Successful Recitations Part 12

"My own dear love; my own dear love!"

Kildare cried to the lovely lady, "Fear not, black Memnon yet shall prove, Than all their steeds, more swift and steady: But to guide well my gallant horse, Tasks eye, and hand, and utmost force; Then look for me, my love, and tell, What see'st thou now at Tenach.e.l.le?"

"I see, I see," the lady cried, "Now bursting o'er its green banks narrow, And through the valley spreading wide, In one vast flood, the Barrow!

The bridge of Tenach.e.l.le now seems, A dark stripe o'er the rus.h.i.+ng streams; For nought above the flood is shown, Except its parapet alone."

"But can'st thou see," Earl Gerald said, "My faithful Gallowgla.s.ses standing?

Waves the green plume on Milo's head, For me, at Tenach.e.l.le commanding?"

"No men are there," the lady said, "No living thing, no human aid; The trees appear, like isles of green, Nought else, through all the vale is seen."

Deep agony through Gerald pa.s.sed; Oh! must she fall, the n.o.ble-hearted; And must this morning prove their last, By kinsmen and by friends deserted?

Sure treason must have made its way, Within the courts of Castle Ley; And kept away the mail-clad ranks He ordered to the Barrow's banks.

"The chase comes fast," the lady cries; "Both whip and spur I see them plying; Sir Robert Verdon foremost hies, Through Regan's forest flying; Each moment on our course they gain, Alas! why did I break thy chain, And urge thee, from thy prison, here, To make the mossy turf thy bier?"

"Cheer up! cheer up! my own dear maid,"

Kildare cried to the weeping lady; "Soon, soon, shall come the promised aid, With s.h.i.+eld and lance for battle ready; Look out, while swift we ride, and tell What see'st thou now at Tenach.e.l.le.

Does aught on Clemgaum's Hill now move?

Cheer up, and look, my own dear love!"

"Still higher swells the rus.h.i.+ng tide,"

The lady said, "along the river; The bridge wall's rent, with breaches wide, Beneath its force the arches quiver.

But on Clemgaum I see no plumes; From Offaly no succour comes; No banner floats, no trumpet's blown-- Alas! alas! we are alone.

"And now, O G.o.d! I see behind, My father to Red Raymond lending, His war-horse, fleeter than the wind, And on our chase, the traitor sending: He holds the lighted aquebus, Bearing death to both of us; Speed, my gallant Memnon, speed, Nor let us 'neath the ruffian bleed."

"Thy love saved _me_ at risk of life,"

Kildare cried, "when the axe was wielding; And now I joy, my own dear wife, To think my breast _thy_ life is s.h.i.+elding; Thank Heaven no bolt can now reach thee, That shall not first have pa.s.sed through me; For death were mercy to the thought, That thou, for me, to death were brought."

And now they reach the trembling bridge, Through flooded bottoms swiftly rus.h.i.+ng; Along it heaves a foaming ridge, Through its rent walls the torrent's gus.h.i.+ng.

Across the bridge their way they make, 'Neath Memnon's hoofs the arches shake; While fierce as hate, and fleet as wind, Red Raymond follows fast behind.

They've gained, they've gained the farther side!

Through clouds of foam, stout Memnon dashes; And, as they swiftly onward ride, Beneath his feet the vext flood splashes.

But as they reach the floodless ground, The valley rings with a sharp sound; The aquebus has hurled its rain, And by it gallant Memnon's slain.

And now behind loud rose the cry-- "The bridge! beware! the bridge is breaking!"

Backwards the scared pursuers fly, While, like a tyrant, his wrath wreaking, Rushed the flood, the strong bridge rending, And its fragments downwards sending; In its throat Red Raymond swallowed, While above him the flood bellowed.

Hissing, roaring, in its course, The shattered bridge before it spurning, The flood burst down, with giant force, The oaks of centuries upturning.

