Journeys Through Bookland V3

C >> Charles H. Sylvester >> Journeys Through Bookland V3

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At length, one day, they came into view of a great green castle
towering above cliffs. "Behold the home of Brunhild!" cried Siegfried;
and then as the eager watchers continued to gaze they could see people
hurrying about the castle, evidently excited by the approach of a
foreign vessel.

After anchoring the boat the company were taken at once into the
presence of Queen Brunhild, who, recognizing the young Netherlander,
exclaimed: "Welcome, Prince Siegfried. What brings you to our court?"

Then Siegfried, bowing low, made known their mission:

"Gracious queen, in the name of my lord, the King of Burgundy, I ask
for a favorable hearing for his suit. None knows better of his noble
qualities than do I, his subject; and none can say with more assurance
than I that a nobler husband for Queen Brunhild is nowhere to be
found."

"Ah, if that be his quest," cried Brunhild, "he can win his bride, not
by gentle speeches and looks of love, but by a sterner test than any
mortal suitor has ever yet endured."

Notwithstanding the harsh warning, Gunther, assured by Siegfried,
declared: "In the presence of your great beauty, Queen Brunhild, even
the strange terms that you propose seem reasonable, and I must accept
them, though they bring me and my followers death."

[Illustration: A GREAT CASTLE TOWERED ABOVE THE CLIFFS]

Thereupon Brunhild began to make ready for the contest, and Siegfried,
unobserved, slipped down to the boat in the harbor. Soon three of the
Queen's attendants came staggering under the weight of an immense
javelin, and a little later twelve other men slowly and with great
difficulty pushed an enormous stone into the field. Then the Queen
herself appeared clad in massive armor. The King and his attendants
looked on, and when it seemed that surely all must die, they would
gladly have withdrawn; but from shame they strove to hide their fears
as best they could.

Meanwhile Siegfried had arrayed himself in his magic cloak, the
tarnkappe, and thus made invisible to all he returned to the company
and hastened to King Gunther's side.

"Never fear," whispered Siegfried; "if only you let me do the
fighting, while you pretend, by look and movement, to be the doer,
Brunhild can never withstand us."

No sooner had the words been spoken and Siegfried had taken Gunther's
shield in his hand, than the Queen hurled her mighty javelin straight
against the two knights. All the earth seemed to resound with the
death-dealing blow, and surely had it not been for the tarnkappe both
Siegfried and Gunther would have been killed as the great spear
pierced the King's massive shield. But Siegfried, alert for action,
seized the weapon and, with the point turned toward himself, returned
it with such terrific force that Brunhild was struck to the ground.
Hastily arising in confusion and anger, she seized the huge stone, and
twirling it about her head sent it flying through the air to a spot
more than seventy feet distant. Hardly had it alighted when the Queen,
springing up lightly, leapt to a mark beyond. Not at all daunted by
this awful show of strength, the invisible Siegfried, with Gunther
following, hastened to where the stone lay, and picking it up easily,
threw it a much greater distance than had the Queen. Then, carrying
Gunther with him, he jumped even farther than the stone had been
hurled.

With unconcealed chagrin and disappointment, Brunhild advanced to
where Gunther stood and pointing to the King declared: "Behold your
lord and master, my subjects. Hereafter give to him your loyal
service. Brunhild is no longer your queen." Then in stately manner the
King with his fair companion returned to the castle.

Great indeed was the joy in Gunther's capital when Siegfried and his
attendants, riding in advance of the bridal party, made known the news
of the King's victory. Queen Uta, the mother of Gunther and Kriemhild,
gave orders that the most splendid preparation be made for receiving
Brunhild, and busily did her maidens ply their needles in making
garments more beautiful and costly than ever before had adorned fair
ladies. And no less industriously did the squires polish the armor of
the knights, while their masters tested their trusty blades, that they
might fittingly bear themselves in the jousts and tournaments with
which Gunther's triumph and home-coming would be celebrated.

Long and loud was the shout of welcome that arose from the crowds
gathered along the river bank as the ship bearing Gunther and his
bride came into view. Then Queen Uta, followed by a long line of
maidens, arrayed in many-colored garments that glittered with the most
precious of gems, slowly moved down to the strand, while Kriemhild
followed, attended by Siegfried.

