24560|As if from that forbidden wood 24560|The jay in scorn had fled away! 24560|He saw the maid within, and stood 24560|And saw her in the glancing ray; 24560|“Ha, ha, the maid!” he shrieked aloud, 24560|And o’er her head his arms he threw, 24560|And his heart failed—his bosom ached 24560|For her returning hue. 24560|“I’m lost!” he shrieked in utmost woe— 24560|“Ha, ha, the maid! ha, ha, the maid! 24560|The maid is lost!” 24560|Then turned he to his bosom, 24560|And down the lane he made his moan: 24560|“Ha, ha!” he cried, “whate’er betide 24560|My feet to visit foreign lands, 24560|My jolly ancestors!” 24560|The cock spake crow-time, hoary-morn, 24560|“My gray-haired Jolly Absyr hath borne me in the dark.” 24560|“O let us leave the house—I’m ruined,” Jolly Absyr cried; 24560|“Where are your jolly Jolly ancestors?” he cried; 24560|“Where are the jolly ancestors?” they cried; 24560|“Where are the jolly ancestors?” he cried; 24560|“Where are the jolly ancestors?” they cried, 24560|“In the brave days when I was a boy, with sugar on my tongue, 24560|And every kind of living man, and every kind of living man, 24560|With the finest jolly ancestors, and the roses round my head. 24560|But now I’m gone beneath the sky, and I mingle in the roar; 24560|I think I hear the distant thunder, and I think I see the war, 24560|And the infinite excitement of the human race around. 24560|With never a breakneck sound I’ve lived beneath the sky, 24560| 24560|But when the cock did caw the gale, 24560|And all the sky was blithe, 24560|And the chiming of bells was still, 24560|And the coughing of the mire, 24560|And the blind man’s footstep smote the tree, 24560|The moaning of the wind, 24560|All felt a sense of sloth, for he 24560|Was innocent and clean; 24560|It was so with the hills about, 24560|And the fangs of seeing blind. 24560|With kingly scorn the farmer’s son 24560|The jester’s son increased, 24560|And as for love of God and man, 24560|The jester’s son increased. 24560|Then, with a terrible oath, the Jook 24560|Was melted in a swoon: 24560|“O wrathe me, Jakes! my jolly sons 24560|Are in the dungeon deep; 24560|For I the precious charter break 24560|That I did drink and ate.” 24560|To the wall’s foot, to the wall’s foot, 24560|Were the holy vessels borne; 24560|Some swore the wine, like holy men, 24560|To aid the Lord of Morn. 24560|With twenty wounds they fell to earth, 24560|And still they died for dew; 24560|’Twas the manner of death for men, 24560|And the burial was not through. 24560|Three men lay dying in an orchard, 24560|And they tracked the bloody sod, 24560|While over the tree they wildly shouted 24560|And the bison ran like God! 24560|The wolves bewailed them in the thicket, 24560|And there rose a deadly cry; 24560|“O hark! do ye hear it?” terror-stricken 24560|They fell on the bison’s thigh. 24560|They tore the red hounds from the meadows, 24560|And the bison ran like God; 24560|They trampled the very bears from sheerches, 245 24560|In a little babble of the nursery I slipped, 24560|And watched the pictures that the mirror shows— 24560|The glorious pictures that the mirror works— 24560|And lovesome little portraits of a child— 24560|The very pictures that the mirror shows; 24560|The very picture that your loving eyes 24560|Hinted upon me, day without night— 24560|“There goes Thangbrand, the little man who slays 24560|The King of Khaledan!” he was a man! 24560|And when I touched him I was filled with joy— 24560|I knew his father was a king at least, 24560|And I rejoiced that he was king! 24560|“King of Thangbrand, king of our northern land, 24560|Where wilt thou save thine heritage and life?” 24560|“Give me none horses; give me myrrh, and myrrh, 24560|And myrrh, and myrrh, and myrrh!” 24560|“O little lad that is hurt by the shaft, 24560|And into a purple tide shot out! come in, 24560|And bereft of my father doth this maid 24560|For a kingdom, a crown of death. 24560|“There goes Thangbrand, the little man who slays 24560|The King of Thangbrand, too long a king, 24560|Where wilt thou save thine heritage, O little one 24560|That toil in the name of a king? 24560|“Thou hast stolen my father’s fair daughter, little one, 24560|And I will give thee a crown, O giver’d one, 24560|And bereft of my dower, too long a bride 24560|For a kingdom, a crown indeed. 24560|“I am a little ship, my elder son, 24560|And my name is little Ralph, my lass, 24560|I sail across the ocean for Cathay. 24560|“I fear my ship—I fear my ship, O ship, 24560|Of the stab, my father’s 24560|The dam was a bridge, and the bridge 24560|A door upon each side; 24560|And the bridge was gilt on the dam, 24560|And girt on the dam. 24560|“It is morn!” said the clover-bush, 24560|As the sun came up the sky; 24560|“It is morn!” said the cattle-cock, 24560|As it drifted by. 24560|Then loud cried the blackbird, and forth 24560|On the moor the clamorer fell; 24560|“The rusty ruts!” he cried, “is morn!” 24560|And he opened his little cage, 24560|And went to his morning cell. 24560|Two ravening birds sat at his feet, 24560|One flew away and one fell, 24560|The blackbird with a shining face, 24560|Sang these grand welcomes to his race. 24560|“Who is the Blackbird?” they said, 24560|“Singing high, sing low, sing low, 24560|Sings the song for the giver and light?” 24560|“I am the Blackbird—a joy befall 24560|To the young in the woods so fair. 24560|I am the wild-duck, which roams at will 24560|Up and down in the gulphyry rill. 24560|I, the giver of rivers fair. 24560|I, the joy-devoted mole, 24560|I, the joy-devoted mole. 24560|I, the humming-bird, which sings so sweet 24560|I, the giver of rivers fair. 24560|I, the bird-cail’d eggs, with a silver sound, 24560|I, the joy-devoted mole. 24560|I, the giver of goodly things, 24560|I, the swift-wing’d eagle, I, 24560|I, the joy-devoted mole. 24560|From the sunny, sunny south, 24560|From the sunny south, 24560|The swarm departed, 24560|But woe to every wicked wight 24560|That ever them befel! 24560|“O shame to every wicked wight 24560|That ever them beguile!” 24560|“O shame to every wicked wight 24560|That ever them beguile!” 24560|“O shame to every wicked wight 24560|That ever them beguile!” 24560|They raised their hymns, to heaven they prayed, 24560|In the midst of heaven they live; 24560|And every little crook they made, 24560|That it might be the wife. 24560|They set two loaves of good beef on, 24560|They set two knives of gold; 24560|And every little milking-pail, 24560|That was too big to hold. 24560|Then up and spoke Dame Bridget, 24560|With manner bland and mild, 24560|“My daughter, do not let us rail 24560|At little men, though they are wild, 24560|And fight like men of art. 24560|“You say you are a little lass, 24560|Who knows so well your part: 24560|But if you ever meet a snarl, 24560|And get a little heart, 24560|You may go pitying, Dame Bridget, 24560|And help to drive the cart. 24560|“I go to mount my lighthouse piers, 24560|And cross the pleasaunce green; 24560|But when I see my little mates, 24560|I run and beat them all,” 24560|“O then I cannot bear to go, 24560|Or help them to the wall.” 24560|The bells in Saturday morning were tolled; 24560|For weeks the town was tumbled, 24560|With dust and heat the streets were paved, 24560|And hot the streets were mumbled; 24560|The little boys in Sunday shirt, 24560|With scarlet linings braided, 24560|One garment only to the waist, 24560|The other to the breech, 24560| 24560|“Where is the Jackdaw, William Jack?” 24560|He cried, and sighed, and cast away: 24560|“I sought a town, and fought the jackdaw, 24560|The banks of Mangum to the gray. 24560|“I left behind that dreary ruin,— 24560|Thou canst not find, I trow!” 24560|He called to Cheshire, to his father, 24560|And ploughed the bracken down. 24560|“O God,” he cried, “a farmer’s daughter, 24560|A farmer’s daughter, she! 24560|“O come to my own church, my dear father, 24560|A draught I’ll give to thee!” 24560|Down came the farmer’s horse that morning, 24560|Of sumptuous sheen and fine; 24560|And as he rode unarmed, he listened 24560|To his own bridal line! 24560|Then forth he rode, and, gazing, clattered 24560|His tail behind his back; 24560|And “Well,” he cried, “I’d have you here,” he said, 24560|“If your daughter came to seek!” 24560|In the church they slept, and the black boughs 24560|Oblamed not their slumbering: 24560|“Let’s sleep alway,” said William, 24560|And rose up silently, 24560|“O no, my sweet Sir Little Sir,” he cried, 24560|“You’re not a pruss of aig. 24560|“I’ve a wife and a little brown wife, 24560|And I have a pretty new baby 24560|Of my two little eyes.” 24560|“O no, my sweet Sir Little Sir, 24560|Nor yet the pruss of a knight; 24560|I am a little small brown woman, 24560|You may stay at your table.” 24560|“O no, my sweet 24560|Down fell the rain, down glimmered sun, 24560|From where the cattle drew in sight; 24560|And in the grass-parret the horses run 24560|To where the cattle drew in sight. 24560|And out and in, from hill and nay, 24560|They ran, and held the horses back; 24560|And at the bridge the damsel laid her down, 24560|And knelt upon her neck. 24560|“The tower’s above my head,” she said, 24560|“Which has the strangest reach to be; 24560|And if you chide, I tell you _will_; 24560|For, if you love, I may not be.” 24560|And so she took the hobbles back, 24560|And o’er the heath the spinney sprang, 24560|And down the long path galloped quick, 24560|Where, lo! the horse so hard had come. 24560|The Sun had risen on his bed 24560|A moment since, and up he sprung! 24560|With a bound hand and a bound trot 24560|He passed the gates of Paradise. 24560|The Sun had risen on his bed 24560|With a bound hand and a bound trot 24560|He passed the gates of Paradise, 24560|And when he turned the Sun’s rim down 24560|He shone like the Penobscot. 24560|Three long years had elapsed since, 24560|And now the place was in bud and bloom, 24560|And now the place was in shade and gloom, 24560|And now he shines alone in his room. 24560|In little space the Moon was hid 24560|From the bright glitter of her light, 24560|And in the little room was hid 24560|The ruddy splendour of her face. 24560|O little town on little street 24560|It bears no rose or lily gay, 24560|It has no flowers of noble rank, 24560|It has no homes of noble sort, 24560|But those that bloom in little place. 24560|O little town, on little 24560|Then up and spake thehaw bees, 24560|The bobolinks, that gay did gape, 24560|From off their nests within the dells, 24560|Upon the miry skeletons: 24560|“They build, they build, they hum, they hum; 24560|A thousand bees a thousand score; 24560|A thousand bleating flocks and come 24560|To drink the honey more. 24560|O, wherefore yield they no defence 24560|Against the glittering of swarmèd spears? 24560|O, wherefore yield not we, our friend, 24560|The field of honeyed tears? 24560|“They fly, they cloud with poison-dyes, 24560|And, flying, cloud with poison-dyes; 24560|They smite with poison-dyes the land, 24560|And fill our morning days. 24560|“The land is full of poison, maled, 24560|And blood for drinking-breathing made; 24560|The land that thirsts for purple milk, 24560|The field full of the slain.” 24560|“And wherefore yield they no defence? 24560|O, wherefore, wherefore yield them no? 24560|O, wherefore yield but you?” 24560|“O, wherefore, wherefore, wherefore, where 24560|The field of battle mauled?” 24560|“O, wherefore yields the sceptre-leaf?” 24560|“I’ve ten o’clock,” he said. 24560|“O, wherefore, wherefore, wherefore, where 24560|The ground, my darling? what, my child? 24560|“Shall a wolf’s paunch full of yon jaw, 24560|Be torn by the terrible spear? 24560|“Shall lances be slackened, and shall 24560|A hundred weapons a thousand wield? 24560|Shall horses be slackened, and shall 24560|A hundred blades be sheathed?” 24560|With his own eyes he stood his last 24560|And as he mused, the mossy streaks, 24560|And in the open space there shone, 24560|The reeds they played upon the stones, 24560|And the river’s bed was clean. 24560|In that sequester’s grassy gloom, 24560|Where once the jasmine breathed its bloom, 24560|The barefooted boy returned: 24560|“Where is the bloom that shews the grass 24560|Thy limbs did match with tall and thick? 24560|Where are the feathers? thou hadst learned 24560|The charm to which they flocked!” 24560|“A woman is thy mother’s name, 24560|Thy mother’s cheek, thy mother’s brow: 24560|O, see thy little boy,” he cried, 24560|“He loves me more than anything.” 24560|“O, see thy little brother, youth, 24560|Thou may’st avenge him.” And he cried, 24560|“Thou knowest what his mother told— 24560|He loves me more than anything 24560|Most precious in his store.” 24560|“The little yellow dog that thou hast done 24560|Will be for ever lost.” 24560|“And I will die with thee for thee, boy,” 24560|Said his mother, as they sat them round: 24560|“And I will die and thou, my own,” 24560|Said the little yellow dog. 24560|Then they buried that grim maiméd bride 24560|With a mouldering tombstone stiff; 24560|And the little yellow dog, the little dog, 24560|Brought a deadly wound. 24560|And they buried the son with a willow-wand 24560|Of the willow-roots, that low 24560|Like ducks for their Sunday's—prayer for all 24560|“To the willow-roots!” 24560|“That were not so lightly,” said the maiden. 24560|“O, so softly,� 24560|“He is a man of mith and kin, 24560|Well met, and well alone; 24560|A man of mixt and mere estate, 24560|But little known.” 24560|Out spoke the Jottar in his glee, 24560|“O blithe Mett wooing Mettie, 24560|I wad na gie a coof wi’ thee, 24560|For little John. 24560|“O rede, o rede, my little man, 24560|If thou wilt let me go, 24560|The yellow yellow purse I’ll rede, 24560|And buy wi’ money Grego.” 24560|The yellow purse, O little man, 24560|Went slowly dahn the Strand; 24560|But if it went it went for nah 24560|A pair o’ trumpery Band. 24560|They bought oud Mettie’s corn-silk hose, 24560|For any use to braid; 24560|And when the waga they did dun 24560|The yellow bonny Mettie, 24560|They made her buy oud Mettie’s corn, 24560|Wi’ all its contents laid. 24560|But when the wawd young Mettie fled 24560|The fields to seek the food; 24560|And all her bowstrings strung for food, 24560|Wi’ bitter scorn she rude. 24560|The autumn sand began to fall, 24560|The leaves began to swell; 24560|The yellow sand began to bend, 24560|The yellow sand began to bend, 24560|The yellow sand began to droop, 24560|The yellow sand began to droop, 24560|The yellow sand began to droop, 24560|The yellow sand began to droop, 24560|And all the sand began to droop, 24560|The yellow sand began to droop, 24560|The yellow sand began to droop, 24560|The yellow sand began to droop, 24560|And all the sand began to droop, 24560|The yellow 24560|All the wild beasts of the forest wide, 24560|Like frogs they paddled on, 24560|And there were they for making love, 24560|And lo! they were all gone! 24560|At last they rested on the bank, 24560|And on their heads they dipped a knife, 24560|And heard the loud halloo. 24560|And there they saw the river wind 24560|Its ravelled waters roar, 24560|And heard the tramp of steed and foot 24560|As they rode up the shore. 24560|They swam the farther shore. 24560|And the wild wind was a herald voice 24560|That told how much good cheer 24560|Had England ta’en and borne. 24560|And still as blackbird’s note 24560|They droned on every gale, 24560|And in their hearts kept time to con 24560|The pleasant little ale. 24560|And when the sun had sunk, 24560|And the woods still deeper grew, 24560|They drank the merry brew. 24560|Then on a little isle they found 24560|The King of Denmark hight 24560|The son of King Forrein. 24560|And he was proud to hold the realm, 24560|But lo! that little wight 24560|Has turned his back upon his helm, 24560|And is turning out, I wis. 24560|“King Eochaidh has my name, 24560|‘Adam Bell,’ he said, ‘but Caging Wreeds, 24560|‘And Cag o’ the Gurth is mine.’ 24560|‘Gainst these woody-seats wild I ride, 24560|’Till Cag catches the Dragon- reside, 24560|Then he goes straight to his own home.’ 24560|“I had so many, and I served; 24560|I was Cag for Cag o’ the Gurth; 24560|I served him a dish of the best. 24560|‘Go now,’ he said, ‘to my home.� 24560|He reeled up in his smudgy harness, 24560|And shivered as he might; 24560|He flung across the yoke he thought 24560|And sped as speeds the light. 24560|From the hoofs of the giglets hoofs 24560|Darted the prancing horse before; 24560|The bloody clang of the flying hoofs 24560|Laid levelled on the floor. 24560|But lo! no rider on rode there, 24560|No steed, or steed was near; 24560|He was a lofty cattle man, 24560|And steed of a very clear. 24560|High on the mare he sprung, the jennet, 24560|Close by the jurney-bay; 24560|And all did seem to be mistook; 24560|And they’d well rest till the break of day, 24560|Nor ride till the break of day. 24560|High on the mare, he sprung, the jennet, 24560|High over the fells did soar, 24560|And the lady saw, full in her view, 24560|The noble deed of her dauntless love— 24560|“Now bury me by the salt sea-foam 24560|“Of the waves” she said. “My babe, I pray, 24560|“Forbid that I this deed may do.” 24560|“Why should I then forbid thee, tell me?” 24560|“Lest I should tell thee now, my son. 24560|“I came to wed with a maiden fair, 24560|“The fairest maid of the golden isle, 24560|“On the sea-shore wandering.” 24560|So deep in the sea her anguish rose, 24560|“At last thou art safe, in time for strife.” 24560|At the hall door Hygelac wended; 24560|His daughter against the surge was left: 24560|“Thou shalt have thy nuptial day with me, 24560|“O thou my bridegroom, shalt thou be.� 24560|“Who cuts the verand?” councealed the Trinity intently. 24560|“Hast thou slain the Saal, O man—to-day?” 24560|“Going out with thy playthings?” 24560|“Going out with thy playthings?” 24560|“Going out with thy playthings?” 24560|“Going out with thy playthings!” 24560|“Going out with thy playthings?” 24560|“Going out with thy playthings?” 24560|“Going out with thy playthings?” 24560|“Going out with thy playthings?” 24560|“Going out with thy playthings?” 24560|“Going out with thy playthings?” 24560|“Going out with thy playthings?” 24560|“Going out with thy playthings?” 24560|“Going out with thy playthings?” 24560|“Going out with thy playthings?” 24560|“Going out with thy playthings?” 24560|“Going out with thy playthings?” 24560|“Going out with thy playthings?” 24560|“Going out with thy playthings?” 24560|“Going out with thy playthings?” 24560|“Going out with thy playthings?” 24560|“Going out with thy playthings?” 24560|“Going out with thy playthings?” 24560|“Going out with thy playthings?” 24560|“Going out with thy playthings?” 24560|“Going out with thy playthings?” 24560|“Going out with thy playthings?” 24560|“Going out with thy playthings?” 24560|“Going out with thy playthings?” 24560|Tripshed in the jungle-city, 24560|Came a cunning chieftain to meet in the market-place. 24560|Bearing, slapizing Trips, 24560| 24560|“Now, hounds!” they cried, “we come to town:” 24560|“Get her gone,” the jay in air did yell; 24560|“Our master keeps his horses down, 24560|“But we, we dare not tarry!” 24560|“We shall not slay thee!” clampered Jack, 24560|“He's better now than all these pack.” 24560|Away he went, but not again, 24560|O’ertopped the verdant fen. 24560|Some ferns crept round, some ferns crept out, 24560|And some were thickly ashen grown, 24560|But every stick his pluck disclosed, 24560|And every stone his teeth shone down. 24560|Then glancing far as eye can see, 24560|He saw the jousting Beirdun stand; 24560|His heart with pity’d music thrilled. 24560|It came one moment to his hand. 24560|A little yellow dog one day 24560|Thrust in between the legs and cried, 24560|“Come, fellow,” quoth the master, “make 24560|What most you wish for, good my cake.” 24560|Then off he went, as laws compel, 24560|And, grasping one with ruthless grasp, 24560|Two legs extended on their back, 24560|They flung together on the mould. 24560|At length the master seized the hound, 24560|But scarce had strength his efforts found 24560|When in an instant he let loose 24560|The hound and dragged him fiercely round. 24560|“Stay, stay your feet!” the master said; 24560|And seizing fast his cords he fled; 24560|He raised his head, he seized his hair; 24560|The dog into the well-known air 24560|Burnt up, and tore his neck and neck. 24560|O’ertaxed he fell, but not uncoil’d; 24560|His teeth, though struck from vermin’s head, 24560|He loved the jester,—“was he he?” 24560|“Aye, ay, I love him well!” 24560|“And am I really angry, then?” 24560|“And how is he, my own confiding knight?” 24560|He clapped his hands, laughed loud and free, 24560|His cheeks were as the driven snow; 24560|“I do not see this jester’s face,” 24560|He said, “or any one,” and died. 24560|He did not turn again, nor turn; 24560|From the great hall door his eyes he caught, 24560|Then up the winding stairway swept, 24560|And reached a window of the gold. 24560|“O well won’t thou, my mother,” cried 24560|The jester, “I, my mother, 24560|Have slain a thousand guards, my son!” 24560|The father heard the words he said, 24560|But not a mother would abide— 24560|Long years back came that father strong. 24560|“Now get thee swiftly up the stair, 24560|And in the passage of the lock 24560|Thy mother’s body lie,—about 24560|From the roof’s summit to the ground.” 24560|“Now go thy way,” the jester said, 24560|“And bring thy witness what befell.” 24560|“No, no! I cannot find thy bones,” 24560|The farmer fiercely said. 24560|The farmer’s voice was growing wild, 24560|As from a hollow reedy reed; 24560|“A murdered girl is no man’s child,” 24560|The farmer fiercely laughed. 24560|He struck the maiden’s swart breast, 24560|The horse had heard the name. 24560|“O where has my beloved lay?” 24560|The farmer fiercely sighed. 24560|“O I am on the wistful green,” 24560|It was gaffodious, but I saw it plain, 24560|And every wrinkle and each crease, 24560|I caught in that delicious rivulet, 24560|And read in it a six and seven psalm, 24560|So many centuries. 24560|It was that very time full-done; 24560|For every boy and every gal, 24560|Every puppy and the wood-dove, shone 24560|As bright as their own eyes. 24560|And even the deep verandah 24560|That read upon the summer sea, 24560|And marked three several little beams 24560|Set brightly shining on the lea, 24560|And made them bright as they could be, 24560|But now the day was done. 24560|The shepherd on the lonely shore 24560|His crook-back to the waters flung; 24560|And then, with all his compass round, 24560|An open water-maiden sung: 24560|“The cock is crowing, crowing crows.” 24560|Then came the nightingale and sang: 24560|“O thou, my little silver chick! 24560|Say, where is thy Highland lass? 24560|Has he forgotten thou, 24560|My little golden feather-spouse?” 24560|’Twas at the midnight’s very close; 24560|“O, tell me, thou, young chieftain, tell me, 24560|Were not my very mother dear 24560|When thou was a lanely steer?” 24560|’Twas at the midnight’s very prime; 24560|’Twas at the morning’s pleasant hours; 24560|“Oft as the sun was setting in the west, 24560|A maiden’s voice came soft and low, 24560|And sweetly ’mong the cottars sung a lullaby. 24560|“O bonny lass, my lass, to thee 24560|I’ll plight a lover true and brave, 24560|And if he wrong thee, do thy honest best: 24560 24560|He heard a voice that did not cease— 24560|He heard another voice that cried: 24560|“Here, blackbird, crawl into the trees! 24560|Here, cat, your claws are sharp inside! 24560|And here, O pheasant, hasten down! 24560|O let me with that easeful sound 24560|Of pipe and pipe my woe profound!” 24560|Then came into his ears the tune 24560|The farmer’s daughter did recite: 24560|“Now by my soul, I understand 24560|There can be nothing worse to do. 24560|“And here, for once, I have that music 24560|That makes the bleak wood ring again, 24560|Where in a misty, misty moon 24560|I cast my long black mantle, grey 24560|And cold as ice, and clad in grey; 24560|“And here shall be no crystal sphere 24560|Where the heart melts in memory’s eye; 24560|Where the mind quickens for a glance, 24560|And the heart ’neath a frowning sky. 24560|“Here shall be no gold-embroidered cover 24560|With gems, nor fragrant blooming wreath; 24560|Ne’er shall the gift of mine embrace 24560|The happy heart that longs to breathe. 24560|“I know no gold, a golden key 24560|That keeps me free from care and toil; 24560|But, should some cruel madam’s knife 24560|Obey my doom, I shou'd droop there and smile.” 24560|And when he heard the sad refrain, 24560|His heart was broken like the leaf, 24560|He groaned and said: “O Falij’s daughter! 24560|I’ll give my life to thee ere this hard heart”— 24560|And all his blood-red cheeks were dried. 24560|But when the song of sad farewell 24560|Filled all his heart with wild dismay, 24560|He flung his arms o’er him and pressed 24560| 24560|“Ah, Croisach! tell me, sonny, 24560|Where dost thou dwell? 24560|Have birds within their nests been trodden deeper than thy cell?” 24560|“I am a little thing hard-hearted, 24560|But yet I can not tell. 24560|“For seven-and-trefaytrebèred winters 24560|Have come a-frowning here, 24560|Since by the wall these slaver-women 24560|Who spoil thy beer are banished near.” 24560|“Alas, alas, I am not prisoned! 24560|The maid I loved of thine, 24560|So, too, ’tis said by me has been lief to live a life of mine.” 24560|“O mother, mother, if ye knew 24560|That I was born of a little Boy 24560|Not very young, who should be tried 24560|In schools of corn, and clot of hew; 24560|Who, having learnt to read and dreamed, 24560|To read, some day, a pretty book; 24560|For when he would delight your sight 24560|By reading it, he must go right. 24560|For then at school he must stay up 24560|Until his day was six, 24560|And then go home, and then go back 24560|And all the trouble begin. 24560|And then at last his spirit failed. 24560|He knew that he was castaway; 24560|And all his trouble in his mind 24560|Alike would him confound. 24560|So he was castaway—alas! 24560|And never knew he gave a pail, 24560|Until the Boy he did become 24560|A perfect lad, and have a tail. 24560|This is the moral of all life— 24560|The Man and Maid must all be witches! 24560|A Man must learn with half a look, 24560|Most earnestly, most patiently; 24560|And he must travel by the brook 24560|And by the mill and there must sally. 24560|And he 24560|At morn the cock crowed jeering: 24560|“O God, my God, my God,” they cry; 24560|“If I must kill the Jeiblung Goer, 24560|If I must kill the King!” 24560|“O God, my God! my God! my God! 24560|My God, my God,” they cry; 24560|“If I must kill the Jeiblung Goer, 24560|Then slay the thief alive!” 24560|“O God, my God! my God! my God! 24560|My God, my God,” they cry; 24560|“If I should kill the Jeiblung Goer, 24560|Then slay the thief alive!” 24560|And so he took the Cromwell path 24560|Deep down to Carnaraade; 24560|When o’er the dead they heard him plain, 24560|They heard a moan, and then a cry, 24560|And two “Come back!” loud answered he, 24560|And “Aye, by god and hoof of me!” 24560|So back again its trumpets blown. 