O Queen beyond the Western Sea!
O Light to us that wander here
Amid the world of woven trees!
Gilthoniel! O Elbereth!
Clear are thy eyes and bright thy breath!
Snow-white! Snow-white! We sing to thee
In a far land beyond the Sea.
O stars that in the Sunless Year
With shining hand by her were sown,
In windy fields now bright and clear
We see you silver blossom blown!
O Elbereth! Gilthoniel!
We still remember, we who dwell
In this far land beneath the trees,
Thy starlight on the Western Seas.
-- J. R. R. Tolkien
Miss Ingram, who had now seated herself with proud grace at the piano, spreading out her snowy robes in queenly amplitude, commenced a brilliant prelude; talking meantime. She appeared to be on her high horse to-night; both her words and her air seemed intended to excite not only the admiration, but the amazement of her auditors: she was evidently bent on striking them as something very dashing and daring indeed.
The wretched queen, pursued by cruel fate, Begins at length the light of heav'n to hate, And loathes to live. Then dire portents she sees, To hasten on the death her soul decrees: Strange to relate! for when, before the shrine, She pours in sacrifice the purple wine, The purple wine is turn'd to putrid blood, And the white offer'd milk converts to mud. This dire presage, to her alone reveal'd, From all, and ev'n her sister, she conceal'd. A marble temple stood within the grove, Sacred to death, and to her murther'd love; That honor'd chapel she had hung around With snowy fleeces, and with garlands crown'd: Oft, when she visited this lonely dome, Strange voices issued from her husband's tomb; She thought she heard him summon her away, Invite her to his grave, and chide her stay. Hourly 't is heard, when with a boding note The solitary screech owl strains her throat, And, on a chimney's top, or turret's height, With songs obscene disturbs the silence of the night. Besides, old prophecies augment her fears; And stern Aeneas in her dreams appears, Disdainful as by day: she seems, alone, To wander in her sleep, thro' ways unknown, Guideless and dark; or, in a desart plain, To seek her subjects, and to seek in vain: Like Pentheus, when, distracted with his fear, He saw two suns, and double Thebes, appear; Or mad Orestes, when his mother's ghost Full in his face infernal torches toss'd, And shook her snaky locks: he shuns the sight, Flies o'er the stage, surpris'd with mortal fright; The Furies guard the door and intercept his flight.
Hermes obeys; with golden pinions binds His flying feet, and mounts the western winds: And, whether o'er the seas or earth he flies, With rapid force they bear him down the skies. But first he grasps within his awful hand The mark of sov'reign pow'r, his magic wand; With this he draws the ghosts from hollow graves; With this he drives them down the Stygian waves; With this he seals in sleep the wakeful sight, And eyes, tho' clos'd in death, restores to light. Thus arm'd, the god begins his airy race, And drives the racking clouds along the liquid space; Now sees the tops of Atlas, as he flies, Whose brawny back supports the starry skies; Atlas, whose head, with piny forests crown'd, Is beaten by the winds, with foggy vapors bound. Snows hide his shoulders; from beneath his chin The founts of rolling streams their race begin; A beard of ice on his large breast depends. Here, pois'd upon his wings, the god descends: Then, rested thus, he from the tow'ring height Plung'd downward, with precipitated flight, Lights on the seas, and skims along the flood. As waterfowl, who seek their fishy food, Less, and yet less, to distant prospect show; By turns they dance aloft, and dive below: Like these, the steerage of his wings he plies, And near the surface of the water flies, Till, having pass'd the seas, and cross'd the sands, He clos'd his wings, and stoop'd on Libyan lands: Where shepherds once were hous'd in homely sheds, Now tow'rs within the clouds advance their heads. Arriving there, he found the Trojan prince New ramparts raising for the town's defense. A purple scarf, with gold embroider'd o'er, (Queen Dido's gift,) about his waist he wore; A sword, with glitt'ring gems diversified, For ornament, not use, hung idly by his side.