As Gunther and his bride stepped from the boat, Kriemhild was first to
greet the Queen. "Welcome to Burgundy, sweet Brunhild. May you dwell
among us so content that regret for Issland will never trouble you,"
she cried. Then taking Brunhild's hand she kissed her with gracious
good will. Queen Uta likewise made known her gladness in receiving the
hard-won bride of Gunther. For days thereafter all the court, with the
knights and ladies gathered from every part of that realm, made merry
continually, and never was a time more memorable for chivalrous deeds
and giving of costly gifts.

On the evening of Gunther's arrival, as the guests were assembling at
a feast, Siegfried recalled to the King the terms of their compact:
"Brunhild is now yours. Have you forgotten that you promised me the
hand of the lady Kriemhild?"

"That have I not, good Siegfried," replied the King, and he at once
sent for his sister.

Then in the presence of all the great company, Gunther, taking
Kriemhild's hand, said: "Fair sister, many days ago I promised you in
marriage to one of the noblest knights that ever served our land of
Burgundy. I ask now that you accept his, love and thus fulfill my
promise."

"It is my part to obey you in all things, my brother," replied
Kriemhild, with downcast eyes. "I shall as gladly do your bidding now
as always in the past."

How all the beholders marveled at the gentleness and beauty of the
princess, as with blushes she was led to Siegfried's side. Never had a
brave and loyal friend been rewarded with a greater measure of joy
than was Siegfried's then.

Gunther, however, had won a bride to whom such modest, docile ways
were quite unknown. Brunhild's pride had not been conquered, and her
cheeks would sometimes flush with anger as she recalled that the fame
of her peerless strength was no longer glorious and that she was now
subject to another's will. As the days passed on, these thoughts so
vexed her that she could not bear the shame of her defeat, and she
began to treat the King with scorn.

Thus provoked on one occasion, he would have shown her that he was
master in that realm, when Brunhild, leaping upon him, tied his feet
and hands together with a girdle that she wore about her waist, and
suspended him from a nail projecting from the wall. In vain did
Gunther struggle against her strength. He must hang upon the wall
until, weak and exhausted, he begged her to release him, promising
never again to offend her. However, Gunther could not forget this
daring insult to his kingly authority, and he went moodily about the
palace for the rest of the day.

Noticing his gloom, Siegfried exclaimed: "What troubles you, King
Gunther? Surely your looks ill become this merry season."

"Perhaps if you had a wife who could tie you up and hang you upon the
wall until you promised to do her bidding, you would not be so
cheerful either," grumbled the King in return.

"Aha," laughed Siegfried, "so that is what the fair lady has been up
to, is it? Well, I think that for such waywardness we can try the same
remedy that saved us from her power in Issland. Just call upon me the
next time that trouble arises and we will subdue the proud Brunhild
once for all."

And so it chanced that with the help of the tarnkappe, Siegfried, all
unseen, overcame the Queen in a mighty struggle that had been brought
on by some show of authority on Gunther's part. At this time he
wrested from her the magic ring and girdle that were the source of all
her strength, and ever afterward there was peace in Gunther's
household.

It was not long before Siegfried with his bride returned to his home
in Netherland, and was made king of that realm by his father Siegmund.
No less brave and generous was he as a ruler than as a knight, and the
years sped on in high prosperity for all the kingdom. But envy was at
work, and all too soon was Siegfried's good fortune brought to an end.

In the court of Burgundy Brunhild remained ill content. She could not
understand why it was that if Siegfried was Gunther's subject, as he
had declared himself to be when in Issland, he did not yield the
obedience and service of a subject. As Gunther could not well explain
Siegfried's deception and make known that the Netherlander was not
indeed a vassal, he evaded Brunhild's questions. But the Queen was
persistent, for it vexed her that Siegfried and his lady offered no
homage at the court of Burgundy. At length one day she entreated the
King: "Since you are unwilling to require a vassal's service of the
King of Netherland, at least invite him to pay a visit to our court.
Many years have passed since I have seen your sister Kriemhild, and I
would be most glad to renew my friendship with her."

Thus it came about that Siegfried and Kriemhild were bidden to visit
Burgundy and in the course of a few months journeyed thither. The
merriest of entertainment was provided, and Gunther and his queen were
so lavish of their kindness that never would one have suspected
Brunhild's deeply burning resentment. All at once, however, her ill
feeling flamed into uncontrollable fury and brought about the
sorrowful deed that ever afterward dimmed the fair honor of Burgundy.

Shortly before the vesper service in the cathedral the two queens met
one evening, and Kriemhild, having just witnessed some daring feats
performed by Siegfried in the courtyard of the castle, exclaimed in
admiration: "Oh, surely so bold a knight as my husband is fit to rule
this land of Burgundy!"

