The Scranton tribune. [volume] (Scranton, Pa.) 1891-1910, 1896-11-07
THE FOUR KNIGHTS.

The moon came up in the misty east,
while the sky was red In the west,
When out of the dusk, across the moor,
four horsemen rode abreast;
Rising before them remote and dim they
saw the towers of the town..
over them. out Of the peaceful sky, the
solemn stars looked down.
For many days, they had travelled far to-
gether and Travelled fast,
Together eaten. together drank, through
peril and danger passed;
But now. beyond where the river flowed.
they saw their paths divide,
And each to his journeys end alone
through the lonesome night must
ride.
One was as fair as a woman, and sat with
The long, bright locks of his yellow hair
blowing across his face;
The light laugh broke from his smiling
lips and snatches of merry song,
While he beside him complaining sighed
that the way was dull and long
One had the face of soldier, bronzed by
the wind and rain,
And a moody manner that he had learned
In battle and long campaign;
His dark eyes under his helmet shone
with feversh. restless light,
And his stern, fixed gaze as he onward
rode turned neither to left nor right
One seemed silently bearing burden of
secret care,
His head was bowed and his eyes down.
cast and he muttered a broken
prayer;
The glory Of sky was not for him, the
light of the earth was gone,
And he needed not how the hours slipped
by through the desOlate night or
dawn.
But one looked up with thoughtful
glance and his eager pulses thrilled
To the joy, and the hope, and the sweet
content with which his world was
He read the secrets the growing things to
common ears withhold;
The whispering leaves and the rustling
grass to him were stories told;
In the faintest voice from she wayside
hedge, and the song of the soaring
bird,
In the murmuring river and babbling
brook a magical music heard.
One rode into the silent East to meet the
golden day,
A faithful heart and a gentle hand were
waiting him far away;
The hand would serve and the heart he
Though the tenderest friends grow cold
No fear of the future his fond faith
marred, for love cannot grow old;
sky the carnage of battle veiled.
The hot blood leaped to his swarthy cheek
and his stout heart never quailed,
Though he in the gloom OF another night
should lie on the trampled sand.
Dead on his shield with broken sword
clutched in his icy hand.
And one rode into the barren North as a
fugitive fees from Fate
By q rocky path, up mountain side and
into castle gate:
No fagot blaZed on the blackened hearth,
and the air was damp and chill,
The halls that his vassals had crowded
once were empty and dark and still:
Through the oriel windows painted panes
he saw the dim light fall
Ger faded banners and armor old that
covered the moldring wall:
Lost were the treasures too lightly held,
the honors of knightly fame.
The pomp and the splendor that COM
pass kings and the power of the an
cient name.
But one heard far in the sunlit south the
murmur of surging seas.
The low, faint signing of perfumed winds
through blossoring orange trees;
So he rode away to the sumer land and
rode in its bourgeoning bowers,
And the songs he sang to the sad earth's
heart were as sweet as its fadeless
flowers
The Beautiful clad in shinint robes be-
side him stood with Trut I.
And under the shadows of waving palms
he found the Fountain of Youth.
Mary H.. krout.