Thy own great courage will cut short thy days, My noble Hector! neither pitiest thou Thy helpless infant, or my hapless self, Whose widowhood is near; for thou wilt fall Ere long, assail'd by the whole host of Greece. Then let me to the tomb, my best retreat When thou art slain. For comfort none or joy Can I expect, thy day of life extinct, But thenceforth, sorrow. Father I have none; No mother. When Cilicia's city, Thebes The populous, was by Achilles sack'd. He slew my father; yet his gorgeous arms Stripp'd not through reverence of him, but consumed, Arm'd as it was, his body on the pile, And heap'd his tomb, which the Oreades, Jove's daughters, had with elms inclosed around. My seven brothers, glory of our house, All in one day descended to the shades; For brave Achilles, while they fed their herds And snowy flocks together, slew them all. My mother, Queen of the well-wooded realm Of Hypoplacian Thebes, her hither brought Among his other spoils, he loosed again At an inestimable ransom-price, But by Diana pierced, she died at home. Yet Hector--oh my husband! I in thee Find parents, brothers, all that I have lost. Come! have compassion on us. Go not hence, But guard this turret, lest of me thou make A widow, and an orphan of thy boy. The city walls are easiest of ascent At yonder fig-tree; station there thy powers; For whether by a prophet warn'd, or taught By search and observation, in that part Each Ajax with Idomeneus of Crete, The sons of Atreus, and the valiant son Of Tydeus, have now thrice assail'd the town.
Thus marching on in military pride, Shouts of applause resound from side to side. Their casques adorn'd with laurel wreaths they wear, Each brandishing aloft a cornel spear. Some at their backs their gilded quivers bore; Their chains of burnish'd gold hung down before. Three graceful troops they form'd upon the green; Three graceful leaders at their head were seen; Twelve follow'd ev'ry chief, and left a space between. The first young Priam led; a lovely boy, Whose grandsire was th' unhappy king of Troy; His race in after times was known to fame, New honors adding to the Latian name; And well the royal boy his Thracian steed became. White were the fetlocks of his feet before, And on his front a snowy star he bore. Then beauteous Atys, with Iulus bred, Of equal age, the second squadron led. The last in order, but the first in place, First in the lovely features of his face, Rode fair Ascanius on a fiery steed, Queen Dido's gift, and of the Tyrian breed. Sure coursers for the rest the king ordains, With golden bits adorn'd, and purple reins.
The coastal belt of Australia is everywhere well watered, with the exception of the country around the Great Australian Bight and Spencer Gulf. Flowing into the Pacific Ocean on the east coast there are some fine rivers, but the majority have short and rapid courses. In Queensland a succession of rivers falls into the Pacific from Cape York to the southern boundary of the state. The Burdekin is the finest of these, draining an area of 53,500 sq. m., and emptying into Upstart Bay; it receives numerous tributaries in its course, and carries a large body of fresh water even in the driest seasons. The Fitzroy river is the second in point of size; it drains an area of 55,600 sq. m., and receives several tributary streams during its course to Keppel Bay. The Brisbane river, falling into Moreton Bay, is important chiefly from the fact that the city of Brisbane is situated on its banks. In New South Wales there are several important rivers, the largest of which is the Hunter, draining 11,000 sq. m., and having a course of 200 m. Taking them from north to south, the principal rivers are the Richmond, Clarence, Macleay, Hastings, Manning, Hunter, Hawkesbury and Shoalhaven. The Snowy river has the greater part of its course in New South Wales, but its mouth and the last 120 m. are in Victoria. The other rivers worth mentioning are the Yarra, entering the sea at Port Phillip, Hopkins and Glenelg. The Murray (q.v.), the greatest river of Australia, debouches into Lake Alexandrina, and thence into the sea at Encounter Bay in South Australia. There are no other rivers of importance in South Australia, but the Torrens and the Gawler may be mentioned. Westward of South Australia, on the shores of the Australian Bight, there is a stretch of country 300 m. in length unpierced by any streams, large or small, but west of the bight, towards Cape Leeuwin, some small rivers enter the sea. The south-west coast is watered by a few streams, but none of any size; amongst these is