"But not while Gunther lives," returned Brunhild in wrath. "No vassal
indeed can presume to fill the place and take upon him the dignity of
his lord and master."

"I am speaking not of a vassal, but of the King of Netherland,"
retorted Kriemhild.

"Ah, but that same King, as I heard from his own lips when he bore
Gunther company in Issland, is my husband's vassal!" exclaimed
Brunhild flushing scarlet in her anger.

"How little you know," replied Kriemhild, laughing scornfully, "of the
clever trick by which my brother won you! Perhaps you have never heard
of Siegfried's tarnkappe. But you shall learn now that it stood my
husband in good stead when he and my noble brother were near to death
in Issland. Know, O Queen, that it was Siegfried who, all unseen,
performed the mighty feats that gained a bride for Gunther, and that
it was no other than the same great knight who later brought into
subjection the over-proud Queen Brunhild. For proof of this behold the
cord and ring taken from you that day. Let us hear no more of vassals
and their homage. As token of the honor that befits me, now stand
aside and let me enter this cathedral first!"

Slowly the color left Brunhild's cheeks as she stood speechless and
helpless, while Kriemhild and her attendants passed into the church.
Then bursting into violent weeping she sank to the ground, overcome
with shame and anger. Soon the word of the disgraceful quarrel had
spread among the Burgundians and their guests, and many an indignant
speech was heard and many a revengeful plot was planned.

But it was Hagan, the crafty uncle of Gunther, who soothed the grief
of Brunhild with a secret design by which Kriemhild's insult should be
most cruelly paid for. After no little persuasion he won Gunther's
aid. Then the great lords of the land were assembled, and Hagan
addressed them thus: "You know well what dishonor has been done to the
power of Burgundy by these haughty Netherlanders. Shall we brook such
insult? No! let us either suffer death ourselves or bring to
destruction the over-bold King Siegfried."

With such approval did these words meet that the King sat silent,
unable to defend one who had so loyally befriended him. Then it was
planned that messengers should come to the court pretending to bear
threats of war from the king of the Saxons and Danes. Siegfried would
thus be deceived into offering Gunther service, and while away from
the court should be put to death. So well did this plot work that the
brave Netherlander, having proffered his services, was placed at the
head of a great army to march against the foe.

At this time Hagan, assuming to be deeply concerned about Siegfried's
welfare, was besought by Kriemhild to guard well the life of her
husband. "You know," she confessed at length, reluctantly,
"Siegfried's body cannot be pierced by any weapon,--except in one
place between his shoulders where a linden leaf fell on him while he
was bathing in the dragon's blood. Will you not remember that and try
to shield him while in battle?"

"Dear Kriemhild, I will remember," replied the treacherous Hagan, "but
that I may know just where the place is, will you not sew on his
clothing, just above it, a token that will mark the spot?"

"Yes, I will stitch a little cross upon his surcoat," assented
Kriemhild.

Then it was that the cruel Hagan, having learned his opponent's
secret, had messengers come to the court announcing that the enemy
would not wage war with Burgundy but would remain at peace. So
disappointed was Siegfried that, apparently to please him, a great
hunting party was formed, and all the bold warriors rode away to the
forest. Unwillingly did Kriemhild part with her husband, but so eager
was he for the sport that nothing could stay him.

When the company reached the woods they separated in all directions,
and Siegfried was soon in mad pursuit of a wild boar. When he had
killed this and several other savage beasts, he surpassed all former
deeds of boldness by capturing single-handed and on foot a great bear
and leading it back to the camp. There he mischievously set the animal
free, and as it raced away in wild haste, the servants who were
getting ready the feast became so frightened, that pans and dishes
containing all kinds of food were dropped upon the ground or into the
fire, as cooks and maids fled in terror. The warrior huntsmen sped
after the bear, but it was Siegfried who brought him to the ground.

[Illustration: THE DEATH OF SIEGFRIED]

When at length all had assembled about the table, merry and loud were
the talk and laughter.

"But where is the wine, King Gunther?" cried Siegfried. "Surely it has
not been omitted from the feast."

As the King turned with questioning look to Hagan, the latter said: "I
supposed the feast was to be held elsewhere and ordered the wine sent
to that place. However, there is a clear, cold stream near by that we
may drink from. I have heard how fleet of foot you are, friend
Siegfried. Let us race to the brook and see who shall be the winner."