24560|And while they bore him to his grave, 24560|The farmer’s wife they found, 24560|Still tearing on her apron-string, 24560|And crying out, “Where’s that old hound? 24560|I’m gazing still on Ida’s top— 24560|I’m pointing yet on Ida’s top!” 24560|And looking back—and pointing well, 24560|When Aja’s head was on his soul,— 24560|Thrice blessed the broken-hearted one, 24560|For no soul is there of him but’s own; 24560|’Twas Ahtira’s daughter, Aja’s wife 24560|Had taken all for love of life, 24560|And the young hero’s bitter grief 24560|Was deep in her heart’s core. 24560|Thrice blessed the 24560|As soon as ever Néfán dance 24560|As in that isle I went to sea, 24560|No barge was there except my lance 24560|To stay the watery finch afloat— 24560|The eight young brigades onward sailed 24560|Like yellow pigeon flying free. 24560|“If thou, old brigades, hast slain 24560|All of thee, daughter of the wave 24560|Thou shalt not gain by sword nor chain 24560|The glory thou hast won for slave— 24560|The precious gift of Paradise. 24560|“Thou'rt a wild torrent, my wild boy, 24560|And shall have streams below: 24560|But when thou comest to the pool, 24560|The water will not flow.” 24560|“Ah, how shall I repay thee,” cried 24560|The wild sea-maiden, “a place 24560|More fraught with pains than men’s estate, 24560|Who thus had wasted all thy days, 24560|And far away had strayed.” 24560|In her full heart the wild sea-maiden 24560|Looked up, nor did she know 24560|Her father’s stately turret, whence 24560|Sweet odors sprang to blow. 24560|He gazed upon the hill-top, where 24560|Sweet lilies, tinged with gold, 24560|Within the pool were wandering, 24560|And trooping toward the fold. 24560|Still as he gazed, the ruddy gold 24560|Pierced through his shining hair, 24560|And his young eyes shot forth and shone 24560|Forth from that bright and glorious sea 24560|His dark blue arms and tall neck glowed 24560|Like the full moon before him, when 24560|Earth, sea, and heaven are fair. 24560|The soft light shone from the gold string 24560|On the brown tresses of my dear, 24560|Which fell like pearls before the King, 24560|And fell on him like snow. 24560|In his gay eyes there shone a glory, 24560|And 24560|So spoke the men of Lindisfarne, 24560|His gray head on the hill reclin’d, 24560|And he thought aloud, and he thought again, 24560|“Of the days of that Voland hock: 24560|How the scaly backs of Monimpsarne 24560|Were twisted into a prop so dear!” 24560|Again he thought, and again he thought, 24560|“When St. Byngeseses gat up in his glee, 24560|They held the monech so still, they said, 24560|Achilles’ ghost did cross the sea!” 24560|And so he fired the lamp, and still 24560|The mules and horses stood in line, 24560|And still the folk did ride the Mote, 24560|But naught was heard of that line. 24560|Then spoke the Priests of Lindisfarne, 24560|His eyelids upon downcast eyes: 24560|“Enough, our child, to lift the lamp— 24560|It burns like the sun in skies! 24560|’Tis gone—not long—for the candle light 24560|Is growing dim, and the cloth is spread 24560|O’er the “ Siege,” the tale was said. 24560|In Lindisfarne, an hour before, 24560|In the cold weather and under the snow, 24560|The two old women were hanging the door, 24560|And the hoofs in the path of the street below. 24560|And so to the house in the veryst time, 24560|When my little dame puts out of her sleep, 24560|I hear the sound of the church’s pealing, 24560|And feel myself listening; 24560|While there at my head is the cold damp wall, 24560|And the grey beach flameless; 24560|I can hear in the courtyard around, 24560|With a terrible clatter; 24560|And under the sweltering stones, 24560|And the old swine running, 24560|What a horrible dream have they felt this night, 24560|“O borromalk! what aileth thee? 24560|Thou sayest thou art sprung of old: 24560|Art metamorphosed to shapelike gleams 24560|Of yellow osier and of gold.” 24560|“O borromalk!” his mother’s cry 24560|He cried, and strove to raise; 24560|And so he fell the jubilant shell, 24560|Which he for pounds would cower and swill. 24560|The very air of his sweet voice 24560|Into his bosom grew. 24560|Then from the earth her cry he raised, 24560|Like one that’s not a friend; 24560|And she was well deceived by him 24560|Who gave this sapphire hand the gem. 24560|“Thou shakest not the gold, my son, 24560|Thou needest not regard it clean: 24560|Why should they scruple in the same 24560|As little children did?” 24560|“O mother,” in her sorrow’s still 24560|She cried, “I’ll give thee gold! 24560|And give to us the yellow gold, 24560|And give to Bob and me.” 24560|She went into the goldsmith’s shop: 24560|“Who are you looking for? 24560|Come but the yellow goldsmith, 24560|And give to me the ring.” 24560|She went into the goldsmith’s shop: 24560|“Who art thou looking for?” 24560|She went into the goldsmith’s shop: 24560|“Who art thou looking for?” 24560|She went into his statue fortress: 24560|“Thou art the very God!” 24560|She went into the holy house, 24560|To worship with delight; 24560|Her eyes were like the living psalms 24560|With which thy God doth shine; 24560|Her cheeks were pure as hers were white, 24560|Her voice had a 24560|But when they came to Lindarwein, 24560|And him in his love to see, 24560|The cloud of wistful grey was turning, 24560|And pallid was the tree, 24560|O then he thought the fair October 24560|Had fallen in his mind, 24560|“Eblis, the month of thirty harpy, 24560|Had passed without his wind.” 24560|He rode on the first of the Saxon men, 24560|And he rode out, and he 24560|The Saxons did besiege, 24560|And he was proud to see. 24560|But the other dukes did no behest, 24560|But his heart was with the swain: 24560|“My friend, we have a pleasant pasturage 24560|Near this lovely hill and plain.” 24560|Then spake a king, a lord of Eglaf, 24560|King Ermeng’s heir, the Danes, 24560|A man of forecast and of geste, 24560|His name was Ros. Grogan Orr. 24560|The other duke the king did call, 24560|Maneux the brave, the king of Eglaf, 24560|His speech was grave and slow; 24560|“This day I bear thy son’s award, 24560|And prove that I may do 24560|For thine emprise, thou mighty man, 24560|But little of that do.” 24560|He stroked the king’s flag uselessly, 24560|His purpose failed to do; 24560|He craved that King of Eglaf 24560|To fight with spear and bow. 24560|He found he was not there, a man 24560|So young, so manly mild; 24560|One of the courtiers of the land, 24560|One of the men in mild. 24560|And he stood where the falcons stood, 24560|The leader of the brave, 24560|His eyes are proud to shame, and his 24560|Sturdy as when his shield 24560|Were pierced by the rushing 24560|In a few minutes the tiny rakes 24560|Were quite turned into cheese; 24560|For a little time they might be ‘duke’ 24560|From the gaiters of the trees. 24560|No more their backs! No more their toes! 24560|Their arms with rows of whiskers hung! 24560|They had no tails, and not a tails, 24560|And their tails with sharper tangs! 24560|What! call “The stubble-rubber’s mane!” 24560|O the burly cat bewrinkled so! 24560|And the Quakers, too! 24560|And the little Quakers, too! 24560|“That’s the luck,” the Damsel said; 24560|As she swung her head, 24560|The little shoe-boy tumbled down 24560|To the green grass-plot; 24560|And with hat pushed in her little shoe, 24560|The little shoe-boy tumbled down 24560|To the green grass-plot. 24560|Out through the fields the path was gaped; 24560|And a pleasant wind the winter blew; 24560|A pleasant wind that followed soon, 24560|And passed without the tail. 24560|The little shoe-boy tumbled down, 24560|And the King forgot his bitterly; 24560|The King forgot his knee-ring, and 24560|The little Lord knew how! 24560|It is a great dainty trick, 24560|As it is to make it come; 24560|And never was the folk within 24560|To let it go at all. 24560|They put it in a box of oil, 24560|And there it is to hold; 24560|The tiny box with the short toes, 24560|The long, white tape so bold. 24560|They thrust it out of a box of oil, 24560|And down it is so bold, 24560|That when it is inside it it falls, 24560|And then it is not old. 24560|The leather is so clean and neat, 24560|And the clean boards it 24560|His hair was grey, his brow was bent, 24560|His cheek was rude, his face was bent; 24560|A rough-looking lad was he. 24560|“And are they gone, the jolly dogs,” 24560|Cried kittiwakes in reply. 24560|“And is there no one here with me? 24560|Why’s this that I do cry? 24560|‘Ye jolly doghsts, ye jolly dames,’ 24560|‘Ye scorn my house and life?’ 24560|‘For all my words I give a pang,’ 24560|‘Though ye had done nought worse, 24560|And my love for your good swords and spears, 24560|And for your foolish moods.’ 24560|Again the jolly clown, in mane 24560|And dance of stuff, 24560|Came on the jolly jolly dog, 24560|Bowing his head: 24560|“Come on, come on, thou youthful jenn; 24560|I’ll give thee a bow and arrows, boy! 24560|I’ll give a shaft to thy good bow, boy, 24560|I’ll give a shaft to thee!” 24560|“No more I’ll give thee a bow, boy,” 24560|Cried kittiwakes in reply; 24560|“No more I’ll give thee a bow, boy, 24560|I’ll give a shaft to thee!” 24560|“Now give me two of your best arrows, 24560|I’ll give thee a handsome bow, boy; 24560|I’ll give thee a gold-axe to hold, 24560|I’ll give thee a silver-bloom shod, boy, 24560|I’ll give thee a silken-stable coat, 24560|I’ll give thee a gold-piece to wear, boy.” 24560|He caught up his arrows, and rode away, 24560|His arrow flew the livelong day; 24560 24560|At night-time came a cry from the town; 24560|A wild hubbub shook the air; 24560|I heard the bells’ melodious clang— 24560|“Beth! beth!” they were. 24560|I knew full well ’twas Jack o’ Benk— 24560|“Beth! beth!” he called his mates, 24560|“Beth! beth!” whole the night they rang— 24560|“Beth! beth!” they rang. 24560|There stood a figure ’neath a cup, 24560|In each a wide-brimmed sash— 24560|“Beth! beth!” said Jack—his name it was— 24560|““It was the yellowed scone, and the green, yellowed scone; 24560|Beth! a bell to ring the knave.” 24560|“Beth! beth!” they were. With fiddle and with dance 24560|The jolly jolly boys they was. 24560|I spied, they’d been to town—to church. 24560|And when a little lad they were, 24560|His clothes they threw him up, and knocked. 24560|The jolly knave, when he’d a fit, 24560|Came up to meet them out o’ the moon. 24560|“Beth! beth!” so boiled the big Burgundian, 24560|(As a clapping of the pigsty o’ rape). 24560|“Hear ye stock of harness leather, 24560|That come trooping side by side, 24560|You were aye the bravest ever put to— 24560|But the spavest man you ha’d to ride. 24560|“For you are a pretty fellow, 24560|And I your uncle, you may swear, 24560|And as for me, I’m sure you’ve come to 24560|A Yorkshireman’s Ebrew.” 24560|“No, no 24560|He saw his strength as he drew near, 24560|He heard his many shouts, and then 24560|He looked aloft with laughing face,— 24560|“This is the sum of man”: 24560|And then the jollity mare 24560|Went galloping from the toilsome race. 24560|All marvelled at the jollity mare, 24560|He looked around and acted strange; 24560|Then rode on pony like a deer,— 24560|“Ha, ha!” she laughed; 24560|“Ha! ha!” he laughed; “it can not be— 24560|I’d no longer curse my curse.” 24560|“Ha! ha!” said she, “it can not be— 24560|I’d no longer curse my curse.” 24560|“Ha! ha!” said she, “but what is this 24560|That boils my brain with such unrest; 24560|What are the crimes that make thee blest, 24560|To spoil my blessing, wretched one? 24560|Ha! ha!” he laughed; “I give my curse 24560|To those who stole it from my breast.” 24560|The good priests followed in pursuit, 24560|Wherever they might fare, 24560|For they that held the great high place 24560|Were marked by foulest gore. 24560|“Ha! ha!” they moaned, “a thousand crimes 24560|I give for them atones; 24560|And they that held the big, strong man, 24560|He wasted them at one. 24560|“Ha! ha!” they moaned, “a thousand prayers 24560|I give for saving those; 24560|Give up your head, and loose your shirt, 24560|And drive your carriage through.” 24560|The black ship o’er the black sea rose 24560|With stricken ribs and thigh, 24560|The tramp of many a youthful foot, 24560|Was red upon the spy. 24560|“ 24560|Down then and there in the mowgaw coom, 24560|And roundly, roundly roundly round, 24560|The meadow streams, from the heaving mowgh, 24560|And the mowbrindle scrubbed and drowned. 24560|“Where, where, O where! shall I be hit?” 24560|Cried the blacksmith in his glee. 24560|“Where shall I be hit, my blacksmith?” 24560|Answered him clyk and answered him: 24560|“I will not do this,” the whitesmith said, 24560|“For I have shot, and hit has made.” 24560|Then the jock laughed outright, 24560|For it chanced an ancient Matawam’s brawny fist would loose. 24560|And then, as if to his great scurf, 24560|He tossed it in a merry glee. 24560|“My little wife has gone to the West that day.” 24560|But, O, how little was the fact! 24560|The cow considered very well, and the jock slip’d off the manure. 24560|“The old woman shall yet be there,” said the hoar-frostic leader; 24560|“But when the sheaves are done, 24560|The wind may blaw the topmost boughs, but not the jock slip-blow; 24560|The timbers of the quince and heath have a break most true.” 24560|In the afternoon, in the third afternoon, in the third month, Ours 24560|admirable. 24560|“The foxes will be there yet,” George Eliot said. 24560|But I knew nothing of the matter in the dusk of the day, except 24560|“The sky is red, and the wind,” he said, “is blowin',” 24560|and I knew nothing of the scar with which to sign. 24560|“I started out for the stick to pull, I started out for the 24560|I’ve been here 24560|And so the beam was tried and thrived, 24560|And all the faulter in that lay, 24560|That little clan of yours, I raved 24560|Through the dark night through, and cursed. 24560|A moment stayed that noble Knight, 24560|And then of bovine knife bereft, 24560|It flung the raiment of that fist 24560|Into the face of his Saint prior. 24560|And then his bosom heaved, and fell, 24560|The fatal point dissolv'd and bare— 24560|Then fell the shatter'd steel; the cell, 24560|So safe, so safe, did that Saint cell 24560|Close to the living rock. 24560|“And now” the fervid prisoner cried, 24560|“I’ll seize thy hand, my son, I trow, 24560|And I will break thine arm within, 24560|And I the shaft will draw—and now, 24560|Strike thou the good Saint Peter’s neck!” 24560|One little moment onward, Ann, 24560|That jolly hard strake interred. 24560|“And can’st thou take me? By my fay! 24560|And can’st thou break my arms away, 24560|My babe? can’st thou, even in my arms, 24560|Bolt loose thyself and fly to his arms? 24560|“There is no other way, my son, 24560|But only to return to thee.” 24560|“And can’st thou, then, begin to rue 24560|The hour I gave my body to thee?” 24560|“No, no! no, no, not that can be! 24560|I know thee, noble Erpingham, 24560|Who played and sang so wretchedly 24560|The day that the church-clock bell.” 24560|“And can’st thou, then, begin to rue 24560|In that bewildering hour? 24560|Oh, no! thou art no maiden, too, 24560| 24560|So now, at last, the jollity 24560|Of that exuberance of piteous mirth 24560|For all that the fatiguing Earth 24560|Contained of course, he won the earth; 24560|And if those dead, they were outdone, 24560|How strangely then they seemed to be! 24560|In fact, the jollity was said; 24560|And every where that man did stand, 24560|With something in his hand. 24560|“What dost thou ail?” the old Man said; 24560|“I’m gittin' thinner every day, 24560|I think I’m gittin' longer every day, 24560|When folks are lyin' all aroun’: 24560|Say, w’at men likes the best, he say? 24560|An’ that’s my age, Sam, ain't it far 24560|As I’m a beast a bit o’ Balaam!” 24560|“Ah me,” said Balaam, “ah me, 24560|Yer pals,” the old Man segged him. 24560|“O gie me back that little shirt, 24560|O gie me back that little shirt, 24560|O gie me back that little shirt, 24560|That’s all my creed.” 24560|“Ah flees me then from this, ain’t so, 24560|O gie me back that little shirt, 24560|Tho’ it be vile.” 24560|“Well, if it be a shirt o’ Balaam, 24560|I’ll dance the polka ither round, 24560|Bet it be neath the skin o’ Balaam, 24560|An’ gif I dance, I’ll walk the ground, 24560|Wi’ that I wear the bonny plaid, 24560|I’ll give an’ get a pair o’ breeks, 24560|Abaht this vera on the braes 24560|He saw the hart upon the wood, 24560|He saw the hawk transfuse his wing! 24560|A sight to bide a winter’s flood, 24560|And music in the troule. 24560|He looked on high, he watched below, 24560|He looked on high, he watched below; 24560|His heart beat high, his breath drew low, 24560|And he listened to the flow. 24560|_’Twas glen and beech, and was there nought 24560|Wherein to drown the joy of men? 24560|There was nought beyond, beyond, 24560|In the open fields of wheat. 24560|There was nought below, in heaven. 24560|What starry witnesses? 24560|A J printed upon Tally Hall, 24560|And J, the Scribe, stood forth! 24560|He looked on high, he watched below, 24560|And awfully he said-- 24560|“My boys, I’ve dreamed of nothing else 24560|But the dust of yesterday.” 24560|“Ah yes,” said J, with pleasant glee, 24560|“It will be as good as when 24560|I first beheld this earthly globe, 24560|And seen my youthful men.” 24560|And J, the Scribe, grew grave indeed: 24560|His fame was passing good,— 24560|He was my humble pilgrim, J, 24560|My fellow-critic-monger, J, 24560|My fellow-warrior. 24560|The King of Meissen town, 24560|Among the willows looking down, 24560|Is there, among the willows, 24560|With me, or else her lover,— 24560|I, who might wed to-day. 24560|And when the olden lad and I 24560|Meet face to face, in the twilight dim 24560|I wait to hear my lover’s hymn. 24560|With lips in mockery, 24560|I asked my courtesies, 24560|“How fares it, who and whence? 24560|And when he saw the yellow locks 24560|Upon the cheeks a dimple brought, 24560|And when he saw the yellow locks 24560|Upon the cheeks a shadow brought, 24560|And when he looked on mortal man, 24560|He saw his own dear son. 24560|Then spoke he to the little clod: 24560|“What I have kept from thee afar, 24560|Tell me of her, what I have done, 24560|That ye may know her sire.” 24560|“I go’st not to the marriage feast 24560|To plow and reap the yellow sand; 24560|Nor shall I have a marriage feast 24560|If I approach but one.” 24560|“Well may I plow and reap the land, 24560|And plow and reap the yellow sand; 24560|But as I’ve plow'd the yellow sand, 24560|I hope my fair bride to be free, 24560|For with this very day I stand 24560|Bless’d by your aged father’s tree.” 24560|And when they heard the heavy groaning, 24560|And came the doleful news to bear, 24560|They shouted “Woe to the king!”—but crying 24560|“Who comes here, that doth not here declare, 24560|His son, the king, is dead.” 24560|It was the little maid, the little maid, 24560|Who wept, but dared not cry, 24560|And when she wept with loud appeals, 24560|Her raiment rent and flies. 24560|“My father liveth in a hut of stone, 24560|But I’m within it set a grave, 24560|And my son at my side; 24560|And if he should perish by wealth, 24560|His little one is not a cent, 24560|And his horse is nothing to my eye 24560|If I keep him whole.” 24560|Little one hear’d the little footboy cry, 24560|And soon his foot he got, 24560|“Thie braes o’ green,” chapt bonnie Jean, 24560|And askewert dewy red, 24560|And bow’d to be a lady fair, 24560|Dahn at e’en o’ red. 24560|He saw his father sold an ome, 24560|His friends he did na buy; 24560|’Twas al silk silks that couldna clog, 24560|His mother sae did cly. 24560|He saw his father sell a shirt, 24560|His mother sell a three; 24560|But na, chit bonny luck! 24560|He saw his mother sell a calf, 24560|His father sell a three; 24560|But, chit bonny luck! 24560|He saw his father milk a goat, 24560|His mother sell a three; 24560|But, chit bonny luck! 24560|He saw his father sell a kail, 24560|His father milk a calf; 24560|But, chit bonny luck! 24560|He saw his father sold a kail, 24560|His father milk a kite; 24560|But, chit bonny luck! 24560|He saw his mother sell a kite, 24560|His brother milk a mite; 24560|But, chit bonny luck! 24560|He saw his father milk a kail, 24560|His brother milk a mite; 24560|So he fell down and broke his neck, 24560|And then he had a flight. 24560|He went a-hunting to the fair, 24560|His face towards the east; 24560|And there he set poorforced-woman 24560|Upon her little breast. 24560|As soon as he another wyk, 24560|He fell down o’er her knee; 24560|When little White Lily bye! 24560|She’s in a fairy ring, 24560|The fairy ring I do love thee. 24560|The little toy dog is thy pet, 24560|The rosy and red rose his nose; 245 24560|“Now haste thee, little priggish boy! 24560|Come forth, my babe, and prattle now!” 24560|“And duthersist, and vodgers,” 24560|Said little Robin unto ack; 24560|“And duthersist, and duthersist, 24560|And duthersist, and duthersist, 24560|And duthersist; and duthersist, 24560|And duthersist, and duthersist, 24560|And duthersist: and so begone! 24560|“But oh! what can the weather be?” 24560|Said little Robin unto ack, 24560|“That the weather have not often kissed?” 24560|“O mother! mother!” he cried out, 24560|“And the weather complainless!” 24560|“O mother! mother!” he cried out; 24560|“And the weather blackening and lowering: 24560|You’ll never learn it, if you can’t!” 24560|The sheets were frozen, the sheets were still, 24560|The hams and taffetails foaming; 24560|The wind was loud, the tide was hush, 24560|And wind was loud, O, ho! ho! 24560|There was silence in the nursery room; 24560|’Twas dark as pitch’s black ball. 24560|There lay still waters, and there was light; 24560|There was nothing there but squalls; 24560|For the dark could see the smallest speck 24560|That floated in the strawbox. 24560|There were shingle, and jingle, and crash, 24560|Of breakers, and rails, and water; 24560|And beam, beam, beam, and flash of light, 24560|Red, yellow, red, without leaven. 24560|So dark the night, and its rays fell warm, 24560|With lantern, horse, and pack of lights; 24560|It girdled the mountain’s roundabout 24560|A few there was, and oh! my soul 24560|Was filled with such self-pleasing fear! 24560|“The blackcap jags are just as tall; 24560|They ought to stammer in the jeune, 24560|And all jolly tramps are down below.” 24560|“Well met, my lord, with that surprise, 24560|And then, my lord, I wish the youth, 24560|In all his life, to be his wife 24560|And his grand infant charge.” 24560|He stood erect, with massive form 24560|And head of tow; his hoofs were seen 24560|Beside him there like to an ape 24560|That fain would bark. With that low mien 24560|Which Jesters call the Holy Cross, 24560|Lord Gabbac stood: he knew full well 24560|The want in heart of man. 24560|“It well may pass you, Gabbac,” cried 24560|The youth, with bow and tanned right hand, 24560|“This was a king’s own death-doomed bride; 24560|“The King has decked his bride. 24560|“Now take your arrow, Gabbac; for 24560|This very day I take your bow, 24560|And for the bow I give you thee.” 24560|“Sir knight, I will not take your bow; 24560|Your unoffending feat forbear; 24560|But I will make you to a certainty 24560|Give me your straying spear.” 24560|It was the young Danneveder then, 24560|His weapon by his side, 24560|That straight the shaft might be impelled, 24560|And the head droop above the board. 24560|He threw in earth his empty sword, 24560|And in the dust he fell: 24560|The wounded naught avail availed 24560|To cleanse that deadly wound. 24560|And soon he leapt upon his steed, 24560|And in the dust he fell: 24560|Out of the 24560|But not for that! A lovely face 24560|The jav'lin to drag at still the string; 24560|The thrasher to his utmost did place; 24560|No mead so sweet as that young Thing; 24560|The sun-down peels between! 24560|“I’ll cut my throat, and I’ll pry through 24560|Till the jav'lin to the spinney-pike 24560|That stands between the steeps.” 24560|“I’ll draw down pot, and I’ll pry through 24560|Till the jav'lin to the spinney-pike 24560|That stands between the steeps.” 24560|And then they all down the hill came through, 24560|And the young Boy ran up to them; 24560|He drew in his fist the little Boy, 24560|That stood between the steeps. 24560|And they came to that red-rose mow, 24560|That’s the good livin of a boy— 24560|The boy that went to the gallows-door, 24560|The little boy that stayed at home. 24560|When the gallows-tree was bent and he was left in the grave, 24560|There were three hounds of the high breed that followed the plough; 24560|I was there in the hothouse, for the mate of my love was fair, 24560|And I knew there were nine hounds in the high rank that she. 24560|For the hounds, in special, I remember the dark-flap in the past— 24560|And the fox was ybred black for nine, and the timorous hare; 24560|There were three hounds of the high breed that worried my sore, 24560|There were three hounds of the low breed that worried my sore. 24560|And I knew there were nine hounds of the High breed so grand, 24560|That they hunted the plough full young, they hunted the hill; 24560|There were three hounds of the high breed that worried my sore, 24560|And the hunt was the best that ever had seen the 24560|Then up and spake the Telamon, 24560|The boys all three did cry,— 24560|“The men are all on fire!” The akin, 24560|The Telamonian, too, “My shouther!” cried 24560|The Telamonian, as it cried, 24560|“Now, boy, now, loud, thou’st flung!” 24560|The Telamonian at the word, 24560|The boy with wonder did surprise, 24560|And cried, “Now cast away! 24560|“I have thee!” And the Telamonian cried, 24560|In fear, “What boots thee, little one?” 24560|The Telamonian at the word, 24560|He turned away his glittering eye, 24560|And looked about, like one that’s crazed, 24560|And answered not a glance, 24560|All fearful to be frozen there 24560|In an eternal calm, 24560|And hearkening unto every hair, 24560|The voice of one in misery crying, 24560|“What! ho!” and he, “my son! 24560|How couldest thou, my little one, 24560|Ascend the heaven like a flail? 24560|Or with the colour of the thorn, 24560|The thorn my son should hang upon? 24560|How couldest thou, my little one, 24560|Upon the thorn repose? 24560|How couldest thou, 24560|When both thy clothes are clean? 24560|Alas, I am old, ah me! 24560|I perish of a heart bereft, 24560|For nothing of my loveliness 24560|Was left a homely name. 24560|If then 24560|In winter I should slumber on 24560|(For ’tis the worst) my floor, 24560|And all day long I’d dream of it, 24560|And list to what thy mother said, 24560|And never, never rest. 24560|And in the winter’s snowy night, 24560 24560|He clambered up the jumbled rocks 24560|With gory plaid and caparison! 24560|Some chaffier-souled the cloven rocks, 24560|And clambered over them with armèd tongue, 24560|And scarlet peels from gory flanks, 24560|Beneath the swaying armèd throng. 24560|But when the jesting light went up, 24560|Lo! from the top the belfry shone! 24560|“I have begotten” what I have begotten.” 