40 And on the green no dancing feet The merry violin stirred. “Why should folk be glum," said Keezar, At the faces so sour and sad?" 45 Small heed had the careless cobbler What sorrow of heart was theirs 50 Who travailed in pain with the births of God, And planted a state with prayers, Hunting of witches and warlocks, And one on the soldier's sword! But give him his ale and cider, 60 65 ""Tis work, work, work," he muttered, "And for rest a snuffle of psalms! He smote on his leathern apron "Oh for the purple harvests Of the days when I was young! "Oh for the breath of vineyards, Of apples and nuts and wine! 70 For an oar to row and a breeze to blow A tear in his blue eye glistened, And dropped on his beard so gray. "Old, old am I," said Keezar, "And the Rhine flows far away!" But a cunning man was the cobbler; He could call the birds from the trees, 75 Charm the black snake out of the ledges, And bring back the swarming bees. 80 All the virtues of herbs and metals, All the lore of the woods, he knew, Well he knew the tricks of magic, 85 For the mighty master Agrippa 90 In the tower of Nettesheim. To a cobbler Minnesinger The marvellous stone gave he, 84. Dr. John Dee was a man of vast knowledge, who had an extensive museum, library, and apparatus; he claimed to be an Astrologer, and had acquired the reputation of having dealings with evil spirits, and a mob was raised which destroyed the greater part of his possessions. He professed to raise the dead and had a magic crystal. He died a pauper in 1608. 85. Henry Cornelius Agrippa (1486-1535) was an alchemist. And he gave it, in turn, to Keezar, He held up that mystic lapstone, 95 And he counted the long years coming 100 "One hundred years," quoth Keezar, Now open the new before me, And shut me out the old!" Like a cloud of mist, the blackness 105 Still ran the stream to the river, And river and ocean joined; And there were the bluffs and the blue sea-line, And cold north hills behind. But the mighty forest was broken By many a white-walled farm-house, Turning a score of mill-wheels, The stream no more ran free; 15 White sails on the winding river, White sails on the far-off sea. Below in the noisy village The flags were floating gay, Swiftly the rival ploughmen Turned the brown earth from their shares; Here were the farmer's treasures, There were the craftsman's wares. 125 Golden the goodwife's butter, Ruby her currant-wine; 130 Grand were the strutting turkeys, Yellow and red were the apples, And the ripe pears russet-brown, From the girls who shook them down. And with blooms of hill and wild-wood, 135 Mingled the gorgeous blossoms 140 "What is it I see?" said Keezar: Is it a fête at Bingen? Do I look on Frankfort fair? "But where are the clowns and puppets, And imps with horns and tail? 66 And where is the foaming ale? 145 Strange things, I know, will happen, Strange things the Lord permits; 150 But that droughty folk should be jolly "Here are smiling manly faces, And the maiden's step is gay; Nor sad by thinking, nor mad by drinking, "Here's pleasure without regretting, And good without abuse, 155 The holiday and the bridal 160 Of beauty and of use. "Here's a priest and there is a Quaker, Have they burned the stocks for oven-wood? "Would the old folk know their children? Would they own the graceless town, With never a ranter to worry And never a witch to drown?" 165 Loud laughed the cobbler Keezar, Tossing his arms above him, It rolled down the rugged hillside, There, in the deep, dark water, The magic stone lies still, |