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That is happy binding the sheaves; Then he saw her dead mother in her face, And said, "Thou shalt have thy leaves.'

II

He mounted and rode three days and nights Till he came to Vanity Fair,

And 't was easy to buy the gems and the silk, But no singing leaves were there.

Then deep in the green wood rode he
And asked of every tree,

"Oh, if you have ever a singing leaf,
I pray you to give it me!"

But the trees all kept their counsel,
And never a word said they,
Only there sighed from the pine-tops
A music of sea far away.

Only the pattering aspen°

Made a sound of growing rain, That fell ever faster and faster, Then faltered to silence again.

"Oh, where shall I find a little foot-page
That would win both hose and shoon,°
And will bring to me the singing leaves
If they grow under the moon?''

Then lightly turned him Walter the page, By the stirrup as he ran:

"Now pledge ye me the truesome word Of a king and gentleman,

"That you will give me the first, first thing
You meet at the castle gate,

And the princess shall get the singing leaves,
Or mine be a traitor's fate."

The King's head dropped upon his breast
A moment, as it might be;

""T will be my dog," he thought, and said,
"My faith I plight to thee."

Then Walter took from next his heart
A packet small and thin,

"Now give you this to the Princess Anne,
The singing leaves are therein."

III

As the King rode in at his castle gate,

A maiden to meet him ran,

And "Welcome, father!" she laughed and cried Together, the Princess Anne.

"Lo, here the singing leaves," quoth he,

"And woe, but they cost me dear!"

She took the packet, and the smile
Deepened down beneath the tear.

It deepened down till it reached her heart,
And then gushed up again,

And lighted her tears as the sudden sun
Transfigures the summer rain.

And the first leaf, when it was opened,
Sang: "I am Walter the page,

And the songs I sing 'neath thy window
Are my only heritage."

And the second leaf sang: "But in the land
That is neither on earth or sea,

My lute and I are lords of more

Than thrice this kingdom's fee."

And the third leaf sang: "Be mine! be mine!"
And ever it sang, "Be mine!"

Then sweeter it sang and ever sweeter,
And said, "I am thine, thine, thine."

At the first leaf she grew pale enough,
At the second she turned aside,
At the third, 't was as if a lily flushed.
With a rose's red heart's tide.

"Good counsel gave the bird," said she,
"I have my hope thrice o'er,

For they sing to my very heart," she said,
"And it sings to them evermore."

She brought to him her beauty and truth,
But and broad earldoms three,

And he made her queen of the broader lands
He held of his lute in fee.°

-James Russell Lowell

Words: fairings-gifts bought at a fair; boun-bound; aspen-a tree with trembling leaves; hose and shoon-stockings and shoes; plight-pledge, promise; transfigures-brightens, glorifies; heritageinheritance, property left to one by a relative; fee-worth, wealth; but and-and also; of his lute in fee-in possession through his lute.

Questions: What were the Singing Leaves? Explain Then he saw her dead mother in her face. Can you explain the song of the second leaf a little further? Into how many parts is this ballad divided? Write a topic heading for each part. What other ballad have you read this year? Whose do you prefer? Why?

THE CURATE AND THE MULBERRY

TREE

ID YOU hear of the curate° who mounted his mare
And merrily trotted along to the fair?

Of creature more tractable none ever heard;

In the height of her speed she would stop at a word;
But again, with a word, when the curate said "Hey!"
She put forth her mettle° and galloped away.

As near to the gates of the city he rode,

While the sun of September all brilliantly glowed,
The good priest discovered, with eyes of desire,
A mulberry tree in a hedge of wild brier;
On boughs long and lofty, in many a green shoot,
Hung, large, black, and glossy, the beautiful fruit.

The curate was hungry and thirsty to boot;

He shrunk from the thorns, though he longed for the fruit; With a word he arrested his courser's keen speed,

And he stood up erect on the back of his steed;

On the saddle he stood while the creature stood still,
And he gathered the fruit till he took his good fill.

"Sure, never," he thought, "was a creature so rare, So docile, so true, as my excellent mare; Lo, here now I stand," and he gazed all around, "As safe and as steady as if on the ground; Yet how had it been if some traveler this way, Had, dreaming no mischief, but chanced to cry 'Hey'?"

He stood with his head in the mulberry tree,
And he spoke out aloud in his fond reverie;°
At the sound of the word the good mare made a push,
And down went the priest in the wild-brier bush.

He remembered too late, on his thorny green bed,
Much that well may be thought cannot wisely be said.

-Thomas L. Peacock

Words: curate-priest; tractable-easily managed; mettle-high spirit; docile-gentle; reverie-daydream, deep musing.

THE STORY OF BUCEPHALUS*

(This story is taken from Plutarch's Lives, a book that has been read and enjoyed by many generations. For Plutarch was born in Greece about 50 A. D. His book gives excellent biographical sketches of the great men of Greece and Rome. This story, taken from the life of Alexander the Great, treats a well-known incident of the boyhood of Alexander. Alexander's father was Philip, King of Macedonia.)

PHILONICUS the Thessalian brought the horse Bucephalus

to Philip, offering to sell him for thirteen talents;° but when they went into the field to try him, they found him so very vicious and unmanageable that he reared up when they endeavored to mount him, and would not so much as endure the voice of any of Philip's attendants. Upon which, as they were leading him away as wholly useless and untractable, Alexander, who stood by, said, "What an excellent horse do they lose, for want of address and boldness to manage him!"

Philip at first took no notice of what he said; but when he heard him repeat the same thing several times, and saw he was much vexed to see the horse sent away, Philip said, "Do you reproach those who are older than yourself, as if you knew more, and were better able to manage him than they?"

"I could manage this horse," replied Alexander, "better than the others do."

"And if you do not," said Philip, "what will you forfeit for your rashness?”

"I will pay," answered Alexander, "the whole price of the horse."

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