24560|And there the jest ran on. 24560|“And has that fouler devil got 24560|And left my hat, my shoe, my hand? 24560|Has that devil got that hand got _that_?” 24560|The Jatboat wallowed in a land! 24560|He clumbed up, as with a wind; 24560|With shattered limbs and streaming eyes, 24560|He tore the raft athwart his feet, 24560|And sank into the dying-place. 24560|“O, I will smite ye out, my son!” 24560|He shouted, groaned and fell on his bier. 24560|“It is the curse of summer here, 24560|And the curse of that salt sea-washed shore.” 24560|The Jatboat wallowed in a land! 24560|He wrung his hands, he tumbled down, 24560|He rubbed his wet masts and his sides, 24560|And the jests upon the deck were loud:— 24560|“O, they have drowned thee,” cried the Jat; 24560|“They have drowned thee,” cried the Jat; 24560|“They have drowned my men, my maids,” 24560|Sang the Jat as never before. 24560|“O, thou who shakest the deeps of the forest, 24560|And the mighty rock which bears thee o’er, 24560|In the night, in the cloudy or starless night, 24560|Thou 24560|“And here’s a hip,” he said, “my hand? 24560|And there’s a gill—why let it go! 24560|And there’s my hand an’ thine and mine.” 24560|“But why should that hahr master grin?” 24560|The farmer’s man gave answer grim, 24560|“An’ bid thee go right off an’ laugh.” 24560|The farmer’s master smiled, and then 24560|“I’m in a sorry plight!” said he. 24560|“I’m speaking of an awful trick, 24560|But, hark! yon little hhrulter hhrulks 24560|That comes a-listening to my notes, 24560|A moment heard at once. 24560|“A regular, drunken hhrulter hhrulks,” 24560|Said the farmer then, with bated breath; 24560|“His aim is bad, but he’s so full 24560|Of hhrinkers and his death!” 24560|Then all the crowd was filled with wrath, 24560|“That’s it!” said each man with his heart; 24560|“My poor owd hhrinkers are so full 24560|Of hhrinkers and my death!” 24560|“My hhrinkers are so full of hhrinkers, 24560|My hhrinkers!” to the farmer spake; 24560|“Aha, there’s little Bill o’ Hs. 24560|He’s got more strong to eat, an’ yet 24560|More heavy, too, than he’s.” 24560|“What is thy name?” the farmer spake, 24560|To “Charley,” the farmer said; 24560|“Ach, Jonny,” the saucy chap replied, 24560|“Saul, Jonny, thou art dead!” 24560 24560|He looked towards the topmost hill— 24560|He looked towards the topmost tree— 24560|He looked towards the highest hill, 24560|And then he saw the Absence mill, 24560|And he saw the Absence mill. 24560|The rocks around the mountain-side 24560|The torrents heard, where’er they went, 24560|And the stinging lash-birds terrified 24560|The rocks assailed them where they bent. 24560|He looked towards the distant hills, 24560|And saw in all the waste there beamed 24560|Bright bluffs of smoke, far, far and wide, 24560|The Absence wheeled to see and hear. 24560|“If this be the King’s abode, 24560|And I here within my breast, 24560|No sweeter home shall be my bed, 24560|Than this here kneelings warm and blest.” 24560|She listened, as the sounds she heard, 24560|In the silence of the night. 24560|“Can I have wounded you?” she said, 24560|“Can I have hurt you, brother?” 24560|So, the worst knight smote each beholder, 24560|Who cursed with one unpity. 24560|Then in a swoon he sunk and swooned, 24560|And the blood, like rivers, flowed! 24560|She heard the withering hush, 24560|And the moaning overhead. 24560|Again the thundering trump she heard, 24560|Again she heard the small boughs creak; 24560|Again the flash of cymbals played! 24560|She heard the clash of sword and blade! 24560|And her soul was filled with a sense 24560|Of a great Eternity. 24560|But the wailing of the wind was still, 24560|And the leaves unswept behind; 24560|She heard the rushing of the bill 24560|On the desolate wind-vaulted mind. 24560|Again her thoughts were turned to rest; 24560|Again with slow, despairing pace; 24560|But the 24560|An’ when they came to Lindarwego, 24560|The lark it singed an’ singed an’ soot; 24560|An’ little rann’d this grand repair, 24560|An’ singing so wor grand; 24560|Until thay all gat to the hedges, 24560|An’ prickt at every wall, 24560|Tha knaws it’d little Barnabyss, 24560|Or else it thay wur lame. 24560|“There’s little Barnabyss, my son, 24560|An’ little Barnabyss, my son, 24560|If you’d be mack at Barnabyss, 24560|Then it’s a grand deal ower!” 24560|“Oh, tell me, lark, what’s that to thee? 24560|It is not thee, nor thowless she 24560|That can set on a Robin cow, 24560|For that’s the lord o’ Barnabyss, 24560|An’ o’ bells thou’lt hew!” 24560|“Hush, Sir, I beg o’ hush, poor man!” 24560|“It wur a branath poor Willin, 24560|A brayingman I’ve been.” 24560|“A better brat ne’er set my heid, 24560|Ne’er miss’stan’s mein’, thowless, Sir, 24560|I ween’d ne thair lile lile lile lile lile lile lile lile lile.” 24560|“Aw mack a brat with an hondel, Sir, 24560|I make yance yance to thair prue.” 24560|“I’ve banged it with the first o’ yance, Sir, 24560|But sin it wur in vain; 24560|I no redder wun ne no du, 24560|I’ve no more of a 24560|He drank the nectar, and the wine; 24560|His heart was seething as they passed; 24560|The worm was covetous of wine, 24560|And all the flowers did shrink and shrink, 24560|And the yellow leaves did shrink. 24560|He drank the nectar, and the wine; 24560|His heart was beating like a tide; 24560|The worm was covetous of wine, 24560|And the yellow leaves did shrink. 24560|Then, one, two, three! And through and through 24560|The moss he thrust below the knee; 24560|And one, two, three! And through and through 24560|The moss he thrust, then thrust it back; 24560|He threw his head, his heart, the lane: 24560|“O stop that madness!” Ris geese coultean: 24560|“O hark to that!” loud bird did shout; 24560|And in the grove the jolly cocks he crost, 24560|And in his arms he hid his head! 24560|“O listen to that gallant cock that sings 24560|The knave of the maiden’s bower!” 24560|But up rose the nymph with the song in her ears: 24560|“O listen to that gallant cock that is harking for me!” 24560|Up rose the song, and the melody low fell on the air; 24560|“O listen to that merry song that the maiden sings not!” 24560|“O listen to that merry song that the maiden sings not!” 24560|“O hark!” the wild bird said, “it is of a finny, dainty note! 24560|And merrily burst on the air the wedded couple. 24560|But from the green hill’s top they heard the water gurgle. 24560|For the maiden’s shame they mourned with a tearful eye— 24560|“Listen, oh list to that merry song that the maiden sings not!” 24560|Then forth they went, and the maiden� 24560|The cock crew, the old woman then 24560|“Hah, hoh, hoh!” they said “can we not spare! 24560|And can we find the conjuror now 24560|That once has stood by us here, 24560|He has his hives, and his good wives, 24560|He has his barns and his pair. 24560|“And when the bats they did get up, 24560|And the bats they’ve gone to rest, 24560|Alas I have not a doubt of that 24560|I’m a railwayman in Blondin’.” 24560|“Now tell me, what has become of thee 24560|So fair and gentle, O?” 24560|“Thou’rt fair as any maid I see, 24560|Thou has thy honour fairly got.” 24560|“And are they men of high degree, 24560|And are they all fair ladies? 24560|And are they men of low degree, 24560|That give thee all their wishes?” 24560|“O the belle of high degree, 24560|It is the brightest day that’s seen! 24560|And it is still the fairest meed, 24560|Though lowly fall the towers between. 24560|O the belle of high degree, 24560|It is the fairest lady! 24560|’Tis not because thou art most fair, 24560|But for thy modest dignity.” 24560|It happed and made Sir Gawayne, 24560|He found himself directly forward, 24560|And he’d not back the stairs to back, 24560|For very gayly he he brushed them! 24560|He tried to cover up his face 24560|With a bespeak and kerchief black; 24560|But when he got to the chamber door, 24560|Says: “Come upon me, prickly chaper! 24560|“Thou’d best not be so slow to come, 24560|And so with me to choose my station!” 24560 24560|He saw huge hounds, with mane and boar, 24560|Borne in the rear, in puffed career; 24560|And then he heard a clatter loud 24560|Come flaming from the hoary cloud! 24560|“Come, come, you hounds,” he cried in wrath, 24560|“The kernes are out i’ t’ azure path!” 24560|Come, comes, you hounds, wi’ fearless eyes, 24560|Come, rush about, rush in amaze, 24560|Rush i’ the moorun when ye dawk, 24560|Come, come, you hounds, wi’ laughing face, 24560|Rush i’ the moorun when ye dawk. 24560|He ran, he ran! His heart it went 24560|As speeds a stream wi’ mighty rush: 24560|“Come, come, you hounds,” cried every one, 24560|“Come, come, you hounds, wi’ swelling hips!” 24560|He ran, he ran! His heart it went 24560|As speeds a stream wi’ swelling hips! 24560|He run, he run, he ran amain, 24560|Beneath his wing his enemies ran; 24560|And all the people prickit at him, 24560|For fear his bloody destiny should swan. 24560|They rush’d him o’er, they ran him through, 24560|They led him o’er, they led him on, 24560|Until at last he reached the door, 24560|He’d sware,—but failed to work abore! 24560|The gates were open flung in haste, 24560|He ran, he ran, like spur, like horn; 24560|He fled as fast as bird flies swift, 24560|At all the corners of the yard. 24560|He ran, he ran, like spur he flew, 24560|Away like spur, he cleft the trees! 24560|He fled like swiftly, meteor dart, 24560|At all the corners of the yard! 245 24560|“Here came I, son,” the farmer cried, 24560|“And on these rocks gan rest.” 24560|“And what dost thou in barnish kye, 24560|And wast on hilltopt mead?” 24560|The farmer’s daughter spake, and bade 24560|Gim me a plaiden’s bed. 24560|“We wunst duplier, sire,” quoth I. 24560|“O gewand” then said she. 24560|“O grymmeest youth I’ve yout to blame, 24560|And ye wunst much to blame.” 24560|“Yer banns awa, fer thee nid rihtway, 24560|And what wyte gat on thy brah? 24560|And what wyte, when thou art in an age, 24560|Duke’s sons wi’ eyther beg an age?” 24560|“Hoo bad me sa munk, sire, sire,” quoth I. 24560|“I did; but woe betide.” 24560|“I went, sir, to my moder, slink; 24560|An’ gif I come not suppeit fast, 24560|I’d raschen up my hart abaht, 24560|And get a pound of shing.” 24560|“Thar wur mi body,” choos she “an goan, 24560|But thy hart I never miss”. 24560|“Thar wur a bit o’ tailless,” said I, 24560|“Ner a bit o’ tailless, nay.” 24560|“Yah nesd be his o’ me,” said I, 24560|“An’ nesd be his nah geen kene.” 24560|O wunst thou nivver quoth I, 24560|“Nes 24560|But still the more the wiping, 24560|Lord Garlon looked on that youth, 24560|And, when he saw a sudden stead, 24560|He cried, “O let me in!” 24560|When he had seen the jester, 24560|He cried, “O let me in! 24560|“The heathen’s in my chapel, 24560|The heathen’s in my shrine. 24560|“I’ve a holy nun already, 24560|And I’ve a thousand saints 24560|For me to keep in secret, 24560|To keep this same reproachful. 24560|“I’ve a holy nun already, 24560|And I’ve a thousand saints 24560|For me to keep in secret, 24560|To keep this same reproachful.” 24560|“Well met, my little brother, 24560|And all the bells are ringing! 24560|And let my brother Peter 24560|“Be his a bran-new stogy.” 24560|They summoned him in secrecy—“O be he really mine?” 24560|“If that’s the way the bells are calling from the shrine, 24560|Rise up, and call the minstrels to attend the wine.” 24560|“O come, ye minstrels, and with you take your seat, 24560|“And place me in the styes, while we’re meat and beer; 24560|For he that’s aye shall fill the feast and sing the blessed Rastid.” 24560|And his friends all mazed and ready were and ready too for rest. 24560|And he had not yet come up and hearers taken their round, 24560|When, in a voice so loud and shrill, 24560|Came presently unto the King his royal coronation: 24560|“Now let the bells be silent, for my ear grows cold.” 24560|The King with joy and majesty, 24560|With great civility 24560|And universal joy, 24560|He found a foxy in the brake, 24560|A cunning fox of scarlet dye, 24560|And from that foxy followed make 24560|The scrawny fox in glee. 24560|He followed with his dam and horn 24560|To where the river-water runs, 24560|And as his living current on 24560|The river-water likes him up 24560|A mighty rocky heifer heaves, 24560|And in a single field, or twain, 24560|Shows like the yellow corn; 24560|And when the wind doth blow, so too 24560|Low in his bottom lies his head, 24560|And in the grass leaps up again, 24560|In fearful freedom unbetrayed. 24560|“Ha! ha!” says little Neddy, 24560|“Nurse, what will you have?” 24560|“I’ll have thee,” cries little Tom, 24560|“Rather a hundred, as many’s one.” 24560|When there was no such man, boy, 24560|I set my milk-skin to your knee; 24560|I have you now your little boy, 24560|And little Neddy, as you see. 24560|“Ha! ha!” says little Neddy, 24560|“You’re come to lay aside your hat, 24560|And play a thoughtful turn.” 24560|“Ha!Ha!” says little Neddy, 24560|“You’re very small and poor, boy, 24560|You never saw a cent.” 24560|“Ha!” says little Neddy, 24560|“You’re very small and poor, boy! 24560|And if you’d but give your cent, boy, 24560|You’d give too much, and I’d play more.” 24560|And when my two little pigs 24560|Were out of the yard, 24560|I set them a merry noise 24560|To banish my meal: 24560|And I did 24560|The cock doth crow, and owls do prey, 24560|And jovial swains do swear, 24560|And lizards too (from the audacious way) 24560|And geese in hordes appear. 24560|There gurgles up a merry din; 24560|All nature licks does start, 24560|As if the kite did leap and join 24560|A peals of laughter loud. 24560|“Ha! ha!” the farmer tears his throat, 24560|And yells as loud as he; 24560|But all the hills and dales shout up, 24560|“There rides on Caradoc the Dan’!” 24560|“Ha! ha!” the farmer says “the rocks 24560|They ride upon that gaff, 24560|I’ll stand upon that verdant lea, 24560|For that is rarer, sure.” 24560|“I’ll give thee ale, thou kind old man, 24560|And we will hogs and geese, 24560|And gorms, and demon-birds, and apes, 24560|And lion-beasts, and leas.” 24560|The farmer’s daughter begg’d the milk 24560|That made the reeds so sleek; 24560|“O do not stain the Sabbath clock 24560|That doth mark well thy neck. 24560|“If thou’d to earn thy daily bread, 24560|Come, maid, thou art so soft, 24560|Thou hast a better looking-glass 24560|Than thou hast any swain. 24560|“If ony step thou hearest cow”, 24560|’Twill do thou good, thou saidst; 24560|But thou wast ne’er so hard to tell 24560|How little thou hast bread. 24560|“Than slippers didst thou clean themselves 24560|Before they made thee dew; 24560|Now thou dost slink away, and like 24560|Thou hast done better, do.” 24560 24560|The farmer’s wife had gotten a very deep grief by her, and she 24560|“If God would let me out, 24560|Full thirty times I’d pay the toll, 24560|And buy the Sultan’s house with a halfpenny loaf and a halfpenny 24560|—The last MS. 24560|“We’d better run in, if we’d; 24560|But if we’d never do it, 24560|The halfpenny loaf, the halfpenny loaf, we’d better stop in, 24560|And then we’d go 24560|“Without a bit of cake, as sprightly as we’d 24560|Go to his dear and nimble steed, 24560|In hopes that we’d 24560|The Sultan’s bride, the halfpenny loaf, we’d better stop in, 24560|And then we’d go 24560|“With no more stockings nor with spurs, 24560|Nor with a pair of stockings, 24560|Nor any spurs, but stockings.” 24560|A traveller walking in the snow, 24560|A snow-man met a traveller thus: 24560|“O traveller, whence come you?” 24560|“O traveller, stop where you stand: 24560|Why have you come to this abode?” 24560|“O traveller, stop where you be, 24560|Why have you come to this abode? 24560|I certainly will stop from here, 24560|And bring my snow-white courser back.” 24560|“O traveller, stop where you be, 24560|And where are you, poor wanderer?” 24560|“O traveller, stop where you be, 24560|Why have you come to this abode?” 24560|Said one, while the other one replied, 24560|Who straightway to their cottage hied. 24560|“O traveller, why stay you?” 24560|“O traveller, stop where you be, 24560 24560|O when the jessborgborg saw 24560|The yellow sleek, the yellow dame, 24560|And wondered why, and cried, “O cower 24560|And dance not at another’s name!” 24560|He mused awhile, ‘In other lands, 24560|Others there are, and I will tell. 24560|There is a certain certain certain land 24560|That men avoid, but know not whence; 24560|So, in the merest gleam of morning, 24560|The country people all suppose 24560|That there’s a land there’s lovely in, 24560|And that the finest in the sun— 24560|The country people that we know, 24560|And that the finest will come there 24560|To where the finest girls do smile, 24560|And that the poorest people are 24560|In that land which does not care. 24560|So, when the summer sun doth set, 24560|And the blue sky breathes the gaudy hue, 24560|In the short, simple country region, 24560|Where the oxen’s galloping are few, 24560|And that a man may see his dream, 24560|And when the wain’rer is in sight, 24560|And the cattle are lying stretched at night, 24560|And the corn is nodding ’neath the plough, 24560|And the lads are listless and astute, 24560|And the lads that love to stray or sit, 24560|The haravans to rest—and that’s 24560|The reason—and that’s what’s best. 24560|The land has felt the winter’s cold, 24560|The land beheld the sun grow bright; 24560|Its maiden breast laid down to rest, 24560|And warmed by rest and dreams of light,-- 24560|The country people that you see 24560|Nought lasting may decay at night, 24560|Except the sun—and you—and me 24560|The sun himself. 24560|To the land of the farther countenance 24560|A 24560|When lo! a sudden gleaming light— 24560|“Where is the Jackdaw?” they were hushed; 24560|And on the door the Jackdaw slunk— 24560|“Where is the Jackdaw?” they were hushed— 24560|“Where is the Jackdaw?” they were hushed— 24560|“Where is the Jackdaw?” they were hushed— 24560|“Where is the Jackdaw?” they were hushed— 24560|“Where is the Jackdaw?” they were hushed— 24560|“Where is the Jackdaw, Jackdaw?” 24560|And all was hushed in quiet toil, 24560|And all was silence again. 24560|“Dost thou not hear me?” Ráma said. 24560|“I hear the clarle’s brazen bray-- 24560|Aye, but it is mine own, Jackdaw!” 24560|“O, dear my Jackdaw, that was well! 24560|Come, call me, Ráma, Sítá: 24560|I come, for I have found the door.” 24560|“O, Ráma, now I have thee, speak, 24560|And lay thee gently on the bed, 24560|And all thy mother bid me seek 24560|Within the cold, and cry and dread.” 24560|“O, Ráma, do thou save a bleat 24560|From the cold, or didst thou get 24560|A little water at the end 24560|Of the ice, and run away and haste.” 24560|“My little lad, I pray thee, speak.” 24560|“O, Ráma, can I well perceive 24560|That thou, my little son, hast naught to fear; 24560|And canst thou not, to me has naught 24560|Save stones and sand from all the shore.” 24560|The hermit heard the words he spoke, 24560|And 24560|One, two! Three! And through and through 24560|The copse that rose frae bank to brier; 24560|It made man ken a wondrous view, 24560|How the owd river ran there. 24560|And as the rowdy waters flowed, 24560|The bobby jingle of the moors, 24560|And then o’er hill, and dale, and glen, 24560|It made the sun shine bright. 24560|“There was grosse Myschelmill, 24560|And Myschel entirely gone, 24560|And Myschel entirely gone, 24560|And Myschel entirely gone! 24560|“Nowell, nowell, nowell, nowell”! 24560|“If that o’r dung woddled o’er 24560|The Myscheloid, O, how each cried 24560|“O hodie devil, o muke drop!” 24560|He turned his back and ran away, 24560|With heedless step, and startled eye, 24560|As though he had been in a chase, 24560|For he has beheld, and is certain that, 24560|“O, there was a hunting now.” 24560|He turned his back and fled, a-hunting, 24560|To where the hedge-twigs burst like foam; 24560|He turned again toward the forest, 24560|It was like a savage chase, 24560|But now a lion rampeth, 24560|And now he has caught the quarry; 24560|He has caught the timbered hound, 24560|Whose eyes are in his bloodhound's ring; 24560|He has caught the panther’s quarry; 24560|He has caught the panther’s quarry. 24560|He has caught the yellow-snouted wild-boar, 24560|Who screams, and hoots, and hoots away; 24560|He has caught the red-eyed hare, who fled 24560|Far from the hunter’s bowstring’s sway— 24560|Far from the 24560|And when he saw the kye came nigh 24560|The stick, and it was clean; 24560|As clear as eye did either eye, 24560|“I’ll give not ye but ye, kye.” 24560|All mazed from out that coffin’s stand, 24560|He turned about and ran 24560|To where a noble corpse was found, 24560|For he had no son, he ran. 24560|“Here lies a noble coffin, ma’am, 24560|For martyred bodies, kye.” 24560|“Ah me!” said Bess, “how very hard! 24560|And if thou hadst not two, lads, 24560|What wealth or glory wouldst thou have 24560|Because of Brackley’s men? 24560|“And why did’st thou not have two, lads, 24560|And why for gold ordain 24560|Our bones when on the grave they sank, 24560|And all were so complain? 24560|“And wherefore didst thou make so free, 24560|And why from morn till night 24560|Thou wouldst have crushed thy precious son, 24560|And caused so many tears?” 24560|“Now let me tell thee, sweetest wife, 24560|That thou hast found one trace, 24560|That thou canst say by the rood, if alive, 24560|Thy son will live, a grace.” 24560|“Then I will tell thee, sweetest wife, 24560|A little space between 24560|The life, and death, and the distress, 24560|If I may be but seen.” 24560|“There’s nought, I’ll tell thee, sweetest wife, 24560|The life of every one, 24560|And every body I’ll declare 24560|My blessing upon one.” 24560|Said Bess, the bride to her loved one: 24560|’Twas a sight to move her tears 24560|And sorrow to her 24560|One, two! Three! Had thralls come thronging on 24560|The brae of Ballok Hall to-day, 24560|When now they spy a passing form, 24560|The leader of the dance. 24560|“Now take this for a voyage,” cried 24560|The maid, “we’re bound to Londondondere! 24560|“And we’ll go straight to London town, 24560|And we’ll receive a whiter dame, 24560|For they’re too early fro.” 24560|The maid, the maid replied, 24560|“We’ll speedily fare forth on our way, 24560|And we’ll have jacket and coronal gay, 24560|To be arrayed for to-day.” 24560|The maid her trusty gun gave, 24560|And answered to the shaft of light: 24560|“’Tis Abraham will return this morn, 24560|For he has no array at home.” 24560|“Now take this for a voyage,” cried 24560|The maid, and with the arrow sped: 24560|“O take this for a voyage,” cried 24560|The black-winged maid, “a goodly place. 24560|“And I’ll tell thee, if it be my chance, 24560|Thou and thy troop are under guard.” 24560|“O no,” quoth the brown-winged maid, 24560|“The horses is too white for me.” 24560|“O no,” cried the Black-winged damsel, 24560|“That bird which I have carried hither. 24560|“I will go straight to London town, 24560|And there my brothers shall be seen.” 24560|“O no,” she said, “I will go with thee.” 24560|And on her way she straight did fare. 24560|“O no,” said the Black-winged damsel, 24560|� 24560|“Ha, ha, ha, play the Sydney boys! 24560|To-day thy kith and kin I spurn; 24560|And when from their first splendour forth 24560|The British troops return— 24560|Fight, fight, and dye!” the hussy cried; 24560|“A kine to match my own, my own, 24560|And to the charge away!” 24560|He looked, and read his testament, 24560|The oath he neared, the tos he made; 24560|And thus the anxious ruler writhed, 24560|With words of scorn to hide his head. 24560|“What shall I do to keep my son, 24560|’Gainst foreign foes, that stand in bands? 24560|“To guard my father’s life he’ll fight, 24560|And to the field his bloody hands!” 24560|“To guard my father’s life he’ll fight, 24560|And to the field his bloody hands!” 24560|“I’ll ne’er forsake my mother, girl, 24560|I’ll ne’er forsake my father’s life!” 24560|In dread lest these the fashions, fause, 24560|Might rob the noble stockman’s race! 24560|He took his knife that gilt his hand, 24560|And tied it on the gallows-tree; 24560|And thus the vengeance is expressed, 24560|If truth declare, “we’ll wipe away.” 24560|Forth rush’d with blood the Picards; 24560|They waken’d all the people gay, 24560|As each in turn his knife discharged 24560|A deadly blows, and said, “Be still! 24560|Thou art not one with women here; 24560|I’ll lay thee where the stream flows clear.” 24560|Such blows the Picards witness’d, such 24560|Turned cheeks with fury pale and wan; 24560|But when they 24560|O vy pachy! O! 24560|O! I could play the like without 24560|And passe out if I would.” 24560|He saw his mother beat. 24560|And when the hills were wet 24560|As any man’s own feet, 24560|The mad mare in her best delight 24560|Reclin’d in his delight. 24560|He flung wide Jenny at his side, 24560|And shouted in his glee— 24560|“Say, sire, what makes the gem go slide? 24560|Why let it stay in the salt sea?” 24560|“Oh, sire, I’ve done my best,” says he— 24560|“Let’s play the whole day long.” 24560|Then laughing said, “Good folk I be: 24560|It isn’t half so strong.” 24560|“The very whiteness of her gold, 24560|Like to be made a gem, 24560|Is for the very reason told; 24560|And out in it is ’twas writ 24560|’Tis very plain the truth.” 24560|“Not mine upon the earth to lie, 24560|Or drink, my father dear; 24560|But for ’tis better to die out 24560|The way that I do here. 24560|“The truth of my request, good sir, 24560|My child was brought to light; 24560|I thought that I should be content 24560|To have my little tight.” 24560|And out the tiny cage they went, 24560|That he might hang upon, 24560|And for nine days I wandered nay, 24560|And thought on Jamie alone. 24560|And when a little child wee spied, 24560|“Doff down my gown and cry! 24560|My dear! my dear!” he cried, “I’ll go, 24560|And bring with me the wanderer, 24560|And fetch him back from the fountain, 24560|And 24560|He saw the jay the jay like an arman true, 24560|His weapon for the fray was stuck, 24560|And in his saddle riding at, 24560|He saw the little cottager, 24560|A little boy, his life-mate’s son, 24560|And he cried in joy,—full hard he cried 24560|That the little child had died! 24560|He saw the sun upon the grass, 24560|The sun upon the kramble’s top— 24560|And he was proud, and he was grand, 24560|But then came riding down the land, 24560|And there came to the little man 24560|A most marvellous minstrelsy, 24560|Who harried the folk of Kalamazah. 24560|“I have come hither to beg your pardon,” he cried, 24560|“And I have come hither to seek your pardon.” 24560|“If I can beg you pardon, I can beg you,” he cried, 24560|“You will not lie down to me.” 24560|“We do beseech your pardon,” the little man stoned, 24560|“And we beseech your pardon, the great King said, 24560|That you would lie down to us.” 24560|They seized the little boy, a little boy: 24560|“God bless the king,” they cried with joy. 24560|“Save us, O King, from our enemies,” they cried, 24560|“And our enemies,” the king replied. 24560|“Our enemies,” the king replied. 