Children's Stories from the Poets - Illustrated by Frank Adams

From HAVELOK THE DANE

THE POETS AND THEIR POEMS

With such mines of wealth and such hordes of precious stories it is a difficult task to know what gems to leave out and what to choose for our circlet of tales., In other words, the language of the poets is so rich with all that is wonderful and beautiful in romance, that not one book, but dozens, could be made out of the material we have at hand.

At any rate we will make a start at the beginning, at the time when these stirring romances were first written in English verse, and for this we must go back over seven hundred years, for it was about the year 1200 that such a great and grand ballad as Havelok the Dane appeared in this country. The author of this tale is not known.

Now we are going to take giant strides from that date onward, and our next stopping place is between the years 1340-1400, and we take off our hats to Geoffrey Chaucer.

Chaucer was a man of many accomplishments and achievements, but chiefly remembered on account of his poems. In this volume he is represented by The Cock and the Fox."

And now for another big jump to Edmund Spenser, 1552-1599, the friend of Sir Walter Raleigh, and living in a reign that produced so many famous Englishmen. I am sure you will be delighted with the Quest of the Blatant Beast, so full of splendid adventure. In the same reign, 1563-1631, lived Michael Drayton, poet and dramatist. From his works we have picked Pigwiggin, prettiest of fairy tales, to please you.

John Milton, 1608-1674, is the greatest of England’s Epic poets. He wrote much and thought deeply. There is nothing more beautiful in the English language than his Paradise Lost, and the story of Comus, which is told here, is one of the most fanciful of poems.

Another step forward to Alexander Pope, 1688-1744. And, think of it, as a boy he taught himself French, Latin and Greek! His writing is unexcelled in brilliancy, and you will find the Rape of the Lock a most amusing story.

We feel to be getting nearer home when we arrive at Oliver Goldsmith, 1728-1774, who wrote so much both in prose and poetry. I think he is best known today by his story of the Vicar of Wakefield, and The Deserted Village. His simple poem, The Hermit, is rendered into a happy prose story in these pages.

William Wordsworth, 1770-1850, followed very closely. In 1843 he was made Poet-Laureate. His strange story of Peter Bell is given here. At the same time lived Samuel Taylor Coleridge, 1772-1834. Christabel is one of this writer’s best-known poems, and is full of the supernatural. It is a great contrast to Peter Bell, which is really a sermon on nature.

You will see by the dates 1795-1821, that John Keats lived but a short life. He can be called the Poet of Beauty. He possessed the sculptor’s sense of form, the painter’s dream of colour, the musician’s ecstasy in perfected sound. How you will be charmed with his mystic tale of Lamia.

With Robert Browning, 1812-1889, we are almost at to-day indeed the writer of these few words has met him. Browning lived much in Italy, and Pippa Passes has the sunlight of that beautiful country in its every line.

Matthew Arnold, 1822-1888, belonged to a gifted family, he was the eldest son of the celebrated Doctor Arnold, head master of Rugby, the greatest of English schoolmasters. Matthew Arnold is represented here by The Forsaken Merman.

Now to Dante Gabriel Rossetti, 1828-1882, a most beautiful painter and musical poet; of his we have The Staff and the Scrip; and lastly we come to his sister Christina Georgina Rossetti, 1830-1894, with verse equally musical. I believe you will think her Goblin Market the most delightful of all the delightful stories in this book.

And so we have arrived at the end of the journey, and I can hear you exclaim: Surely in your big jump you have jumped too far at times, why jump over such masters as Shakespeare, Tennyson, and Longfellow?

The answer is that separate volumes, in the series which comprises this book, have been devoted to these great poets.

Others you will surely miss, but, as stated before, with such a storehouse of treasures the difficulty was which to select for our collection of stories.

FROM, COMBUS

HAVELOCK THE DANE

This is the tale of Havelok the brave! When he was a child he lived in woe, but when he grew to manhood he defeated his foes, and proved to the world his prowess and his virtue. Listen, girls and boys, young and old, to the story of his adventures.

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In the land of Denmark there once ruled a virtuous King called Birkabeyn. He was rich and handsome, and beloved by all his people, but, while still in the prime of his years, a dire disease fell upon him, and he knew that death would soon claim him. So he sent quickly for his most trusted knights. I am about to die, he said to them, as they stood sorrowfully around his bedside; and I wish to know who among you can be best entrusted to govern my kingdom until my little son is grown up, and able to ride and fight and rule. For Birkabeyn’s heir was only a few years old at this time. His name was Havelok.

