Phillipsburg herald. [volume] (Phillipsburg, Kan.) 1882-1905, 1888-08-31


CRY, the madrigaP'
81 have little faith in your madri-
gals and MINISTRIES" grOWled one
stout wight. 1'They are all false,
these fair fingered squires, who love
better the stunning of harp
than the tWang of a bOWstrIng.
Chou art sOured, Gregory, and
hast lost thy taste for love songs
since Edric spoiled thy pretty face
for thee
''Fill thy tankard, Gregory, and go
then to sleep
Gregory. scowled but profted by
the counsel.
''NOw, harper, give us the last bal
lad In thy wallet .
EdWy's fingers had been straying
over the strings of the harp, waking
those low soft murmurs that music
ians love. Now, with q free hand, he
struck the ringing chords, andnO one
save Oswald heard aught but careless
melody in the young voice that filed
the hall.
Butd Margaret hath gone to the greenwood
alone
Alone to the greenwood tree;
Nay, sister, pray thee hinder me not,
My true love viii tarry for me-.
And first there came riding a visored knight
All fast by the greenwood tree;
''Burd Margaret burd Margaret thy Willie is
But viii thy true love be-
0 Willie. nv Willie. and hast thou forgot
The tryst thou hast pighted with mel
o gin it be sOOth that my Willie be false,
Full soon will thy Margaret deel
Nay, weep not, fair maid, but come thou with
me;
My castle lies over the sea.
Nay, though all fOrsaken and faithless. my
dear,
Yet true viii fond Margaret be.
Then down sprang the knight frolz The ga
liant gray steed,
All under the greenwood tree;
Look mp, sweet maid, for thy true love am I,
Thy Willie, still faithful to thee
The Ianguishing strains sank soft
~, to be caught up and repeated by
lusty voices, till the armOr on the
walls rang again. Deep were the
draughts of OsWald's ale, and EdWy
joined in draining the circling cup,
muttering a prayer to his patron
saint the while that a deep sleep might
mingle with the mead for the thirsty
rQgues. But few were yet ready to
follow the lead Of Gregory, sullenly
snoring on a bench by the door, and
soon the mingled voices demanded
another song.
''And let it be a song for men, not
lOvesick boys
EdWY was as willing as ever was
minstrel to pleasure his audience, and
with a ringing voice hegave them old
OsWald's fayOrite.
Keen are the arrows of Sko,
Deadly the song of his bow;
Loud laugheth he,
joyful to see
Stricken and fallen the foe.
Death grimly waits his behe5t,
Singing the strongest and best;
Never shall they
Greet the glad day;
Low in the dust lies their crest.
Lonely and mOurniul is Skc;
Yearly idle days go;
All in the land
Fear his strong hand,
Meier can he find stout foe.
AS Edwy finished the song, heIifted
his eyes and squarely encountered an
intent gaze, which he seemed to have
felt before he turned. He saw a mere
boy, whose fair, floating hair and
graYely sweet face made him seem as
apart from these dark visaged men
of blood as u saint stepped down
from the stained windows of some
cathedral.
Once before the bOyish face with its
halo Of golden hair had held Edwy's
eye, and with a lightning fash of
memory that earlier meeting was re
called. 1t was a lonely spot on the
mountain side, and the fearless bOV,
with falling strength, was holding at
bay an antlered stag. Had Edwy's
trusty spear swerved then or ling
cred, no morrow had ever smiled on
the brave hunter. Now in the deep
look, more potent than speech. that
held their eyes locked for a moment
ere they. sWerVed aside, Edwy read
| that he was known.
His fingers trembled as he struck
slow fragments Of music from the
OhRdient strings, and there was a
ringing in his ears that sounded like
/ the battle cry OF the BranksOmes.
Then the blood surged back to his
/ heart, and ne lifted his dauntless
Tynedale face to his foes. Trapped
and at their mercy he knew himself
but at least he could show them how
/ the Tynedales were wont to die. The
| liquid drops Of music shivered into q
sharp silence as his hand fOrsoOk the
strings to rest lightly on the short.
sword at his belt, while his naughty
/ glance swept the hall But there
was no answer to his silent challenge,
and now in the averted face OF the
triumph Ofan enemy, but the grieved
/ perplexity of a child.
Edwy understood. That the boy
remembered his benefactOr's face was
| proved past doubt in that first long