovey has made a definite place for himself amoni ^L^^°^ ^'^^'^■- ^J"'' "'"" ""'•"-e i"""ratel"7hi*go^ qualities of sincerity, fervor, and lyric grace He ain« .hi songs of the open air, of battle and ^comrldeship, of !iv? and of country. -and they are all songs well sung.*^ In additron all' too'ra™ fil'^/^'r ^/ X 6"' "lasculine IptiAism .ha.°ii .J^o*,'?"'' •' "^".^' ""* '"°" searching test-you read It t£=n3 .?*^ •'".*'"' "S't'-Oy increasinl pleasufe, satisfa" tion, and admiration. — .ffMto».fi'„a/rf. ' " ••«'■"« hJuL ^^l ^" "" '?•" '*'=''"'"' 'quiP-nent of the poet, and f rti ? ^ui' P"*"?"^"y to «P««. - a personality new wd fo ,h/. h. l^''.?"^ ^°>'°M'. ■""ly. vigorou^ earnest Added noin. .„!f5 ' "''.•'"S" ■= power which is essential to a broad rn™,,V t-P""/' J"'' "x" ■*''«* '" '»«• He is the poet of romradeship ?nd courage. -Curtis Hidden Paoi, In tS Fcr sale at aU Bcct^ms, or ant fclfaid by IJU fuHislur, SMALL, MAYNARD *• COMPANY • Boston vere OVEY he Five :elot & $1.50. I notable had been lUry por- etc frag- ii widow, it match- { among liis good ings the Dve, and iddition, n that ia ~Sa/ur' read it utisfac- xt, and lew and Added a broad r of life, poet of in TAt xtrs OSTON