The knights suggested Earl Godard for the trust, as he was rich, powerful, and, they thought, true.

Very well, said the King, Godard shall be regent, and putting his hand upon that of the Earl, he made him swear by every sacred oath that he would tend Havelok well and govern the land faithfully, and when the right time came would arrange the coronation of the young heir.

But no sooner was Birkabeyn dead and buried, than the wicked Earl seized Havelok and shut him up in a tower, where he kept him without proper clothes, food, or bedding, and hoped he might die of neglect.

He then summoned representatives from all parts of the country, and made them swear allegiance of faith to himself; and as they knew he had been appointed regent, and had no idea of the little Prince’s state, they all swore to serve him.

In spite of ill-treatment, the child lived, and Godard decided to take more violent measures against him. He went one day to the tower, with his sword ready, intending to slay the boy there and then. But falling upon his knees, Havelok besought his wicked guardian for mercy. I will yield Denmark to you, my lord, he cried, I will this day flee from the country and tell no one I am the King’s son, if you will only spare my life.

At these words and the sight of the little fellow kneeling so humbly, Godard had not the heart to carry out his foul purpose. But, thought he to himself, I will get rid of him some other way. I will have him drowned. So he took the boy by the hand, and led him to his Castle, and sent immediately for a fisherman named Grim, who was a serf of his, and very poor.

Grim, said Godard, you know that you are my slave and entirely within my power. If you will now perform a task for me, I will make you rich and give you your freedom. You must take this boy and to-night drown him in the sea. I will be responsible for the sin.

Grim could not resist such an offer, though he was really a kind and honest man. He bound Havelok with cords, hand and foot; stuffed a gag of old rags into his mouth, tied him up in a piece of sacking and put him into a large bag, which he then slung over his shoulder; and made the best of his way towards his cottage.

See here, he said to his wife, Dame Leve, when he had undone the bag, and pulled Havelok out, I am to drown this boy, and in payment the Earl will make me a freeman and give me as much gold as I want.

Dame Leve did not altogether like the idea; however, Grim said he could not break his promise to Godard. So at midnight she got up, and lit a candle for her husband to dress by. But looking into the kitchen where Havelok lay, she saw a wondrous thing. All round him gleamed a bright light; for out of his mouth streamed a ray, vivid as a sunbeam.

Gracious! she exclaimed. What is it? Come quickly. Grim. There is something which burns in this boy’s mouth.

Grim ran in, and soon unfastened the gag and cords, and took off the lad’s shirt to find, if he could, an explanation of the mystery. And there, on his right shoulder, he saw, as plain as possible, a red cross, the mark which all the princes of Denmark were born with. Heavens, he cried, this youth must be our rightful heir, the son of King Birkabeyn; and he broke into tears, begging forgiveness for himself and his wife. We are your servants, lord, he said, and whatever we can do for you, we will. We will keep you and feed you, until you are a man, and can avenge your wrongs on the villainous head of Godard.

Havelok sat up, scarcely able to believe his ears. Then give me some bread at once, he answered, I am nearly dead with hunger, and with the pain of those cords you bound on my limbs, and of the gag you thrust into my mouth. And how he ate when Leve brought out her bread and cheese, butter and milk, pasties and custards! He devoured a whole loaf, besides quantities of other good things. Afterwards they made him up a comfortable bed, and told him to sleep in peace of mind, for no harm should come to him.

The next morning off went Grim to see Godard, determined to tell him that the wicked deed had been done, and to claim his reward. Godard stared at him fiercely, and then roared out: You dirty savage! You slave! Freedom for you! I will send you to the gallows for a murderer if you stay here an instant longer.

Taking to his heels, Grim ran home as fast as his legs would carry him. The sooner we are out of the country the better, he said to Leve, for if Godard finds that Havelok is still alive, we shall all be hanged for it.

In a few days he had managed to sell everything he possessed—corn, sheep, cattle, horses, goats, pigs, geese and hens. The only thing he kept was his boat, which he carefully overhauled and mended; and with his two daughters, his three sons, his wife and the Prince, he set sail before a north wind, that blew him to the shores of England.

He landed on the coast of Lincolnshire, just at the mouth of the Humber. The boys helped