24560|“Yes, save us, O God, from those treacherous tongues, 24560|And a thousand tongues, and a thousand tongues, 24560|And a thousand tongues, and a thousand tongues, 24560|And a thousand tongues, and a thousand tongues, 24560|And a thousand tongues, and a thousand tongues, 24560|And a thousand tongues, and a thousand tongues 24560|And a thousand tongues, and a thousand tongues, 24560|And a 24560|At daybreak up the hill is brought 24560|The jay as early as the morn, 24560|The oxen low beneath is sought, 24560|And oxen low adown the corn. 24560|“He ne’er has been to blame 24560|For aught that maid will ever bear, 24560|If she be false to Thone.” 24560|“From Bern Sir Odoric went to her 24560|He parted from his native home; 24560|A maid he slew. Sir Odoric sought, 24560|His hound was doomed to roam. 24560|“Hiercy,” he said, “I follow thee!” 24560|With ruthless stroke the maid was slain: 24560|“What may not friends of mine 24560|Protract between me and my spouse?” 24560|“The Damsel’s maid, Sir Odoric cried, 24560|I ne’er have seen, I hope.” 24560|“Thou’st struck me once—thou shouldst have died— 24560|My love’s first shaft has pierced me through; 24560|I shot for my good steed, and died 24560|Without a groan.” 24560|“And art thou mad, Sir Odoric?” cried 24560|The Damsel. “Thou art hurt!” 24560|“Now do thou hear,” the maid replied, 24560|“Now speak thou to me.” 24560|“Thou hadst but meant to leave me thus,” 24560|The youth replied; “thou hadst not done 24560|A single thing, Sir Odoric. 24560|“I have no doubt that thou art fair, 24560|But it will do me no harm— 24560|I do not question how or where 24560|Was thy arm made.” 24560|She kissed his brow and she walked upon, 24560|She walked upon his ivory feet, 24560|She walked upon his golden girdle, 24560|She walking in his silk 24560|“There’s gairs and gospells, green and blue, 24560|And jasper for the bold and free; 24560|There’s blood and balm and amber too, 24560|And rocks for sport on the energy toe; 24560|Whereunto spreads out tall tree: 24560|The branches of the tree God know! 24560|And the mountain-birds and beasts are these, 24560|The lotus on the leas; 24560|There’s honey in a deep cup filled, 24560|And drops of balm outflew; 24560|There’s water, drinking as the bees 24560|Their fetters in a rosy vale— 24560|There’s honey, nard, and ginger-glisten, 24560|To sweeten all the hive! 24560|And then he clumbed to the honey, 24560|And drank and sobled away, 24560|And he clumbed to the honey, 24560|And drank and soot as holiday! 24560|“O nag,” he said, “it’s small as Deutschland, 24560|And that’s what folk call ‘Manturian.” 24560|“I’ve heard of a face--a loaf of a cheese,” 24560|And he drank it all over the cheese! 24560|There’s a little brown hag in a white shirt, 24560|She’s flocking a fond little bit; 24560|And a little brown hag on a black horse, 24560|With a wag in her fist! 24560|She’s flocking a basket of eggs o’er her back— 24560|“Come on! come on!” said a wag in a flail; 24560|“I’ll fling me a handful o’ silver,” said she, 24560|“O’ gold!” said De Wright, “my wager is full, 24560|And an ’other too small, a small one well!” 24560|There 24560|Then a voice rose from the Skarevins, 24560|“Now damn that man deride, 24560|Now laud the verbis Flannigan, 24560|Now drink the goblet’s tide!” 24560|“Thy name is not the name of woe 24560|But mark mine oath, I swear 24560|I saw thee in the garden blow, 24560|And plucked the early rose.” 24560|He spake a month, and on his bough 24560|He flung the spray with might! 24560|“’Twas Flatt” and his cry he heard, 24560|And spake a page’s word, 24560|“We heard the trumpets blow for France, 24560|And Flatt’s advance to fight.” 24560|It was a lovely month of May, 24560|An hour full well she knew 24560|The soldiers forced their parrots—to stay 24560|In the great city Eastward-bound; 24560|But Breff maintain’d the van. 24560|She gave defiance to the crowd, 24560|And to the tower strode down, 24560|And “What dost thou mean?” she said, “I’d give 24560|Him—infamy, I hope. 24560|“O Goelaig, Goelaig, speak thou, 24560|And tell thou me this tale: 24560|Thou wast not doomed to trouble me, 24560|For all this trouble, cold, and drear; 24560|My sword is better to my scabbard, 24560|Than all thy braves to my mail.” 24560|“Thou goest to murder France, and yet 24560|I will not die by land; 24560|The King himself must save my land, 24560|And the King’s blessing to her hand; 24560|My sword I’ll give to guard my land, 24560|And serve my King in deed and word, 24560|Till in the fight my spirit find 24560|An act 24560|“Now take ye off the spiky spurs, 24560|Or the tramping, or the colts!” 24560|“I will be the man Jack1304 24560|That shall draw the joker, Jack!” 24560|As bold as a shooting-match, 24560|The hill-side barked as jeers; 24560|Some spied and some did stroke, 24560|And some he shattered at the peak, 24560|And went with head a stock. 24560|No more with them shall dibble-wibble 24560|Delay the farmer’s hack; 24560|The wheat they plumped is yellow, 24560|The hook, the pole, the hill— 24560|The hook the farmer’s hook, 24560|And the hook, the sifter, slung 24560|On the hook that kept him swung, 24560|And the hook he lost in view. 24560|Then up and spoke Jack Lang— 24560|“He has done the best he can: 24560|That he doth in the fields so cut, 24560|He would win him victuall: 24560|But since he’s won in gold 24560|He’ll lay him down in mould 24560|As high as the highest star 24560|Above the watery sea’s mast tree— 24560|He has done it for good. 24560|The hook shall pull him down, 24560|The hook shall pull him down, 24560|So that his life be sped 24560|In peace to the native dead, 24560|And his limbs be shod with rust 24560|That his friends may be at rest. 24560|And when to the fish he’s done, 24560|The water-spider’s lad, 24560|He will turn him into stone 24560|And say: “There’s the hook, and there.” 24560|The hook he took, and he wove a spell, 24560|The hook it soon did sever, 24560|And it soon fell in the ghastly swill 24560|Of the 24560|One was a cobweb, and his thread 24560|Was blue and yellow as a crow; 24560|A good rope red, and from his head 24560|He took an arrow, and drew down; 24560|And then he called for Dr. Arnaut, 24560|And found a rope therewith. 24560|He pierced the thread, and struck the line; 24560|“Where is my rope?” said he. 24560|And then he made the rope and wound 24560|The pumpkin round his ear; 24560|He broke the line, through whistling sound, 24560|And the moles howl in the drear. 24560|“Where is my rope?” Ah, well he spoke! 24560|“I made it, sir, I did.” 24560|“And shall I pull thee to the rope, 24560|Thou devil’s best of luck?” 24560|“I’ll pull thee down,” the hog-eyed say, 24560|The hog-eyed say, “nowt, I pray, 24560|From off my hook, ’mid thorn to spray, 24560|My wretched hands have struck the rope 24560|And round the rope have struck the rope; 24560|And still I think of Thingsasks there, 24560|When the rope’s dragged, and the rope falls loose, 24560|And all my blood begins to fail, 24560|“What will you do to Brackley Slade?” 24560|“I will,” he says, “my little maid 24560|Will do the thing he’s bidden free. 24560|“I will,” he says, “before I leave, 24560|I will, if he commands me, he 24560|Will do the thing he’s bidden free. 24560|“And why should you complain, my son, 24560|We’ll do the thing I bade you do? 24560|We’ll do it, sir, but keep alway 24560|Thine enemy, if he gainsaying =======SAMPLE 1========= 24560|“O how I love the bilious Horse, 24560|My merry men, so merry men; 24560|When they are gyrling in the hedge, 24560|And the little lambs play mlythe!” 24560|“Ah, ne’er was seen so pleasant a ride! 24560|It was no merry jest to see; 24560|The horse he backed with ruddy tide, 24560|Hurled right across the heather. 24560|With both their polished hoofs their pride 24560|They stamped the sod in morning dew; 24560|The gorse it burned their sides to brown, 24560|The furrow oft the ride renew’d; 24560|And far above the moorland high, 24560|Through the dim air they glided on; 24560|Like bodies gliding towards a grove, 24560|They reached the joust of Beuve. 24560|They plunged amid the bonny green, 24560|Amid the grasses tall; 24560|And high o’er hill and dale they shot, 24560|Till like wild horses galloped fast; 24560|They madly rode each hollow dell, 24560|Till all the echoes replied; 24560|At length the hills they reached, 24560|And reached the lists so wide. 24560|It was a lovely sight to see, 24560|For many knights had past; 24560|The rich and fair, the brave and young, 24560|The victor knight and castellum, 24560|And horses drinking sweat; 24560|The white and blue that shone like stars, 24560|The red and yellow heather, 24560|The furrow down each cheek’d a red, 24560|The little birds that flocked to feed. 24560|All came to gaze thereon. 24560|“Gramercy!” cried the gallant Swag,” 24560|“To thee no ill was done.” 24560|They rode, and passed the heather grey, 24560|Till, gazing on the goal, 24560|The Swag stood still, =======SAMPLE 2========= 24560|The river goes a varlet pace, 24560|The water tows a fiery red, 24560|As up and down the hill we meet, 24560|To where the pastures led. 24560|The ramble is a prancing whirl, 24560|The wether is a burnished spark; 24560|The powcome watch goes stiff and straight, 24560|And we are all a-stern. 24560|“Now by my head I drag thee down, 24560|“I care not now so much for me: 24560|Thou’st neither gash nor rope can save 24560|Me from the kites’ kites’ stony hoof, 24560|But I shall stay and give thee proof— 24560|He stands upon thy shoulder now, 24560|He’s only a ’broke” cow.” 24560|He rose, his raiment wet and bright, 24560|A wild, dark, rusty sword he bore; 24560|And from his belt with scroll andbrand 24560|He drave the brumbed-head o’er. 24560|They soon reached Kochan’s land on high: 24560|Revenge and wrath were on his track; 24560|They feared no more the wrathful sky 24560|Or human face that lightened back. 24560|Again they sought the kite in vain, 24560|The ravenous kite’s proud young; 24560|Back to their crags the bird did strain, 24560|He could not wound or bite his cane, 24560|The cruel ravening bird he knew, 24560|Nor could the eagle spare. 24560|He felt no shame while he stood there, 24560|He turned away his head, 24560|And at the last he heard a sigh, 24560|He sware it was no deed. 24560|Once more he stood by Kochan’s shore, 24560|And turned his eyes away: 24560|“O what will you have done,” he cried, 24560|“If I, my Kochan, should stay?” 24560 =======SAMPLE 3========= 24560|Borne was the glad lark on air; 24560|And from within the little Mænads, 24560|The little Nautilus peeped! 24560|The little Nautilus peeped! 24560|“Thy little Nautilus prickt so red!” 24560|“O call and prick thee!” cried the Damsel, 24560|“O call and prick thee!” cried the Dirge, 24560|“Thou shalt have need of me.” 24560|Then forward leapt the little Nautilus, 24560|And struck the board beneath his feet. 24560|“Come back,” he cried, “this little Nautilus 24560|Shall bleed thee in the very street!” 24560|“Remember,” cried the Cock, “it is not so! 24560|Cut off thy head,” he said, “and let the King 24560|“Destroy it like a stick!” 24560|The little Nautilus leapt into the air, 24560|The little Nautilus rose again, 24560|Loud screamed the King! and shouted--“Sire!” he yelled, 24560|“Let go and bite thy thumb!” 24560|The little Nautilus leapt back again, 24560|And clutched his nose, and laughed outright. 24560|It was the little Nautilus, who had been so long a time 24560|A bauble of the finest gold, I ween, 24560|Was hiding in the yellow forest tree. 24560|Little Nautilus laughed deep, but laughing sharp 24560|The King could see the crown that in his palace sat. 24560|“Hither to me, Nautilus,” cried he, 24560|“Hither, Nautilus,” cried he, 24560|“Hither, Nautilus, shut the door! 24560|I am glad it is the king should come home.” 24560|“Ha, Maria! Ha, noble King!” 24560|The little Nautilus cried again, =======SAMPLE 4========= 24560|“Now naught doth rise unto my sight, 24560|Now naught doth loom to mine eye; 24560|Now naught from me can’t say or write, 24560|As yesternight I did draw nigh, 24560|That did my misery.” 24560|“I cannot blame thee, black disgrace! 24560|Thou art undone, O black disgrace! 24560|That thou and thine own self dost raise, 24560|To shame and wretchedness. 24560|“I cannot blame thee, black disgrace! 24560|That thou and thine own self dost flee, 24560|From me to thee to flee.” 24560|“I cannot blame thee, black disgrace! 24560|That thou and thine own self dost base, 24560|For that did’st wound thine own good name 24560|My joy and pain to vex. 24560|“I cannot blame thee, black disgrace! 24560|Thy pain to me is grievous sore; 24560|To blame I must, not to efface, 24560|And so I’m lost no more.” 24560|“Ah, hush thee!” said the Arnberwist, 24560|“A goodly gift I do thee bring; 24560|Full many a time art thou possest, 24560|And this thy curse doth rue. 24560|“But I will bear thee up,” he said, 24560|“To face thy hapless fate; 24560|And when I do, my brother dead, 24560|I will forgive thy crime.” 24560|Still stood he, still his faith she pledged, 24560|“I’ll bear thee up still high aloft, 24560|A noble steed upon my trunk, 24560|And with a gold-clasp eye. 24560|“Now prithee pause, O reverend man, 24560|My faith and honor do not grieve, 24560|My name is Hogen’s heir.” 24560|“Now, wife,� =======SAMPLE 5========= 24560|He looked towards heaven, and his eyes 24560|Saw the swart face of that fair maid; 24560|And up sprang Wyndham in the skies 24560|As from the earth she fled. 24560|“Now quit thee,” cried the man from the wood, 24560|“And quit, thy plighted maid! 24560|For whatsoe’er betide, I see 24560|That maid is doomed to be. 24560|“And why so sad, forsaken maid, 24560|The ransomed mother soothe, 24560|Till to that wood she’s carried on 24560|By wind in early spring.” 24560|“Why did we leave her, Master Giles?” 24560|“Why did we leave her, my sweet maid? 24560|“The forest I have loved so well 24560|From that beginning day; 24560|Let me see why my heart’s so cold, 24560|“If she refuse to stay. 24560|“And why I’m left to sorrow, Master! 24560|My sister’s eyes—I see! 24560|Do you forget, when I remember 24560|Your kiss so sweet and free? 24560|“I’m left to sorrow, my sweet maid; 24560|For why in my heart do I sigh? 24560|I have no mind to sorrow, 24560|No more my heart to bide. 24560|“But let me mourn, where I am now, 24560|Where it has sighed alway, 24560|And let me mourn, where I am now, 24560|For the time when I lay me down 24560|On that green bank in the town.” 24560|She laughed in wild affright, 24560|’Mid the trembling of the breeze; 24560|“O, art thou there, sweet maid, am I, 24560|Alas! that ever I knew?” 24560|“O, art thou there, thou maid, am I, 24560|Ah! what is left me to do? 24560 =======SAMPLE 6========= 24560|“I am that man!” the trooper said 24560|“Beware the Thing that lurks within.” 24560|“The Thing that I must do,” said he; 24560|“The Thing that I must do.” 24560|And when the steel shot from behind, 24560|He turned to see what he could see, 24560|And heard the hound and spurs behind; 24560|Heard breathings in the below, 24560|Sounds heard beneath the roof, the cry 24560|Of an old man crouched for there--alone! 24560|It is the strangest thing that’s known 24560|In all the cumuli.” 24560|And then, when they had ended all, 24560|He snatched up then a little crumb 24560|And fell down on the floor, and said, 24560|“I will take my neighbour’s head.” 24560|Up he went and raised his hand, 24560|And shouted in a piercing cry, 24560|“Help! help! my father help!” and so 24560|They went into the sky, 24560|That the heavens may laugh in the transept breeze, 24560|And weep in the parching breeze. 24560|And it was “Woe to me,” they said; 24560|“I am alone by the tomb’s side!” 24560|One said, “’Tis a thing of air; 24560|Let me, my neighbour’s son, come where 24560|And where my brothers lie.” 24560|“Come where we will,” the Corporal said; 24560|“I’ll take your life-blood freely shed.” 24560|Then the Line-captain took his stand, 24560|And shouted for revenge, the while 24560|Their rifles cracked the whining land, 24560|And the war-homes blurred the glare. 24560|They had killed but not the Hun, I ween, 24560|He knew his life and fame; 24560|And he shouted =======SAMPLE 7========= 24560|In a vision once I saw a child— 24560|“Gladly I rode, as I was wont, 24560|And on my mother’s knee I leaned, 24560|And prayed for thee, child,” cried. 24560|“O mother, if ’mong such as these 24560|I seek one other in my doubt, 24560|May I not seek the jasper lips? 24560|In truth ’twas this I heard them out— 24560|“Thy name and mine they speak,” cried out 24560|The child, “O mother, where art thou? 24560|The precious golden ring I wear? 24560|“Where art thou, child, with hand in hand? 24560|Where art thou, where? O cast away! 24560|The precious silver cross, the stray, 24560|From baby lips I took, ere this, 24560|And placed it there, my darling’s hand— 24560|I took the precious chain. 24560|“O mother, where—the precious chain,— 24560|Diddyki, by the open door— 24560|Diddyki, by the humble door— 24560|Diddyki, by the humble door— 24560|Have I not found thee, dimpled bride! 24560|And hast thou paid for me—my one? 24560|O mother, where hast thou been gone?” 24560|“I’ve paid for thee, and hoped on thee, 24560|And longed for thee, and hoped on thee; 24560|But thou art poor, and ’tis not I— 24560|O mother dear, how poor thou art— 24560|But in my misery, I am poor— 24560|And ’tis not I thou wouldst beg. 24560|“For thee I’ve sold my father’s land, 24560|The goldsmith’s son inherits all; 24560|The heirlooms that my father planned, 24560|And the fair maidens of the ball; 24560|The heirlooms that my father loved, 24560| =======SAMPLE 8========= 24560|And on the next day, when the sun sank low, 24560|He went to the giddy mast— 24560|“Ha! ha!” quoth the mane and awsitting, 24560|“Where is the tail of the Juritchhaut? 24560|Over the whistling blue and fleecy cloud 24560|A hundred yards off. Ho! ho!” 24560|The man put his head in my hand for a sign of a wag of his left hand, 24560|Then set him down to his work and gat him away to his work again. 24560|“I’m in!”—was heard of him—”—“my master comes out in the awn: 24560|But if you want to see my master? I’m not in!” 24560|“What ails ye, then, my master?” quoth my master. 24560|“To the river side, and there we’d linger; 24560|Ask the wind to walk upon the fen; 24560|It may be he has broken his eight little bars 24560|Because he finds out his troubles.” 24560|“What ails ye, then, my master?” quoth I, 24560|With an eye that knew no asking: 24560|“Ails ye the wind, and there’s a tempest-gust I’m in!” 24560|But his master seized him with a death-wound in his left hand,— 24560|“Thief be yonder, and yeomen, and yeomen too!” 24560|And he struck to the ground the haggard swine in his fist, 24560|And the face was white and woolly. 24560|“What ails ye, then, my master?” so out I cried, 24560|“Because ye get no dinner in the day?” 24560|But he took me by the hand and led me out of the wood; 24560|I had no further space, I did not eat enough; 24560|And I killed him and he captured me at the river� =======SAMPLE 9========= 24560|So when he saw the black fir bough 24560|Sleek out above the hill, 24560|He turned him round and gazed below 24560|With bleared and bony rill. 24560|“What news, what news, good horseman bane 24560|Has brought ye to this town?” 24560|“I’m riding in the Kirk of Ayr, 24560|And no one here will tell.” 24560|“O, no, nor neither shalt thou fear, 24560|Nor wilt thou daunt me, daunt me, cravens, 24560|From dawn to dusk, from een to een, 24560|From een to dusk to een.” 24560|“O, no, nor neither shalt thou fear, 24560|Nor wilt thou cower nor ride; 24560|This town and kyar and gilly town 24560|Shall be thy gain and loss. 24560|“Hast thou no shield, good hero, shield 24560|To shield thee from that swart swine?” 24560|“O, no, nor neither shalt thou shield 24560|To shield thy brother from thy swine. 24560|Now let me, ere my life be spent, 24560|A grype of myrrh obtain.” 24560|“O, no, not thee, good giver,” cried 24560|His uncle, “nor thyself arrayed, 24560|For thou hast laid the sheaves aside, 24560|And the wild fields are in array! 24560|“Hast thou no shield, good giver, shield 24560|To shield thee from that swart swine?” 24560|“O, no, not thee, good giver’s son, 24560|Not thyself, good giver’s son!” 24560|“O, no, not thee, kind giver,” cried 24560|His uncle, sadly down the road. 24560|“O, no, not thee, good giver,” cried 24560|His uncle =======SAMPLE 10========= 24560|And when the sun was dying, 24560|And darkness was begun, 24560|Before the cock did crew and crow 24560|And the cock did crew again, 24560|The farmer’s dog, the hounds and horse, 24560|Stopped in the grove with cries of hoarse, 24560|The hunter and the hound. 24560|The hound was near, the hound did ding; 24560|And when he did not bite, 24560|The fangs he had been near, there came 24560|A murmur of delight. 24560|Some one cried ‘Alas! alas! 24560|The only sound I know, 24560|‘Lizard, dand-drammer, lambkin, 24560|Lizard, dand-drammer, ow!"’ 24560|“Good little boys,” said little Alice, 24560|“Hark! hark! cock cock cock cock, cock, 24560|Chaffing from the boughs of matin’-- 24560|Sing for your master’s bark!” 24560|“What is the matter, master,” little Alice cried, 24560|“Of course that you have said; 24560|If not you think it pleasant to be lied 24560|You never dreamed it so. 24560|“We'll try the truth now, John,” the farmer said, 24560|‘And they won’t hurt you for that: 24560|We'll try each other, John,’ the farmer said, 24560|‘I know where we can get.’ 24560|‘And if there’s good for you, master,’ said Little John, 24560|‘You may not go to hell; 24560|For if there’s good for you, master, 24560|With no two eyes to see, 24560|The flood gushed up in John’s right cheek, 24560|And made him feel the well. 24560|The wrath did go that he was born, 24560|A man grown six feet three! 24560|� =======SAMPLE 11========= 24560|And as he spoke, where’er his foot 24560|Sunk in the green of the wood, 24560|The corritch-crass fell on the floor 24560|And made a hideous clud! 24560|He saw the bleached and hewed grass, 24560|His heart was riven as he spake; 24560|His cheeks were wan, his eyes were grey, 24560|He turned, and saw but a little clay 24560|As white as chalk besmeared. 24560|“How dost thou kill me, my crayfish dear, 24560|With thy claws so sharp and thin! 24560|Dost thou suffer me, my sport to play, 24560|In darksome wood to run with it? 24560|Hast thou brought the babes to the tomb, 24560|Or for my parents dead-deer’d to dwell?” 24560|“I’ve done it,” said the little one; 24560|“That’s now my mark,” said he. 24560|As in that hideous yard he lay, 24560|His fearful soul the dirkëd wrung; 24560|“I give thee this, thou silly child, 24560|And when to heaven I’ll turn my horn, 24560|Thy bloody teeth I’ll gnaw—in truth, 24560|I will, and I will, ’neath thy tooth.” 24560|He turned, and gazed a space; his breath 24560|Seemed all the breeze that blew. 24560|Then from his swoon the hapless man 24560|Sucked off the grass while he was dead, 24560|Sucked forth the grass while he was sped, 24560|And when the wretched body failed 24560|His breath was all upon him hailed, 24560|And so he could not rise. 24560|Then out spake he, “Thou mayest fight, 24560|I will be fighten, I will die!” 24560|“I’ll fight with thee,” the mother said, 24560|“For thy good =======SAMPLE 12========= 24560|He saw the hills and valleys gray, 24560|Like clouds of sweat his senses swim! 24560|And he could not believe a lie, 24560|For he pressed his lips to the brim. 24560|He turned as one that fears to dream 24560|Of crosses hanging high on agh; 24560|An oath, and a curse, as ony seems,-- 24560|If ever the tale was told! 24560|And then he knew the jolly rows 24560|Of clownish, laughing bâtis branes, 24560|“The jejsters and the jibbers,” “who 24560|Are always best in the tales they are.” 24560|And aye like it was he, young man, 24560|That drew all eyes on the master’s face, 24560|And never looked back, nor looked at can, 24560|And ever looked up to the master’s grace— 24560|O, never looked back to the heartless man! 24560|He looked at the horses—they pranced aside: 24560|Strong arms were his stately bay; 24560|He seemed like a mountain deity 24560|Descanting upon the land. 24560|He looked at the swine’s assembled flock 24560|On his dusty dusty road,— 24560|“O, I see a man,” said Sam, 24560|As he turned his face to the driver’s stock, 24560|With his head at the well-known stand. 24560|And he stood up with a frozen face, 24560|And stared on the swains below:— 24560|“The master’s a fine one!” Then again 24560|He look’d to the lash and bow. 24560|“O, I see a man,” the captain said, 24560|And his red beard shivered on the rein: 24560|“O, I see a man,” the captain roared, 24560|And the horse spirted, and the man rode on. 24560|“Go, tell the master that I came; 24560|O, I see a =======SAMPLE 13========= 24560|But still a heavier doom there came, 24560|The meadows of that moorland gray, 24560|And the cattle down the dale. 24560|And still a heavier doom there came, 24560|The meadows of that moorland gray; 24560|All palsy-stricken and at wan, 24560|The mowers low in sudden dust, 24560|The haggard and the old. 24560|And still they lay about the wold, 24560|The meadows of that moorland gray; 24560|A ghastly, gory wreath they stripped 24560|Above the towered kingly gay! 24560|And still the more they gazed thereon 24560|There came the jester to beguile 24560|The thrifty farmer’s smile. 24560|But though it yet might seem a sin 24560|To hide it all from eyes of men, 24560|There came his grief. “And if thou hadst had”-- 24560|“My part is this,” the farmer said, 24560|“A badly managed ass.” 24560|The farmer’s anger rose like fire; 24560|It was the man for whom he sigh’d, 24560|But in his heart was bound. 24560|And the little limping human wag 24560|With savage onslaught rushed aside, 24560|Goaded and stamped and tore. 24560|In such a rage, and such a strife, 24560|So long the native of the hills 24560|Came hurtling by his shag. 24560|A heavy stroke was at the bit, 24560|And thus the sham the smith had done! 24560|“Well met, my friend,” the farmer said, 24560|“And may the truth conviction bring! 24560|Thy sires thou wast, thou wretched maid, 24560|From thee my loved ones reft away. 24560|Yet ne’er can be that work, I ween, 24560|Of massy means to help my plight, 24560|Or that with vain essay.” 24560 =======SAMPLE 14========= 24560|Down then came Purjo with the seaven, 24560|To whinny, to to whinny, to say-- 24560|“The jag and reel!” Then, to the heaven, 24560|The jag and reel gan fall. 24560|As down the road we met the jorbkins 24560|In the ken ofinguishable hounds, 24560|As down the road, out of the clover, 24560|The jingle of the morning sounds 24560|In the ken of men; 24560|As down on the hill the farmer rode 24560|Through the kennel drifts. 24560|Or down, on the heath where the jaydees mingle, 24560|Where the heath and the moneys meet, 24560|To the brinks of the river, beyond kirkyaird, 24560|Where the hills slope high o’er the kirk, 24560|And the plough moves lightly off the clover, 24560|Till the long grass cover their sidling feet 24560|In the kennel-heats shade. 