As 'neath the oak boughs dark o'erhead,
By belts of pasture scant of shade,
Into the Castle Town he rode:
He heard, as things are heard in dreams,
The sound of far-off falling streams,
The shriller bird-choir's evening hymns:
He saw but only helmet-gleams,
The smith that smote, the fire that glowed,

The sheen of lances, and the cloud
From many a field-forge fire, the crowd
Of gay-clad squires, and, neighing loud,
The war-horse with rich trappings proud,
That arched his neck and pawed the ground;
Old armorers grave and stern in stall,
Where low-crowned morions, helmets tall,
Shone gilt and burnished on the wall;
And, shining brighter than them all,
The eyes of maidens sun-embrowned.

MARTIN I. GRIFFIN.




SKETCHES OF EASTERN TRAVEL.


I.--THE COUNT DE BEAUVOIR IN CHINA.