he became king. [Footnote: Alfred was a grandson of Egbert, the first
king of England. Ethelwulf, son of Egbert, and his three older sons had
been kings of England, when in 871 Alfred ascended the throne.] Twice
in his childhood he had been taken to Rome, where the Saxon nobles were
in the habit of going on journeys which they supposed to be religious;
and once he had stayed for some time in Paris. Learning, however, was
so little cared for then, that at twelve years old he had not been
taught to read; although, of the four sons of King Ethelwulf, he, the
youngest, was the favorite. But he had--as most men who grow up to be
great and good are generally found to have had--an excellent mother;
and, one day, this lady, whose name was Osburgha, happened, as she was
sitting among her sons, to read a book of Saxon poetry. The art of
printing was not known until long and long after that period, and the
book, which was written, was what is called "illuminated," with
beautiful bright letters, richly painted. The brothers admiring it very
much, their mother said, "I will give it to that one of you four
princes who first learns to read." Alfred sought out a tutor that very
day, applied himself to learn with great diligence, and soon won the
book. He was proud of it all his life.
This great king, in the first year of his reign, fought nine battles
with the Danes. He made some treaties with them too, by which the false
Danes swore that they would quit the country. They pretended to
consider that they had taken a very solemn oath in swearing this upon
the holy bracelets that they wore, and which were always buried with
them when they died; but they cared little for it, for they thought
nothing of breaking oaths, and treaties too, as soon as it suited their
purpose, and coming back again to fight, plunder, and burn, as usual.
One fatal winter, in the fourth year of King Alfred's reign, they
spread themselves in great numbers over the whole of England; and so
dispersed and routed the king's soldiers that the king was left alone,
and was obliged to disguise himself as a common peasant, and to take
refuge in the cottage of one of his cowherds who did not know his face.
Here, King Alfred, while the Danes sought him far and wide, was left
alone one day, by the cowherd's wife, to watch some cakes which she put
to bake upon the hearth. But, being at work upon his bows and arrows,
with which he hoped to punish the false Danes when a brighter time
should come, and thinking deeply of his poor unhappy subjects whom the
Danes chased through the land, his noble mind forgot the cakes, and
they were burnt. "What!" said the cowherd's wife, who scolded him well
when she came back, and little thought she was scolding the king, "you
will be ready enough to eat them by and by, and yet you cannot watch
them, idle dog?"
At length, the Devonshire men made head against a new host of Danes who
landed on their coast; killed their chief, and captured their flag, on
which was represented the likeness of a Raven--a very fit bird for a
thievish army like that, I think. The loss of their standard troubled
the Danes greatly, for they believed it to be enchanted--woven by the
three daughters of one father in a single afternoon--and they had a
story among themselves that when they were victorious in battle, the
Raven stretched his wings and seemed to fly; and that when they were
defeated, he would droop. He had good reason to droop now, if he could
have done anything half so sensible; for King Alfred joined the
Devonshire men, made a camp with them on a piece of firm ground in the
midst of a bog in Somersetshire, and prepared for a great attempt for
vengeance on the Danes, and the deliverance of his oppressed people.
But first, as it was important to know how numerous those pestilent
Danes were, and how they were fortified, King Alfred, being a good
musician, disguised himself as a gleeman or minstrel, and went, with
his harp, to the Danish camp. He played and sang in the very tent of
Guthrum, the Danish leader, and entertained the Danes as they caroused.
While he seemed to think of nothing but his music, he was watchful of
their tents, their arms, their discipline, everything that he desired
to know. And right soon did this great king entertain them to a
different tune; for, summoning all his true followers to meet him at an
appointed place, where they received him with joyful shouts and tears,
as the monarch whom many of them had given up for lost or dead, he put
himself at their head, marched on the Danish camp, defeated the Danes
with great slaughter, and besieged them for fourteen days to prevent
their escape. But, being as merciful as he was good and brave, he then,
instead of killing them, proposed peace, on condition that they should
altogether depart from the western part of England and settle in the
east, and that Guthrum should become a Christian in remembrance of the
Divine religion which now taught his conqueror, the noble Alfred, to
forgive the enemy who had so often injured him. This Guthrum did. At
his baptism, King Alfred was his godfather. And Guthrum was an
honorable chief who well deserved that clemency; for, ever afterwards,
he was loyal and faithful to the king. The Danes under him were
faithful too. They plundered and burned no more, but worked like honest
men. They ploughed, and sowed, and reaped, and led good honest English
lives. And I hope the children of those Danes played, many a time, with
Saxon children in the sunny fields; and that Danish young men fell in
love with Saxon girls, and married them; and that English travelers,
benighted at the doors of Danish cottages, often went in for shelter
until morning; and that Danes and Saxons sat by the red fire, friends,
talking of King Alfred the Great.
