A Sordid Muse 



the grimy handle of my blade (which had already con- 

 siderably blackened my hand) in the water and sand of the 

 river. 



I. 



It was the sunset hour — 

 On battlement and tower 

 Gleam'd the red slanting rays : 

 High up Toledo, piled 

 In massive grandeur, smiled 

 Grimly, like some old warrior lit with battle's blaze. 



n. 



Upon the tawny sand, 

 A sword-blade in his hand, 

 A northern youth there knelt — 

 He plunged the weapon keen 

 In Tajo's ripples sheen : 

 "Tajador, I do baptize thee, thou new glory of my belt! 



III. 



" Perchance, long hid beneath 



Thy silver-clasped sheath, 

 Worn but for courtly show — 

 Who knows ? — a day may dawn. 

 When in right earnest drawn, 

 Thy temper may be put to proof by parry and by blow ! " 



" Bravo, most valiant bard ! " said B , "and Tajadir 



(the cutter) would be a most excellent name for a sword 

 baptized in the Tajo, if it only had a trenchant edge ; but 

 this one, being a small-sword with no edge at all, gives me 

 scruples." 



"What of that ? It has a point, and so has my joke ; and 

 if my joke's point don't make people laugh, my sword's point 

 shall make them cry. Come, make me a good Latin pun, 

 apropos of a Toledo blade, while I turn some English ones ; 

 for I will engrave it all over with epigrams, and make it the 



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