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The World's Greatest Books [Volumes 1-15, 17-20]

Электронная книга - «The World's Greatest Books [Volumes 1-15, 17-20]». Краткое содержание книги:

Антология содержит:
The World's Greatest Books — Volume 01 — Fiction от Неизвестный
The World's Greatest Books — Volume 02 — Fiction от Неизвестный
The World's Greatest Books — Volume 03 — Fiction от Неизвестный
The World's Greatest Books — Volume 04 — Fiction от Неизвестный
The World's Greatest Books — Volume 05 — Fiction от Неизвестный
The World's Greatest Books — Volume 06 — Fiction от Неизвестный
The World's Greatest Books — Volume 07 — Fiction от Неизвестный
The World's Greatest Books — Volume 08 — Fiction от Неизвестный
The World's Greatest Books — Volume 09 — Lives and Letters от Неизвестный
The World's Greatest Books — Volume 10 — Lives and Letters от Неизвестный
The World's Greatest Books — Volume 11 — Ancient and Mediæval History от Неизвестный
The World's Greatest Books — Volume 12 — Modern History от Неизвестный
The World's Greatest Books — Volume 13 — Religion and Philosophy от Неизвестный
The World's Greatest Books — Volume 14 — Philosophy and Economics от Неизвестный
The World's Greatest Books — Volume 15 — Science от Неизвестный
The World's Greatest Books — Volume 17 — Poetry and Drama от Неизвестный
The world's greatest books от Mee, Arthur, 1875-1943, joint editor & Hammerton, John Alexander, Sir, 1871-1949, joint editor & McClure, S. S. (Samuel Sidney), 1857-1949, joint editor
The World's Greatest Books — Volume 19 — Travel and Adventure от Неизвестный
The World's Greatest Books — Volume 20 — Miscellaneous Literature and Index от Неизвестный
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Would have to pass the night. Two long, dim lines

Of armed and mounted warriors filled the hall,

Each with his lance couched ready for the shock,

And sternly silent. Empty panoplies

They were, in which the lords of old Lusace

Had lived and fought and died, since the red days

When Attila, from whom their race was sprung,

Swept over Europe. Now, on effigies

Of the great war-horses they loved and rode,

Their armoured image sat; and eyeless holes

Gaped in their visors, black and terrible.

Seizing the leader of this spectral host,

Eviradnus dragged his clanging body down,

And hid it; and then leaped upon the horse.

And with closed visor, motionless mail and lance

Clenched in his gauntlet, he appeared transformed

Into an iron statue, like the rest,

As through the open window came the sound

Of lute-playing and laughter, and a song

Sung by the troubadour, rang righ and clear:

Come, and let us dream a dream! Mount with me, and ride away, By the winding moonlight stream, Through the shining gates of day!

Come, the stars are bright above! All the world is in our scope. We have horses—joy and love! We have riches—youth and hope!

Mount with me, and ride away,

Through the greenness and the dew; Through the shining gates of day, To the land where dreams come true!

"Look!" cried Mahaud, as she came in the hall

With the two minstrels. "It is terrible!

Sooner would I have lost my crown than come

Alone at midnight to this dreadful place."

"Does this old iron," said the troubadour,

Striking the armour of Eviradnus,

"Frighten you?" "Leave my ancestors in peace!"

Exclaimed Mahaud. "A little man like you

Must not lay hands on them." The troubadour

Grew pale with anger, but the tall lute-player

Laughed, and his blue eyes flamed upon Mahaud.

"Now I must sleep," she said, "the priest's strange wine

Begins to make me drowsy. Stay with me!

Stay and watch over me all night, my friends."

"Far have we travelled," said the troubadour,

"In hopes to be alone with you to-night."

And his dark face lightened with a grim smile,

When, as he spoke, Mahaud fell fast asleep.

"I'll take the girl," he cried to the lute-player,

"And you can have the land! Are you content?"

"Yes," said the lute-player, "but love is sweet."

"Revenge is sweeter!" cried the troubadour.

"'A little man like me!' Those were her words.

Neither as queen nor empress shall she reign!

I swore it when she flouted me. She dies!"

"I cannot kill her," said the lute-player,

"I love her." "So do I!" the other said.

"I love her and hate her. If she lived,

There would be war between us two. She dies!

We love her; we must kill her." As he spoke

The troubadour pulled at a ring, and raised

A flagstone in the floor. "I know this place,"

He said. "A lord of Lusace had this trap

Made for his enemies. 'Twill serve our need!

Help me to lift her. All the land is yours."

"Look!" screamed the lute-player. "Oh, God! Oh, God!"

The troubadour turned round, and his knees shook.

One of the iron images had leapt

Down from its lifeless horse, and with drawn sword

And clank of armour, it now drove at them.

"King Ladislas and Emperor Sigismund!"

It shouted in a terrible voice that fell

Upon them like a judgment from on high.

They grovelled at its iron feet, and shrieked,

"Mercy! Oh, mercy!" And Eviradnus,

Doffing his helmet and cuirass, exclaimed,

"I am a man and not an iron ghost!

It sickens me to see such cowardice

In the two greatest conquerors of the age.

Look! I have taken all my armour off;

Meet me like men, and use what arms you will."

"'Tis only an old man," said Ladislas.

"Hold him in front, while I strike from behind."

Eviradnus laid down his sword, to loose

The last piece of his armour, and the Pole

Ran at him with a dagger; with one hand

The old man gripped the little king, and shook

The life out of him. Then, as Sigismund

Snatched up his sword, and left him still unarmed,

Eviradnus stooped, and, seizing the dead king,

He whirled him by the feet, like a huge club.

Stricken with terror, Sigismund recoiled

Into the open trap. Eviradnus

Flung his strange weapon after him, and they fell,

The living emperor, and the lifeless king,

Into the dark abyss. Closing the stone,

Eviradnus put on his mail, and set

The hall in order. And when he had placed

The iron image on its horse, the dawn

Gleamed through the windows, and the noise

And murmur of the people of Lusace

Coming with branches of green broom to greet

Their lady, filled the air. Mahaud awoke.

"Where is my troubadour and lute-player?"

She said. Eviradnus bent over her,

His old grey eyes shining with tenderness.

"Lady," he said, "I hope that you slept well?"

The Temple of the Captives

The high-priest said unto the King of Kings:

"We need a temple to commemorate

Your glorious victories." The King of Kings

Called unto him the captives he had made,

And bade them build the temple, and he asked:

"Is there a man among you who can plan

And raise this monument unto my fame?"

"No," said they. "Kill a hundred of these slaves!"

The King of Kings exclaimed. And this was done.

One of the captives promised then to build

A temple on the mountain looking down

Upon the city of the King of Kings.

Loaded with chains, the prisoners were dragged

Along the streets and up the mountain track,

And there they toiled with grim and angry eyes,

Cutting a building in the solid rock.

"'Tis but a cavern!" said the King of Kings.

"We found a lion's lair," the captive said,

"And fashioned it into your monument.

Enter, O King of Kings, and see the work

Your slaves have built for you!" The conqueror

And captive entered. To a royal throne

The King of Kings was led, that he might view

The temple; and the builder flung himself

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