the Swan, upon which Perth, the capital of Western Australia, is built. Between the Swan and North-West Cape the principal rivers are the Greenough, Murchison and Gascoyne; on the north-west coast, the Ashburton, Fortescue and De Grey; and in the Kimberley district, the Fitzroy, Panton, Prince Regent and the Ord. In the Northern Territory are several fine rivers. The Victoria river is navigable for large vessels for a distance of about 43 m. from the sea, and small vessels may ascend for another 80 m. The Fitzmaurice, discharging into the estuary of the Victoria, is also a large stream. The Daly, which in its upper course is called the Katherine, is navigable for a considerable distance, and small vessels are able to ascend over 100 m. The Adelaide, discharging into Adam Bay, has been navigated by large vessels for about 38 m., and small vessels ascend still farther. The South Alligator river, flowing into Van Diemen's Gulf, is also a fine stream, navigable for over 30 m. by large vessels; the East Alligator river, falling into the same gulf, has been navigated for 40 m. Besides those mentioned, there are a number of smaller rivers discharging on the north coast, and on the west shore of the Gulf of Carpentaria the Roper river discharges itself into Limmen Bight. The Roper is a magnificent stream, navigable for about 75 or 80 m. by vessels of the largest tonnage, and light draught vessels can ascend 20 m. farther. Along the portion of the south shore of the Gulf of Carpentaria which belongs to Queensland and the east coast, many large rivers discharge their waters, amongst them the Norman, Flinders, Leichhardt, Albert and Gregory on the southern shore, and the Batavia, Archer, Coleman, Mitchell, Staaten and Gilbert on the eastern shore. The rivers flowing into the Gulf of Carpentaria, as well as those in the Northern Territory, drain country which is subject to regular monsoonal rains, and have the general characteristics of sub-tropical rivers. Entry: PHYSICAL
_Flora._--The flora of Japan has been carefully studied by many scientific men from Siebold downwards. Foreigners visiting Japan are immediately struck by the affection of the people for flowers, trees and natural beauties of every kind. In actual wealth of blossom or dimensions of forest trees the Japanese islands cannot claim any special distinction. The spectacles most admired by all classes are the tints of the foliage in autumn and the glory of flowering trees in the spring. In beauty and variety of pattern and colour the autumnal tints are unsurpassed. The colours pass from deep brown through purple to yellow and white, thrown into relief by the dark green of non-deciduous shrubs and trees. Oaks and wild prunus, wild vines and sumachs, various kinds of maple, the dodan (_Enkianthus Japonicus_ Hook.)--a wonderful bush which in autumn develops a hue of ruddy red--birches and other trees, all add multitudinous colours to the brilliancy of a spectacle which is further enriched by masses of feathery bamboo. The one defect is lack of green sward. The grass used for Japanese lawns loses its verdure in autumn and remains from November to March a greyish-brown blot upon the scene. Spring is supposed to begin in February when, according to the old calendar, the new year sets in, but the only flowers then in bloom are the _camellia japonica_ and some kinds of daphne. The former--called by the Japanese _tsubaki_--may often be seen glowing fiery red amid snow, but the pink (_otome tsubaki_), white (_shiro-tsubaki_) and variegated (_shibori-no-tsubaki_) kinds do not bloom until March or April. Neither the camellia nor the daphne is regarded as a refined flower: their manner of shedding their blossoms is too unsightly. Queen of spring flowers is the plum (_ume_). The tree lends itself with peculiar readiness to the skilful manipulation of the gardener, and is by him trained into shapes of remarkable grace. Its pure white or rose-red blossoms, heralding the first approach of genial weather, are regarded with special favour and are accounted the symbol of unassuming hardihood. The cherry (_sakura_) is even more esteemed. It will not suffer any training, nor does it, like the plum, improve by pruning, but the sunshine that attends its brief period of bloom in April, the magnificence of its flower-laden boughs and the picturesque flutter of its falling petals, inspired an ancient poet to liken it to the "soul of Yamato" (Japan), and it has ever since been thus regarded. The wild peach (_momo_) blooms at the same time, but attracts little attention. All these