Fourth Reader. Various

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СКАЧАТЬ followed us in silence more eloquent than words, and stood at their door till we were out of sight and hearing.

      “Let us make haste back,” said Beethoven, “that I may write out that sonata while I can yet remember it.”

      We did so, and he sat over it till long past day-dawn. And this was the origin of that “Moonlight Sonata” with which we are all so fondly acquainted. – Anonymous.

      Go to the ant, thou sluggard;

      Consider her ways, and be wise:

      Which having no chief, overseer, or ruler,

      Provideth her meat in the summer,

      And gathereth her food in the harvest.

– From “The Book of Proverbs.”

      THE FLIGHT OF THE BIRDS

      Whither away, Robin,

      Whither away?

      Is it through envy of the maple leaf,

      Whose blushes mock the crimson of thy breast,

      Thou wilt not stay?

      The summer days were long, yet all too brief

      The happy season thou hast been our guest:

      Whither away?

      Whither away, Bluebird,

      Whither away?

      The blast is chill, yet in the upper sky

      Thou still canst find the color of thy wing,

      The hue of May.

      Warbler, why speed thy southern flight? ah, why,

      Thou too, whose song first told us of the spring?

      Whither away?

      Whither away, Swallow,

      Whither away?

      Canst thou no longer tarry in the north,

      Here, where our roof so well hath screened thy nest?

      Not one short day?

      Wilt thou – as if thou human wert – go forth

      And wander far from them who love thee best?

      Whither away?

– Edmund Clarence Stedman.

      THE MINSTREL BOY

      The minstrel boy to the war is gone,

      In the ranks of death you’ll find him;

      His father’s sword he has girded on,

      And his wild harp slung behind him.

      “Land of song!” said the warrior bard,

      “Though all the world betrays thee,

      One sword, at least, thy rights shall guard,

      One faithful harp shall praise thee!”

      The minstrel fell, but the foeman’s chain

      Could not bring his proud soul under;

      The harp he loved ne’er spoke again,

      For he tore its chords asunder;

      And said, “No chains shall sully thee,

      Thou soul of love and bravery!

      Thy songs were made for the pure and free,

      They shall never sound in slavery!”

– Thomas Moore.

      THE GOOD SAXON KING

      Alfred the Great was a young man three and twenty years of age when he became king of England. Twice in his childhood he had been taken to Rome, where the Saxon nobles were in the habit of going on pilgrimages, and once he had stayed for some time in Paris. Learning, however, was so little cared for in those days that at twelve years of age he had not been taught to read, although he was the favorite son of King Ethelwulf.

      But like most men who grew up to be great and good, he had an excellent mother. One day this lady, whose name was Osburga, happened, as she sat among her sons, to read a book of Saxon poetry. The art of printing was not known until long after that period. The book, which was written, was illuminated with beautiful, bright letters, richly painted. The brothers admiring it very much, their mother said, “I shall give it to that one of you who first learns to read.” Alfred sought out a tutor that very day, applied himself to learn with great diligence, and soon won the book. He was proud of it all his life.

      This great king, in the first year of his reign, fought nine battles with the Danes. He made some treaties with them, too, by which the false Danes swore that they would quit the country. They pretended that they had taken a very solemn oath; but they thought nothing of breaking oaths, and treaties, too, as soon as it suited their purpose, and of coming back again to fight, plunder, and burn.

      One fatal winter, in the fourth year of King Alfred’s reign, the Danes spread themselves in great numbers over England. They so dispersed the king’s soldiers that Alfred was left alone, and was obliged to disguise himself as a common peasant, and to take refuge in the cottage of one of his cowherds, who did not know him.

      Here King Alfred, while the Danes sought him far and near, was left alone one day by the cowherd’s wife, to watch some cakes which she put to bake upon the hearth. But the king was at work upon his bow and arrows, with which he hoped to punish the false Danes when a brighter time should come. He was thinking deeply, too, of his poor, unhappy subjects, whom the Danes chased through the land. And so his noble mind forgot the cakes, and they were burnt. “What!” said the cowherd’s wife, who scolded him well when she came back, and little thought she was scolding the king; “you will be ready enough to eat them by and by, and yet you cannot watch them, idle dog!”

      At length the Devonshire men made head against a new host of Danes who landed on their coast. They killed the Danish chief, and captured the famous flag, on which was the likeness of a raven. The loss of this standard troubled the Danes greatly. They believed it to be enchanted, for it had been woven by the three daughters of their king in a single afternoon. And they had a story among themselves, that when they were victorious in battle, the raven would stretch his wings and seem to fly; and that when they were defeated, he would droop.

      It was important to know how numerous the Danes were, and how they were fortified. And so King Alfred, being a good musician, disguised himself as a minstrel, and went with his harp to the Danish camp. He played and sang in the very tent of Guthrum, the Danish leader, and entertained the Danes as they feasted. While he seemed to think of nothing but his music, he was watchful of their tents, their arms, their discipline, – everything that he desired to know.

      Right soon did this great king entertain them to a different tune. Summoning all his true followers to meet him at an appointed place, he put himself at their head, marched on the Danish camp, defeated the Danes, and besieged them fourteen days to prevent their escape. But, being as merciful as he was good and brave, he then, instead of killing them, proposed peace, – on condition that they should all depart from that western part of England, and settle in the eastern. Guthrum was an honorable chief, and forever afterwards he was loyal and faithful to the king. The Danes under him were faithful, too. They plundered and burned no more, but ploughed and sowed and reaped, and led good honest lives. And the children of those Danes played many a time with Saxon children in the sunny fields; and their elders, Danes and Saxons, sat by the red fire in winter, talking of King Alfred the Great.

      All the Danes, however, were not like these under Guthrum. After some years, more of them came over in the old plundering, burning way. Among them was a fierce pirate named Hastings, who had the boldness to sail up the Thames with eighty ships. For three years there was war with these Danes; and there was a famine in the country, too, and a plague, СКАЧАТЬ