THE OLIVE BOUGHS.

BY SARAH FLOWER ADAMS.

[1805-1848; author of "Nearer, My God, to Thee."]

THEY bear the hero from the fight, dying;
But the foe is flying:

They lay him down beneath the shade

By the olive branches made:

The olive boughs are sighing.

He hears the wind among the leaves, dying;
But the foe is flying:

He hears the voice that used to be

When he sat beneath the tree:

The olive boughs are sighing.

Comes the mist around his brow, dying;
But the foe is flying:

Comes that form of peace so fair,

Stretch his hands unto the air:

The olive boughs are sighing.

Fadeth life as fadeth day, dying;
But the foe is flying:

There's an urn beneath the shade
By the olive branches made:

The olive boughs are sighing.

VAN ARTEVELDE AND HIS COMPANIONS.

BY SIR HENRY TAYLOR.

[SIR HENRY TAYLOR was born in Durham, 1800. He became editor of the London Magazine, and was in the colonial office. He wrote dramatic pieces : "Isaac Comnenus" (1827), "Philip van Artevelde" (1834), his masterpiece, "Edwin the Fair" (1842), "The Virgin Widow " (1850), and "St. Clement's Eve" (1862); volumes of essays: "The Statesman" (1836), "Notes from Life" (1847), "Notes from Books" (1849); and "The Eve of the Conquest, and other Poems" (1847). He died March 28, 1886.]

Platform before the Stadt House, Ghent: SIR GUISEBERT Grutt,

aldermen of sundry guilds, deans of the crafts of butchers, fishermen, glaziers, and cordwainers; VAN ARTEVELDE and others of his party. GRUTT, descending, meets SIR SIMON BETTE coming up. Sir Guisebert Grutt [aside to SIR SIMON BETTE]

God's life, Sir! where is Occo ?

Sir Simon Bette

Sick, sick, sick.

He has sent word he's sick, and cannot come. Sir Guisebert Grutt

Pray God his sickness be the death of him! Sir Simon Bette

Nay, his lieutenant's here, and has his orders.
Van den Bosch [aside to ARTEVELDE] -

I see there's something that hath staggered them.
Now push them to the point. [Aloud] Make way
there, ho!

Artevelde [coming forward]

Some citizen hath brought this concourse here.
Who is the man, and what hath he to say?

[Some White Hoods interrupt him with cries of "Ghent," on which there is a great tumult, and they are instantly drowned in the cry of " Flanders."

Artevelde

What, silence! peace!
Silence, and hear this noble Earl's behests,
Delivered by this thrice puissant knight.
Sir Guisebert Grutt·

First will I speak - not what I'm bid to say,
But what it most imports yourselves to hear.
For though ye cannot choose but know it well,
Yet by these cries I deem that some of you

Would, much like madmen, cast your knowledge off,
And both of that and of your reason reft

Run naked on the sword—which to forefend,

Let me remind you of the things ye know.

Sirs, when this month began ye had four chiefs

Of great renown and valor, Jan de Bol,

Arnoul le Clerc, and Launoy and Van Ranst.

Where are they now? and what be ye without them?
Sirs, when the month began ye had good aid
From Brabant, Liège, St. Tron, and Huy and Dinant.
How shall they serve you now? The Earl sits fast
Upon the Quatre-metiers and the Bridge.

What aid of theirs can reach you? What supplies?

I tell you, Sirs, that thirty thousand men

Could barely bring a bullock to your gates.

If thus without, how stand you then within?
Ask of your chatelain, the Lord of Occo;

Which worthy knight will tell you

Artevelde [aside to VAN DEN BOSCH]

Mark you that?

[Then aloud to SIR GUISEBERT GRUTT]

Where is this chatelain, your speech's sponsor? Sir Guisebert Grutt

He's sick in bed; but were he here, he'd tell you
There's not provision in the public stores
To keep you for a day. Such is your plight.
Now hear the offer of your natural liege,
Moved to compassion by our prayers and tears,
Well aided as they were by good Duke Aubert,
My Lady of Brabant, and Lord Compelant-
To whom our thanks are due, - the Earl says thus:
He will have peace, and take you to his love,
And be your good lord as in former days;
And all the injuries, hatreds, and ill will
He had against you he will now forget,
And he will pardon you your past offenses,
And he will keep you in your ancient rights;
And for his love and graces thus vouchsafed
He doth demand of you three hundred men,
Such citizens of Ghent as he shall name,
To be delivered up to his good pleasure.
Van den Bosch -

Three hundred citizens!