trees--the plum, the cherry and the peach--bear no fruit worthy of the name, nor do they excel their Occidental representatives in wealth of blossom, but the admiring affection they inspire in Japan is unique. Scarcely has the cherry season passed when that of the wistaria (_fuji_) comes, followed by the azalea (_tsutsuji_) and the iris (_shobu_), the last being almost contemporaneous with the peony (_botan_), which is regarded by many Japanese as the king of flowers and is cultivated assiduously. A species of weeping maple (_shidare-momiji_) dresses itself in peachy-red foliage and is trained into many picturesque shapes, though not without detriment to its longevity. Summer sees the lotus (_renge_) convert wide expanses of lake and river into sheets of white and red blossoms; a comparatively flowerless interval ensues until, in October and November, the chrysanthemum arrives to furnish an excuse for fashionable gatherings. With the exception of the dog-days and the dead of winter, there is no season when flowers cease to be an object of attention to the Japanese, nor does any class fail to participate in the sentiment. There is similar enthusiasm in the matter of gardens. From the 10th century onwards the art of landscape gardening steadily grew into a science, with esoteric as well as exoteric aspects, and with a special vocabulary. The underlying principle is to reproduce nature's scenic beauties, all the features being drawn to scale, so that however restricted the space, there shall be no violation of proportion. Thus the artificial lakes and hills, the stones forming rockeries or simulating solitary crags, the trees and even the bushes are all selected or manipulated so as to fall congruously into the general scheme. If, on the one hand, huge stones are transported hundreds of miles from seashore or river-bed where, in the lapse of long centuries, waves and cataracts have hammered them into strange shapes, and if the harmonizing of their various colours and the adjustment of their forms to environment are studied with profound subtlety, so the training and tending of the trees and shrubs that keep them company require much taste and much toil. Thus the red pine (_aka-matsu_ or _pinus densiflora_), which is the favourite garden tree, has to be subjected twice a year to a process of spray-dressing which involves the careful removal of every weak or aged needle. One tree occupies the whole time of a gardener for about ten days. The details are endless, the results delightful. But it has to be clearly understood that there is here no mention of a flower-garden in the Occidental sense of the term. Flowers are cultivated, but for their own sakes, not as a feature of the landscape garden. If they are present, it is only as an incident. This of course does not apply to shrubs which blossom at their seasons and fall always into the general scheme of the landscape. Forests of cherry-trees, plum-trees, magnolia trees, or _hiyaku-jikko_ (_Lagerstroemia indica_), banks of azalea, clumps of hydrangea, groups of camellia--such have their permanent places and their foliage adds notes of colour when their flowers have fallen. But chrysanthemums, peonies, roses and so forth, are treated as special shows, and are removed or hidden when out of bloom. There is another remarkable feature of the Japanese gardener's art. He dwarfs trees so that they remain measurable only by inches after their age has reached scores, even hundreds, of years, and the proportions of leaf, branch and stem are preserved with fidelity. The pots in which these wonders of patient skill are grown have to be themselves fine specimens of the ceramist's craft, and as much as £200 is sometimes paid for a notably well trained tree. Entry: F
14. _Newark and Cheriton (March 1644)._--As in 1643, Rupert was soon on his way to the north to retrieve the fortunes of his side. Moving by the Welsh border, and gathering up garrisons and recruits snowball-wise as he marched, he went first to Cheshire to give a hand to Byron, and then, with the utmost speed, he made for Newark. On the 20th of March 1644 he bivouacked at Bingham, and on the 21st he not only relieved Newark but routed the besiegers' cavalry. On the 22nd Meldrum's position was so hopeless that he capitulated on terms. But, brilliant soldier as he was, the prince was unable to do more than raid a few Parliamentary posts around Lincoln, after which he had to return his borrowed forces to their various garrisons and go back to Wales--laden indeed with captured pikes and muskets--to raise a permanent