Enoch Arden, &c Part 7

Do G.o.damoighty knaw what a's doing a-taakin' o'

mea?

I beant wonn as saws 'ere a bean an' yonder a pea; An' Squoire 'ull be sa mad an' all--a' dear a'

dear!

And I 'a monaged for Squoire come Michaelmas thirty year.

XIII.

A mowt 'a taaken Joanes, as 'ant a 'aapoth o'

sense, Or a mowt a' taaken Robins--a niver mended a fence: But G.o.damoighty a moost taake mea an' taake ma now Wi 'auf the cows to cauve an' Thornaby holms to plow!

XIV.

Looak 'ow quoloty smoiles when they sees ma a pa.s.sin' by, Says to thessen naw doot 'what a mon a be sewer-ly!'

For they knaws what I bean to Squoire sin fust a comed to the 'All; I done my duty by Squoire an' I done my duty by all.

XV.

Squoire's in Lunnon, an' summun I reckons 'ull 'a to wroite, For who's to howd the lond ater mea thot muddles ma quoit; Sartin-sewer I bea, thot a weant niver give it to Joanes, Noither a moant to Robins--a niver rembles the stoans.

XVI.

But summun 'ull come ater mea mayhap wi' 'is kittle o' steam Huzzin' an' maazin' the blessed fealds wi' the Divil's oan team.

Gin I mun doy I mun doy, an' loife they says is sweet, But gin I mun doy I mun doy, for I couldn abear to see it.

XVII.

What atta stannin' theer for, an' doesn bring ma the yaale?

Doctor's a 'tottler, la.s.s, an a's hallus i' the owd taale; I weant break rules for Doctor, a knaws naw moor nor a floy; Git ma my yaale, I tell tha, an' gin I mun doy I mun doy.

MISCELLANEOUS.

t.i.tHONUS.

The woods decay, the woods decay and fall, The vapors weep their burthen to the ground, Man comes and tills the field and lies beneath, And after many a summer dies the swan.

Me only cruel immortality Consumes: I wither slowly in thine arms, Here at the quiet limit of the world, A white-hair'd shadow roaming like a dream The ever-silent s.p.a.ces of the East, Far-folded mists, and gleaming halls of morn.

Alas! for this gray shadow, once a man-- So glorious in his beauty and thy choice, Who madest him thy chosen, that he seem'd To his great heart none other than a G.o.d!

I ask'd thee, 'Give me immortality.'

Then didst thou grant mine asking with a smile, Like wealthy men who care not how they give.

But thy strong Hours indignant work'd their wills, And beat me down and marr'd and wasted me, And tho' they could not end me, left me maim'd To dwell in presence of immortal youth, Immortal age beside immortal youth, And all I was, in ashes. Can thy love, Thy beauty, make amends, tho' even now, Close over us, the silver star, thy guide, s.h.i.+nes in those tremulous eyes that fill with tears To hear me? Let me go: take back thy gift: Why should a man desire in any way To vary from the kindly race of men, Or pa.s.s beyond the goal of ordinance Where all should pause, as is most meet for all?

A soft air fans the cloud apart; there comes A glimpse of that dark world where I was born.

Once more the old mysterious glimmer steals From thy pure brows, and from thy shoulders pure, And bosom beating with a heart renew'd.

Thy cheek begins to redden thro' the gloom, Thy sweet eyes brighten slowly close to mine, Ere yet they blind the stars, and the wild team Which love thee, yearning for thy yoke, arise, And shake the darkness from their loosen'd manes, And beat the twilight into flakes of fire.

Lo! ever thus thou growest beautiful In silence, then before thine answer given Departest, and thy tears are on my cheek.

Why wilt thou ever scare me with thy tears, And make me tremble lest a saying learnt, In days far-off, on that dark earth, be true?

'The G.o.ds themselves cannot recall their gifts.'

Ay me! ay me! with what another heart In days far-off, and with what other eyes I used to watch--if I be he that watch'd-- The lucid outline forming round thee; saw The dim curls kindle into sunny rings; Changed with thy mystic change, and felt my blood Glow with the glow that slowly crimson'd all Thy presence and thy portals, while I lay, Mouth, forehead, eyelids, growing dewy-warm With kisses balmier than half-opening buds Of April, and could hear the lips that kiss'd Whispering I knew not what of wild and sweet, Like that strange song I heard Apollo sing, While Ilion like a mist rose into towers.

Yet hold me not for ever in thine East: How can my nature longer mix with thine?

Coldly thy rosy shadows bathe me, cold Are all thy lights, and cold my wrinkled feet Upon thy glimmering thresholds, when the steam Floats up from those dim fields about the homes Of happy men that have the power to die, And gra.s.sy barrows of the happier dead.

Release me, and restore me to the ground; Thou seest all things, thou wilt see my grave: Thou wilt renew thy beauty morn by morn; I earth in earth forget these empty courts, And thee returning on thy silver wheels.

THE VOYAGE.

I.

We left behind the painted buoy That tosses at the harbor-mouth; And madly danced our hearts with joy, As fast we fleeted to the South: How fresh was every sight and sound On open main or winding sh.o.r.e!

We knew the merry world was round, And we might sail for evermore.

II.

Warm broke the breeze against the brow, Dry sang the tackle, sang the sail: The Lady's-head upon the prow Caught the shrill salt, and sheer'd the gale.

The broad seas swell'd to meet the keel, And swept behind: so quick the run, We felt the good s.h.i.+p shake and reel, We seem'd to sail into the Sun!

III.

How oft we saw the Sun retire, And burn the threshold of the night, Fall from his Ocean-lane of fire, And sleep beneath his pillar'd light!

How oft the purple-skirted robe Of twilight slowly downward drawn, As thro' the slumber of the globe Again we dash'd into the dawn!

IV.

New stars all night above the brim Of waters lighten'd into view; They climb'd as quickly, for the rim Changed every moment as we flew.

Far ran the naked moon across The houseless ocean's heaving field, Or flying shone, the silver boss Of her own halo's dusky s.h.i.+eld;

V.

The peaky islet s.h.i.+fted shapes, High towns on hills were dimly seen, We past long lines of Northern capes And dewy Northern meadows green.

We came to warmer waves, and deep Across the boundless east we drove, Where those long swells of breaker sweep The nutmeg rocks and isles clove.

VI.

By peaks that flamed, or, all in shade, Gloom'd the low coast and quivering brine With ashy rains, that spreading made Fantastic plume or sable pine; By sands and steaming flats, and floods Of mighty mouth, we scudded fast, And hills and scarlet-mingled woods Glow'd for a moment as we past.

VII.

O hundred sh.o.r.es of happy climes, How swiftly stream'd ye by the bark!

At times the whole sea burn'd, at times With wakes of fire we tore the dark; At times a carven craft would shoot From havens hid in fairy bowers, With naked limbs and flowers and fruit, But we nor paused for fruit nor flowers.

VIII.

For one fair Vision ever fled Down the waste waters day and night, And still we follow'd where she led, In hope to gain upon her flight.

Her face was evermore unseen, And fixt upon the far sea-line; But each man murmur'd 'O my Queen, I follow till I make thee mine.'

IX.