The awed pursuers stood aghast; All hope to reach Kildare's now past Blest be the Barrow, which thus rose, To save true lovers from their foes!

And now o'er Clemgaum's Hill appear, Their white plumes on the breezes dancing, A gallant troop, with s.h.i.+eld and spear, From Offaley with aid advancing.

Quick to Kildare his soldiers ride, And raise him up from Memnon's side; Unhurt he stands, and to his breast, The Lady Anna Darcy's pressed.

"Kinsmen and friends," exclaimed Kildare, "Behold my bride, the fair and fearless, Who broke my chain, and brought me here, In truth, in love, and beauty, peerless.

Here, at the bridge of Tenach.e.l.le, Amid the friends I love so well, I swear that until life depart, She'll rule my home, my soul, my heart!"

MICHAEL FLYNN.

BY WILLIAM THOMSON.

Said Michael Flynn, the lab'ring man, "Yis, sorr, although oi'm poor, Sooner than live on charity I'd beg from door to door."

A NIGHT WITH A STORK.

BY WILLIAM G. WILc.o.x.

Four individuals--namely, my wife, my infant son, my maid-of-all-work, and myself, occupy one of a row of very small houses in the suburbs of London. I am a thoroughly domesticated man, and notwithstanding that my occupation necessitates absence from my dwelling between the hours of 9 A.M. and 5 P.M., my heart is usually at home with my diminutive household. My wife and I love regularity and quiet above all things; and although, since the arrival of my son and heir, we have not enjoyed that perfect peace which was ours during the first years of our married life, yet his powerful little lungs, I am bound to say, have failed to make ours a noisy house.

Up to the time when the incident occurred which I am going to tell you about our regularity had remained undisturbed, and we got up, went to bed, dined, breakfasted, and took tea at the same time, day after day. Well, as I say, we had been going on in this clockwork fas.h.i.+on for a considerable time, when the other morning the postman brought a letter to our door, and on looking at the direction, I found that it came from an old, rich, and very eccentric uncle of mine, with whom--hem! for certain reasons, we wished to remain on the best of terms.

"What can Uncle Martin have to write about?" was our simultaneous exclamation. "The present for baby at last, I do believe, James,"

added my wife; "a cheque, perhaps, or----" I opened the letter and read:--

"MARTIN HOUSE, HERTS., "_October 17th_.

"DEAR NEPHEW,--You may perhaps have heard that I am forming an aviary here. A friend in Rotterdam has written to me to say that he has sent by the boat, which will arrive in London to-morrow afternoon, a very intelligent parrot and a fine stork. As the vessel arrives too late for them to be sent on the same night, I shall be obliged by your taking the birds home, and forwarding them to me the next morning. With my respects to your good lady,

"I remain,

"Your affectionate Uncle,

"RALPH MARTIN."

We looked at each other for a moment in silence, and then my wife said, "James, what is a stork?"

"A stork, my dear, is a--a--sort of ostrich, I think."

"An ostrich! why that's an enormous----"

"Yes, my dear, the creature that puts its head in the sand, and kicks when it's pursued, you know."

"James, the horrid thing shall _not_ come here! If it should kick baby we should never forgive ourselves."

"No, no, my dear, I don't think the _stork_ is at all ferocious. No, it can't be. Stork! stork! I always a.s.sociate storks with chimneys.

Yes, abroad, I think in Holland, or Germany, or somewhere, the stork sweeps the chimneys with its long legs from the top. But let's see what the Natural History says, my dear. That will tell us all about it. Stork--um--um--'hind toe short, middle toe long, and joined to the outer one by a large membrane, and by a smaller one to the inner toe.' Well, _that_ won't matter much for one night, will it, dear?

'His height often exceeds four feet.'"

"_Four_ feet!!!" interrupted my wife. "James, how high are you?"

"Well, my dear, really, comparisons are exceedingly disagreeable--um--um--'appet.i.te extremely voracious,' and his food--hulloa! 'frogs, mice, worms, snails, and eels!'"