field army. But Rupert could not be in all places at once. Newcastle was clamorous for aid. In Lancashire, only the countess of Derby, in Lathom House, held out for the king, and her husband pressed Rupert to go to her relief. Once, too, the prince was ordered back to Oxford to furnish a travelling escort for the queen, who shortly after this gave birth to her youngest child and returned to France. The order was countermanded within a few hours, it is true, but Charles had good reason for avoiding detachments from his own army. On the 29th of March, Hopton had undergone a severe defeat at Cheriton near New Alresford. In the preliminary manoeuvres and in the opening stages of the battle the advantage lay with the Royalists, and the earl of Forth, who was present, was satisfied with what had been achieved and tried to break off the action. But Royalist indiscipline ruined everything. A young cavalry colonel charged in defiance of orders, a fresh engagement opened, and at the last moment Waller snatched a victory out of defeat. Worse than this was the news from Yorkshire and Scotland. Charles had at last assented to Montrose's plan and promised him the title of marquis, but the first attempt to raise the Royalist standard in Scotland gave no omen of its later triumphs. In Yorkshire Sir Thomas Fairfax, advancing from Lancashire through the West Riding, joined his father. Selby was stormed on the 11th of April, and thereupon Newcastle, who had been manoeuvring against the Scots in Durham, hastily drew back, sent his cavalry away, and shut himself up with his foot in York. Two days later the Scottish general, Alexander Leslie, Lord Leven, joined the Fairfaxes and prepared to invest that city. Entry: 14
Along the full length of the eastern coast extends a succession of mountain chains. The vast Cordillera of the Great Dividing Range originates in the south-eastern corner of the continent, and runs parallel with and close to the eastern shore, through the states of Victoria and New South Wales, right up to the far-distant York Peninsula in Queensland. In Victoria the greatest elevation is reached in the peaks of Mount Bogong (6508 ft.) and Mount Feathertop (6303 ft.), both of which lie north of the Dividing Range; in the main range Mount Hotham (6100 ft.) and Mount Cobberas (6025 ft.) are the highest summits. In New South Wales, but close to the Victorian border, are found the loftiest peaks of Australia, Mount Kosciusco and Mount Townsend, rising to heights of 7328 and 7260 ft. respectively. The range is here called the Muniong, but farther north it receives the name of Monaro Range; the latter has a much reduced altitude, its average being only about 2000 ft. As the tableland runs northward it decreases both in height and width, until it narrows to a few miles only, with an elevation of scarcely 1500 ft.; under the name of the Blue Mountains the plateau widens again and increases in altitude, the chief peaks being Mount Clarence (4000 ft.), Mount Victoria (3525 ft.), and Mount Hay (3270 ft.). The Dividing Range decreases north of the Blue Mountains, until as a mere ridge it divides the waters of the coastal rivers from those flowing to the Darling. The mass widens out once more in the Liverpool Range, where the highest peak, Mount Oxley, reaches 4500 ft., and farther north, in the New England Range, Ben Lomond reaches an elevation of 5000 ft. Near the Queensland border, Mount Lindsay, in the Macpherson Range, rises to a height of 5500 ft. In the latitude of Brisbane the chain swerves inland; no other peak north of this reaches higher than Mount Bartle Frere in the Bellenden Ker Range (5438 ft.). The Southern Ocean system of the Victorian Dividing Range hardly attains to the dignity of high mountains. An eastern system in South Australia touches at a few points a height of 3000 ft.; and the Stirling Range, belonging to the south-western system of South Australia, reaches to 2340 ft. There are no mountains behind the Great Australian Bight. On the west the Darling Range faces the Indian Ocean, and extends from Point D'Entrecasteaux to the Murchison river. North of the Murchison, Mount Augustus and Mount Bruce, with their connecting highlands, cut off the coastal drainage from the interior; but no point on the north-west coast reaches a greater altitude than 4000 ft. Several minor ranges, the topography of which is little known, extend from Cambridge Gulf, behind a very much broken coast-line, to Limmen Bight on the Gulf of Carpentaria. Nothing is more remarkable than the contrast between the aspect of the coastal