Juniata sentinel and Republican. [volume] (Mifflintown, Juniata County, Pa.) 1873-1955, 1890-09-10


following from Longfellow arranged
for us by the same skilfuu hand. To
save space only the Preludes and In
terludes are given in full, the Tales be-
ing indicated by their titles only.
The PreLudes and Finale may be
read or recited.
Seven characters are required, be-
sides the Reader. The Theologian is
an elderly man, and the Landlord, q
middle-aged one; the latter Is to be at
tired as a countrymsn. The musician
is fair haired, tall and straight and must
be a good violinist. The Spanish Jew
is old and venerable looking, with long
white beard, and thoughtful air. The
Poet, Student and Sicilian are young;
the latter is dark, like an Italian:
PRELUDE.
Reader.-One Autumn night, in Sud
bury town,
Across the meadows bare and brown,
The windows of the wayside inn,
Cleaned red with freight through
the leaves
OF Woodbine, hanging from the
caves,
Their crimson curtains rent and
thin.
As ancient is this hostelry.
As any in the land may be,
Built in the old colonial day,
When men lived in a grander way,
With ampler hospitality.
Now from the parlor of the inn,
A pleasant murmur smote the ear,
Like water rushing through aweir,
Oft interrupted by the din
OF laughter and of loud applause,
And IN each intervening pause,
The music of violin.
Curtain rises to strains of violin,
and discovers the landlord and six
guests grouped in sun-parlor. Ole
Bull, the musician, stands near the hre
playing on violin.
fd6Leau- CCoat-of-arms and sword
over the fire-place.)
Around the fireside, at their ease,
There sat group of friends en-
tranced
With the delicious melodies;
Who from the far-off noisy town
Had to the wayside inn come down,
To rest beneath its old oak trees.
And while the sweet musician plays
Let me in outline sketch them all.
But first the Landlord will / trace;
Grave in his aspect and attire;
A man OF ancient pedigree,
A justice of the peace WAS he,
Known IN all Sudbury as "The
Squire
Proud was he of his name and race,
OF old Sir William and Sir Hugh,
And in the parlor, full in view,
His coat-of-srms well framed and
glazed
Upon the wall IN colors blazed.
And over this, no longer bright
Tho glimmering with latent light,
Was hung the sword his grandsire
bore,
Down there at Concord in the fight.
A youth was there, of quiet ways
A student of old books and days,
To whom all tongues and lands were
known
And yet lover of his own.
\ young SiciliRn, too, was there,
In sight of Etns born and bred,
His face was like summer night
All flooded with dusky light;
His hands were small. his teeth shone
white
As sea-shells, when he smiled or
spoke;
His sInews supple and strong as oak.
A Spanish Jew from AlIcant,
With aspect grand and grave was
there
Vendor of silks and fabrics rare,
And altar of rose from the Levant
There was a mystery in his looks,
His eyes seemed gazing far away,
As if in vision or in trance
He heard the solemn sackbut play,
And saw the Jewish maidens dance.
A Theologian from the school
OF Cambridge on the Charles was
there,
Skilful alike with tongue and pen,
~ oil rtara
The gospel of the golden rule.
A poet too was there, whose verse
Was tender musical and terse,
The inspiration, the delight,
The gleam, the glory. the swift
flight,
OF thoughts so sudden that they
seem
The revelations of dream;
All these were his.
And the musician, as he stood.
Illumined by that fire of wood;
Fair haired, blue-eyed, his aspect
blIthe,
And every feature of his face
Revealing his Norwegian race.
M,lsicidn-TL, g is, say friends. a won.
drous book
OF legends in the old Morse tongue,
OF the dead kings of Norrc way
Legends that once were told or sung
In many a smoky firesIde work,
OF Iceland in the ancient day.
BY wandering Saga-man or Seald;
Heimskringla, Is the volume called,
And he who looks may find therein
The story that / now begin.
plays prelude.)
He recites KING OLAF and EARL SIG.
VALID, KING OLAF's WAR HORNS, AMI
KING OLAF's DEATH-DRISK, with inter
ludes of wild strains of violin.
IHeologian-Thank God, thank God
The reign of violence is dead,
Or dying surely from the world;
While love triumphant reigns in
stead,
And in brighter sky o'erhead,
His blessed banners are unfurled,
And most of all thank God for this.
The war and waste of clashing creeds
Now end in words and not in deeds.
Noise of wind outside.
Poet.-Harkl An angel is flying over
head
Spanish Jet0.-God grant if what you
say be true,
1t may not be the Angel of Death.
This brings back to nv memory
A story IN the Talumd told.
THAT book Of gems, that book Of
<,old