Colin.Was 't clamour when I sung,
Whom men have named Arcadia's sweetest tongue.
A horn! some troop of robbers winding goes
Along the wood with subtle tread and bended bows.
Fly!
Thernot. Fly!
Naschina. So these brave shepherds both are gone;
Courageous miracles!
Enter Almintor and Antonio, talking together.
Almintor.The sunlight shone
Upon his wings. Thro' yonder green abyss
I sent an arrow.
Antonio.And I saw you miss;
And far away the heron sails, I wis.
Almintor. Nay, nay, I miss'd him not; his days
Of flight are done.
Most fair of all who graze
Their sheep in Arcady, Naschina, hail!
Naschina, hail!
Antonio. [Mimicking him] Most fair of all who graze
Their sheep in Arcady, Naschina, hail!
Naschina, hail!
Almintor.I'd drive thy woolly sheep,
If so I might, along a dewy vale,
Where all night long the heavens weep and weep,
Dreaming in their soft odour-laden sleep;
Where all night long the lonely moon, the white
Sad Lady of the deep, pours down her light;
And 'mong the stunted ash-trees' drooping rings,
All flame-like gushing from the hollow stones,
By day and night a lonely fountain sings,
And there to its own heart for ever moans.
Naschina. I'd be alone.
Almintor.We two, by that pale fount,
Unmindful of its woes, would twine a wreath
As fair as any that on Ida's mount
Long ere an arrow whizzed or sword left sheath
The shepherd Paris for Oenone made,
Singing of arms and battles some old stave,
As lies dark water in a murmurous glade,
Dreaming the live-long summer in the shade,
Dreaming of flashing flight and of the plumèd wave.
Antonio. Naschina, wherefore are your eyes so bright
With tears?
Naschina. I weary of ye. There is none
Of all on whom Arcadian suns have shone
Sustains his soul in courage or in might.
Poor race of leafy Arcady, your love
To prove what can ye do? What things above
Sheep-guiding, or the bringing some strange bird,
Or some small beast most wonderfully furr'd,
Or sad sea-shells where little echoes sit?
Such quests as these, I trow, need little wit.
Antonio. And the great grey lynx's skin!
Naschina.In sooth, methinks
That I myself could shoot a great grey lynx.
Almintor.Oh stay, Naschina, stay!
Naschina. Here, where men know the gracious woodland joys,
Joy's brother, Fear, dwells ever in each breast—
Joy's brother, Fear, lurks in each leafy way.
I weary of your songs and hunter's toys.
To prove his love a knight with lance in rest
Will circle round the world upon a quest,
Until afar appear the gleaming dragon-scales:
From morn the twain until the evening pales
Will struggle. Or he'll seek enchanter old,
Who sits in lonely splendour, mail'd in gold,
And they will war, 'mid wondrous elfin-sights:
Such may I love. The shuddering forest lights
Of green Arcadia do not hide, I trow,
Such men, such hearts. But, uncouth hunter, thou
Know'st naught of this.
Antonio.And, uncouth hunter, now
Almintor. Ay, boy.
Antonio.Let's see if that same heron's dead.
(End of Scene I.)
Notes and News.
In his article on Berkeley, last month, Mr. Bernard omitted to mention one fact of sufficiently curious import. Besides the portraits in the Examination Hall, the Fellows' Common Room, and the Provost's House, the College possesses a memorial window to him in the Chapel. We observe that the scroll upon the window bears the singular motto, 'And when the multitude heard him, they were astonished at His doctrine.'
We believe Mr. Anstey and Miss Braddon have decided to 'swim with the tide,' and are going to follow the example