ranges on the north-east and on the south-east of the continent. The higher Australian peaks in the south-east look just what they are, the worn and denuded stumps of mountains, standing for untold ages above the sea. Their shoulders are lifted high above the tree-line. Their summits stand out gaunt and lonely in an unbroken solitude. Having left the tree-line far behind him, nothing is visible to the traveller for miles around but barren peaks and torn crags in indescribable confusion. A verdure of herbage clothes the valleys that have been scooped from the summits downwards. But there are no perpetual snow-fields, no glaciers creep down these valleys, and no alpine hamlets ever appear to break the monotony. The mountains of the north-east, on the contrary, are clothed to their summits with a rich and varied flora. Naked crags, when they do appear, lift themselves from a sea of green, and a tropical vegetation, quite Malaysian in character, covers everything. Entry: PHYSICAL
_History_.--There is ground for supposing that the Phoenicians were not ignorant of the Canaries. The Romans learned of their existence through Juba, king of Mauretania, whose account of an expedition to the islands, made about 40 B.C., was preserved by the elder Pliny. He mentions "Canaria, so called from the multitude of dogs of great size," and "Nivaria, taking its name from perpetual snow, and covered with clouds," doubtless Teneriffe. Canaria was said to abound in palms and pine trees. Both Plutarch and Ptolemy speak of the Fortunate Islands, but from their description it is not clear whether the Canaries or one of the other island groups in the western Atlantic are meant; see ISLES OF THE BLEST. In the 12th century the Canaries were visited by Arab navigators, and in 1334 they were rediscovered by a French vessel driven among them by a gale. A Portuguese expedition, undertaken about the same time, failed to find the archipelago, and want of means frustrated the project of conquest entertained by a grandson of Alphonso X. of Castile, named Juan de la Cerda, who had obtained a grant of the islands and had been crowned king of them at Avignon, by Pope Clement VI. Two or possibly more Spanish expeditions followed, and a monastic mission was established, but at the close of the 14th century the Guanches remained unconquered and unconverted. In 1402, however, Gadifer de la Salle and Jean de Béthencourt (q.v.) sailed with two vessels from Rochelle, and landed early in July on Lanzarote. The relations between these two leaders, and their respective shares in the work of conquest and exploration, have been the subject of much controversy. Between 1402 and 1404 La Salle conquered Lanzarote and part of Fuerteventura, besides exploring other islands; Béthencourt meanwhile sailed to Cadiz for reinforcements. He returned in 1404 with the title of king, which he had secured from Henry III. of Castile. La Salle, thus placed in a position of inferiority, left the islands and appealed unsuccessfully for redress at the court of Castile. In 1405 Béthencourt visited Normandy, and returned with fresh colonists who conquered Hierro. In December 1406 he left the Canaries, entrusting their government to his nephew Maciot de Béthencourt, and reserving for himself a share in any profits obtained, and the royal title. Eight years of misrule followed before Queen Catherine of Castile intervened. Maciot thereupon sold his office to her envoy, Pedro Barba de Campos; sailed to Lisbon and resold it to Prince Henry the Navigator; and a few years afterwards resold it once more to Enrique de Guzman, count of Niebla. Jean de Béthencourt, who died in 1422, bequeathed the islands to his brother Reynaud; Guzman sold them to another Spaniard named Paraza, who was forced to re-sell to Ferdinand and Isabella of Castile in 1476; and Prince Henry twice endeavoured to enforce his own claims. Meanwhile the Guanches remained unconquered throughout the greater part of the archipelago. In 1479 the sovereignty of Ferdinand and Isabella over the Canaries was established by the treaty of Alcaçova, between Portugal and Castile. After much bloodshed, and with reinforcements from the mother country, the Spaniards, under Pedro de Vera, became masters of Grand Canary in 1483. Palma was conquered in 1491, and Teneriffe in 1495, by Alonzo de Lugo. The archipelago was included for administrative purposes in the captaincy-general of Andalusia until 1833, when it was made a separate province. In 1902 a movement in favour of local autonomy was repressed by Spanish troops. Entry: CANARY