He Fell Among Thieves

The Bridegroom stood in the open door,
And he waved hands still and slow,

And the third time that he waved his hands
The air was thick with snow.

And of every flake of falling snow,

Before it touched the ground,

There came a dove, and a thousand doves

Made sweet sound.

'Twas the body of Judas Iscariot

Floated away full fleet,

And the wings of the doves that bare it off

Were like its winding-sheet.

'Twas the Bridegroom stood at the open door,

And beckoned, smiling sweet;

'Twas the soul of Judas Iscariot
Stole in, and fell at his feet.

"The Holy Supper is spread within,
And the many candles shine,
And I have waited long for thee
Before I poured the wine!"

The supper wine is poured at last,
The lights burn bright and fair,
Iscariot washes the Bridegroom's feet,

And dries them with his hair.

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Robert Buchanan [1841-1901]

HE FELL AMONG THIEVES

"YE have robbed," said he, "ye have slaughtered and made an end,

Take your ill-got plunder, and bury the dead:

What will ye more of your guest and sometime friend?" "Blood for our blood,” they said.

He laughed: "If one may settle the score for five,
I am ready; but let the reckoning stand till day:
I have loved the sunlight as dearly as any alive."
"You shall die at dawn," said they.

He flung his empty revolver down the slope,

He climbed alone to the Eastward edge of the trees;
All night long in a dream untroubled of hope
He brooded, clasping his knees.

He did not hear the monotonous roar that fills
The ravine where the Yassin river sullenly flows;
He did not see the starlight on the Laspur hills,
Or the far Afghan snows.

He saw the April noon on his books aglow,
The wistaria trailing in at the window wide;

He heard his father's voice from the terrace below
Calling him down to ride.

He saw the gray little church across the park,

The mounds that hid the loved and honored dead;

The Norman arch, the chancel softly dark,

The brasses black and red.

He saw the School Close, sunny and green,

The runner beside him, the stand by the parapet wall, The distant tape, and the crowd roaring between,

His own name over all.

He saw the dark wainscot and timbered roof,

The long tables, and the faces merry and keen; The College Eight and their trainer dining aloof, The Dons on the daïs serene.

He watched the liner's stem plowing the foam,

He felt her trembling speed and the thrash of her screw; He heard the passengers' voices talking of home,

He saw the flag she flew.

The Last Hunt

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And now it was dawn. He rose strong on his feet,
And strode to his ruined camp below the wood;
He drank the breath of the morning cool and sweet;
His murderers round him stood.

Light on the Laspur hills was broadening fast,

The blood-red snow-peaks chilled to a dazzling white; He turned, and saw the golden circle at last,

Cut by the Eastern height.

"O glorious Life, Who dwellest in earth and sun, I have lived, I praise and adore Thee."

Over the pass the voices one by one

A sword swept.

Faded, and the hill slept.

Henry Newbolt [1862

THE LAST HUNT

OH, it's twenty gallant gentlemen
Rode out to hunt the deer,
With mirth upon the silver horn

And gleam upon the spear;

They galloped through the meadow-grass,
They sought the forest's gloom,
And loudest rang Sir Morven's laugh,

And lightest tossed his plume.

There's no delight by day or night
Like hunting in the morn;
So busk ye, gallant gentlemen,
And sound the silver horn!

They rode into the dark greenwood
By ferny dell and glade,-
And now and then upon their cloaks

The yellow sunshine played;
They heard the timid forest-birds

Break off amid their glee,

They saw the startled leveret,
But not a stag did see.

Wind, wind the horn, on summer morn!
Though ne'er a buck appear,

There's health for horse and gentleman
A-hunting of the deer!

They panted up Ben Lomond's side
Where thick the leafage grew,
And when they bent the branches back
The sunbeams darted through;
Sir Morven in his saddle turned,
And to his comrades spake,
"Now quiet! we shall find a stag
Beside the Brownies' Lake."

Then sound not on the bugle-horn,
Bend bush and do not break,

Lest

ye should start the timid hart A-drinking at the lake.

Now they have reached the Brownies' Lake,—

A blue eye in the wood,

And on its brink a moment's space

All motionless they stood:
When, suddenly, the silence broke

With fifty bowstrings' twang,
And hurtling through the drowsy air

Full fifty arrows sang.

Ah, better for those gentlemen,

Than horn and slender spear,
Were morion and buckler true,
A-hunting of the deer.

Not one of that brave company
Shall hunt the deer again;
Some fell beside the Brownies' Pool,
Some dropped in dell or glen;
An arrow pierced Sir Morven's breast,
His horse plunged in the lake,
And swimming to the farther bank
He left a bloody wake.

André's Ride

Ah, what avails the silver horn,
And what the slender spear?
There's other quarry in the wood
Beside the fallow deer!

O'er ridge and hollow sped the horse
Besprent with blood and foam,
Nor slackened pace until at eve
He brought his master home.
How tenderly the Lady Ruth
The cruel dart withdrew!
"False Tirrell shot the bolt," she said,
"That my Sir Morven slew!"

Deep in the forest lurks the foe,
While gayly shines the morn:
Hang up the broken spear, and blow
A dirge upon the horn.

William Roscoe Thayer [1859

ANDRE'S RIDE

WHEN André rode to Pont-du-lac,
With all his raiders at his back,

Mon Dieu! the tumult in the town!
Scarce clanged the great portcullis down
Ere in the sunshine gleamed his spears,
And up marched all his musketeers,
And far and fast in haste's array
Sped men to fight and priests to pray:
In every street a barricade

Of aught that lay to hand was made;
From every house a man was told,
Nor quittance given to young or old:
Should youth be spared or age be slack
When André rode to Pont-du-lac?

When André rode to Pont-du-lac,
With all his ravening reiver-pack,
The mid lake was a frozen road
Unbending to the cannon's load;

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