The artist not known
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Excelsior
by
Henry Wadsworth Longfellow 1807-1882
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I was always both fascinated and puzzled by this poem. What on earth was the young chap playing at? Why the banner? And where was he going?
I knew that the word came from old English and meant “ever higher.” Nowadays I smile when I read the poem, for I have a James Thurber book in which the humorist has drawn clever illustrations to accompany Longfellow’s story.
And here’s the poem:-
The shades of night were falling fast,
As through an Alpine village passed
A youth who bore, ‘mid snow and ice,
A banner with the strange device,
Excelsior!
His brow was sad, his eye beneath
Flashed like a falchion from its sheath,
And like a silver clarion rung
The accents of that unknown tongue,
Excelsior!
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Excelsior
by
Henry Wadsworth Longfellow 1807-1882
-o-0-o-
I was always both fascinated and puzzled by this poem. What on earth was the young chap playing at? Why the banner? And where was he going?
I knew that the word came from old English and meant “ever higher.” Nowadays I smile when I read the poem, for I have a James Thurber book in which the humorist has drawn clever illustrations to accompany Longfellow’s story.
And here’s the poem:-
The shades of night were falling fast,
As through an Alpine village passed
A youth who bore, ‘mid snow and ice,
A banner with the strange device,
Excelsior!
His brow was sad, his eye beneath
Flashed like a falchion from its sheath,
And like a silver clarion rung
The accents of that unknown tongue,
Excelsior!
In happy homes he saw the light
Of household fires gleam warm and bright;
Above, the spectral glaciers shone,
And from his lips escaped a groan,
Excelsior!
“Try not the Pass!” the old man said;
“Dark lowers the tempest overhead,
The roaring torrent is deep and wide!”
And loud that clarion voice replied,
Excelsior!
“Oh, stay,” the maiden said, “and rest
Thy weary head upon this breast!”
A tear stood in his bright blue eye,
But still he answered with a sigh,
Excelsior!
Of household fires gleam warm and bright;
Above, the spectral glaciers shone,
And from his lips escaped a groan,
Excelsior!
“Try not the Pass!” the old man said;
“Dark lowers the tempest overhead,
The roaring torrent is deep and wide!”
And loud that clarion voice replied,
Excelsior!
“Oh, stay,” the maiden said, “and rest
Thy weary head upon this breast!”
A tear stood in his bright blue eye,
But still he answered with a sigh,
Excelsior!
“Beware the pine-tree’s withered branch!
Beware the awful avalanche!”
This was the peasant’s last Good-night,
A voice replied, far up the height,
Excelsior!
At break of day, as heavenward
The pious monks of St Bernard
Uttered the oft-repeated prayer,
A voice cried through the startled air,
Excelsior!
A traveller, by the faithful hound,
Half-buried in the snow was found,
Still grasping in his hand of ice
That banner with the strange device,
Excelsior!
Beware the awful avalanche!”
This was the peasant’s last Good-night,
A voice replied, far up the height,
Excelsior!
At break of day, as heavenward
The pious monks of St Bernard
Uttered the oft-repeated prayer,
A voice cried through the startled air,
Excelsior!
A traveller, by the faithful hound,
Half-buried in the snow was found,
Still grasping in his hand of ice
That banner with the strange device,
Excelsior!
There, in the twilight, cold and gray,
Lifeless, but beautiful, he lay,
And from the sky, serene and far,
A voice fell, like a falling star,
Excelsior!
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I was delighted to come across this next poem, completely by chance - an amusing parody on Longfellow.
Excelsior: the Shades of Night
By
A.E.Housman 1859-1936
The shades of night were falling fast
And the rain was falling faster,
When through an Alpine village passed
An Alpine village pastor;
A youth who bore through snow and ice
A bird that wouldn’t chirrup,
And a banner with the strange device
“Mrs Winslow’s Soothing Syrup.”
Lifeless, but beautiful, he lay,
And from the sky, serene and far,
A voice fell, like a falling star,
Excelsior!
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I was delighted to come across this next poem, completely by chance - an amusing parody on Longfellow.
Excelsior: the Shades of Night
By
A.E.Housman 1859-1936
The shades of night were falling fast
And the rain was falling faster,
When through an Alpine village passed
An Alpine village pastor;
A youth who bore through snow and ice
A bird that wouldn’t chirrup,
And a banner with the strange device
“Mrs Winslow’s Soothing Syrup.”
“Beware the pass,” the old man said,
“My bold and desperate fellah;
Dark lowers the tempest overhead,
And you’ll want your um-ber-ella;
And the roaring torrent is deep and wide,
You may hear how it washes.”
But still that clarion voice replied,
“I’ve got my old galoshes.”
“Oh, say,” the maiden said, “and rest
(For the wind blows from the nor’ward)
Thy weary head upon my breast,
And please don’t think me forward.”
A tear stood in his bright blue eye
And gladly he would have tarried;
But still he answered with a sigh,
“Unhappily I’m married!”
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Finally, another parody - this time it’s a monologue that was once popular in music halls. This version has been slightly abridged.
Uppards
By
Marriott Edgar 1880-1951
‘Twere getting dusk, one winter’s night,
When up the clough there came in sight,
A lad who carried through the snow
A banner with this ‘ere motto
“Uppards.”
A policeman on his lonely beat,
He stopped the lad up ‘t end of t’street,
He said, “Where’t going wi’ that theer?”
The lad just whispered in his ear,
“Uppards.”
“Don’t go down t’clough,” the policeman said,
“It’s mucky road for thee to tread.
Canal’s at bottom, deep and wide.”
“That’s not my road,” the lad replied,
“It’s - uppards.”
A young lass stopped him further up,
She said, “Come in wi’ me and sup.”
He said, “I’m takin’ none o’ yon,
Besides, I must be gettin’ on -
Uppards.”
Next day some lads had just begun
To tak’ their whippets for a run,
When dogs got scratching in the snow,
And found flag with this ‘ere motto
“Uppards.”
‘Twas very plain for to behold
The lad had ta’en his death o’ cold,
He’d got his feet wet early on,
And from his feet the cold had gone -
Uppards.
This story only goes to show
That, when the fields is white wi’ snow.
It’s inadvisable to go -
Uppards!!!
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I wonder if Henry Longfellow had a sense of humour.
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