All the Danes were not like these under Guthrum; for after some years,
more of them came over, in the old plundering and burning way-among
them a fierce pirate of the name of Hastings, who had the boldness to
sail up the Thames to Gravesend with eighty ships. For three years
there was a war with these Danes; and there was a famine in the
country, too, and a plague, both upon human creatures and beasts. But
King Alfred, whose mighty heart never failed him, built large ships
nevertheless, with which to pursue the pirates on the sea; and he
encouraged his soldiers, by his brave example, to fight valiantly
against them on the shore. At last, he drove them all away, and then
there was repose in England.
As great and good in peace as he was great and good in war, King Alfred
never rested from his labors to improve his people. He loved to talk
with clever men and with travelers from foreign countries, and to write
down what they told him for his people to read. He had studied Latin
after learning to read English, and now another of his labors was to
translate Latin books into the English-Saxon tongue, that his people
might be interested and improved by their contents.[Footnote: He is
said to have translated large portions of the Bible into Anglo Saxon.]
He made just laws, that they might live more happily and freely; he
turned away all partial judges that no wrong might be done them; he was
so careful of their property, and punished robbers so severely, that it
was a common thing to say that under the great King Alfred garlands of
golden chains and jewels might have hung across the streets, and no man
would have touched one. He founded schools; he patiently heard causes
himself in his court of justice, the great desires of his heart were to
do right to all his subjects, and to leave England better, wiser,
happier in all ways, than he found it.
[Illustration: ALFRED ALLOWS THE CAKES TO BURN]
His industry in these efforts was quite astonishing. Every day he
divided into certain portions, and in each portion devoted himself to a
certain pursuit. That he might divide his time exactly, he had wax
torches or candles made, which were all of the same size, were notched
across at regular distances, and were always kept burning. Thus, as the
candles burnt down, he divided the day into notches almost as
accurately as we now divide it into hours upon the clock. But when the
candles were first invented, it was found that the wind and draughts of
air, blowing into the palace through the doors and windows and through
the chinks in the wall, caused them to gutter and burn unequally. To
prevent this, the king had them put into cases formed of wood and white
horn. And these were the first lanthorns [Footnote: This is the early
form of our word _lantern_.] ever made in England. All this time he was
afflicted with a terrible unknown disease, which caused him violent and
frequent pain that nothing could relieve. He bore it, as he had borne
all the troubles of his life, like a brave, good man, until he was
fifty-three years old; and then, having reigned thirty years, he died.
He died in the year nine hundred and one; but long ago as that is, his
fame, and the love and gratitude with which his subjects regarded him,
are freshly remembered to the present hour.
THE BURIAL OF MOSES
_By_ CECIL FRANCES ALEXANDER
NOTE.-The biblical account of the death of Moses, upon which _The Burial
of Moses_ is based, is given in the thirty-fourth chapter of
_Deuteronomy_, and reads as follows:
And Moses went up from the plains of Moab unto the mountain of Nebo,
to the top of Pisgah, that is over against Jericho.
And the Lord shewed him all the land of Gilead, unto Dan.
And all Napthtali, and the land of Ephraim, and Manasseh, and all the
land of Judah, unto the utmost sea.
And the south, and the plain of the valley of Jericho, the city of palm
trees, unto Zoar.
And the Lord said unto him, This is the land which I sware unto
Abraham, unto Isaac, and unto Jacob, saying, I will give it unto thy
seed: I have caused thee to see it with thine eyes, but thou shalt
not go over thither.
So Moses the servant of the Lord died there in the land of Moab,
according to the word of the Lord.
And he buried him in a valley in the land of Moab, over against Beth-
peor: but no man knoweth of his sepulchre unto this day.
By Nebo's lonely mountain,
On this side Jordan's wave,
In a vale in the land of Moab
There lies a lonely grave.
