Phillipsburg herald. [volume] (Phillipsburg, Kan.) 1882-1905, 1888-08-31
Long may the maiden wait
Sitting her means;
In the mountain glen
Written his bones

The boy shuddered and met EdWY's
look pleadingly. One word from
those beardless lips and the minstrel
had sung his last strain, but theword
was not spoken. EdWy read the con-
ficting emotions that held him pas
sive, and with that tense of power
that Is the wine Of strong souls, he
knew his own domination over the
heart he had preserved.
Armed men ringed him IN, sleeping,
drinking or shouting fragments OF
merry song, but he who reused them
from their careless mood would find
that he had Weakened the sleeping
cobra. Those sheathed daggers were
used to flashing out at a word. In
their midst sat the boy, with whom
he dare not sPeak-his judge-loOk-
ing into eyes the BranksOme men had
! good reason to fear. and meeting the
/ glance Of his savior. And here stood
he, EdWY, the heir of Tynedale, with
no hand raised against him, yet face
to face with death. They were no
strangers. Oft had they measured
strength with strength before, where
steel flashed keen between them, or
/ the precipice waited hungrily for a
Needless step, but never yet had they
/ met in the breath of song.
In one fierce moment he grasped
the full strength of life. The little
| band waiting his signal without, the
walls that even now echoed to the
/ laughter Of the foes of his house, all
rested on his power to hold and con-
/ troll the viii of the child who now
raised questioning eyes to his, as
asking counsel. The battle courage
| flushed his dark cheek as he once
more touched his harp. He must
sing, as he had fought, for his life
! and the honor Of Tynedale.
! F'aithless are lovers, but lovers are many;
Aaidens are cruel, but hearts heal amain;
Thankless are beggars who take the drink
Few Fold remembrance while one moon
may wane.
Chietest in infamy whom may we call?
/ Migrate Of ingrates and king Of them all?
Who but the traitor to friend and to honor?
Who but the bastard that, drunken with
strife,
Strikes at the bosom that succored and
Offers him death who hath rendered him
Dead in dishonor of living in shame
Bards shall remember the dastardly name.
Edwy ceased. Had he lost or Won
in the game where the stake was life?
The boys grave eyes glOwed with a
clear light, and as the impetuOus
strain sank to silence, he drew the
harp from EdWy's arm.
''Methinks your songs ring not
true, fair harper There be blacker
traitors than he who Stays even a
friend. -
And with mournful yet steadfast
look he gave in song his answer to
EdWy's challenge:
] Youthful knight, charge the well.
Guard the banner that thou Dearest;
Though it leads to BLACKLIST hell,
Though DER naked swords thou farest;
Though thy life, thy friend, thy SOUL
Doomed be to endless dole.
Edwy had lost. As the verse ended
| with a tremble, the two stood silent
| ly side by side watching the quivering
/ strings. The last faint vibration
died away, and with eyes that seemed
not to see, the boy stepped forward
/ and raised his hand imperiOusly for
/ silence. But EdWY was before him.
Nay, boy, there shall be no need.
/ I saved thee once from death; l Will
! save thee now from ingratitude.
Snatching up the silken banner Of
his house he wound it as a shield about
his left arm, and with drawn sword
he planted his back against a friendly
wall.
eye men of Branksome, heard ye
2 ever melody like this befOre?"
And lifting his clear voice, the bat
tie song of the Tynedales rung out
/ over heads Of the cOnquerOrs with de
faint bOldness.
a Tynedalel a Tynedale! and merry st. An
drew to add
IL f1Dp rT- nFICrn m q
Tynedale wileds the blade!
While heart can beat or eye can see, a Tyne
dale fronts the fray!
4 Tynedalel Tynedale! St Andrew wins the
day!
There was a3hush like death, then
the wide hall echoed and re-echOed
with a hOarse cry Of death to the
TynedaIe!' and fifty swords flashed
their menace out; fifty fOemen, wild
with hate, Ieaped to face him. Then
they paused, awed by the dauntless-
ness of the proud youth, whose eye
lid never Quivered. He would die,
but not alone. A moment and they
closed upon him, while flashing steel
on steel struck fire; A shrek, a grOan,
but not from Edwy' shps; q narrowing
circle of sword points, yet with guard
and thrust Edwy held his own. He
felt the blood flow from his breast,
the wall seemed to weaken and yield,
and gasping out "A Tynedale!' he
sank to the floor.
Was it the echo Of his voice, or the
wild heart blood beating in his ears2
His last words were caught up and
repeated: ga Tynedale to the res
enc! A Tynedale!''
Then for Edwy came silence.
But not for the hall. Though the
portal sprang Oswald, leading the