24560|Or down where the reaper craftily watten, 24560|Through breasting, through sowing, through reaping, 24560|Past Eden Hall and the briar I follow, 24560|Past barns where the cider presses choke, 24560|To the sun at dule-tide I follow, 24560|Where the hogs sit tame, and the ploughman chaunteth— 24560|The ploughman’s at rest! 24560|In the little village below the hill 24560|Where the orchards blow, 24560|Three children met, in the sun and shower, 24560|At the break of day. 24560|To the little hill in the sun or shower, 24560|The red-bud red-bud red-bud red-bud brown, 24560|And the brown nuts they fell 24560|To the brown boys and girls, 24560|To the brown boys and girls, 24560|To the brown boys and girls. 24560|And the tan brown eyes of the tan =======SAMPLE 15========= 24560|There were mumps in the market-place, 24560|And a ring in the hard-bought hall; 24560|The hard-boiled crutches would not grace 24560|The clubs, and the stones would fall. 24560|The hammers and scginles of stone, 24560|The tapestry of a shoe, 24560|When the hands of a stated one 24560|Hang loose on a peg for a knock. 24560|“O gashmers,” groaned he, I suppose, 24560|“Ye’ll be sore on a hard set day; 24560|Ye’ll stand on foot like a versteead shows, 24560|And an eel like a lamb will crawl.” 24560|“O gashmers,” groaned he, “hast thou one? 24560|And what is it but a chimney-sweep, 24560|That like a fox runs after thee, 24560|And leaves his head on the hard-biled stick?” 24560|The hammers he lifted toward the sky— 24560|“Hast thou one foot in th’ pit far cast? 24560|And some one smelt like a burnt-up thigh?” 24560|“O gashmers,” groaned he, “I did not hear, 24560|Nor surely have I a doubt of thee.” 24560|“O gashmers,” groaned he, “thou art so small, 24560|And the little one thou’st tossed about thee.” 24560|The hammers, groaning as they fell, 24560|Held sway, sway on the trembling string; 24560|And all who heard the blow well aimed 24560|Against the man was fallen a ring. 24560|“O hez! pot-mumps,” groaned they, “where art thou?” 24560|And all the hammers in that were. 24560|Then the hero’s heart was sad and sore, 24560|And all the strokes were a death he met, 24560 =======SAMPLE 16========= 24560|And as the glow-worm was aware 24560|Of the knife and fork beneath his ear, 24560|Behind him lay his wife—his wife— 24560|“Ha!” screamed the cobber, “quick! quick!” 24560|His fingers all about his thighs 24560|Were wound; and as he lay curled up, 24560|The rope about his waist. 24560|He looked about for miles around: 24560|His breath came as he spake the while; 24560|His legs in perils from the ground, 24560|And “Ha!” hinnocent of guile. 24560|Then the little wife upbore her breath, 24560|With trembling hands, her aged limbs; 24560|And as she gazed upon his face, 24560|She knew a thought was in her heart— 24560|“Ha! Ha! Ha! I have slain the Jatmas,” 24560|The twain they fell upon the floor. 24560|Three times the clock-time struck. Then still 24560|She gat a cry of agony. 24560|“Alas, my dear,” she said “that was a scream! 24560|That was an agony!” 24560|“Alas,” he said, “that was a scream!” 24560|“Were death so sweet?” 24560|“What shall I do?” said the little wife, 24560|“Wilt thou not listen?” 24560|“Wilt thou not listen?” 24560|“What shall I do?” 24560|“What shall I do?” she said. 24560|“In the little room beside the door, 24560|The little room with the rocking walls, 24560|Thou shalt hear in the hard, cold wind’s call, 24560|Thy husband’s welcome call.” 24560|So when the mother in her breast 24560|Saw him not, to her child she said: 24560|“Now wilt thou listen to my call, 245 =======SAMPLE 17========= 24560|The farmer’s wife had gotten a groat, 24560|Hid like a lambkin in the grass: 24560|“O I fear the wrath of God!” said she, 24560|“His wrath,” she said, “is passing dear. 24560|“He sees full clear, he sees full clear, 24560|As he rides on the neighing steed; 24560|“He sees light reached, he sees the light, 24560|His horse prances as he nears speed.” 24560|“O I fear the wrath of God!” said she, 24560|“The wrath of God!” said he. 24560|“O I fear the wrath of God! 24560|O I fear the wrath of God! 24560|If there be a joyous thing, 24560|The Boy would leap and shout and sing, 24560|As he sallied forth to the fair green wood.” 24560|He’d laugh and shout and laugh again, 24560|And shout again and shout again, 24560|And shout again and shout again, 24560|And shout again and shout again, 24560|And shout again and shout again, 24560|For the Boy would leap and shout again, 24560|And shout again and shout again, 24560|For the Boy would shout and shout again, 24560|For the Boy would leap and shout again, 24560|As he sallied forth to the fair green wood. 24560|As Little John someway backward fell, 24560|Out of his senses quite bereft, 24560|He heard a grievous moan, “Alas!” 24560|“Alas!” he said, “Alas! alas!” 24560|“Alas!” he said, “it grieves me sore, 24560|The little child who has such a care, 24560|He cannot pray and speak once more, 24560|As I suppose from my little John 24560|Of lively phalanx when he is gone.” 24560|“Alas!” he said =======SAMPLE 18========= 24560|There was a scamp,—a cheeping clan 24560|’Twas busily engag'd; 24560|And for to hide, he swam the keel 24560|In a near copse was sturt. 24560|And then, in panic, lest the man, 24560|Ere half of human kind 24560|Might dare his wretched life to snatch 24560|Them in his shrouding shroud; 24560|He thought it would be wickedness 24560|To seek the farthest star. 24560|“Ah me! ah me!” so runs his tale, 24560|“Thou kingly man, I slew thy hound! 24560|I swear by Heaven, that some gallant hound, 24560|To rear thy corpse, thou lad gave wounds! 24560|“And the hound I slew, thy sword did draw, 24560|And the sword did bleed from thy own side; 24560|Then I took thee, and thou didst not see, 24560|Then I took thee back with my hunting gab, 24560|Then did I take thee back.” 24560|“Hear thou, sonorous black bird,” cooed the hound, 24560|Hooting he had “for kings or gainfays giv'n; 24560|For thee I found to be.” 24560|“A hound thou wast, and thou wast fair, 24560|To me was thy dominion dear; 24560|And I will prithee say the whole, 24560|Ere my tomb they shall decide. 24560|Thou hast the sceptre, and the wand 24560|Did for my father’s death decree 24560|That I should be a king.” And one 24560|Made answer in his wrathful mood, 24560|“Then thou art worthy of the sword, 24560|And thou wilt suffer and be good.” 24560|But the hound swerved not from the spot, 24560|It struck him on the back: 24560|And she cried to the hound like one 24560|Fast bound, agh =======SAMPLE 19========= 24560|“So mally’s, and my strength we gat 24560|Into the oxen’s wombs,” he cried; 24560|But to the cattle he was not in, 24560|His body had not died. 24560|And when’t was down, the blacksmith stopped 24560|Just as he stood before: 24560|“Ah, by the God that made me drop, 24560|I make this will restore!” 24560|He drew his sword, and in his hand 24560|He strake the lance in twain, 24560|And he drew out the burnished brand, 24560|And then he drew the rein. 24560|The fire shot across the wood, 24560|And flung it to the dreary tower; 24560|The wall fell down, it grew so good, 24560|And of the deed I shall for ever rue 24560|In sorrow’s dreary hour! 24560|“Heavens, what a fate!” the wreck-strife cried: 24560|“If ever I did see 24560|’Tis that my mother may have died, 24560|’Tis that my father left me! 24560|“The man that wept, the meadow grass 24560|And meadows green did now no more, 24560|And I in sorrow’s hour to pass 24560|No more will bid my mother adore!” 24560|Then came the host from Bialow, 24560|His eye the fire had quenched ere long, 24560|“I’ll meet his mother in the woe, 24560|“If ever I did see his face 24560|“Fresh from the furnace breathe, 24560|I’ll meet my mother in the place, 24560|At any spot I loved so dear.” 24560|The maid her mother with him sent, 24560|And o’er the hill her way pursued, 24560|And left them mourning and lamenting. 24560|“Alas!” they cried, “if e� =======SAMPLE 20========= 24560|He left his warm blood leaping 24560|Like flame through the green forest grass; 24560|Then came the warrior knightlye 24560|And corselet in his hand. 24560|The wild fowl of the airy north 24560|He shot across the line; 24560|He pinned a dagger to his mouth— 24560|“Behold that head!” he cried. 24560|Above the blades that fired the blades 24560|The sun’s face smiled on him; 24560|The sun’s face flashed upon his shield, 24560|And his javelin pierced the heath. 24560|There was no man to serve the heat— 24560|Men’s hate makes good its chance— 24560|No man knows what braves the knife, 24560|Or what the other “pike” could do— 24560|The dame’s knife, and what the steel— 24560|“You’ll have it,” cried the maid. 24560|Then they rode to the mountain height, 24560|And when they came to Camelot: 24560|“’Twas never a bird could span so light 24560|’Twas a fox, and a wild lion.” 24560|When the first stroke that closed the deal 24560|Fell down on the heath and plain, 24560|And the heat was very much too hot 24560|For the maiden’s yellow grain; 24560|Out gushed the sun full many a drop 24560|Of oil on the yellow sand, 24560|And out from under the heath they shot, 24560|As white as the lily hand. 24560|“Now, God preserve this pretty pair! 24560|’Tis a wonder,” cried the maid, 24560|“For they look both sweet and fair, 24560|As far as the hornbook’s shade.” 24560|Then forth from under the hoary targe 24560|There fell on the heath some showers, 24560|A few faint drops of the water frot 24560|In the lovely damask =======SAMPLE 21========= 24560|He crossed the toilsome road in wrath, 24560|And down, and down he sped; 24560|In mony a vexing scar ran out 24560|From hhyll to hory head. 24560|He gaily prattled all about 24560|Those acclamations large; 24560|And then by Merkis damperd stood 24560|His horse, exceeding large. 24560|From the bright coursers’ mane appeared 24560|A sight which were but small: 24560|The Donkey who had travelled all, 24560|The Albatross, in pall. 24560|The Horse he saw ascend the cliff, 24560|The Serpent in the grass, 24560|Descending through the vaporous mist, 24560|His coming to confess. 24560|Long time had they been standing still, 24560|But up the way receding came, 24560|Till up the Albatross did fling 24560|The Albatross in its aim. 24560|He saw the quarry passing down, 24560|It raised him to the rein; 24560|And then with staggering effort straight 24560|He turned his horses’ tail. 24560|High over all was the Albatross, 24560|And all the birds that flew, 24560|It shattered all their heads and sides, 24560|And killed the stables’ pride. 24560|High up on the Albatross, 24560|Revenge and vengeance grew; 24560|And ever and anon the Horse 24560|More fiercely pursue. 24560|At length the master of the house 24560|Fell sick, and could no more; 24560|But through the door he pulled the Albatross, 24560|And still he drave him o’er. 24560|He reached a cripple’s bower beneath, 24560|And strode o’er the sufferer’s limb; 24560|He reached a stone, a quarry block, 24560|And turned him round and round. 24560|That Serpent was a good bay mare; 24560|A good pike was her home; 24560 =======SAMPLE 22========= 24560|But when the sun went down the West 24560|And the shadows of the night 24560|Clenched like in a frosty glade; 24560|And the yellow treasure burned 24560|In the smoky beam of the sun, 24560|And he felt himself alone. 24560|Now came the jibe of jejog’s breath:— 24560|“There’s a barrel yet in the pot; 24560|The pot of a barrel will I not fetch, 24560|For if you brew it hot 24560|I will treat you well.” 24560|Dusky they stood; with heavy heads, 24560|And their wondering eyes aglow; 24560|And each helped him, in good brown need, 24560|To get on the jesters now. 24560|But when he turned his mind to the other side, 24560|He said: “You are old, Father William.” 24560|“Ha! ha! said the Trinity, 24560|Thou art old, Father William.” 24560|“I did not do thee, old man, 24560|What I know I was avers; 24560|No one of the old gods 24560|Could have carried me away from here.” 24560|His little daughter, who sat by his knee, 24560|To the fire-place came swiftly hurrying. 24560|“The fire’s burnt, why couldn't you see 24560|A good red, white, white meal in a pie? 24560|And a coal pot to drink, and a pie to eat, 24560|And everything else but the ruddy cheese? 24560|Then I wanted a cup with a loaf of bread, 24560|To bear my load from the light of day. 24560|“I wanted a draught, so as best I might, 24560|And as much as a wish of the one I’d. 24560|A bottle of it, the ruddy wine!” 24560|(He swallowed out, and they rolled him in.) 24560|“I got it through, through the ruddy wine!” 24560 =======SAMPLE 23========= 24560|Bjuts he had and his rams he had, 24560|And wagons he had made, 24560|And a plough he had ploughed with his cleft stick, 24560|And the prickers he had paid. 24560|Now when it was pleasant day 24560|He rose and cast away 24560|His cap and his blue-sliding hose, 24560|And his well-buttoned coats. 24560|And he called for his most admiring wife 24560|To figure in the best clothes: 24560|“Hast thou slain the Jugglern?” she cried, 24560|“Wilt thou have the j revisited 24560|His coat that is so blue?” 24560|“No; stand thou there,” she answered him, 24560|“To jests let it be told.” 24560|“I have hunted,” said his father, “I, 24560|I hunted to and fro, 24560|And I cut off the jennet from my head 24560|And my plough from my back.” 24560|“No,” he cried, “I’m not a jesting hound, 24560|I’m here that I can die!” 24560|“I did not think thee good enough, 24560|For a knave I have been.” 24560|In his arms he placed his two little arms, 24560|But he could not stir his head. 24560|She went forward, and with her came after, 24560|And when she reached the Skoff’s 24560|Fetching her poor little son and daughters, 24560|With a loud cry she gave them. 24560|“Now stop,” said the little son, “I tell you 24560|Why there’s no one in the town; 24560|There’s not a man in the town but knows 24560|How many days you have o’er.” 24560|“I’ll tell you,” said her little son, 24560|“And =======SAMPLE 24========= 24560|“And canst thou slay the jahabi? 24560|In such a mood I hate to ride! 24560|My hands are stained with scarlet cloth, 24560|My eyes are shut in hide. 24560|“Hast thou done all? Well done I! 24560|On me alone I wait!” 24560|“By thine own brothers hast thou lost; 24560|Thou makest all my murderer’s boast!” 24560|“And wilt thou slay the jahabi? 24560|In such a mood I hate to ride! 24560|Thy wounds themselves avail! 24560|“Well done!” the little maiden said, 24560|“Rather I’d die than seek that bread 24560|Which thee to everlasting death 24560|The wretched one hast brought.” 24560|They took a little ploughman’s shoon, 24560|And made it fast with plaistering stone: 24560|It was a high and curious noon, 24560|And as the stones their fall did tell. 24560|The little sharp young oxen stood 24560|Near by upon the grassy marge; 24560|The little white-faced oxen stood 24560|Near by on pegs of wampum soft. 24560|They took him from his horse so far, 24560|And all that way their journey lay, 24560|And turned him o’er and o’er again. 24560|The little hunter then they met, 24560|And all the way to seek him took, 24560|The little limping oxen’s feet 24560|Bore him to earth again. 24560|They stripped him of his shaggy hide, 24560|They stripped him bare of brawny burs, 24560|The little limping hapless wag 24560|Was thrown away to swim. 24560|And so two rope and rapings then 24560|Were safe enough for all the band; 24560|The little limping hapless cow 24560|No blemish like the linen's hem. 24560|And so =======SAMPLE 25========= 24560|And while the sword-strokes gushed and ran 24560|A-gathering like a hurricane, 24560|The wildest war-cries, loud and shrill, 24560|Came surging through the hills. 24560|At times a wild yell rose in the air, 24560|From steep to steep, from moor to moor, 24560|A scream of horror and despair, 24560|Of death approaching neathernock, 24560|Of dying embers in the pore. 24560|“Thy shield, my son! thy sabre bright! 24560|My hands! thy lips! thy lips of flame! 24560|O hasten! I have done the same.” 24560|It made the blood tingle and squall 24560|To hear that wounded warrior’s cry; 24560|It made the life blood quickly fall 24560|On the proud swine that fought and died— 24560|“Say on! say on! thou wounded swine, 24560|Say on! thou hewer of the sanguine! 24560|Say on! thou hewer of the sanguine! 24560|Say on! thou hewer of the sanguine! 24560|Say on! say on! that pierced youth 24560|Who crossed the heath in days of yore, 24560|And when he crossed it, “Say on!” 24560|It made the blood tingle and squall 24560|To hear that wounded warrior’s cry; 24560|It made the life blood quickly quail, 24560|To hear that death did soon draw nigh. 24560|It made the blood tingle and squall, 24560|To hear that death did soon draw nigh. 24560|“Say on! say on! thou wounded swine, 24560|Say on! thou hewer of the sanguine! 24560|Thou art not doomed to fetch a pail, 24560|’Tis not the ebbing blood so drain.” 24560|And then it made the blood tingle, 24560|To hear that agony within: 24560|“Thou liest =======SAMPLE 26========= 24560|So came foul strife, and blare and blow 24560|To where the kestrels played, 24560|And blows of sword and spear, and throw 24560|The joyous throng afraid. 24560|Then came the jest and joyous song; 24560|And then the jellied twine— 24560|“The jads and blows of father and mother and sweetheel!” 24560|“I’ve heard of maidens in the street, 24560|Of archers in the green— 24560|I’ve heard of stalwart men, and keen, 24560|Full many an ewe and seen. 24560|“Ah, then I heard them call me and— 24560|’Tis now their minstrel’s call— 24560|“What good comes of harlots if one hits them all!” 24560|Some marched for red, and some for white, 24560|And some for yellow; some for bright— 24560|And some we loved the best— 24560|“What good comes of harlots if one hits him all!” 24560|Some marched for red, and others for white, 24560|And some for yellow; and some for gold— 24560|“What good comes of harlots if one hits him all!” 24560|Some marched for blue— 24560|Some for green— 24560|But some were redd and some were yellow. 24560|Some marched for blue— 24560|But some we loved the best of ever. 24560|We marched for light, 24560|And some we loved the best of ever. 24560|We marched for dark— 24560|For dreary—for we fled for ever. 24560|Right many a dark— 24560|But one we loved the best of ever. 24560|Eight went to fight— 24560|But one we loved the best of ever. 24560|Eight in the night— 24560|“What good comes of harlots if one hits them all?” 24560|Two went to fight— 24560|But one we loved the best of =======SAMPLE 27========= 24560|And when they came to Lindarwego, 24560|He knew not where to turn; 24560|His eyes were like a summer’s fair, 24560|His heart was like the merry Nile, 24560|And the jollity it was 24560|Did dew itself in wild delights 24560|From morn till e’en of fall. 24560|He gazed upon the swinging seas, 24560|He heaped up mountains high; 24560|And all marvelled as he viewed the fields, 24560|And the golden even sky! 24560|But Lindarw harsher far he spied, 24560|He knew not whither nor, 24560|Until he found the royal herd, 24560|A large plain in a glen. 24560|His cattle raised a dreary yell 24560|As they fled o’er the hills; 24560|And “May the king amongst them all 24560|Meet his own black doleful dole!” 24560|All night the cry of ruddy war 24560|Did to the heavens arise; 24560|The swans upon the tops of trees, 24560|The ducks in the water-course, 24560|Were mourning for their ancient lord, 24560|And mourning for his dearer lord, 24560|A cloud came up from the sea. 24560|“Shoot, shoot,” exclaimed the Swabian. 24560|“Arme, shoot,” exclaimed the Swabian. 24560|“Arme, shoot,” exclaimed the Swabian. 24560|“Arme, shoot,” exclaimed the Swabian. 24560|And when the word was given, 24560|He let another of his men 24560|Before his brother fly. 24560|And when the word was given, 24560|Each bush andpling, as was meet, 24560|Along the edge did clamber, 24560|And “What a nasty place!” they asked, 24560|With voice as low as they could blithe, 24560|Of rough and smooth-faced cow. 24560|They rested from =======SAMPLE 28========= 24560|He saw and heard, and knew full well 24560|The meadow-shoals blow clear and sweet, 24560|The river mazy sportingfell 24560|To meet the coming feet. 24560|And when he came again, as soon 24560|As seen’d could well befall, 24560|He heard the voice of the Great Chief, 24560|And knew that he was passing well. 24560|“I call thee, Jack o’Cuiffin, hush thy bawdy noise, 24560|I see thee in the street; 24560|Thy ears have heard my oaf-boy’s en approaching pull 24560|As I went riding up the hill. 24560|He sees the river at thy feet, 24560|The bulwark of thy town: 24560|Come let him in this bonny boat, 24560|And row me o’er the foaming brown.” 24560|The boat it hummed, the boat it hummed, 24560|The water rippled to its side— 24560|“Come let us in, my bonny boy, 24560|I see him in the tide.” 24560|The rowers on the hills were hushed, 24560|The pines lay drowsy in the sun, 24560|The evening breeze crept softly up, 24560|The boat it hummed and done. 24560|There was no ship—none knew its dread,— 24560|No lighthouse on its moor; 24560|And the symbol of our gallant Captain’s name 24560|Was the bright halo round his brow. 24560|He plied his oars, he rowed his oars, 24560|And, like a prancing steed, 24560|He steered our gallant vessel on— 24560|The rock-like pebbles speed. 24560|In vain the victor’s shouts and prayers, 24560|In vain the waters roar, 24560|And for her gallant vessel’s name 24560|The Isle was safe no more. 24560|“O, well the water had defied 24560|The buff =======SAMPLE 29========= 24560|“The cock crow-bell I wish for now, 24560|But not a soul about; 24560|I’ll get a stive of boiling stuff, 24560|I’ll give the pot a rout.” 24560|“And blow that nasty rascal’s horn, 24560|And blow that nasty bugle-nose! 24560|He splits my neck, the knouted thorn, 24560|He breaks my pummock, breaks my nose.” 24560|“And blow that nasty bugle-nose, 24560|And blow that ugly bugle-nose! 24560|He makes a dirt banked higher!” 24560|“Now who comes here, my little man?” 24560|And he gave him his white chalk spoon. 24560|“I’ll blow you out a dead man”— 24560|(More dang that soldier’s no mean gun) 24560|“Because you were a pleasant lad.” 24560|He heard his mother calling out, 24560|And saw that no one was to blame; 24560|His bundle and his yellow hair 24560|Were covered up from either’s eyes. 24560|“Who’s the police?” the father said, 24560|“With the police to me?” 24560|“The police ‘You’re going to beat,” 24560|The son said, “when you are in.” 24560|“Take your bow and’t with it straight,— 24560|With the police ‘And bow to, blow;” 24560|“Hi, there’s the arch broke over you, 24560|The livid palings beat you clean.” 24560|“You’re going to beat the band,” 24560|The father said, “we’ll stop and look; 24560|We’ll run the roads, ’mong orange trees, 24560|And the little hillock-noses.” 24560|Then the lad said to his trusty dame =======SAMPLE 30========= 24560|And down among the verger’s swarms 24560|He hied, and there among the staves 24560|He struck a fair and stately lance, 24560|And laid it on the warrior’s breast; 24560|Then hied to Huntley’s victorious banks, 24560|And there he smote him where he slung; 24560|He turned him o’er and o’er again 24560|With mighty force, and dealt his blow; 24560|Dead’s warrior’s life he foully slew, 24560|Which now consumes him like a foe. 24560|Oh! let me hear thy voice, my love! 24560|Thy beauty, like her starry’s light, 24560|And her sweet melody above! 24560|Oh! let me hear thy voice, my love! 24560|Thy beauty, like her starry’s light, 24560|And her sweet melody above! 24560|Alas! she is a gallant gay, 24560|Of country needs no voice lyre-shine! 24560|Nor laurel-trees each tree shines white, 24560|But carols when her gales perspire. 24560|And when her gales her fife resound, 24560|Her warrior breast its fury shows; 24560|No wild thyme braves the dangerous ground, 24560|But the swift steed, and neighing goes. 24560|And when her foes the spell have wove, 24560|Then let me hear thy voice, my love! 24560|“Woe to us both! but woe to us,” 24560|He cried, “we two in battle strife. 24560|Oh! say we ne’er again shall meet 24560|Nor yet again shall I behold 24560|The mutual fires of love and strife 24560|Glare through one cloudlet of the brain: 24560|Oh! then for us to feel again 24560|A deeper transport of thy smile, 24560|Than when our life-blood here is dry. 24560|And when thy smile indeed is gain, 24560|Then =======SAMPLE 31========= 24560|As he sat there in a corner, 24560|His swollen cheek in quest of peace, 24560|In vain had he his anger raved, 24560|And he was not a man. 24560|“Why standest thou here?” (he said,) “that I 24560|Might try the murder when I fought 24560|Upon that bloody, cruel land. 24560|Have pity, love! It was not right 24560|I trow I should betray the knight 24560|To meet me on that bloody plain.” 24560|He did not speak, he merely ran 24560|To where the king was listening fast 24560|About that stricken man at last. 24560|“O Hsiebi! why,” (he said)--“lady, thou 24560|Wilt yield my life, thy life I vow, 24560|Before I give my life away, 24560|Before I slay him for my pay, 24560|Before he slay me and that pay— 24560|Until death take me from that fray 24560|Upon the edge of that cursed place,— 24560|Until death take me from that chase.” 24560|“I’ll make thee knight, my own deceit! 24560|Give me my life, my life to win! 24560|For if I yield my life away, 24560|My dying breath shall be in vain; 24560|And thou shalt pay me in that fight 24560|Upon that battle-field of mine,— 24560|Until death take me from that fight.” 24560|The monarch heard, and laughed amain, 24560|That noble child to slumber brought; 24560|He vowed to take it instantly 24560|And take it from that bloody fray: 24560|“No more, but yield my life,” he cried, 24560|“Unto a death so foully sped!” 24560|Then from this depth he turned away, 24560|And left his wife within the wall; 24560|By the king’s saying, thus he spake, 24560|Who made the king and city fall: 24560|� =======SAMPLE 32========= 24560|“Gone! and is game,” quoth molly Dryad, 24560|“And is game at ere this be?” 24560|“You come” (quoth she)--“a pheasant boy, 24560|And I know where ’s Rose, my sweet? 24560|And is game but a snare?” 24560|“And is game but a game that I cannot play?” 24560|“Now,” quoth he, “my little maid, 24560|You never have fenced me hard.” 24560|“I’ll never seek to dance to me 24560|To bind me by the neck or neck.” 24560|So in a voice so sweet and low, 24560|It made the heart of Lilith glow, 24560|As ’twere an opiate’s breath. 24560|“Now cast it off,” quoth she, “it’s new! 24560|The lad is ready for the dance, 24560|We dance about his neck, I’ll see? 24560|And can I see his face?” 24560|He kissed her little face, and said, 24560|“It is a silly little maid.” 24560|(To Mabel Schwott) 24560|“My maiden aunt,” he said, 24560|“I see no beauty in her face 24560|That’s painted so enchanting grace! 24560|“Her features have no charms, 24560|Her wit all grace and grace, 24560|Her voice is not of yours, I guess, 24560|As that of Philis pours. 24560|“Her charm, in fact, to the young man’s mind 24560|Has been an influence rare. 24560|“She has not so much wit 24560|As him to let her flout.” 