Pleased with the idea of such sport Siegfried agreed. At once he set
out swiftly, running with Hagan and Gunther, and easily reached the
little creek before the others. However, out of courtesy, he let the
King drink first, then with eager thirst he bent over the cool,
glittering water. Immediately the King and Hagan bore away the weapons
that lay by his side, and as the good knight touched his lips to the
water, Hagan drove the spear full into the spot marked by the little
cross.

In vain did Siegfried leap to his feet to recover his weapons, and
combat with those who had given him the base blow. Nothing was left
him but his shield, which he flung with such terrible force as to
overthrow the fleeing Hagan. Before his looks of wrathful reproach the
guilty pair shuddered in strange terror. Then, his anger giving way to
a strange calm, he called to his betrayers: "Yours is the sorrow of
this day! Not even in death can cowardice and treachery triumph over
love and loyalty."

Thus speaking, the good King Siegfried sank upon the flowers of the
meadow, and died as bravely as he had lived.

Carlyle translated parts of the Nibelungenlied. He describes the death
of Siegfried as follows:

"Then, as to drink, Sir Siegfried down kneeling there be found,
He pierced him through the croslet, that sudden from the wound
Forth the life-blood spurted, e'en o'er his murderer's weed.
Nevermore will warrior dare so foul a deed.

"With blood were all bedabbled the flowerets of the field.
Some time with death he struggled as though he scorned to yield
E'en to the foe whose weapon strikes down the loftiest head.
At last prone in the meadow lay mighty Siegfried dead."

NIGHT

By ROBERT SOTUTHEY

How beautiful is night!
A dewy freshness fills the silent air;
No mist obscures, nor cloud, nor speck, nor stain,
Breaks the serene of heaven:
In full-orb'd glory yonder moon divine
Rolls through the dark-blue depths.
Beneath her steady ray
The desert-circle spreads,
Like the round ocean, girdled with the sky.
How beautiful is night!

LOCHINVAR

By SIR WALTER SCOTT

O young Lochinvar is come out of the west,
Through all the wide Border his steed was the best;
And, save his good broadsword, he weapon had none,
He rode all unarmed, and he rode all alone.
So faithful in love, and so dauntless in war,
There never was knight like the young Lochinvar.

He stayed not for brake, and he stopped not for stone,
He swam the Eske River where ford there was none;
But, ere he alighted at Netherby gate,
The bride had consented, the gallant came late;
For a laggard in love, and a dastard in war,
Was to wed the fair Ellen of brave Lochinvar.

So boldly he entered the Netherby Hall,
Among bridesmen, and kinsmen, and brothers, and all.
Then spoke the bride's father, his hand on his sword
(For the poor craven bridegroom said never a word),
"O, come ye in peace here, or come ye in war,
Or to dance at our bridal, young Lord Lochinvar?"

"I long wooed your daughter, my suit you denied;--
Love swells like the Solway, but ebbs like its tide,--
And now I am come, with this lost love of mine,
To lead but one measure, drink one cup of wine.
There are maidens in Scotland more lovely by far,
That would gladly be bride to the young Lochinvar."

The bride kissed the goblet; the knight took it up,
He quaffed off the wine, and threw down the cup.
She looked down to blush, and she looked up to sigh,
With a smile on her lips, and a tear in her eye.
He took her soft hand, ere her mother could bar,--
"Now tread we a measure," said young Lochinvar.

So stately his form, and so lovely her face,
That never a hall such a galliard did grace;
While her mother did fret, and her father did fume,
And the bridegroom stood dangling his bonnet and plume;
And the bridemaidens whispered, "'T were better by far
To have matched our fair cousin with young Lochinvar."

One touch to her hand, and one word in her ear,
When they reached the hall-door, and the charger stood near;
So light to the croupe the fair lady he swung,
So light to the saddle before her he sprung;
"She is won! we are gone; over bank, bush, and scaur;
They'll have fleet steeds that follow," quoth young Lochinvar.

There was mounting 'mong Graemes of the Netherby clan;
Forsters, Fenwicks, and Musgraves, they rode and they ran;
There was racing and chasing on Cannobie Lee,
But the lost bride of Netherby ne'er did they see.
So daring in love, and so dauntless in war,
Have ye e'er heard of gallant like young Lochinvar?

Let us see how many things we can find out about this poem. The first
thing we think of is that it tells a story--just one story, without
any outside, disconnected incidents. Then we notice that the style is
very simple, that the meter is easy and swinging, and that the last
line of every stanza is almost like a refrain. There is one other
thing: the author does not show in the poem at all; that is, the poem
is strictly a story, without comments by the author or any expressed
moral.