And no man knows that sepulchre,
And no man saw it e'er,
For the angels of God upturned the sod,
And laid the dead man there.
That was the grandest funeral
That ever passed on earth;
But no man heard the trampling,
Or saw the train go forth--
Noiselessly as the daylight
Comes back when night is done,
And the crimson streak on ocean's cheek
Grows into the great sun.
Noiselessly as the springtime
Her crown of verdure weaves,
And all the trees on all the hills
Open their thousand leaves;
So without sound of music,
Or voice of them that wept,
Silently down from the mountain's crown
The great procession swept.
Perchance the bald old eagle,
On gray Beth-peor's height,
Out of his lonely eyrie
Looked on the wondrous sight;
Perchance the lion stalking,
Still shuns that hallowed spot,
For beast and bird have seen and heard
That which man knoweth not.
But when the warrior dieth,
His comrades in the war,
With arms reversed and muffled drums,
Follow his funeral car;
They show the banners taken,
They tell his battles won,
And after him lead his masterless steed,
While peals the minute gun.
Amid the noblest of the land
We lay the sage to rest,
And give the bard an honored place
With costly marble drest,
In the great minster transept,
Where lights like glories fall,
And the organ rings, and the sweet choir sings,
Along the emblazoned wall.
This was the truest warrior
That ever buckled sword;
This the most gifted poet
That ever breathed a word.
And never earth's philosopher
Traced with his golden pen
On the deathless page truths half so sage
As he wrote down for men.
And had he not high honor?--
The hillside for a pall,
To lie in state, while angels wait,
With stars for tapers tall;
And the dark rock-pines, like tossing plumes,
Over his bier to wave,
And God's own hand in that lonely land
To lay him in the grave,--
In that strange grave without a name,
Whence his uncoffined clay
Shall break again, O wondrous thought!
Before the judgment day,
And stand with glory wrapt around
On the hills he never trod;
And speak of the strife, that won our life,
With the incarnate son of God.
O lonely grave in Moab's land!
O dark Beth-peor's hill!
Speak to these curious hearts of ours,
And teach them to be still.
God hath his mysteries of grace,
Ways that we cannot tell;
He hides them deep, like the hidden sleep
Of him He loved so well.
BERNARDO DEL CARPIO
_By_ FELICIA HEMANS
NOTE.--Bernardo del Carpio, a Spanish warrior and grandee, having made
many ineffectual attempts to procure the release of his father, the
Count Saldana, declared war against King Alphonso of Asturias. At the
close of the struggle, the king agreed to terms by which he rendered up
his prisoner to Bernardo, in exchange for the castle of Carpio and the
captives confined therein. When the warrior pressed forward to greet
his father, whom he had not seen for many years, he found a corpse on
horseback.
The warrior bowed his crested head, and tamed his heart of fire,
And sued the haughty king to free his long imprisoned sire:
"I bring thee here my fortress keys, I bring my captive train,
I pledge thee faith, my liege, my lord! O, break my father's chain!"
"Rise! Rise! even now thy father comes, a ransomed man this day!
Mount thy good horse: and thou and I will meet him on his way."
Then lightly rose that loyal son, and bounded on his steed,
And urged, as if with lance in rest, the charger's foamy speed.
And, lo, from far, as on they pressed, there came a glittering band,
With one that midst them stately rode, as a leader in the land:
"Now haste, Bernardo, haste! for there, in very truth, is he,
The father whom thy faithful heart hath yearned so long to see."
His dark eye flashed, his proud breast heaved, his cheek's hue
came and went;
He reached that gray-haired chieftain's side, and there,
dismounting, bent;
A lowly knee to earth he bent, his father's hand he took,--
What was there in its touch that all his fiery spirit shook?
That hand was cold,--a frozen thing,--it dropped from his like lead;
He looked up to the face above,--the face was of the dead!
A plume waved o'er the noble brow,--the brow was fixed and white;
He met, at last, his father's eyes,--but in them was no sight!
Up from the ground he sprang and gazed; but who could paint that
gaze?
They hushed their very hearts that saw its horror and amaze:
They might have chained him, as before that stony form he stood;
For the power was stricken from his arm, and from his lip the blood.
"Father!" at length, he murmured low, and wept like childhood then:
Talk not of grief till thou hast seen the tears of warlike men!
He thought on all his glorious hopes, and all his young renown;
He flung his falchion from his side, and in the dust sat down.