24560|“But, mamma, ’t’pathless ways 24560|I like much more to you, 24560|Than you to gloss the walls! =======SAMPLE 33========= 24560|They sought to gyre the Knab uncouth, 24560|The jester he did mock’d; 24560|He fled at ebb, and caught a sprauh, 24560|And then he fell a-hungerin’. 24560|“Where are the Jacks?” his mother says. 24560|“They have no horses,” said Jack Jone. 24560|“Bermuncan team,” they said. 24560|“Them horses,” they said, “them’s galloping,” 24560|And Jack galloped on alone. 24560|In came a blithesome gondolier, 24560|A bit of canvas broad and small; 24560|“I kant of red-eyed Ned ‘tis flayed!” 24560|“O we have seen him,” said Jack Jone. 24560|“O we have seen him,” said Jack Jone. 24560|“O we have seen him,” said Jack Jone. 24560|“O we have seen him,” said Jo Delaid. 24560|“O we have seen him,” said Jo Delaid. 24560|“O we have seen him,” said Jo Delaid. 24560|A bit of canvas broad and high: 24560|“O we have seen him,” said Jo Delaid. 24560|A bit of canvas deep and wide: 24560|“O we have seen him,” said Jo Delaid. 24560|A bit of canvas high and wide: 24560|“O we have seen him,” said Jo Delaid. 24560|A bit of bearing on his back— 24560|“O we have seen him,” said Jo Delaid. 24560|A bit of bearing on his back, 24560|And on his breast a little broom; 24560|He must have been a bit wet black, 24560|Or else a very tanny, bure-black clown. 24560|A bit of bearing on his back, 24560|And on =======SAMPLE 34========= 24560|Then up and spake the Telmessman: 24560|“By geve, I vow, if ye do all 24560|That anything which says ‘Bertram in 24560|I’ll knaw ye now.” ‘That shall be all 24560|Your threats, my Tel,’ he answered, ‘Saul! 24560|Go to my arms and begone!’ 24560|He spoke, and bawling, in the wood, 24560|The whistle to his ears began. 24560|“Who yells by smithy would he smithy 24560|Upon the forge or lath will fetch? 24560|Go by the hogshead, and the spithy! 24560|’Tis Hilda,’ she said, 24560|‘With an inoffensive tongue; 24560|He’s neither choked nor shied, 24560|And he’s over us a-wandering, 24560|In the wood where the holly grows.” 24560|Bertram’s mother, 24560|She was a famous grey goose, 24560|She was a famous grey goose 24560|Until her five eggs came 24560|In a dish that well deserved the name; 24560|From the pail afore she spits it, 24560|And from the ninth dish that benumbs the cates, 24560|Before she drinks it, 24560|Bertram, the murderer, 24560|It had eaten the whole 24560|Of her young brood, and she very well fell 24560|She had fed its young ones thereon, 24560|And when she once had given it to the worm, 24560|The whole of her brood was in a gourd! 24560|“My children all, there’s no dearth 24560|In that good store of food.” 24560|“And I’ll give thee a good nurse” said the milder snail, 24560|“That kind mother nurse thy children dear!” 24560|“I give the seeds which now thou give 24560|For the good bed where they =======SAMPLE 35========= 24560|Still the jay on the fidler went, 24560|And the rippling river deep; 24560|And the jeering of the farmer’s wife, 24560|“May I be back’d by seven!” 24560|“And if I’m slain, then up,” quoth he, 24560|“May I be let alone!” 24560|“And if I’m slain, then up,” he cried, 24560|“May I be let alone!” 24560|“If I have slain, then up,” he cried, 24560|“May I be let alone!” 24560|Then up and spoke Dame Ingeborg, 24560|In tearful mood she thus replied; 24560|“Since thou hast lost thy courser, Sir, 24560|I have forgot my bridle-reins, 24560|And the shining arms of Stig.” 24560|“If I be not a maiden, Sir, 24560|I have asked in every craft, 24560|That a horse may carry the bits of lantern, 24560|And the buckles of the horse.” 24560|“If thou can’st have a horse,” quoth she, 24560|“I will never thee deprive. 24560|“If thou hadst lost thy good steed, 24560|My courser it’s gone to the wood.” 24560|“Thou can’st not take of any steed, 24560|And the whitest steeds thou can’st not have.” 24560|“The steeds for me I’ll do ride, Sir, 24560|And the best steeds in the world have I.” 24560|The courser snaffle was given, 24560|From the bridle he took his stand. 24560|“Now where’er upon the hill-top 24560|I may high Kilmarnockburne ride, 24560|There I’ll watch all night my courser, 24560|And it’ =======SAMPLE 36========= 24560|“And have you slain the Hraben, boy? 24560|O smite him not, my puny boy! 24560|The wolves shall rend thee limb from limb, 24560|The stockdove rend thee tooth.” 24560|But still the manly tongue, I ween, 24560|Was waving as the minstrels cried,— 24560|“O let the wolves and fowls be seen 24560|Upon the hills outside! 24560|“And have you slain the Hraben, boy? 24560|O quit the Ida piney hill! 24560|O quit the Ida fir and firs, 24560|And turn thy shattered Till!” 24560|They turned the crank, they turned the log, 24560|They turned it into jagged stone! 24560|Out came the moody cleared the locks, 24560|And all the men were stamped alone. 24560|“O Hiopian,” cried the Sydney Bob, 24560|“Thrust back your nose and swear that we 24560|’Bout far ’em plain we dare to take 24560|And drive the cars back home.” 24560|The Brownies came with sticks o' steam 24560|And shook the goods on new-mown hay, 24560|And when the horse he saw steal out, 24560|He called to them and said: 24560|“O come and see, if we have slain 24560|The Hiar Mouse, we will divide 24560|The garden wall’s between the wall, 24560|And there we will unfold.” 24560|So out along the hills they goed, 24560|And as they went their steps they bent, 24560|The Brownies cheered to see a show. 24560|Then all was joy, the green-horn men, 24560|Then all was peace, old Coleraine! 24560|He raised his finger to his lip; 24560|“My horse is ready to slip.” 24560|The wood was dark, the green-horn men, 24560|And when he rode through wood so deep, 245 =======SAMPLE 37========= 24560|The sun’s kiss fell in showers of gold 24560|On the hills of far greener skies; 24560|It rose and was half-hidden ’neath 24560|The crescent’s rounded rise! 24560|The sun’s kiss fell in clouds of gold 24560|On the hills of high greener skies; 24560|It rose and was half-hidden ’neath 24560|The crescent’s rounded rise. 24560|He sank in bliss, and out o’erhead 24560|The briny torrent ran; 24560|And all in sudden slumber weighed, 24560|And every vein one vein. 24560|He woke to find his mother fair, 24560|Sleeping in the clinging dawn; 24560|“Ha! ha!” he thought, “it must be fair 24560|When the day’s kiss is withdrawn.” 24560|So there was silence in the hall 24560|While their hands with passion numb 24560|To the lips in thrilling anguish cast, 24560|“It is but the maiden’s tomb!” 24560|But a mournful voice said, “Mother, mourn 24560|For the maiden laid in mold!” 24560|“God’s name is on thy coffin borne, 24560|That is now no more a crime!” 24560|So they followed—and to seek the stone 24560|Was her body cased in ice! 24560|“Mother, be not in wrath with me! 24560|’Tis thy wonted body toil 24560|The long years to bring in the day 24560|That is born of _me_—the sufferance pay 24560|For my children’s blood, until 24560|I have dried thy tears, and thy life-blood dried 24560|For the man that did the wrong.” 24560|To her parents’ ears the mother cried: 24560|“Ah, my sons, my children, be not wroth! 24560|For I love the king, and his mother’s pride: 24560|They will never =======SAMPLE 38========= 24560|It was the wawd Kilmatas, 24560|It was the merry-making time. 24560|“The new gloves deck’d with flowers,” 24560|Came clap-clippers on the kirtle ring. 24560|“I came like a tempest blast,” 24560|Came clap-clippers on the kirtle bow. 24560|“I came like a ghost’sAfflicting goblin, 24560|My brother,’twas the conjuror’s shape.” 24560|Clap-clippers on the kirtle ring; 24560|And so upon the pearly bowl 24560|With his white foot he press’d the chalk. 24560|“The new gloves deck’d with flowers,” 24560|Came clap-clippers on the kirtle stalk. 24560|“I came like a magic spell; 24560|Nought else is more sweet than sleep.” 24560|Clap-clippers on the kirtle ring. 24560|With rosy fingers, sleek and small, 24560|He toy’d away the prize of life. 24560|He saw at first his brothers’ glee, 24560|He saw his old love follow it. 24560|“Well done, well done!” they cried. 24560|He threw back his travelling gun. 24560|In the red vault under his mother’s sods, 24560|He dreamt once more of his own loved lord. 24560|He looked across his tear-dimmed eyes 24560|Till she was changed to his of other years. 24560|He threw back his travelling gun. 24560|She was a witch from the Devil’s Den! 24560|She was the first in the witch’s craft; 24560|It was the first that she lived. 24560|“Now come to my arms, my daughter dear! 24560|I must speak to my first love! 24560|The news of your race is brought to the court, 24560|It has brought us the proud king Satan =======SAMPLE 39========= 24560|But lo! in the far east there sipp’d 24560|One of the kith and her old grandsire, 24560|Sleeping in fetters: and she sobbed, 24560|“Awake, my master! from thy nap 24560|In the mid forest I will tumble!” 24560|“Awake, my master! from thy nap’s 24560|I will awake, my master! rise! 24560|For all night long, across the peaks, 24560|To the stars I will fly.” 24560|So spoke that little crippled hound 24560|In a deep sorrow’d woman’s moan— 24560|“Awake, my master! lay me round!” 24560|“O, let not one of all my kith 24560|Awake from the dead, nor more of fame, 24560|And my old comrades from the North. 24560|“But let him rise, and let him go 24560|Wherever he may sail; and so 24560|Let him hear the Jenypsaga strain, 24560|And the great cry of Gladjo’s Ver roaming, 24560|When the grey wolves they dare not slay: 24560|“For if I should be slain, then know 24560|That I come running up, and can 24560|With the black wolves o’er the deep go following, 24560|Until my dying day.” 24560|The little crippled hound, it is said, 24560|That in the midmost wood is strown, 24560|Fell fainting from the hunter’s tread, 24560|And faint and fainter grows the moan. 24560|“O, hilt thou, little dog, or do 24560|The deeds he has done, or have done 24560|In any manner, the living wight 24560|He took and beat him on! 24560|“O, hilt thou, Bobbin, hawk or kite? 24560|Will ye go win or lose? 24560|“I’ll wear thee for four moccas’ =======SAMPLE 40========= 24560|The cock is crowing, 24560|The cock is crowing, 24560|The cock is crowing, 24560|The cock is crowing, 24560|And up the chimney roosty the tick, 24560|And the fire's blottner from over the coop, 24560|And from the chimney the swallow’s jay, 24560|And off they scampered to theray. 24560|An old wife’s song 24560|Is mixed with glee,— 24560|But the rhymer’s tongue, 24560|And the rhymer’s glee,— 24560|For old wife’s sang, 24560|And the rhymer’s rhyming runs on to the fire, 24560|And down the chimney the jay was sent, 24560|And the smoke hung grey. 24560|“Master Breton’s dead!” 24560|“If he’s gane down yonder, 24560|I mind me of the kith andlaw, 24560|And all they sell for auld and young, 24560|And them that’d work for father’s blood, 24560|And me that’s sold.” 24560|“There’s Derby, and young Derby too! 24560|They sell for their auld father’s bones, 24560|When the price of auld red jacket’s due, 24560|And the price for ae lock’d coffer shoarts, 24560|And the transfer’d for his auld father’s bones.” 24560|“There’s Derby, and young Derby too! 24560|And the price for ae lock’d coffer smead, 24560|When the price of a five-laund’’’’’il go, 24560|And the twinne-seed in her sward is laid.” 24560|“If they would not pay for their auld father, 24560|And the twenty-five from the land of heaven, 24560|And down the chimney the =======SAMPLE 41========= 24560|“Come to my arms, my youthful boy! 24560|My elbows are as dry as clay; 24560|I would that thou wert there, boy, 24560|And a harlot were also I.” 24560|“Now try me!” he said outstretchingly; 24560|“Now try me!” there was no more to say. 24560|So they twain grew strong, and with their swords 24560|He smote the maimed youth in the face. 24560|Long they stood in silence, and then 24560|Cried the Chapell clock’s apathmic: 24560|It strikes him dead: how should he lie 24560|A-while in such a woe? 24560|The boy woke up, and took his bed, 24560|And mourned with rue his visage white; 24560|But when the dawn’s first streak of light 24560|Broke the thick darkness of the night, 24560|He cast himself from his sad bed— 24560|Was it then o’er the grave of him and her one brother did bear the 24560|The bell tolls the parting for the good King Richard and his son. 24560|“O sister! sister! by the mother hear me! 24560|And aye, at morn, with thee, at eve, by aught remembering, 24560|Forgotten, thy brothers shall together be. 24560|“O Lakshmaṇ, hear, for aye, O Lakshmaṇ hear! 24560|For aye, for aye, my brother Lakshmaṇ, by my side; 24560|On thee my soul with secret thoughts depend, 24560|That I, who loved thee, now should look on thee.” 24560|“O brother, thou whose arms of old I clasp, 24560|Thy widowed heart will never feel again, 24560|Nor shall I at its sad utterance grieve. 24560|But, brother, see, O Lakshmaṇ, see! the stone floor gladdened 24560|Like a ripe fruit grows rotten where it reeked of, 24560| =======SAMPLE 42========= 24560|His body was all overstrewn 24560|With spines of every leaf. 24560|His heart was like a bough most soft, 24560|His eye like a briar lyke. 24560|The limpet-gum of his body’s green 24560|Made every stroke seem knee. 24560|“And hast thou slain the oxen, Jeot? 24560|Come to my arms, my boy!” 24560|His hoof made music like a sound, 24560|His stride like beastboy joy. 24560|He was the ox undaunted best 24560|That ever man did see! 24560|Bare were his hoofs that struck men's souls, 24560|His knees on mounds like leeks; 24560|His teeth were like a tiger’s, too, 24560|And teeth of elephants. 24560|He could bite steel, and rattle, and pelt, 24560|And bruise, and snap, and crack; 24560|He could stand upright, and stride too, 24560|When he thought that bridge was Stishon-he-ban 24560|Of many a gallant stork. 24560|He was not reckoned among the rest 24560|A man of arms, one livelier, 24560|One more loathsome pander, 24560|One more dangerous man full of mirth, 24560|He would come to the feast! 24560|He stood there stiff and stark, 24560|His neck was white as the winter snow, 24560|His eyes were open, but one bright point 24560|One sharp point in his thigh. 24560|He could bite steel—his eyes were white, 24560|And his mouth a harsh harsh harsh sound, 24560|And his body—his teeth were teeth, 24560|And his mouth a harsh wound. 24560|He was a squire of low degree, 24560|With a voice that moved the souls of men, 24560|And a smile that drew the hearts of queens 24560|Together, as a sword. 24560|“Now I’ve a friend,” said he, “my name� =======SAMPLE 43========= 24560|In a vision once I beheld 24560|One, two, three, four! On tree top, 24560|Who saw him before the dawning sun, 24560|Fled; and two, five, eight! 24560|“He’s an old top-captain, Sir! 24560|He’s an old top-captain, Sir! 24560|And in this wretched world is he 24560|Only eight and ten. 24560|“I see him in the morning, 24560|Wish’d to have slain the blacksmith Moor, 24560|That metals could withstand his power: 24560|I view’d him in the noon noon, 24560|And on the bridge he stood, and there 24560|In the moon’s light he eased his toil, 24560|And eased my monster of mi pain. 24560|“’Tis he!” I said; “he’s he!” 24560|“The fiend!” I said, “lay down! 24560|No pity let thy soul forgo 24560|The arms of thy suffering son!” 24560|I woke and wept, and on my face 24560|Went wailing to and fro; 24560|But nothing could I do, alas! 24560|That wringing anguish could not pass. 24560|I closed my lids, I closed my eyes; 24560|Gorging within I spied 24560|A fiend that moved toward the sky,— 24560|The vast extended sky. 24560|And now my eyes a second time 24560|Can truly now discern, 24560|Since on that spot the proud Visoise 24560|Was lighted by the dawn. 24560|In the little village churchyard 24560|The yellow flowers are sweet, 24560|And the little bells of the country, 24560|As sweetly as they greet, 24560|Obey the hymn of the evening, 24560|And praise the setting sun. 24560|And as I watch’d the fading embers, 24560|Press’d by the glowing =======SAMPLE 44========= 24560|He left his wife at home, and she 24560|Ford all the ryme he might have done; 24560|For all the ryme he might have been 24560|Had not his wife gone! 24560|In the midst of all, two livid forms, 24560|Two female forms striding in a row: 24560|“There’s one of us”—I stayed my mouth. 24560|He did. And then the other he 24560|Played on his violin so grand, 24560|I knew not which nor which. 24560|A pair of games there was: “There’s one,” 24560|Says Hampden, “and I’ll stand.” 24560|One played upon another’s lips 24560|With noise like drums; the others played, 24560|And sang like prisoners’s breath; 24560|One played upon the second harp; 24560|And ’neath the second harp strung, 24560|The second was the second named; 24560|And when he played and played no more, 24560|The other was the first that came. 24560|“Beware the Harp’s! why should you 24560|Give that up when you’ve had your will?” 24560|“And what’s the thrift more worth than this 24560|That I can give you when I’m young?” 24560|“’Twas but a pair of ruffians, 24560|Two that went to slay their father.” 24560|“A pair of lapis-loods!” 24560|“And you, forsooth!” said Hampden. 24560|“And if you’ve stole a gill of blood, 24560|And one of them would slay you.” 24560|And therewithal, he gave the thrur 24560|Another, then the two did sink, 24560|And upwards sped with furious speed, 24560|So that her breath was quickly out; 24560|And ’twas to yield =======SAMPLE 45========= 24560|And when the corpse was levelled out, 24560|They all forgot to die— 24560|The men and boys of all the town 24560|They made a funeral bier; 24560|For the country-folk, it seems to me, 24560|And the girls did weep and shake 24560|When they found the jolly dead of night, 24560|In the churchyard under the hill. 24560|And when the jolly coffin came, 24560|And they all did raise a cheer, 24560|They found the jolly borogarrest 24560|In the churchyard under the hill. 24560|He said, “I’m up in the chimney-corner, 24560|With the coffin in the shroud, 24560|And the clargy, clargy, clinker-ware, 24560|In the churchyard under the hill!” 24560|And now the jolly borogarra 24560|Is cleared away from the town, 24560|The bells ring out their merry pealing, 24560|And the priest did raise his crown. 24560|With a joyful clood the country folk 24560|The sun it shone on high, 24560|The crock of bells was over the hill, 24560|And a man he did not die. 24560|For every Sabbath bell that day 24560|Came bleating to his ear, 24560|And every man did shout ‘He’s done!’ 24560|The bells are silent for the tears 24560|In the churchyard under the hill, 24560|And no man stirs but the man and the dead, 24560|In the churchyard under the hill. 24560|‘Where live ye, brothers?’ said the Jardan, 24560|‘You shall have gold, and a pair of earls.’ 24560|‘Ye shall have brass, and a pair of staves, 24560|And your house shall have seven pigs, 24560|A mulberry of twenty tons.’ 24560|But the brother of the Erl is glad, 24560|He heareth the words of his =======SAMPLE 46========= 24560|“Now call to me, thou slack Teutototototototæ! 24560|“Who hath destroy’d the jasmine buds, and set upon the willow? 24560|“What is the charm about the Spring in glittering glory? 24560|“And wherefore should the Winter’s might have bound me, 24560|“But let the blossoms of the earth be fettered by my power? 24560|“Let me not let the buds for ever fade, but still 24560|“The bud may live beyond the winter’s loss, my boy!” 24560|“What is the charm about the Spring in glittering glory? 24560|“The babe that never leaves the mother’s bosom! 24560|“The crow that lives amid the harvest’s shealing! 24560|“The lark that never from the meadow carols! 24560|“The bluebird with the yellow breast! 24560|The robin punctually the snow! 24560|“The jolly farmer’s cheerier mood! 24560|The farmer’s welcome to my hearth! 24560|“The jam and jelly, and a well-tamed cuckoo; 24560|“The Jackass jingle, and the cuckoo!” 24560|As out he stood a pigmy unsheathed sword, 24560|He saw a thing that grieved him sore, and tried 24560|To snatch the fruit from Sandy Roger’s chest, 24560|And drag him to the barn door. 24560|Then off he went, and like a merry tune 24560|The kettledrum did play, and quite forgot 24560|That, though his neighbours called it "Suster O’Skin," 24560|It had no harshness quite the same to him. 24560|It was a poor old abbot of the church, 24560|And seldom, if you like, he looks too stern; 24560|He hath to own a harshness which he dreads, 24560|To ask for further skill with sharper eyes. 24560|Now, how I love =======SAMPLE 47========= 24560|He laid him down to sleep one day, 24560|And dreamt that night of all the dally; 24560|He dreamed that morning, with the play 24560|And lively speech of half the city. 24560|But when the morrow's sun was low, 24560|And lingering eve mistaking right, 24560|He went to the old-fashioned tomb, 24560|Where he had lived three centuries. 24560|He went to bed, and there he slept, 24560|In the lank hush of the morning. 24560|He dreamt that morning, of the sweep 24560|Of ragged clouds that rolled and leaped, 24560|When he woke from a deep sleep 24560|That day, of the striding masts; 24560|To lie awake beneath the sea’s 24560|Wild beating of the wind, 24560|To feel the biting of the sea 24560|With wild-biting of the tide, 24560|And the strained sails clashing, 24560|And the stern timbers moaning— 24560|To be alone, together with the storm, 24560|And yet not one beside. 24560|It may be so—but here it is! 24560|He will not stir 24560|On his lips in any stir 24560|On any wind that blows, 24560|For he saw, the hour had come 24560|And God made manifest the truth, 24560|And, lifting up His hands, said: 24560|“My mother, I believe, am He! 24560|For all things here have power to stir 24560|And life makes room for death. 24560|"The winds blow up the Heclyre, 24560|And howling is the sea. 24560|The tempest howls: at one o’erhead 24560|The darkness is concealed." 24560|But he rose, when he had slept, 24560|And on the night of rain 24560|Smiled into heaven and looked down 24560|On the green fields of Paradise. 24560|So passed the morning without change, 24560|The morning without breath. 24560|And darkness without =======SAMPLE 48========= 24560|And when the jumbled wickedly 24560|The farmer’s wife did spy, 24560|She swore a week ago that she 24560|Should be his wedded wife. 24560|Then came the morrow, when the hound 24560|Did take the hound away; 24560|The jest went wailing sad and loud, 24560|The cook ran home and pray. 24560|The farmer’s wife withstood the sword, 24560|And sobbed aloud, but could not speak; 24560|Her scream of horror did bewound 24560|The harts that bound the mane. 24560|At last it ended, and the sweat 24560|Into the blood did fall; 24560|It clove the jagged stone to heat, 24560|And then a choking sob did beat 24560|The humpies’ back, but as they turned, 24560|As they thought proper to be burned, 24560|In the house they found the body burned, 24560|And it was buried in the embers, 24560|Where the ashes had lain. 24560|And now came in that very night 24560|The farmer’s wife and daughter Jane 24560|Had watched around the lonely wick, 24560|Lest the frame should be impelled again 24560|To a more uneasy sense. 24560|And so she sobbed and cried aloud, 24560|And sobbed, “Well done, my babblings!” loud, 24560|And as she sobbed, the music paled 24560|Down on her ears, and she was well-nigh dead, 24560|And wrapped in melancholy bell. 24560|And then the farmer’s wife at night 24560|Saw the body cold and white, 24560|And longed to speak with one of her 24560|Until he spoke quite truly. 24560|But in her ears it was no child 24560|Of one who spoke so wild; 24560|It would not do to tell her so, 24560|And with its sound it passed her. 24560|So then I said, “Now let us go, =======SAMPLE 49========= 24560|There was a stall in the market place, 24560|A bullock full of bellows ran, 24560|And the horse’s owners drank the nubbling, 24560|And he knew for what he’d don. 24560|Robin, Bob, and the little Jenny Wren, 24560|They lived by the banks of the river; 24560|And the merchants of teach, was the chief of the lot, 24560|And loved to hear of the Miller’s money. 24560|One night, as they sat in their banquet hall, 24560|The Miller’s daughter spoke in a whisper, 24560|“I’ll bring you a pair of skates, both of them small, 24560|Of skates both of skates both of them ’tis little.” 24560|The maiden took her kebbuck, and gaily cried, 24560|“O the Miller, I want to tell you, tell me.” 24560|“A pair of skates,” said the Miller’s wife, 24560|“A pair of skates I want for to-night; 24560|’Tis a pair of skates, both of them ’tis two o’er the Thames, 24560|And when they came to the mill at the gate, 24560|They found ’tis a jolly hard race. 24560|The Miller heard back the failing tones, 24560|Said, “I think I’m the careful wight, 24560|’Tis he, ’tis he, ’tis he!” 24560|Then up and spoke the lad in a rage— 24560|“Thrice welcome here, thou clown!” he said; 24560|“I’m getting lame on my neck,” he said. 24560|“O the Miller, I dare not hope 24560|That ever I may be abused; 24560|But I love to hear, and _I can’t_ do, 24560|How a long way off will be to drive me.” 24560|“Oh, the Miller!” she said =======SAMPLE 50========= 24560|“O bachelors, why do you play 24560|With faltering breath your gaiters proud, 24560|And leaping to their burly knees?” 24560|He gave it to the jester proud, 24560|And riding down the lane he sped, 24560|And a broken stone beside him lay. 24560|And black against the morning grey 24560|Was that most marvellous steed, 24560|And his eyes with dew-drops were like dew: 24560|“Who hath destroy’d the jester proud? 24560|O take the horse away!” 24560|He drew the knight from a stallion grey: 24560|“Now where is draggled freedom?” cried 24560|“Where lies your flag with yellow hair?” 24560|“My brother’s body lies there.” 24560|“O seek it not, thou foreign knight!” 24560|“I found it in a mermaid’s cave; 24560|“And I have found it so;” he said, 24560|“My mother bore it to a maid— 24560|She threw it away.” 24560|(WILLIAM WATSON: _Ballad of Dead Ladies_. 1781.) 24560|When rose the lark in May, 24560|The morn was blithe to day; 24560|When ithers ploughed the lea, 24560|And aye the breeze on hie, 24560|The maid a maid did seem, 24560|As forth frae wood to brae. 24560|“Oh, how I love my Jean, 24560|My dear, my true love’s Nain! 24560|I’m dearer far to me 24560|Than lands across the main. 24560|“Oh, how I love my Jean, 24560|My dear, my true love’s Nain! 24560|I fain wad kiss thy hand, 24560|Were it not that I disdain.” 24560|“O gin I’d hit =======SAMPLE 51========= 24560|And when they saw that Telamon 24560|Bedecked her with his spurs of oak, 24560|They fell by torch and gunny pan, 24560|And all the house was like to smoke. 24560|They saw that Telamon the bride, 24560|With hair like silver, never wore; 24560|But Telamon was wondrous fond 24560|From some one’s side to any’s side. 24560|It was a famous pair of sable gloves, 24560|Two of the ancient tight friars; 24560|And the hose that made the hose look fair 24560|Would make a heart of that varlet. 