"I will fly away to them, to the royal birds! and they will kill me, because I, that am so ugly, dare to approach them. But it is of no consequence. Better to be killed by them than to be pursued by ducks, and beaten by fowls,and pushed about by the girl who takes care of the poultry-yard, and to suffer hunger in winter! " And it flew out into the water, and swam towards the beautiful swans. These looked at it, and came sailing down upon it with outspread wings. "Kill me! " said the poor creature, and bent its head down upon the water, expecting nothing but death. But what was this that it saw in the clear water? It beheld its own image-and, lo! it was no longer a clumsy dark-grey bird, ugly and hateful to look at, but-a swan.
It matters nothing if one were born in a duck-yard, if onehad only lain in a swan"s egg.
It felt quite glad at all the need and misfortune it had suffered; now it realized its happiness in all the splendour that surrounded it. And the great swans swam round it, and stroked it with their beaks.
Into the garden came little children, who threw bread and corn into the water. The youngest cried, " There is the new one!" and the other children shouted joyously, " Yes, a new one has arrived ! " They clapped their hands and danced about, and ran to their father and mother. Bread and cake were thrown into the water, and they all said, "The new one is the most beautiful of all! so young and handsome! " and the old swans bowed their heads before him.
Then he felt quite ashamed, and hid his head under his wings, for he did not know what to do; he was so happy, and yet not at all proud. He thought how he had been persecuted and despised; and now he heard them saying that he was the most beautiful of all the birds. Even the elder tree bent its branches straight down into the water before him, and the sun shone warm and mild. Then his wings rustled, he lifted his slender neck, and cried rejoicingly from the depths of his heart:
"I never dreamed of so much happiness when I was still theugly duckling! "
Hans Andersen
Author.-Hans Christian Andersen (1805-1875) was a Danish poet and writer of fairy tales who struggled through poverty to fame. His tales have been translated into nearly all languages. " The Ugly Duckling " is said to have been a fantastic story of his own life.
General.-Do the birds in the poultry yard talk like human beings? Pickout any of their speeches that seem to show this. Would you willingly be an ugly duckling if you were sure you could change to a noble swan? Make up an " ugly duckling " story about a boy or a girl.
Lesson 29
THE TIME OF THE BARMECIDES
My eyes are filmed, my beard is grey,
I am bowed with the weight of years;
I would I were stretched in my bed of clay, With my long-lost youth"s compeers!
For back to the past, though the thought brings woe, My memory ever glides-To the old, old time, long, long ago, The time of the Barmecides!
To the old, old time, long, long ago, The time of the Barmecides.
Then youth was mine, and a fierce, wild will,And an iron arm in war;
And a fleet foot high upon Ishkar"s hill,
When the watch-lights glittered afar;
And a barb as fiery as any, I trow,
That Khoord or Bedouin rides;
Ere my friends lay low-long, long ago, In the time of the Barmecides,Ere my friends lay low-long, long ago, In the time of the Barmecides.
One golden goblet illumed my board,
One silver dish was there;
At hand my tried Karamanian sword Lay always bright and bare;For those were the days when the angry blow Supplanted the wordthat chides-
When hearts could glow- long, long ago,
In t h e t i m e o f t h e Barmecides;
Wh e n h e a r t s c o u l d glow-long, long ago, In t h e t i m e o f t h eBarmecides.
Through city and desert my mates and I
Were free to rove and
roam,
Our canopy by turns the deep of the sky,
Or the roof of the palace-dome;
James Clarence Mangan
Oh! ours was that vivid life to and fro Which only sloth derides;Men spent life so, long, long ago, In the time of the Barmecides. Men spent life so, long, long ago,In the time of the Barmecides.
I see rich Bagdad once again,
With its turrets of Moorish mould,
And the Caliph"s twice five hundred men Whose binishes flamed with gold;I call up many a gorgeous show Which the pall of oblivion hides-All passed like snow, long, long ago, With the time of the Barmecides; All passed like snow, long, long ago, With the time of the Barmecides!
But mine eye is dim, and my beard is grey, And I bend with the weight of years.
May I soon go down to the House of Clay Where slumber my youth"s compeers !
For with them and the past, though the thought wakes woe, My memory ever abides,And I mourn for the times gone long ago, For the times of the Barmecides!
I mourn for the times gone long ago, For the times of the Barmecides !
James Clarence Mancan
The soul that gives is the soul that lives; And in bearing another"s loadWe lighten our own, and shorten the way, And brighten the homeward road.
George Macdonald
Author.-James Clarence Mangan (1803-1849) was an Irish poet who was for many years in an attorney"s office and who died in hospital. His most notable poems are "The Time of the Barmecides, " "Dark Rosaleen," " Solomon, Where is Thy Throne? " and "" The Nameless One. " General.- What is the character of this song-sad or merry? What reason has the old man to regret old times? Is the Golden Age in the past, the present, or the future? Who is supposed to be speaking? Draw a picture of him. Remember that the Barmecides were a noble Persian family of the eighth century; Ishkar"s Hill is in Asiatic Turkey; a Khoord or Kurd is a member of a certain Western Asiatic tribe; a Bedouin is a wandering Arab; Karamania is a district near the centre of Asia Minor; Bagdad (see atlas or geography book); a binish, or burnous, is a loose flowing outer robe. Read up something about the Moors and the Caliphs. What other sad songs by Irish authors do you know? Is it true that " all their fights are merry and all their songs are sad "? What are the merits of the poem?
Lesson 30
THE PUNISHMENT OF GRUFFANUFF