Then covering with his steel-gloved hands his darkly mournful brow,--
"No more, there is no more," he said, "to lift the sword for now;
My king is false,--my hope betrayed! My father,--O the worth,
The glory, and the loveliness are passed away from earth!
"I thought to stand where banners waved, my sire, beside thee, yet;
I would that there our kindred blood on Spain's free soil had met!
Thou wouldst have known my spirit, then; for thee my fields were won;
And thou hast perished in thy chains, as though thou hadst no son!"
Then, starting from the ground once more, he seized the monarch's
rein,
Amidst the pale and wildered looks of all the courtier train;
And with a fierce, o'ermastering grasp, the rearing war-horse led,
And sternly set them face to face,--the king before the dead:
"Came I not forth, upon thy pledge, my father's hand to kiss?
Be still, and gaze thou on, false king! and tell me what is this?
The voice, the glance, the heart I sought,--give answer, where
are they?
If thou wouldst clear thy perjured soul, send life through this
cold clay;
"Into these glassy eyes put light;--be still! keep down thine ire!
Bid these white lips a blessing speak,--this earth is not my sire:
Give me back him for whom I strove,--for whom my blood was shed.
Thou canst not?--and a king!--his dust be mountains on thy head!"
He loosed the steed,--his slack hand fell; upon the silent face
He cast one long, deep, troubled look, then turned from that sad
place.
His hope was crushed, his after fate untold in martial strain:
His banner led the spears no more amidst the hills of Spain.
DAVID
INTRODUCTION
You will never meet a more interesting character in history than David,
the great king of the Israelites, who, it is usually claimed, reigned
from about 1055 B.C. to 1015 B.C. Under David the Jews reached the
height of their power, and he is regarded as their greatest conqueror.
A full biography would be an account of a succession of battles with
his enemies the Philistines in which he was always victorious unless,
as a punishment for some of the sins his fiery nature led him into, he
was temporarily in defeat. Out of the many instances which the Bible
gives, we have selected as the most vivid and interesting the accounts
of his victory over Goliath, his relations to Saul and Jonathan and the
rebellion of his own son Absalom. The story is told as it appears in
Hebrew scriptures and is taken from the first and second books of
Samuel, but in order to make the story continuous the arrangement of
the verses has been changed somewhat. For greater clearness, the scheme
of paragraphing has been changed, quotation marks have been used, and
other departures made from the old form of printing in bibles.
The interesting story is told with all the vivid directness of the
Jewish scriptures, and every one must admire the poetic beauty so
characteristic of oriental writings. David's compact with Jonathan, his
sad lament over the death of his traitorous son, and the grand anthem
which he sings in gratitude for his victories, show that the great king
was more than a warrior and ruler.
In truth, David was as much a poet and musician as he was a warrior and
king, for not only did he, by his skill on the harp, quiet the raging
fury of Saul's anger, but he wrote, also, the grandest psalms in
existence. The _Twenty-third Psalm_ and the _One Hundred Third Psalm_
which, among others, are printed elsewhere in this work, are fine
examples of his skill and art.
DAVID AND GOLIATH
Now the Philistines gathered together their armies to battle against
Israel. And Saul and the men or Israel were gathered together and set
the battle in array against the Philistines.
And the Philistines stood on a mountain on the one side, and Israel
stood on a mountain on the other side: and there was a valley between
them.
And there went out a champion out of the camp of the Philistines, named
Goliath, of Gath, whose height was six cubits and a span. And the staff
of his spear was like a weaver's beam; and his spear's head weighed six
hundred shekels of iron: and one bearing a shield went before him.
And he stood and cried unto the armies of Israel, and said unto them,
"Why are ye come out to set your battle in array? Am I not a Philistine
and ye servants to Saul? Choose you a man for you and let him come down
to me. If he be able to fight with me, and to kill me, then will we be
your servants: but if I prevail against him, and kill him, then shall
ye be our servants, and serve us. I defy the armies of Israel this day;
give me a man, that we may fight together."
When Saul and all Israel heard these words of the Philistine, they were
dismayed, and greatly afraid.
Now there was a man whose name was Jesse, and he had eight sons, and
the three eldest followed Saul to the battle. And David, his youngest
son, fed his father's sheep at Bethlehem.
And the Philistine drew near, morning and evening, and presented
himself forty days.