This poem of Lochinvar belongs to a class of poems called ballads, all
of which possess some, at least, of the characteristics which we have
found in Lochinvar. All ballads do not have refrains, but all ballads
do contain narratives in simple, often rude style. Most ballad stanzas
have only four lines, though Scott uses six for this.

The history of ballad poetry is very interesting. In all nations, it
is believed, it has been the earliest form of poetry, and it is
thought that the great heroic poems, such as the Cid of the Spaniards
and the Nibelungenlied of the Germans, grew out of ballads. These
early ballads were not written down; they were sung, or recited, and
in thus being handed down by word of mouth, they underwent many
changes, so that in time it could very well be said that a popular
ballad had no one author--it belonged to all the people.

ROBIN HOOD

INTRODUCTION

As to whether or not there ever was a Robin Hood, there is much
uncertainty. Grave men have written grave books, some proving and some
disproving his existence, but the question has never been settled.
Some believe that he was a real outlaw; some believe that the stories
about him were originally told about some elf of the woods, and that
only gradually did he come to be looked upon as a man. However that
may be, he is a very real character in literature. By no means all the
writings about him are the grave books spoken of above. Stories,
poems, dramas, operas have been written with him as the central
figure; and these are so interesting that we take them for their own
sakes, and trouble ourselves little about the identity of the hero. He
seems real to us, and that is all we need to know.

The mythical Robin Hood was an outlaw, the most gentlemanly and pious
and liberal of outlaws, and he dwelt with his trained yeomen in
Sherwood forest, Nottinghamshire, or in Barnsdale in Yorkshire. Here
they lived a free and active life, subsisting on the King's deer which
they shot in the woods, and on provisions which they took from
travelers. Robin Hood never himself molested or allowed any of his
followers to molest any poor travelers; indeed, if he was thoroughly
convinced that any of those whom he met were really needy, he helped
them gladly and generously. But from the rich knights and clergy he
took without scruple. Chief of his followers were Little John,
Scathlockor Scalock, Will Stutely, Friar Tuck, and Much, the Miller's
son.

The ballads which are given here relate to the first meeting of Robin
Hood with Little John and with Scathlock, and give also two of his
other characteristic adventures. Both the date and the authorship of
the old ballads are unknown.

According to the legends, Robin Hood lived to be over eighty years old
and then met his death in a very treacherous manner. Feeling ill, he
went to a prioress, who was a relative of his, to be bled, and the
prioress, induced by Robin Hood's enemies, allowed him to bleed to
death.

ROBIN HOOD AND LITTLE JOHN

When Robin Hood was about twenty years old,
With a hey down, down, and a down;*
He happen'd to meet with Little John,
A jolly brisk blade, right fit for the trade,
For he was a lusty young man.
*[Footnote: This line means nothing, it is simply a refrain. The old
ballads were usually sung or chanted, and many of those which are now
printed without refrain lines undoubtedly had them originally.]
Tho' he was called Little, his limbs they were large
And his stature was seven foot high;
Wherever he came, they quak'd at his name,
For soon he would make them to fly.

How they came acquainted, I'll tell you in brief,
If you would but listen awhile;
For this very jest, among all the rest,
I think it may cause you to smile.

For Robin Hood said to his jolly bowmen,*
"Pray tarry you here in this grove;
And see that you all observe well my call,
While through the forest I rove.
*[Footnote: You will see that to make the meter right it is necessary
to accent the word bowmen on the last syllable. These changes of
accent often occur in ballads, and help to add to the quaintness and
peculiarity of the old poems.]

"We have had no sport for these fourteen long days,
Therefore now abroad will I go.
Now should I be beat, and cannot retreat,
My horn I will presently blow."

Then did he shake hands with his merry men all,
And bid them at present good bye;
Then, as near the brook his journey he took,
A stranger he chanc'd to espy.

They happen'd to meet on a long narrow bridge,
And neither of them would give way;
Quoth bold Robin Hood, and sturdily stood,
"I'll show you right Nottingham play."

With that from his quiver an arrow he drew,
A broad arrow with a goose-wing.
The stranger replied, "I'll liquor thy hide,
If thou offer to touch the string."

Quoth bold Robin Hood, "Thou dost prate like an ass,
For were I to bend my bow,
I could send a dart quite thro' thy proud heart,
Before thou couldst strike me one blow."

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