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<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=409651" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>Tales Of A Wayside Inn : Part 3. Interlude VI.</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0">'Now that is after my own heart,'<br>The Poet cried; 'one understands<br>Your swarthy hero Scanderbeg,<br>Gauntlet on hand and boot on leg,<br>And skilled in every warlike art,<br>Riding through his Albanian lands,<br>And following the auspicious star<br>That shone for him o'er Ak-Hissar.'</div><div style="margin:10px 0">The Theologian added here<br>His word of praise not less sincere,<br>Although he ended with a jibe;<br>'The hero of romance and song<br>Was born,' he said, 'to right the wrong;<br>And I approve; but all the same<br>That bit of treason with the Scribe<br>Adds nothing to your hero's fame.'</div><div style="margin:10px 0">The Student praised the good old times,<br>And liked the canter of the rhymes,<br>That had a hoofbeat in their sound;<br>But longed some further word to hear<br>Of the old chronicler Ben Meir,<br>And where his volume might he found.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">The tall Musician walked the room<br>With folded arms and gleaming eyes,<br>As if he saw the Vikings rise,<br>Gigantic shadows in the gloom;<br>And much he talked of their emprise<br>And meteors seen in Northern skies,<br>And Heimdal's horn, and day of doom.<br>But the Sicilian laughed again;<br>'This is the time to laugh,' he said,<br>For the whole story he well knew<br>Was an invention of the Jew,<br>Spun from the cobwebs in his brain,<br>And of the same bright scarlet thread<br>As was the Tale of Kambalu.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Only the Landlord spake no word;<br>'T was doubtful whether he had heard<br>The tale at all, so full of care<br>Was he of his impending fate,<br>That, like the sword of Damocles,<br>Above his head hung blank and bare,<br>Suspended by a single hair,<br>So that he could not sit at ease,<br>But sighed and looked disconsolate,<br>And shifted restless in his chair,<br>Revolving how he might evade<br>The blow of the descending blade.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">The Student came to his relief<br>By saying in his easy way<br>To the Musician: 'Calm your grief,<br>My fair Apollo of the North,<br>Balder the Beautiful and so forth;<br>Although your magic lyre or lute<br>With broken strings is lying mute,<br>Still you can tell some doleful tale<br>Of shipwreck in a midnight gale,<br>Or something of the kind to suit<br>The mood that we are in to-night<br>For what is marvellous and strange;<br>So give your nimble fancy range,<br>And we will follow in its flight.'</div><div style="margin:10px 0">But the Musician shook his head;<br>'No tale I tell to-night,' he said,<br>'While my poor instrument lies there,<br>Even as a child with vacant stare<br>Lies in its little coffin dead.'</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Yet, being urged, he said at last:<br>'There comes to me out of the Past<br>A voice, whose tones are sweet and wild,<br>Singing a song almost divine,<br>And with a tear in every line;<br>An ancient ballad, that my nurse<br>Sang to me when I was a child,<br>In accents tender as the verse;<br>And sometimes wept, and sometimes smiled<br>While singing it, to see arise<br>The look of wonder in my eyes,<br>And feel my heart with terror beat.<br>This simple ballad I retain<br>Clearly imprinted on my brain,<br>And as a tale will now repeat.'</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br /></a><br />poem by <a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/by.php?a=Henry+Wadsworth+Longfellow">Henry Wadsworth Longfellow</a><div class=q>
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<script type="text/javascript" src="//s7.addthis.com/js/300/addthis_widget.js#pubid=citatepedia" async="async"></script><div style="display:inline-block" class="addthis_sharing_toolbox" data-url="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=409651" data-title="Tales Of A Wayside Inn : Part 3. Interlude VI. de Henry Wadsworth Longfellow" data-description="'Now that is after my own heart,'
The Poet cried; 'one understands
Your swarthy hero Scanderbeg,
Gauntlet on hand and boot on leg,
And skilled in every warlike art,
Riding through his Albanian lands,
And following the auspicious star
That shone fo..."></div>
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