And so loud these Saxon gleemen Sang to slaves the songs of freemen, That the storm was heard but faintly, Knocking at the castle-gates. Till at length the lays they chanted Reached the chamber terror-haunted, Where the monk, with accents holy, Whispered at the baron's ear. Tears upon his eyelids glistened, As he paused awhile and listened, And the dying baron slowly Turned his weary head to hear. "Wassail for the kingly stranger Born and cradled in a manger! King, like David, priest, like Aaron, Christ is born to set us free!" And the lightning showed the sainted And exclaimed the shuddering baron, In that hour of deep contrition, All the pomp of earth had vanished, Every vassal of his banner, Every serf born to his manor, All those wronged and wretched creatures, By his hand were freed again. And, as on the sacred missal He recorded their dismissal, And the monk replied, "Amen!" Many centuries have been numbered Since in death the baron slumbered By the convent's sculptured portal, Mingling with the common dust: But the good deed, through the ages Brighter grows and gleams immortal, Unconsumed by moth or rust. RAIN IN SUMMER. How beautiful is the rain! After the dust and heat, In the broad and fiery street, In the narrow lane, How beautiful is the rain! How it clatters along the roofs, Like the tramp of hoofs ! How it gushes and struggles out From the throat of the overflowing spout! Across the window pane It pours and pours; And swift and wide, With a muddy tide, Like a river down the gutter roars The rain, the welcome rain! The sick man from his chamber looks At the twisted brooks; He can feel the cool Breath of each little pool; His fevered brain Grows calm again, And he breathes a blessing on the rain. From the neighbouring school Come the boys, |