And Jesse said unto David, his son, "Take now to thy brethren an ephah
of this parched corn, and these ten loaves, and run to the camp to thy
brethren; and carry these ten cheeses unto the captain and their
thousand, and look how thy brethren fare, and take their pledge."
And David rose up early in the morning, and left his sheep with a
keeper, and took, and went, as Jesse had commanded him; and he came to
the trench, as the host was going forth to the fight, and shouted for
the battle, for Israel and the Philistines had put the battle in array,
army against army.
And David left his carriage in the hand of the keeper of the carriage,
and ran into the army, and came and saluted his brethren.
And as he talked with them, behold, there came up the champion, the
Philistine of Gath, Goliath by name, out of the armies of the
Philistines, and spake according to the same words: and David heard
them.
And all the men of Israel, when they saw the man, fled from him, and
were sore afraid. And then the men of Israel said, "Have ye seen this
man that is come up?"
Aid David spake to the men that stood by him saying, "What shall be
done to the man that killeth this Philistine and taketh away the
reproach from Israel? Who is this Philistine that he should defy the
armies of the living God?"
And the people answered him after this manner, saying, "The man who
killeth him, the king will enrich him with great riches, and will give
him his daughter, and make his father's house free in Israel."
And David's eldest brother heard when he spake unto the men, and his
anger was kindled against David and he said, "Why comest thou down
hither, and with whom hast thou left those few sheep in the wilderness?
I know thy pride and the naughtiness of thine heart, for thou art come
down that thou mightest see the battle."
And David said, "What have I now done? Is there not a cause?"
And he turned from him toward another, and spake after the same manner:
and the people answered again after the former manner.
And when the words were heard that David spake, some one rehearsed them
before Saul, and he sent for David.
And David said to Saul, "Let no man's heart fail because of him; thy
servant will go and fight with this Philistine."
And Saul said to David, "Thou art not able to go against this
Philistine to fight with him: for thou art but a youth, and he a man of
war from his youth."
And David said unto Saul, "Thy servant kept his father's sheep, and
there came a lion, and a bear, and took a lamb out of the flock. And I
went out after him, and smote him, and delivered it out of his mouth:
and when he arose against me, I caught him by his beard, and smote him,
and slew him. Thy servant slew both the lion and the bear: and this
Philistine shall be as one of them, seeing he hath defied the armies of
the living God.
"The Lord that delivered me out of the paw of the lion, and out of the
paw of the bear, he will deliver me out of the hand of this
Philistine."
And Saul said unto David, "Go, and the Lord be with thee."
And Saul armed David with his armour, and he put an helmet of brass
upon his head; also he armed him with a coat of mail. And David girded
his sword upon his armour, and he essayed to go. But David said unto
Saul, "I cannot go with these; for I have not proved them."
And David put them off him; and he took his staff in his hand, and
chose him five smooth stones out of the brook, and put them in a
shepherd's bag which he had, even in a scrip; and his sling was in his
hand: and he drew near to the Philistine.
And the Philistine came on and drew near unto David; and the man that
bare the shield went before him. And when the Philistine looked about,
and saw David, he disdained him: for he was but a youth, and ruddy, and
of a fair countenance.
[Illustration: DAVID MEETS GOLIATH]
And the Philistine said unto David, "Am I a dog, that thou comest to me
with staves?" And he cursed David by his gods, and said, "Come to me
and I will give thy flesh unto the fowls of the air, and to the beasts
of the field."
Then said David to the Philistine, "Thou comest to me with a sword, and
with a spear, and with a shield: but I come to thee in the name of the
Lord of hosts, the God of the armies of Israel, whom thou hast defied.
This day will the Lord deliver thee into mine hand; and I will smite
thee, and take thine head from thee; and I will give the carcases of
the host of the Philistines this day unto the fowls of the air, and to
the wild beasts of the earth; that all the earth may know that there is
a God in Israel. And all this assembly shall know that the Lord saveth
not with sword and spear: for the battle is the Lord's, and he will
give you into our hands."
And it came to pass, when the Philistine arose, and came and drew nigh
to meet David, that David hasted, and ran toward the army to meet the
Philistine. And David put his hand in his bag, and took thence a stone,
and slang it, and smote the Philistine in his forehead, that the stone
sunk into his forehead; and he fell upon his face to the earth.