A hundred hands were busy then, -
The banquet forth was spread,
And rung the heavy oaken floor
With many a martial tread,
While from the rich, dark tracery
Along the vaulted wall,

Lights gleamed on harness, plume, and spear,
O'er the proud old Gothic hall.

Fast hurrying through the outer gate,
The mailed retainers poured,
On through the portal's frowning arch,
And thronged around the board.
While at its head, within his dark,
Carved oaken chair of state,
Armed cap-a-pie, stern Rudiger,
With girded falchion, sate.

"Fill every beaker up, my men,
Pour forth the cheering wine;

There's life and strength in every drop,-
Thanksgiving to the vine!

Are

ye all there, my vassals true?

Mine eyes are waxing dim;·

Fill round, my tried and fearless ones,
Each goblet to the brim.

"Ye're there, but yet I see ye not. Draw forth each trusty sword,

And let me hear your faithful steel
Clash once around my board:

I hear it faintly: - Louder yet!-
What clogs my heavy breath?
Up, all, and shout for Rudiger,
'Defiance unto Death!'"

Bowl rang to bowl, steel clanged to steel, And rose a deafening cry

That made the torches flare around,
And shook the flags on high:
"Ho! cravens, do ye fear him?
Slaves, traitors! have ye flown?
Ho! cowards, have ye left me
To meet him here alone?

"But I defy him: - let him come!"
Down rang the massy cup,

While from its sheath the ready blade
Came flashing half-way up;

And, with the black and heavy plumes
Scarce trembling on his head,

There, in his dark, carved, oaken chair, Old Rudiger sat, dead.

OLD GRIMES

BY ALBERT G. GREENE

Old Grimes is dead, that good old man,

We ne'er shall see him more;

He used to wear a long black coat,

All buttoned down before.

His heart was open as the day,
His feelings all were true;

His hair was some inclined to gray,—
He wore it in a queue.

Whene'er he heard the voice of pain,
His breast with pity burned;
The large round head upon his cane
From ivory was turned.

Kind words he ever had for all;
He knew no base design;

His eyes were dark and rather small,
His nose was aquiline.

He lived at peace with all mankind,
In friendship he was true;
His coat had pocket-holes behind,
His pantaloons were blue.

Unharmed, the sin which earth pollutes

He passed securely o'er, And never wore a pair of boots

For thirty years or more.

But good Old Grimes is now at rest,
Nor fears misfortune's frown;
He wore a double-breasted vest,
The stripes ran up and down.

He modest merit sought to find,
And pay it its desert;

He had no malice in his mind,
No ruffles on his shirt.

His neighbors he did not abuse, -
Was sociable and gay;

He wore large buckles on his shoes,
And changed them every day.

His knowledge, hid from public gaze He did not bring to view,

Nor make a noise, town-meeting days, As many people do.

His worldly goods he never threw
In trust to fortune's chances,
But lived (as all his brothers do)
In easy circumstances.

Thus undisturbed by anxious cares
His peaceful moments ran;

And everybody said he was

A fine old gentleman.

THE KINGS

BY LOUISE IMOGEN GUINEY

A man said unto his Angel:
"My spirits are fallen low,
And I cannot carry this battle:
O brother! what shall I do?

"The terrible Kings are on me With spears that are deadly bright, Against me so from the cradle

Do fate and my fathers fight."

Then said to the man his Angel:
"Thou wavering, witless soul,
Back to the ranks! What matter
To win or to lose the whole,

"As judged by the little judges Who hearken not well, nor see? Not thus, by the outer issue,

The Wise shall interpret thee.

"Thy will is the very, the only,
And solemn event of things:
The weakest of hearts, defying,
Is stronger than all these Kings.

"Though out of the past they gather, Mind's Doubt, and Bodily Pain,

And pallid Thirst of the Spirit
That is kin to the other twain;

"And Grief, in a cloud of banners, And ringletted Vain Desires, And Vice, with spoils upon him

Of thee and thy beaten sires,

"While Kings of eternal evil Yet darken the hills about,