Artevelde

Peace, Van den Bosch. Hear we this other knight. Well, worthy Sir, Hast aught to say, or hast not got thy priming, That thus thou gaspest like a droughty pump? Van den Bosch

Nay, 'tis black bile that chokes him. Come, up with it! Be't but a gallon it shall ease thy stomach. Several Citizens

Silence! Sir Simon Bette's about to speak.
Sir Simon Bette·

Right worthy burgesses, good men and rich!
Much trouble ye may guess, and strife had we
To win his Highness to this loving humor:
For if ye rightly think, Sirs, and remember,
You've done him much offense-not of yourselves,
But through ill guidance of ungracious men.
For first ye slew his bailiff at the cross,
And with the Earl's own banner in his hand,
Which falling down was trampled underfoot
Through heedlessness of them that stood about.
Also
ye burned the castle he loved best,
And ravaged all his parks at Andrehen,

All those delightful gardens on the plain.
And ye beat down two gates at Oudenarde,
And in the dike ye cast them upside down.
Also ye slew five knights of his, and brake
The silver font wherein he was baptized.
Wherefore it must be owned, Sirs, that much cause
He had of quarrel with the town of Ghent.
For how, Sirs, had the Earl afflicted you
That ye should thus dishonor him? 'tis true
That once a burgess was detained at Erclo
Through misbehavior of the bailiff; still
He hath delivered many a time and oft
Out of his prisons burgesses of yours
Only to do you pleasure; and when late
By kinsmen of the bailiff whom ye slew,
Some mariners of yours were sorely maimed
(Which was an inconvenience to this town),
What did the Earl? To prove it not his act,
He banished out of Flanders them that did it.
Moreover, Sirs, the taxes of the Earl

Were not so heavy but that, being rich,

Ye might have borne them; they were not the half
Of what ye since have paid to wage this war;

And yet had these been double that were half,

The double would have grieved you less in peace
Than but the half in war. Bethink ye, Sirs,

What were the fowage and the subsidies

When bread was but four mites that's now a groat?
All which considered, Sirs, I counsel you

That ye accept this honorable peace,
For mercifully is the Earl inclined,

And ye may surely deem of them he takes

A large and liberal number will be spared,

And many here, who least expect his love,

May find him free and gracious. Sirs, what say ye? Artevelde

First, if it be your pleasure, hear me speak.

[Great tumult and cries of "Flanders!"
What, Sirs! not hear me? was it then for this
Ye made me your chief captain yesternight,
To snare me in a trust whereof I bear
The name and danger only, not the power?

[The tumult increases.
Sirs, if we needs must come to blows, so be it;
For I have friends amongst you who can deal them.

Sir Simon Bette [aside to SIR Guisebert GruTT]·
Had Occo now been here! but lacking him

It must not come to that.

Sir Guisebert Grutt.

My loving friends,

Let us behave like brethren as we are,

And not like listed combatants. Ho, peace!

Hear this young bachelor of high renown,

Who writes himself your captain since last night,

When a few score of varlets, being drunk,

In mirth and sport so dubbed him. Peace, Sirs! hear him. Artevelde

Peace let it be, if so ye will; if not,

We are as ready as yourselves for blows.

One of the Citizens —

Speak, Master Philip, speak and you'll be heard.
Artevelde

I thank you, Sirs; I knew it could not be
But men like you must listen to the truth.
Sirs, ye have heard these knights discourse to you
Of your ill fortunes, telling on their fingers.
The worthy leaders ye have lately lost.

True, they were worthy men, most gallant chiefs;
And ill it would become us to make light

Of the great loss we suffer by their fall.
They died like heroes; for no recreant step
Had e'er dishonored them, no stain of fear,

No base despair, no cowardly recoil.

They had the hearts of freemen to the last,

And the free blood that bounded in their veins

Was shed for freedom with a liberal joy.

But had they guessed, or could they but have dreamed

The great examples which they died to show

Should fall so flat, should shine so fruitless here,
That men should say "For liberty these died,

Wherefore let us be slaves," - had they thought this,

Oh, then, with what an agony of shame,

Their blushing faces buried in the dust,

Had their great spirits parted hence for heaven!

What! shall we teach our chroniclers henceforth

To write that in five bodies were contained

The sole brave hearts of Ghent! which five defunct,
The heartless town, by brainless counsel led,

Delivered up her keys, stripped off her robes,
And so with all humility besought

Her haughty lord that he would scourge her lightly!