The Feast of the Virgins and Other Poems Part 17

And every traveler journeying Along the mountain-ways Was held to pay his toll of toil On the castle for seven days.

Slowly they raised the ma.s.sive towers Upon the steep ascent, And all around a thousand hands Built up the battlement.

Three hundred feet above the glen-- (By the steps five hundred feet)-- The castle stood upon the cliff At the end of the year--complete.

Now throughout all the Magyar land There's none other half so high, So ma.s.sive built, so strong and grand;-- It reaches the very sky.

But from that same high battlement (Say tales by gypsies told) The valiant Stibor met his death When he was cross and old.

I'll tell you the tale as they told it to me, And I doubt not it is true, For 'twas handed down from the middle ages From the lips of knights who knew.

One day when the knight was old and cross, And a little the worse for grog, Betzko, the Jester, thoughtlessly Struck Stibor's favorite dog.

Now the dog was a hound and Stibor's pet, And as white as Carpathian snow, And Stibor hurled old Betzko down From the walls to the rocks below.

And as the Jester headlong fell From the dizzy, dreadful height, He muttered a curse with his latest breath On the head of the cruel knight.

One year from that day old Stibor held His drunken wa.s.sail long, And spent the hours till the c.o.c.k crew morn In jest and wine and song.

Then he sought his garden on the cliff, And lay down under a vine To sleep away the lethargy Of a wa.s.sail-bowl of wine.

While sleeping soundly under the shade, And dreaming of revelries, An adder crawled upon his breast, And bit him in both his eyes.

Blinded and mad with pain he ran Toward the precipice, Unheeding till he headlong fell Adown the dread abyss.

Just where old Betzko's blood had dyed With red the old rocks gray, Quivering and bleeding and dumb and dead Old Stibor's body lay.

WESSELENYI

A HUNGARIAN TALE

When madly raged religious war O'er all the Magyar land And royal archer and hussar Met foemen hand to hand, A princess fair in castle strong The royal troops defied And bravely held her fortress long Though help was all denied.

Princess Maria was her name-- Brave daughter n.o.bly sired; She caught her father's trusty sword When bleeding he expired, And bravely rallied warders all To meet the storming foe, And hurled them from the rampart-wall Upon the crags below.

Prince Casimir--her father--built Murana high and wide; It sat among the mountain cliffs-- The Magyars' boast and pride.

Bold Wesselenyi--stalwart knight, Young, famed and wondrous fair, With a thousand men besieged the height, And led the bravest there.

And long he tried the arts of war To take that castle-hold, Till many a proud and plumed hussar Was lying stiff and cold; And still the frowning castle stood A grim, unbroken wall, Like some lone rock in stormy seas That braves the billows all.

Bold Wesselenyi's cheeks grew thin; A solemn oath he sware That if he failed the prize to win His bones should molder there.

Two toilsome months had worn away, Two hundred men were slain, His bold a.s.saults were baffled still, And all his arts were vain.

But love is mightier than the sword, He clad him in disguise-- In the dress of an inferior lord-- To win the n.o.ble prize.

He bade his armed men to wait, To cease the battle-blare And sought alone the castle-gate To hold a parley there.

Aloft a flag of truce he bore: Her warders bade him pa.s.s; Within he met the princess fair All clad in steel and bra.s.s.

Her bright, black eyes and queenly art, Sweet lips and raven hair, Smote bold young Wesselenyi's heart While he held parley there.

Cunning he talked of great reward And royal favor, too, If she would yield her father's sword; She sternly answered "No."

But even while they parleyed there Maria's l.u.s.trous eyes Looked tenderly and lovingly On the chieftain in disguise.

"Go tell your gallant chief," she said, "To keep his paltry pelf; The knight who would my castle win, Must dare to come himself."

And forth she sternly bade him go, But followed with her eyes.

I ween she knew the brave knight well Through all his fair disguise.

But when had dawned another morn, He bade his bugleman To sound again the parley-horn Ere yet the fray began.

And forth he sent a trusty knight To seek the castle-gate And to the princess privately His message to relate;--

That he it was who in disguise Her warders bade to pa.s.s, And while he parleyed there her eyes Had pierced his plates of bra.s.s.

His heart he offered and his hand, And pledged a signet-ring If she would yield her brave command Unto his gracious king.

"Go tell your chief," Maria cried-- "Audacious as he is-- If he be worthy such a bride My castle and hand are his.

But he should know that lady fair By faint heart ne'er was won; So let your gallant chieftain, sir, Come undisguised alone.

"And he may see in the northern tower, Over yonder precipice, A lone, dim light at the midnight hour s.h.i.+ne down the dark abyss.

And over the chasm's dungeon-gloom Shall a slender ladder hang; And if alone he dare to come,-- Unarmed--without a clang,

"More of his suit your chief shall hear Perhaps may win the prize; Tell him the way is hedged with fear,-- One misstep and he dies.

Nor will I pledge him safe retreat From out yon guarded tower; My watchful warders all to cheat May be beyond my power."

At midnight's dark and silent hour The tall and gallant knight Sought on the cliff the northern tower, And saw the promised light.

With toil he climbed the cragged cliff, And there the ladder found; And o'er the yawning gulf he clomb The ladder round by round.

And as he climbed the ladder bent Above the yawning deep, But bravely to the port he went And entered at a leap Full twenty warders thronged the hall Each with his blade in hand; They caught the brave knight like a thrall And bound him foot and hand.

They tied him fast to an iron ring, At Maria's stern command, And then they jeered--"G.o.d save the king And all his knightly band!"

They bound a bandage o'er his eyes, Then the haughty princess said: "Audacious knight, I hold a prize,-- My castle or your head!

"Now, mark!--desert the king's command, And join your sword with mine, And thine shall be my heart and hand, This castle shall be thine.

I grant one hour for thee to choose, My bold and gallant lord; And if my offer you refuse You perish by the sword!"

He spoke not a word, but his face was pale And he prayed a silent prayer; But his heart was oak and it could not quail, And a secret oath he sware.

And grim stood the warders armed all, In the torches' flicker and flare, As they watch for an hour in the gloomy hall The brave knight pinioned there.

The short--the flying hour is past, The warders have bared his breast; The bugler bugles a doleful blast; Will the pale knight stand the test?

He has made his choice--he will do his part, He has sworn and he cannot lie, And he cries with the sword at his beating heart,-- "_Betray?--nay--better to die!_"

Suddenly fell from his blue eyes The silken, blinding bands, And while he looked in sheer surprise They freed his feet and hands.

"I give thee my castle," Maria cried, "And I give thee my heart and hand, And Maria will be the proudest bride In all this Magyar land.

"Grant heaven that thou be true to me As thou art to the king, And I'll bless the day I gave to thee My castle for a ring."

The red blood flushed to the brave knight's face As he looked on the lady fair; He sprang to her arms in a fond embrace, And he married her then and there.