Poetry Explorer- Classic Contemporary Poetry, THE YOUTH AND THE NORTH WIND; A TALE OF NORWAY, by JOHN GODFREY SAXE


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Classic and Contemporary Poetry

THE YOUTH AND THE NORTH WIND; A TALE OF NORWAY, by                     Poet's Biography
First Line: Once on a time - 'twas long ago
Last Line: And money for his friends.
Subject(s): North Wind; Norway


ONCE on a time -- 't was long ago --
There lived a worthy dame
Who sent her son to fetch some flour,
For she was old and lame.

But while he loitered on the road,
The Northwind chanced to stray
Across the careless younker's path,
And stole the flour away.

"Alas! what shall we do for bread?"
Exclaimed the weeping lad;
"The flour is gone, -- the flour is gone, --
And it was all we had!"

And so he sought the Northwind's cave,
Beside the distant main;
"Good Mister Boreas," said the lad,
"I want my flour again.

"'T was all we had to live upon, --
My mother old and I;
Oh give us back the flour again,
Or we shall surely die!"

"I have it not," the Northwind growled;
"But, for your lack of bread,
I give to you this table-cloth;
'T will serve you well instead;

"For you have but to spread it out,
And every costly dish
Will straight appear at your command,
Whatever you may wish."

The lad received the magic cloth
With wonder and delight,
And thanked the donor heartily,
As well, indeed, he might.

Returning homeward, at an inn
Just half his journey through,
He fain must show his table-cloth,
And what the cloth could do.

So while he slept the knavish host
Went slyly to his bed,
And stole the cloth, -- but shrewdly placed
Another in its stead.

Unknowing what the rogue had done,
The lad went on his way,
And came unto his journey's end
Just at the close of day.

He showed the dame his table-cloth,
And told her of its power;
"Good sooth!" he cried, "'t was well for us
The Northwind stole the flour."

"Perhaps," exclaimed the cautious crone,
"The story may be true;
'T is mighty little good, I ween,
Your table-cloth can do."

And now the younker spread it forth,
And tried the spell. Alas!
'T was but a common table-cloth,
And nothing came to pass.

Then to the Northwind, far away,
He sped with might and main;
"Your table-cloth is good for naught;
I want my flour again!"

"I have it not," the Northwind growled,
"But, for your lack of bread,
I give to you this little goat,
'T will serve you well instead;

"For you have but to tell him this:
'Make money, Master Bill!'
And he will give you golden coins,
As many as you will."

The lad received the magic goat
With wonder and delight,
And thanked the donor heartily,
As well, indeed, he might.

Returning homeward, at the inn
Just half his journey through,
He fain must show his little goat,
And what the goat could do.

So while he slept the knavish host
Went slyly to the shed,
And stole the goat, -- but shrewdly placed
Another in his stead.

Unknowing what the rogue had done,
The youth went on his way,
And reached his weary journey's end
Just at the close of day.

He showed the dame his magic goat,
And told her of his power;
"Good sooth!" he cried, "'t was well for us
The Northwind stole the flour."

"I much misdoubt," the dame replied,
"Your wondrous tale is true;
'T is little good, for hungry folk,
Your silly goat can do!"

"Good Master Bill," the lad exclaimed,
"Make money!" but, alas!
'T was nothing but a common goat,
And nothing came to pass.

Then to the Northwind, angrily,
He sped with might and main;
"Your foolish goat is good for naught;
I want my flour again!"

"I have it not," the Northwind growled,
"Nor can I give you aught,
Except this cudgel, -- which, indeed,
A magic charm has got;

"For you have but to tell it this:
'My cudgel, hit away!'
And, till you bid it stop again,
The cudgel will obey."

Returning home, he stopt at night
Where he had lodged before;
And feigning to be fast asleep,
He soon began to snore.

And when the host would steal the staff,
The sleeper muttered, "Stay,
I see what you would fain be at;
Good cudgel, hit away!"

The cudgel thumped about his ears,
Till he began to cry,
"Oh stop the staff, for mercy's sake!
Or I shall surely die!"

But still the cudgel thumped away
Until the rascal said,
"I'll give you back the cloth and goat,
Oh spare my broken head!"

And so it was the lad reclaimed
His table-cloth and goat;
And, growing rich, at length became
A man of famous note;

He kept his mother tenderly,
And cheered her waning life;
And married -- as you may suppose --
A princess for a wife;

And while he lived had ever near,
To favor worthy ends,
A cudgel for his enemies,
And money for his friends.





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