24560|And that cornet of sable hue, 24560|As a token of loathing o’er grief, 24560|Was a scarf of cockle-shell blue, 24560|With a ribbon of pebbly-webs. 24560|With a sampler we covered it round, 24560|We covered it out at the top of it all, 24560|And then for inquiring if we found 24560|The cap so disposed to the wall. 24560|“Well met, my son!” the Frenchman says; 24560|And the old man mumbles his head. 24560|“The cap is mine,” the Frenchman cries; 24560|And the old man mumbles his head. 24560|“Beware the cap and bonny plume, 24560|The bonny plume and feather boys, 24560|A game of marbles never fail 24560|To hit the mark of every tail!” 24560|The old man grumbles his head. 24560|He says, “Not you’ll play me false!” 24560|But there’s naught upon the box,” 24560|He whispers to himself “I’ll play!” 24560|The old man mumbles his head. 24560|What money can the money get? 24560|It’s full of rousing, old man, 24560|It’s getting a fortune, old man. 24560|To market, to market =======SAMPLE 52========= 24560|The cattle trotted grass and stone; 24560|And all the land was still; 24560|And when they came the land was gone, 24560|The farmer’s wife was clean forgot, 24560|And clean that land of woe. 24560|And when they came to pasture land, 24560|The farmer’s wife they neared; 24560|She saw a cow upon the strand, 24560|And shied her in the rear. 24560|The horsemen’s gear were walking out; 24560|The men were standing ready still; 24560|She loved the cattle for the nonce, 24560|The herd was crowing still. 24560|All glad was she at hear and hear, 24560|When down upon the ground they came: 24560|Their master’s voice was heard afar, 24560|Their mistress’s voice was drowned in flame 24560|And back they to the hill returned. 24560|With twenty thousand hungry swains, 24560|All hunger-filled, all thirsting, 24560|The farmer strove to gain the fields 24560|Of the yellow wheat and greening. 24560|The man he brought his money in, 24560|The horses to the oxen drew, 24560|The herd stood by, the oxen’s manes, 24560|The oxen to the sheep. 24560|Then came the sun, for it was spring, 24560|And smiled the world with violets, 24560|And garlands blew, and incense flew, 24560|The smoke rose up like billows. 24560|And little thought the farmer then 24560|The ox and horsers’ donkey, 24560|When through the wood the lane he viewed 24560|The white skin of the muirland. 24560|The blackbird’s voice, and forth he rode, 24560|And spake but little heed; 24560|He thought, “I hear the blackbird’s note, 24560|The song he used to sing me.” 24560|And when the field was under way, 24560|And the snow began to fall, =======SAMPLE 53========= 24560|Then as each sun-dried season fled, 24560|The farmer’s stock dissolv’d to fawn, 24560|And all the stock of Buondel, dead 24560|As was the jay—the jay,—was gone. 24560|The stock was gone, the bruin still 24560|Was still a little more, 24560|When at the bridge the banjo-trim, 24560|With its wet wind full of glee, 24560|With its bright twinkle lights the gloom, 24560|And it was still a pleasant room. 24560|But once there glittered in the night 24560|A bright and golden beam, 24560|As if it shone with a silver light; 24560|A damsel slim and bright. 24560|She knew the conjur’d dream that lay 24560|Hid in the innermost bower; 24560|And still, as on she hied away, 24560|There glittered on the brightening tower. 24560|There sang the singing nymph a merry ditty, 24560|That suited to the summer time the time of churchyard, 24560|When, to hear the doom of Consecration, 24560|The bell the oracle of God should ring, 24560|And heaven and earth should open wide, 24560|And earth stand over on either side. 24560|Then all that beauteous scene was swept away; 24560|The bridge, the stream, the lake, were gone; 24560|The birds awak’d, their joy, 24560|Before that break of day; 24560|And heaven and earth awook, 24560|When, from that rivulet’s bed, 24560|The holy Hermit took 24560|The form that Heav’n had made! 24560|The sculptor’s art, the painter’s dream, 24560|The sculptor’s care, the sculptor’s care; 24560|And yet, beneath the watery gleam, 24560|The book of love stood spell-bound there! 24560|Its pages, sprinkled like the moon, =======SAMPLE 54========= 24560|And when they came to Lindisfaire, 24560|Outrival of the sun, 24560|They shattred treble on the jeune, 24560|And cried “Come out, my bonny lass! 24560|Come out, we pray, and win at fe, 24560|As far as Leven’s Brook, 24560|There we will spend the night entire 24560|As well as down in Cotskertier.” 24560|That noble king assailed him not; 24560|He stood before the king, 24560|To have no more his gallant knave 24560|And parley at that king. 24560|“And why?” he asked, “to have a face 24560|That none can either see, 24560|And let a man’s fantastic race 24560|Exensive to the sea.” 24560|“’Tis not a face!”—the monarch sighed— 24560|“No face! O, would I had!” 24560|As for the King, he could not speak, 24560|The visage of that lord 24560|Was trouble to his heart’s repose 24560|And sore against his will. 24560|“’Tis true we’re born upon the shore 24560|And, on a fatal night, 24560|Shorn of our noble name, we bore 24560|A child in search of light. 24560|“’Tis true, from cockatoo and crow 24560|To us the babe we bore; 24560|But we have followed, loved, and known 24560|A poor bereaved child. 24560|“But still thy fingers clasped the babe, 24560|And thou wilt surely find, 24560|That ere the very baby was 24560|Thou couldst have reached thy mind. 24560|For we will guard above the time 24560|As well as thou canst, 24560|Thy tender mother and thy wife 24560|And thee will guard the man.” 24560|And now the tiny, wee, wee =======SAMPLE 55========= 24560|“It was no jest,” said Plottager-Hall, 24560|“It was a jest all sport to see.” 24560|“If ye slew the hartshound calmer, 24560|I had not slain him man or hound.” 24560|“By the name I give thee, son of mine, 24560|My name is Drony Gilbert Bell.” 24560|“’Twas a knight that drank the blood of men, 24560|But the hound did not affright the hound.” 24560|“That was blood of my own blood,” he said, 24560|“No blood came from the sword but it was from my hand.” 24560|“It was the blood of my own blood,” he said, 24560|I had not died—my mother said. 24560|“And canst thou die of laughing at this, 24560|Brother, at the King on the bridge’s crest? 24560|And wherefore should the herald of the King 24560|Put my sword into thy breast?” 24560|“My sword is a sword of mine own, 24560|I have no sword but that I cleft.” 24560|“Thy sword was a sword of purest gold, 24560|I gave it thee in my breast.” 24560|“So be it done, thou noble son, 24560|No blood has dyed thy hand.” 24560|“I never have broken thy spear, I swear, 24560|I have pierced thee with the spindles,” said Pottle-’s son. 24560|They slew Pottle-’s son with a horse well-poised, 24560|And a dragon-hide that was Muggier-bread; 24560|But the hound was a beast of the mountain kind, 24560|He was lord of the forest and was lord of the wind. 24560|“He slew my father, the son of my mother, 24560|But over that mighty Mountain he bore me.” 24560|� =======SAMPLE 56========= 24560|And it had been for these seven years 24560|An end of grief and care; 24560|But for the faithfullest seven thrives, 24560|And the man of wealth and ware. 24560|And he said: “This was borne on here 24560|By the fearsome Cow, I ween; 24560|So, if he’ll do that, what’s the end 24560|That shall ever come to me?” 24560|Little boy Snowshoe sat in the corner to spin, 24560|And said slowly a cry: “O, do not let in 24560|This intolerable joy, why all your life is in; 24560|Shall we, then, be shut out forever from the light?— 24560|So far be it from you, and our children too, 24560|With the joy of a bride to the beautiful bride? 24560|It is not right that a twelvemonth or even to summer-night. 24560|For he said to the boy: “I am ready to make 24560|The wedding-cake ready for Easter-tide” 24560|So there was a happy wild holiday 24560|On the hillsides by the river’s side. 24560|The roses blushed with redder roses each Easter simple, 24560|And the snowflakes fell in glittering flakes, 24560|And all the little girls and maidens in scarletiots 24560|Danced in the shops of the town. 24560|All cloaked in snow, and pelted with ermine and linsey, 24560|The boy sat breathing hard; 24560|And he said: “He lives, and he lives, and he lives, and lives, 24560|And his little body is nothing to him.” 24560|“O, little girl, I’m very tired of your play!” 24560|“And why doesn’t _I_ feel troubled when I say one?” 24560|“I’m very sorry for what I have done; no one 24560|More fitted for my task than you.” 24560|“It would make me cry all out of my =======SAMPLE 57========= 24560|When he came to the cattle yard, 24560|The farmer grinned, and bawled aloud— 24560|“The fox,” he said. “With such a head!” 24560|Hard by the milk-shed and the mead 24560|The ploughboy stopped at last. 24560|“No fox,” he said, with tearful eye, 24560|“No crow,” he said; “no crow,” he cried, 24560|“My sight must go.” 24560|“If you have seen,” the farmer said, 24560|“A mighty wolf you’ll ne’er have seen 24560|In days of strife; 24560|He ’ll gnaw your wound,” the farmer said, 24560|“Because it is your deed.” 24560|“Ah, yes, Sir Pig!” said the farmer then, 24560|“I’m forced to take so grim an ass, 24560|I’m forced to go.” 24560|“That’s just the way you’ve gone to take,” 24560|The farmer said; “be bold, my boy, 24560|A stout bluff-looking lad is his, 24560|His eyes are blue, and his mouth is brown, 24560|His brawny chest is somewhat brown.” 24560|Then did the farmer call his son, 24560|And bid him haste away. 24560|In haste the shining horn he blew, 24560|And loudly rung the bell. 24560|Some swaggering foal sprung from the ground, 24560|But none the less they did their best 24560|In chase of the bears—and the yellow man was not near at hand. 24560|They’ve had the best of shouting, and made that gallant ship 24560|A pleasant thing to see; 24560|For the river was full at the brim; 24560|The grass it danced on the shore, 24560|The water it danced on the rocks; 24560|The rocks were made of the o =======SAMPLE 58========= 24560|“O see those tattered men,” cried he; 24560|“Where are they now, and where?” 24560|“I’m on the path of heaven,” said I, 24560|“Where are they now?” I cried. 24560|“I’m on the road of heaven,” cried he; 24560|But still the ruddy brethren cried,— 24560|“Who are the Black Men’s spies?” 24560|So flashed their shields, that overstream 24560|The sun-shrill’d Cromtas strode, 24560|And with his soul-enlivening scream 24560|The jubilant shout did rouse. 24560|“Who are the Black Men” cried he, 24560|“Where are they now?” I cried. 24560|He spake no word spake he, 24560|As from my clasping hand he took 24560|My hand in his inmost, cold, 24560|And the clanking fetters fell. 24560|I heard him in the crowd a word, 24560|As he trudged in haste away— 24560|“The Black Men’s spy!” I could not say, 24560|But my heart was broken-hearted, 24560|And the Black Men’s spies had come to stay 24560|Under the farthest of the way. 24560|“Who are the Black Men” said I, 24560|As in the crowd I walked; 24560|“But I’m a jiltless fellow, too, 24560|And I’ve got one or two; 24560|Ask the price of the Black Men’ bread, 24560|Ask the price of their food. 24560|But I’m weary of my life, 24560|And my legs’s been tired, too; 24560|Ask the price of the Black Men’ bread, 24560|Ask the price of the food. 24560|“The price of the black Men” cried he, 24560|“We =======SAMPLE 59========= 24560|And when the sun began to shine, 24560|The sun began to blink, 24560|It got full fifty tilted o’er 24560|The mare in such a stead. 24560|And when the mare was naught but tame, 24560|The lobsters all were out! 24560|It slipped up to the rind in air, 24560|And pawed the rind for game. 24560|The jolly bucks did pull and pull, 24560|And hung their rifles high! 24560|And then the fox turned with a twig, 24560|And made a first career! 24560|And first the Mame and the big Black Boar 24560|O’er the moor and down the hill, 24560|And then came two and two! 24560|And when the mare did have her own, 24560|The bloody wild to brave, 24560|The blood leapt fast on the stockwhip-boar, 24560|And the hounds ran just the grail, 24560|And there was a shout and a yell! 24560|And the stockwhip tears ran down 24560|As the race-course ran to the run, 24560|And the gunner did hasten his pace, 24560|And the mare did pull with a gash. 24560|And when the blood was fairly braced, 24560|And the mare did well again; 24560|For the mare broke down in her place, 24560|And the blood was clean again. 24560|The stoutest hound in a mire 24560|Was never yenned by a mire, 24560|But waited, like prisoners sagacious, 24560|The run of the wild to seize. 24560|And long in the mire before 24560|The wildcock could run to the yard, 24560|They made the fence flickering, and the ground dust 24560|As if in the workman's hand. 24560|The stockwhip, too, did seem to be 24560|The pet of the fox or the glove; 24560|And, far ahead, a gray speck o’er the ground =======SAMPLE 60========= 24560|The mossy grave for cunning ends, 24560|The mossy grave my bosom hath, 24560|The little grave my bower fiend sends 24560|That hath been to an “husband” 24560|Wives, Beovulf, all are gone, 24560|I am banished from this land, 24560|The land of tears and groans, 24560|I must go back without my shieling, 24560|To the far, strange lands of woe, 24560|Where I must sail, to where I wander 24560|Without my shepherd friend. 24560|“O well has me this land to wade 24560|In a far, far different isle; 24560|I’ll visit the sea’s morass, 24560|And the Danish rocks again.” 24560|“O well has me this land to wade 24560|In a far, far foreign land; 24560|I’ll visit the sea, and seek out Helil’s meadow, 24560|And see if any friend can give my wand. 24560|“Shoe that can I, like waves that fade, 24560|Shall I depart to seek? 24560|No more for that sweet, old, far-off mead 24560|Shall life and health be sought.” 24560|“And first I’ll mingle into the ocean, 24560|And with me will the pleasant shore, 24560|And the tide ’neath my feet, and the hills and mountains, 24560|And the forest’s pleasant shore. 24560|“I’ll give all my father’s house in town, 24560|And the lovely land of spring, 24560|And a cup of rose-wreathed chaplet, 24560|And a golden bed for king. 24560|“I’ll give my father’s house in town, 24560|With the treasure I’ll bestow; 24560|And a cup of rose-wreathed chaplet, 24560|And a bower for Olaf—’two!” 24560 =======SAMPLE 61========= 24560|Then down there came a mighty fear, 24560|And thick fell every horseman’s head; 24560|“Who dost so well this ugly cope, 24560|This fearful ridge of moor?” 24560|And then there came the mighty brute, 24560|With monstrous hairy whinny-shanks, 24560|And hewed all day till night he reached 24560|Then on the summit bluff he knocked, 24560|And struck him hard, and kicked him black, 24560|And covered cheek and chin. 24560|“Ah, Philadelphus!” cried the brute, 24560|‘The mire is not within my ken; 24560|And now thou’rt only made a fool 24560|To play with men at nine!” 24560|And then he pushed his back against 24560|The surging mob, “How dost thou play!” 24560|And then he gave a mighty shout, 24560|And with a roar his head was bruiséd, 24560|And with his paws was all one claw 24560|He caught upon the sward. 24560|The rock’s long legs had strain ’neath strain, 24560|And now they are upon the ground; 24560|’Twas black as ink. Cold as a stone 24560|It stood, and white as when a wall. 24560|“Go back to Simorg!” cried the brute, 24560|“And never do I mind that hurt! 24560|’Twas not a moment did I dream 24560|The stuff to this my little trough; 24560|My maw it was not warm. 24560|“He was not very big, I fear, 24560|And not I, poor old codger shark! 24560|For one year he had been play'd, 24560|And he was no bigger than my dog; 24560|I never could learn so much. 24560|“A bone I will not cut, I’ll swear, 24560|And a tough old fox I’ll swear on me: 24560|So if the dog are =======SAMPLE 62========= 24560|“And have you slain the Huz oxen too, 24560|The honey-sweetest flower o’ the year, 24560|The columbine, a lovely pride, 24560|And the columbine, a flower austere?” 24560|Again, again he heard: “My word, 24560|Thy slave, the blacksmith Sydney,” 24560|And with a curse he turned the part 24560|That lay on Sydney town. 24560|And all he slew was jabbering, 24560|And all the pains and troubles; 24560|All the old strife and noise of life 24560|He found for his salvation. 24560|And as he cursed with curse and prayer, 24560|“I’ll not sell Huz oxen,” he said, 24560|And kicked a rope that round him lay, 24560|And flung it round his head. 24560|And out he went, with a fearful shriek, 24560|And sped from town that horrid deed, 24560|To Greenman’s Isle of Mersey. 24560|And he swore at noon, by the cable stays, 24560|And stuck till morning in the topk, 24560|That with this stroke they should not trudge 24560|Had he but shot them down and died. 24560|And then he tried to follow up the track 24560|Which brought him down to Sydney town; 24560|But the hide that screened his striding course 24560|Was safe among the Down. 24560|Then up and spoke Jack Swineherd, saying: 24560|“There’s never a man in all the land 24560|Could bear to see his hide once gain, 24560|As I’ve found them out on every hand, 24560|All for the gold and silver ore, 24560|If I’d bet them some bad gold piece 24560|That mine, for purse and spirit, 24560|May be, I’m sure, in the Tower of Sorence, 24560|And they may get it for their rice.” 24560|“O no, no, =======SAMPLE 63========= 24560|His cheeks were red as leeks on rose; 24560|He counted them as good; 24560|And every cheek was like a bole, 24560|And every mouth was like a tay, 24560|And every cheek was like a knife, 24560|And every weapon was a knife, 24560|And as he fought each stroke he drew 24560|A heft of sword and spoke his awe, 24560|And every stroke that he might do 24560|Seemed to be like a knife. 24560|At last he drew his blade and said, 24560|At last he felt his breath to blow, 24560|And all his strength was gone from view, 24560|His heart was gone from him! 24560|He staggered on until he wore 24560|His legs from off his knees; 24560|And then, with all his strength renewed, 24560|He hewed the stubborn hart forth in his blood, 24560|That had so many wounded through, 24560|But that day he fell a- coma 24560|He knew much more than he could do, 24560|He never breathed the very breath 24560|Of the pitchy, green, and dirty death, 24560|He neither had a tongue nor teeth, 24560|His nose was like a butcher's knife, 24560|And his eyes were open as the day 24560|His fingers held a string. 24560|His nose was red as peaches; 24560|With juice of roots and fruit he felled, 24560|His skull was round, his teeth were round, 24560|And his eyes and teeth were in the shell, 24560|And with the knife had struck a knell, 24560|It had a hundred years been told 24560|Before the day had closed in death 24560|For a hundred years; and to the east 24560|His hair, once grey and dripping red, 24560|Now yellow, and now white, and now 24560|Like a dead dog's teeth only. 24560|Three men of Lorford town were he, 24560|And he the first that ever was, 24560|Went up each day, and stood before 24560| =======SAMPLE 64========= 24560|“A glywaist ti,” haci reed replies; 24560|“Go call yon hussy, little boy! 24560|He’s but a country candidate, 24560|And he’ll tell you what he’s he! 24560|And ye ken how he’ll tell ye. 24560|But ye ken what he’ll tell ye.” 24560|So, een as she spake, at last 24560|The hussy’s answer he did make! 24560|Again the mane she turned away, 24560|Reached a little mountain far away. 24560|“Little Boy Blue, come blow me your horn, 24560|And I will perform my browner horn.” 24560|“O Billy, ye dungh! O Billy, I dungh! 24560|Ye ken not what I’ll tell to ye soon.” 24560|“O my dears, what I’ll tell ye.” 24560|“I’ll tell you how I’ve been tolled 24560|Last eve in your house on the moor, 24560|And the worm ’neath mi finger.” 24560|“O my dears, what I’ve seen to your door 24560|In the long, long, straggling shade, 24560|And into my cheek cheeks like the mix, 24560|Like the nubal blossom laid! 24560|Oh, what shall I say to your porter, 24560|Shall I ask what he meant, 24560|When so little I cared for a woman, 24560|Sitting still in the dark? 24560|And _you_, what I’d asked, at your word 24560|I’d a-watch for the crows in my books, 24560|I’d a-watch for the crow in my books, 24560|And a-wink for my books! 24560|A coontry for me, ’twixt bryark and bird, 24560|O the string o’ mi sheaf—and =======SAMPLE 65========= 24560|“Who’s in the country?” Aye I heard 24560|The cock crew too, and knew him well— 24560|“I was once the cock’s friend; 24560|Now that’s the luck,” he said, “before we go.” 24560|His courage had not failed 24560|To meet the fatal stroke; 24560|He smote the yellow rafters all, 24560|The walls and chimneys broke. 24560|“What’s the good name?” the master said; 24560|“I’m but an official hound; 24560|I’d rather have one here, than one behind.” 24560|“I’m but a coit or two, 24560|Of my own race and line; 24560|So would I better travel on, 24560|As one of the Black Knight’s line.” 24560|“That were a wondrous bonny stroke,” 24560|The black King flashed his eye; 24560|“I’d better chase the brown and blue, 24560|Than chase this evil eye.” 24560|It was not in King George’s plan, 24560|It was not in his line; 24560|And for his own Black Miller, he 24560|Was one of the Black Knight’s line. 24560|“’Twas a joke then!” the master cried. 24560|“No, no! I’d better run.” 24560|“Well, well,” the Black Prince said; 24560|“I’m but a travelling hound, 24560|I’d rather chase the brown and blue, 24560|Than lure this evil Eye.” 24560|But when with that dread tick on his nose 24560|The sight of that awful fray, 24560|The Black Prince still did sweat and groan, 24560|And still did his eye survey. 24560|“What doth it me? Why, a wicked man 24560|Would =======SAMPLE 66========= 24560|But when the fatal bullet slew 24560|The shatter'd hull of the wood, 24560|In a voice like thunder, ‘ murderer,’ they cried, 24560|‘Thy hound hath made my blood!’ 24560|And every stroke the hound did stroke, 24560|And every thrust did pound, 24560|But never a pike that struck that foe 24560|Upon the jolt did pound! 24560|And each stroke a sinner smote, 24560|And struck him as he lay, 24560|Then he was clean unhurt and fit 24560|For cloverfield to play. 24560|But the jennet jolt did give 24560|The hound that there he lay; 24560|For he heard the rushing of the wind, 24560|And the beating of the fray. 24560|He heard the sultry bray of birds, 24560|Their hearts with blood were brimming! 24560|And the moaning and the sighing, 24560|For they feared no other thing, 24560|So they moaned and wept, and cried, 24560|Each to its own little brother, 24560|Who had hurt his little brother. 24560|And his mother called from the forest: 24560|“Whom will you buy my brother?” 24560|But not one was there to cry, 24560|Not one to save his brother. 24560|The hound had fought the fight, 24560|And the cat had maul’d his body; 24560|The kittens had bit their white, 24560|And the kittens they were a-spurling; 24560|But the jennet jarl’d in affright, 24560|For it lay there in the mire. 24560|And when the bloody butcher-man 24560|Had slaughter’d him and dabbled, 24560|The bloody hose went off again, 24560|And the blood cried out for water. 24560|And the blood itself shed forth, 24560|And the blood cried out for water. 24560|I’d buy a big black horse, and ride away =======SAMPLE 67========= 24560|The farmer’s wife had browsed— 24560|But plucked her off from off the field,— 24560|And she had marched unto the Hills, 24560|And the fields were all like lead. 24560|“Now welcome, welcome, hock and ho, 24560|My jolly jolly jolly crew!” 24560|And loudly were her yellow locks 24560|All loosened altogether. 24560|As if she had a sword of steel, 24560|It hung at the window’s bar— 24560|And when from off that balcony, 24560|And not a word she spake, 24560|She turned her to the door again 24560|And faced her into it. 24560|With the jingle of her bells, 24560|Her wedding-bells were rung! 24560|But yet that little little maid 24560|As soon as her good man’s days 24560|Were done, and he had won the race, 24560|And she was won the prize. 24560|“Now welcome, welcome, hock and ho, 24560|My jolly jolly crew!” 24560|“Now welcome, welcome, hock and ho, 24560|My jolly jolly crew!” 24560|“Who comes with me, and who is he 24560|That welcomes down the road? 24560|I’m but a stride, and I’ll each stride, 24560|Though you should scarce be here.” 24560|“No Skunk is here this single course 24560|As he that rides on biding, 24560|And you, my youngsters, come behind it; 24560|And you may look on us.” 24560|They took the jolly jolly brace, 24560|And bound it to the door; 24560|And then the wall, which was of yore, 24560|They saw began to pour. 24560|And there the jolly troop put out 24560|Amid the driving rain, 24560|And all the water, like a laden, 24560|Took clean and lively train. 245 =======SAMPLE 68========= 24560|He saw the yellow marigold, 24560|Outgazing like the sun he shone; 24560|And then he shot them like a ball 24560|In splinters on the sun. 24560|He threw them from the rigid sledge, 24560|But no gold-shod reed was there! 24560|Then did his best to spur away, 24560|And back he drave the plow. 24560|All glazed, he saw the jellied reel 24560|And minarets gleam beneath; 24560|The jay-bird whistle on his perch, 24560|He heard the jay-bird’s piercing shriek, 24560|He saw the jay-bird tip his perch, 24560|The gray monkey on the hill. 24560|Some said he was a gay jossèr, 24560|And others said he was a clerk; 24560|And yet they all thought him no fool, 24560|So they hired him full speed. 24560|“O w elephants upon the wagons!” 24560|He made his grab at the jay-bird. 24560|“O I have bound six stallions’ steeds, 24560|And eight bold bears that draw the breath; 24560|And there I found a tame mare with silks well bound, 24560|Which he let slip at a clean gallop. 24560|“O I have bound six stallions” were his gifts, 24560|“A sleek tiger slipped from his den; 24560|And there I found two bears with silks well bound, 24560|Which he let slip at a clean gallop. 24560|“O I have bound six stallions’ steeds, 24560|And seven spotted bears with silks well bound; 24560|And there I found a proud tiger, 24560|That loved men’s pity, men’s pity. 24560|“O I have bound six stallions’ steeds, 24560|And seven spotted bears with silks well bridled, 24560|Which he let slip at a clean gallop, 24560|And strayed to =======SAMPLE 69========= 24560|“Come play,” cried30501|One, two! As he stood by the dead corpse he cried, 24560|One of the reeds snapped, as a twig snapped. 24560|One, two! And a wild cry arose 24560|From one of the reeds. So one arose 24560|To grasp at the corpse, and he grasped the shaggy mane, 24560|And down he fell on his back, and he sprang. His gills 24560|Were red like a lily, and wet with his dew 24560|They stanched in the meadows the lotus that grew 24560|On the hills to the capes where the rabbits slept through. 24560|One by one, all the dead went by, 24560|But never a word from that ghostier lie 24560|Stirred that mane of the slain; or a voice of regret 24560|Shook that wintry cell, a ghostly dun 24560|Shaking in his bones. There was no man to break 24560|The ghost of the dead in the haunted lake 24560|Of his doom. His soul was sorrowful; 24560|He had seen no more. But the king sat alone 24560|On his hill by the hill, and sorely he wept 24560|To know that the thing would end. 24560|“What is it?” 24560|“It is the funeral pyre, 24560|The funeral pall, 24560|That the king and the queen, 24560|That was lit by the funeral fire: 24560|That one of the twelve (each year, 24560|For a night or two night year) 24560|In the green of the wood; 24560|That one of the twelve, 24560|As it fell on that sad night, 24560|Of the night and the moon 24560|And twelve of the stars, 24560|To the sorrowful tale. 24560|“What is it?” 24560|“It is the funeral pyre, 24560|The funeral pall, 24560|That the king and the queen, 24560|That was trent with them all, 245 =======SAMPLE 70========= 24560|The jay-bird wont her pinions flap 24560|Above the new-yean’s hay, 24560|As her happy feathers they did flap 24560|O’er the meadow gay and gay; 24560|The Jackah Burns, they say. 24560|But Johni was a cadger shrewd, 24560|And often did retrace 24560|His former fireside log, 24560|And at times, when he recoiled, 24560|It seemed the female race 24560|Could make him quite a face. 24560|“I’m gittin’ tired, poor reindeer,” 24560|Some rascal there doth boast 24560|“I’m fain o’ come to Chicago, 24560|To dine with thee on toast.” 24560|“Dumbees, Sir, are they goin’ o’er 24560|Our honey-moon on high? 24560|O! the wild-birds’ songs, you’ll hear, 24560|Will they do right blythe and cry.” 24560|“Dumbees, Sir, are they goin’ o’er? 24560|O! the wild-birds have a bed, 24560|They haven’t any other store 24560|Bot brinjays and big-booms white.” 24560|“Dumbees, Sir, are they goin’ o’er? 24560|O! the wild-birds have a bed, 24560|The wild-goat’s in his feather bed, 24560|And I’m too tired to roam.” 24560|In came the Jock, and off he ran 24560|O! ten yards round a tree, 24560|And he looked like a mare for Pan 24560|Or a pretty boy from over three. 24560|Shone it was, and made a shine, 24560|Shone it was, and made a blaze, 24560|Shone it was, and made the Sun 24560|To fleck so bright, and fade away =======SAMPLE 71========= 24560|He saw the fairies when they danced, 24560|And blithe as any boy could run; 24560|His heart was gay when he took charge of them; 24560|He cheered up his jolly companum, 24560|And bade the jolly companum. 24560|One saw him leap that country green, 24560|One saw him milk his kine—go soft, 24560|One with his laughing ewes a-wing; 24560|One heard him shout and laugh with glee— 24560|“The jolly gallants!” blew the bell. 24560|One saw the king upon the towers, 24560|One saw him ride that king and stall; 24560|One heard him laugh as he drew near, 24560|One saw him ride in realms of mirth; 24560|One found him sitting with a rafter, 24560|There at the table he had sat: 24560|One heard him laugh with laugh and mirth; 24560|One saw him eat both bread and broth; 24560|One cursed at the Burgundians— 24560|He gave his queen and her cup of ale. 24560|One saw him fatten in a trice, 24560|One saw him dance with gibe and grove; 24560|O noble king! O royal dame! 24560|Wherefore art thou the elected me?” 24560|“My brother Jack! If I had known, 24560|Had I but known of thee, my boy! 24560|I’d but ridden this country green 24560|When it came to the turn for me.” 24560|“I’d ride with you as I do now 24560|When the sun is high in the sky”— 24560|The lad gave his hand, his foot he set, 24560|And he flung it on Jenny’s eye. 24560|“O tempora prest! O market maid! 24560|I’ll gang with you to yonder glade, 24560|And we will walk in Eden side 24560|When the sun is high in the sky.” 24560|“We’ =======SAMPLE 72========= 24560|He made a feast, and drank a reek, 24560|From the black kettles that he made 24560|Of luscious wood and cobolink, 24560|And all the country round. 24560|Like marjoram, he danced and sung, 24560|And all the people cried, 24560|“Whose lives are ended now by death! 24560|Who is the King of Thule?” 24560|“The King is Thule, the King of Thule! 24560|From the great sturgeon’s jaw we well 24560|Shall extract this shaft, it may be sure, 24560|From out our deadly wound.” 24560|“I cannot bring it back again, 24560|Whose weapon kills my fancied eye!” 24560|“The arrow’s in my hand,” he cried, 24560|“Or else, O hasty, it may fly. 24560|No mortal man shall bear it home, 24560|Nor mortal force to stay its flight, 24560|When the horn’s summons it shall ring, 24560|And I shall yield the victory. 24560|“The horn’s only in my hand, 24560|Or else, O Hasty, it may fly; 24560|My brother Folker he shall be, 24560|Or else, the warrior I shall die.” 24560|With wondering eyes, with wondering pace, 24560|They watched that wondrous thing, and still 24560|Each in his fear his subtlest trace 24560|Kept hidden ’mid the bushes’ bough. 24560|Some said in breathless thought they’d seen 24560|The noblest of the warrior band; 24560|That when he spoke, ’twas strange to hear 24560|Young Folker’s words, “The land” he sought; 24560|And with his voice, “My friend,” he cried, 24560|“Is this a message from my bride?” 24560|Said young Folker, “I would wish for a bet,� =======SAMPLE 73========= 24560|And in that pleasant coppice-bed, 24560|In silken streaks of sable hue, 24560|The Jabberwock upright stood, 24560|Where Damson’s dragoons had made 24560|Their dwelling midst the reeds and grass, 24560|And lapped the laps with blades of black, 24560|And limped about with flaxen reeds, 24560|And laved themselves in signs of mirth, 24560|And said: “My friends, the tavern contents 24560|Your beer’s the best, and, if you choose, 24560|Pray give me of your deuil’s best 24560|Your deuil’s best.” 24560|And when they came unto the ale, 24560|The farmer spoke from out the door: 24560|“Aha! here cometh a little lame, 24560|And what is that a drink the frore, 24560|Thou goest to fetch it.” 24560|“What is that,” the farmer said, 24560|“That ye bring me to that cup?” 24560|“They bring us many maids,” the farmer said; 24560|“Bread and broth.” 24560|Then up stood the little lame, 24560|And “Ha! done, thou John,” the farmer said. 24560|“Go bring but the lad,” the farmer cried; 24560|“Who shall drink to that first draught?” 24560|“Who shall give me for this,” the farmer said; 24560|“Thy drink,” the farmer said, 24560|“Is the best in the country,” they said. 24560|Then they went to the tavern, the farmer to make, 24560|And all the little mule drink’s in. 24560|“Now give me of your jolly deuil!” 24560|“Give me of your jolly deuil”; 24560|“Give me of your jolly deuil!� =======SAMPLE 74========= 24560|And for a trap, a bord and chain, 24560|Beneath the lurching Lynxogar, 24560|The trap was set—his draggled train— 24560|And every eye did gloze afar 24560|From that snug cabin on the sea, 24560|And to his dimpled feet there came 24560|The drooping tankard of the dame. 24560|“Now, sweetly bound for life” he cried, 24560|“I am bound to win thee; 24560|By the faith thou dost not hide! 24560|By the Christ I thee absolve!” 24560|One foot upstampingly, 24560|Like another, silently, 24560|And his eagerness he knew. 24560|Then he hastened where he stood, 24560|A faint voice ringing through the wood. 24560|And he heard a voice that cried, 24560|“O men, brave men, arise! 24560|Cast away your fear.” “Again” 24560|“Again,” quoth one, “Again!” 24560|“Again with thee I fight!” 24560|“If my wounds must open, 24560|I am bound asjou.” 24560|“Thou shalt seek another, 24560|Worshipped be my mother.” 24560|The second voice he heard, 24560|Hollow as the stirrups’ tread, 24560|Hurrying, reeling! 24560|“Say thou wilt not perish!” 24560|That voice came through the wood, 24560|And he stirred two wild-woods through. 24560|“But thou shalt not perish!” 24560|The second Voice he heard, 24560|But still he wailed, despairing, 24560|“Alas, thou art not here!” 24560|The third Voice heard him weeping, 24560|But nothing wailed or swelled. 24560|“Alas, poor creature! 24560|Thou hast but tailed! 24560|But =======SAMPLE 75========= 24560|At last it came unto his bed, 24560|His bed the same to owlet’s store; 24560|He slunk away, and in his dreams 24560|He found a horse down Erling’s Brigs. 24560|He saw from yew, in flowery meads, 24560|The kye come prancing fresh and fleet! 24560|The kye come prancing fresh and fleet! 24560|He saw the horse gallop on the moor, 24560|And marked his slouching coursers near. 24560|He knew the brig as he viewed the scene, 24560|He knew when it was real day; 24560|He knew, he knew, that he ne’er would go 24560|To that old "home so far away." 24560|“Now heaven protect me!” Nestled then 24560|Theidthjub gold and silver-eyed; 24560|He thought, “My child is safe and young, 24560|From the stormy blast that heaves my hair, 24560|And I shall go to the mountain’s crest, 24560|To seek for safety everywhere.” 24560|He thought, “I go to the darksome coast 24560|To seek for dangers, but I must, 24560|’Tis for a bold youth riding home. 24560|He seeketh the land none may escape, 24560|And seeking, finds no land that may, 24560|And seeking, finds no place where to hide-- 24560|The spot whereon he must go. 24560|_Boadicea_, woman, she was fair; 24560|The maid was young and fair of face. 24560|“_Brude-blowing Manna_, good man Mark! 24560|“_Brude-blowing Manna_, good man Mark! 24560|“_Brude-blowing Manna_, good man Mark! 24560|“_Brude-blowing Manna_, good man Mark! 24560|“_Brude-blowing Manna_, good man Mark! 24560|“_Brude =======SAMPLE 76========= 24560|Then came the mining-lamp a-twain, 24560|And down upon his knee he took; 24560|“Now, hey!” said he, “my friend, my man, 24560|Let’s go alone,” said he. 24560|Then came the mining-lamp a-twain, 24560|In war’s long arms arrayed; 24560|With a wild cry, “Go in and chain, 24560|Or else I’ll meet you there.” 24560|The mining-lamp was a gladsome throng, 24560|He cheered and led the way; 24560|With gladsome face she turned the dahn, 24560|And cried, “Where, where art thou? 24560|Where, oh! where art thou, honest man? 24560|Where is thy husband now?” 24560|Again they went, and many a league, 24560|And met at morn in fair October; 24560|Their friendship soon they did espy; 24560|“Go tell my wife, my wife,” they said, 24560|“Go, John, a health to purse-proud Mary!” 24560|John answered, “No, by heaven’s curse!” 24560|“I’m here,” he cried, “with wealth to spend, 24560|And Betty’s coffin to the bier!” 24560|“I’m poor,” he cried, “my money-pist; 24560|I’m poor,” said he; “tho’ fortune 24560|Is false to me, I ne’er can get 24560|Into that devil’s tempting craft. 24560|So leave me, too, in peace and rest, 24560|And I’ll restore her love and health.” 24560|“I can’t! I will!—my wife!” quoth John; 24560|The skipper swore with his intent, 24560|“We’ll leave the keys, =======SAMPLE 77========= 24560|His father’s grief he would not mend, 24560|As he turned about, to stare; 24560|But better to offend to Clare, 24560|In his morn of gallant Clare. 24560|He was bold at a little rate, 24560|But in sport, and in play; 24560|And he went to the trysting-lake 24560|With a heyday’s rapturousry. 24560|And every eye gazed deep in fear, 24560|As he mused by that running stream 24560|“The convict”—and a laugh was heard, 24560|“No, but fetched tight with a burning hem.” 24560|Two brothers of Bristol born, 24560|Were by chance on a distant morn, 24560|And into a famous Ireland born, 24560|They married, and lived together. 24560|They married and reared them high, 24560|And afterwards sons and daughters, 24560|And beat down the roads till the slip of the slip of a bridge 24560|In the harbour of Bordeaux. 24560|And they cooed to the land of graves, 24560|And they cooed to the land of wailing; 24560|Where the tide of sorrow flows 24560|And the buoyant breeze goes sobbing. 24560|There was one that could weep for pain, 24560|And bemoan the cruel weather; 24560|And the woman of Bordeaux replied, 24560|The woman of bitter temper:— 24560|“Sweet is the salt in a little bit, 24560|But bitter the bread in a little.” 24560|But Bordeaux’s widow spoke no word, 24560|Though she wept with bitter feeling; 24560|“Can tears fill the widow’s eyes, 24560|Or their price madden the lover?” 24560|They wept, and they wept, and they wept, 24560|Though, sorrowing, they wept for sorrow: 24560|“O let our tears but settle out, 24560|O let our blessings stay with-morrow!” =======SAMPLE 78========= 24560|And when bells were tolling peal, 24560|And pibroch was beseeching them, 24560|He swung down the steeple straight, 24560|And turned his axe from his scabbard-jaw! 24560|“Ah, Hilda! did I smite my blow? 24560|And did the red assassin's knife 24560|Smite mine upon thee by the head, 24560|And then the blood in my bosom spread?” 24560|Black was the sky o’er the town, 24560|The swarthy blood ran free and red! 24560|“Now perish all—die full and dead, 24560|Die for thy dirk, Hilda!” said 24560|That voice which called to the townfolk 24560|In marches long since laid away, 24560|Doomed not the death-doom to delay. 24560|Black was the sky o’er the town, 24560|The swarthy blood ran free and red! 24560|’Twas fought that day for a crown, 24560|And that for a larger dead had sped. 24560|Black was the sky o’er the town, 24560|The swarthy blood ran free and red! 24560|“Come, give me a cloak and a cup, 24560|And a gold cup and a silver spoon, 24560|And a breastplate and a silver hilt, 24560|And a gold girdle with the slung, 24560|And a dagger with the sharp, bright sheen, 24560|And a dagger in this little hand.” 24560|“Now give me a cloak and a cup, 24560|For it falls on the hand of Pride— 24560|It was made o’ the head of a brave man, 24560|Outfronts the naked, the naked young.” 24560|“Now give me a cloak and a cup, 24560|For it falls on the hands of Pride— 24560|And under the skin of a youth who loved, 24560|Who would have taken the ugly boy, 24560|And laid him low on the yellow sand, =======SAMPLE 79========= 24560|As the cock crowed in the copse, 24560|Bricked were the horses seven; 24560|Their colour fled, their colour gone, 24560|And the jay-boy’s wrathful mien. 24560|“Beware the claspinghaw-tree!” cried 24560|The farmer fiercely at his side: 24560|“Now have I sacked the Holy Land, 24560|And burnt the Knacker’s Temple. 24560|“Behold! (she said) the damsel’s doors 24560|Are opening on the morrow morn, 24560|To seek some maid in Wiroong, 24560|By stream or wold, in quest of her, 24560|On river-bridge or wafter.” 24560|“O lady mine! thou seest as plain 24560|As Bráhman banks that rise, 24560|The little Nágasee, the Dane, 24560|Who keeps his stall for ever. 24560|“’Tis not the same whose gates to-day 24560|Through all the world are sent; 24560|Not likewise Bráhmans, noble dames— 24560|The warders of the guard.” 24560|One only heard her weeping, 24560|Yet sadly in her woe 24560|She wept, as, mourning, she drew near, 24560|When she beheld him so: 24560|“O Bráhman youths and lovers, all 24560|Bewail you for your folly (Cain for him 24560|Who stole my maid away): 24560|O let your griefs be passed about, 24560|And all my friends be dead.” 24560|The lady’s gentle pity, 24560|The Sun’s bright light that shone, 24560|She saw with many a tearful look 24560|And many a secret groan. 24560|“O let your sorrows pass from me, 24560|And all my friends be fled.” 24560|The lady’s gentle pity, 24560|An earnest of desire, 245 =======SAMPLE 80========= 24560|But there was the blacksmith Sydneyite, 24560|And the grave of Mrs. Jones; 24560|Back to the mud at Jonesman Fox, 24560|That was the life of Jones. 24560|And there was Jones, and Jones, and Jones, 24560|And the everlasting debt 24560|That moved them both, as it were love-- 24560|“And no more Jones!” the ploughshare drove, 24560|And the oxen murmured “Well!” 24560|The ploughshare drove, the ploughshare drove, 24560|A lassie wept like tears, 24560|And spurned him in the teeth of fire, 24560|That was the story of my years. 24560|And I was proud and I was sad, 24560|And now I’ve longed to sing, 24560|“Oh misery of branded head, 24560|And branded heart, and painted brow, 24560|And arms that will not save one thing!” 24560|“If that might be, I might,” he cried, 24560|“Have forced a fiend from life to part.” 24560|It grows on a wild island green, 24560|’Tis filled with little ships of war, 24560|It dances to the royal crown 24560|Of the flag of England unfurl’d far. 24560|“It grows on a wild mountain top!” 24560|And then he sang of the world’s fierce clime, 24560|And his song he sang of England’s fate, 24560|But his song was blighted and his song 24560|Wrought me to sink and die like the morn. 24560|I’ve heard that song declares 24560|When death and the world’s cares 24560|Conceal the new light of the skies 24560|With a veil of wreathing mist.” 24560|_Read by the church._ 24560|Read from the Pæan theables and Other Poems. 24560|“It grows in a wild land where hot-water and the wild cattle are =======SAMPLE 81========= 24560|’Mid the green holly gathered thick, 24560|Each bare and form’d a merry face; 24560|They all vally'd quackly in 24560|On every side the kirtle case. 24560|With the yellow pot he tried to work, 24560|And the yellow pot he couldn’t pull. 24560|And with Spanish bell he kep’d the brook, 24560|And the haft umbrage he kep’d to cool: 24560|’Twas well for all, for every stroke, 24560|And every stroke was sweet and cool. 24560|And the kep clackt furiously, 24560|And all around the plain did clatter; 24560|“Beware theheed of dead castell, 24560|Who do the deeds of woe declare! 24560|Of drunkenness and deep despair!” 24560|“O fare thee well,” the Jardiner cried; 24560|His head was in his hands. 24560|“Thy yellow pot’s of golden mould 24560|Was gold,” he said: “thou shalt not drink, 24560|I will to earth’s last depths reveal 24560|Beside thy form a draught of poison deep; 24560|Wherefrom destruction shalt thou see: 24560|Thou may’st escape the fearful doom, 24560|To bathe thy feet in mire and tomb.” 24560|He raised his fists, and with a groan 24560|Laid his hoary head upon his breast. 24560|“Ah, well the deed!” he said and wept: 24560|His eyes still fixed on the floor were dim; 24560|And “Wherefore play with such a feat,” 24560|Cried he at last, with mournful tread, 24560|“Wherefore so ghastly and cold?” 24560|“And wherefore, brother, art thou dead?” 24560|“Why art thou dead?” the Raven said. 24560|“I sped through earth,� =======SAMPLE 82========= 24560|But when the sun was going down, 24560|The Thing became as if in scorn! 24560|“What wilt thou do,” the Thing cried, “lour?” 24560|“I will not fight nor fight for scorn!” 24560|“Ha! ha!--to the devil’s bridge I will!” 24560|“What will become of the baby,” said the composite female. 24560|“I will give you a kiss,” said the composite female. 24560|But the words of the boy were unloosened, and the mother looked 24560|“Can you now, mother?” she whispered. 24560|“Yes, I will.” said the mother. 24560|“I will.” And immediately after the words the mother came. 24560|“I will kiss you again.” 24560|“I shall not.” And then it was that the father and the mother 24560|shall speak,” and she whispered to them: “O mother, where are you going 24560|“Mother, mother, call me here, call me here, call me in, call me in?” 24560|“I cannot. I will not.” 24560|“If I do,” said Father Paul, “whilst you are yet in your bed, I 24560|shall be brought in, and your mother shall have the keys.” 24560|“Mother, mother, call me here.” 24560|All trembling for utterance they did not move. 24560|“Mother, mother, call me, O mother,” she cried, “make me strong! 24560|My father He calls, and he can hear my voice; 24560|He does not know my need.” 24560|“Why didst thou not call me that, mother?” the father said. 24560|“You shall not.” 24560|“Fearing, O father, you thought it best. 24560|Fearing, too, your child, you thought it best. 24560 =======SAMPLE 83========= 24560|“But when I’m slain, on either hand 24560|A little blood doth gush and flow, 24560|And when I’ve slain the jahting Band, 24560|I’ll sing like any Highland show.” 24560|He spake, and he was swift to seek, 24560|He rent through bush and briar; 24560|His brand he blew in good King’s blood, 24560|And laid it on the table. 24560|He’s ta’en his wife three times a day, 24560|And aye she’s ta’en her bannock. 24560|“Hoo! hi!” he gat up the table, 24560|And on that table gudly did he; 24560|And he was there a beagle ta’en 24560|At the Lord’s house as he sat. 24560|Bajn’s wife has nobly warded out, 24560|Bajn’s wife has nobly done; 24560|’Tis ever since the days of late 24560|This luckless woman's dead. 24560|“Sawest thou the strand fain hand to hand, 24560|Thou’dst seen the sand fain flee. 24560|“Wert thou borne out the strand fain land, 24560|To the fair land yon Ship did fare, 24560|And thine were these and thy barou gar, 24560|Whence thou didst hither steer. 24560|“Thou hast borne water fain and wet, 24560|And hast thied safely home. 24560|And hastened to the rock abode, 24560|Thou hast left me ever. 24560|“That I may be assuredly 24560|Where me such trouble brings. 24560|This knot of pearls hangs not alone 24560|Upon thy snowy wings. 24560|“But thou art only one thing to me, 24560|A poor unhappy woman. 24560|My little brother lives, whose hair 24560|With golden buckle curls. 245 =======SAMPLE 84========= 24560|They harried to the Jehoshaphat 24560|’Mong brides, o’er hill, o’er dale; 24560|They harried to the river Par matins, 24560|Of all the meats the most in vale. 24560|“The hulk of little Mary Ann, 24560|She’s borne to shore one blest new year, 24560|And she’s resolved to carry in, 24560|To ’scape the fourteenth year. 24560|“What of the little Mary Ann, 24560|Who to the sea is gone?” 24560|“The ship it might have beaten us, 24560|But we’ll go to Ireland on.” 24560|“But I’ll ask her to become, 24560|As maiden to the Prince.” 24560|The summer sun shone bright in the Vale 24560|’Twas the only everie break, 24560|When the skipper up to the skipper’s yard 24560|Held back the reef and tore his net. 24560|“O where have all my merry men at hame 24560|Be comin’ back, my merry men, 24560|To tak to their home again?” 24560|“There’s a schoold for dish, and a schooif for spinning, 24560|And a good fat shilling for tea, 24560|If ye take to the home and your love to the foam 24560|An there’s a weasel a-exp and a slim, 24560|If ye take to the home and your love to the foam 24560|An there’s a weasel a-exp and a slim, 24560|If ye take to the home and your love to the foam 24560|An if ye touch it the more, the more.” 24560|The summer sun shone bright in the Vale 24560|’Twas a sun of summer worth; 24560|’Twas a summer we heard the waves sing 24560|’Mong the kelpies on the earth. 24560|The =======SAMPLE 85========= 24560|All through the night, and through the day, 24560|To camp, to drive, to strive, 24560|He hunted like a roebuck’s steed, 24560|And ever threw and aimed. 24560|And when he failed at snarling sport, 24560|And failed at whistling-time, 24560|Alike to him was cawing out 24560|Some wild and wicked rhyme. 24560|“Come, come,” says he, “re-yoke in hand, 24560|Thou dolt! thy little shoe I’ll leave, 24560|And thou wilt surely find it land 24560|Below thy little puppy’s gape.” 24560|It chanced upon a winter’s morn, 24560|From far forth on a summer’s day, 24560|A damsel with a pitcher new, 24560|In sunshine scientific lay. 24560|“And hast thou done thee, little maid?”— 24560|“All the world do’t know from whence?” 24560|“I am a ragged, tangled wight, 24560|And yet of one untimely fate; 24560|A poor unbefitting spark—would 24560|I could arrive at such a place?” 24560|And as she thus was speaking so, 24560|The tip of her bright finger-tips 24560|Was like the smoke of sacrifice, 24560|Which flickers in the wretched’s heads— 24560|“Thy soul,” ’tis said, can’t guess and say. 24560|“No such contents myself,” quoth she, 24560|“I hope,” quoth he, “no such there be! 24560|For I am bound I will return, 24560|And what may happen as I may, 24560|You surely’ll take with me this day.” 24560|“Again,” says he, “I’ve done thee wrong, 24560|Yet, when it is too late, remember, 24560| =======SAMPLE 86========= 24560|“Where is the Jug and reel?” they cried, 24560|“Bermund and smiling in the sun? 24560|And where the bench and bench beside 24560|Are twisted, one and one? 24560|“Where is the shirt?” they shrieked and rolled 24560|Round the foot of the Jug, and cried. 24560|“There is the shirt!” they shrieked and writhed, 24560|And the sweat streamed up in the sun’s rays; 24560|But his Jug gave a clapping, and at the word 24560|A mighty sweat suffused his veins. 24560|“O my Jug,” he moaned, “O my Jug!” 24560|But he turned to his feet and cried. 24560|Jock answers back his laugh of thanks, 24560|And says, with a smile, “There goes one who 24560|Had turned from a carrion to his repose 24560|And no stouter in that.” 24560|Now the jests prevail, the jizzars fail, 24560|The conjur’d toads are thin and pale; 24560|And the swine-herd owns, to his cost, his tale, 24560|Of the Inn, the feast, the ale. 24560|They brought the news; he bade them turn 24560|For the Inn where the Jug was wont to hold, 24560|Till the sign the Jug to the ale should turn, 24560|He told his jests of Glock. 24560|They’d a meeting once, they’d a meeting once, 24560|Jock would do as his master commanded; 24560|For the Jug was to market a draggled knave, 24560|With a pair of bootees in brown and red, 24560|And “I’ll give the ale a handful of yeast 24560|Wry on the lip, and a wessel to taste,” 24560|They said, “we want wild creatures in red, 24560|’Midst the best of our master =======SAMPLE 87========= 24560|What doth ail thee, Jorpion?” 24560|“’Tis the muezzin’s voice I hear. 24560|“’Tis the muezzin’s voice I see, 24560|’Tis the muezzin’s voice I hear. 24560|“Say! what does ail thee, Jorpion? 24560|Say! what region has thou gone? 24560|“Say! what region has thou left? 24560|Say! what region has been lost? 24560|“Say! what region has been lost? 24560|Say! thou’st but been a travelling mend, 24560|Then come back to my bor comforting!” 24560|“Say! what has vexed thee, Jorpion? 24560|Say! what trouble has thou borne? 24560|“Say! where is my borrowe, Jorpion! 24560|This way, that way, my quest I trow.” 24560|“I will not stay! I will not stay! 24560|I will not go as I have done.” 24560|“But I will hie me to the tew 24560|That’s there upon the hill so high. 24560|Oh, tell me why I go to heaven 24560|And live beneath the earth so dry.” 24560|“If I did, I would not stay.” 24560|All sorrow I’d for her was a blissful sight. But I like her. 24560|“Thy mother told me of a lad, 24560|A little lad he is, I vow; 24560|“For it was two of his father’s men 24560|Brought to this house to be a woe. 24560|“He had a brother’s brother D— 24560|The good man D was his desire; 24560|And he had ridden off from Paddy Blake, 24560|But it was not right that a lad should lose him, and his horse-saddle 24560|would be in his own hands.� =======SAMPLE 88========= 24560|“If this will be peace,” quoth Hettie Dyam; 24560|“So be it, peace my constant St outlaw. 24560|“For every curse 24560|I offer you shall in my bosom dwell; 24560|And every tooth 24560|I cut, 24560|My bread, 24560|The food 24560|I give 24560|Will I not with one accord agree: 24560|“A hundred thousand of your foes 24560|Are not so proud as you are base, 24560|Nor are you poor as all the world doth know. 24560|“To me is no offence, nor shall you swain 24560|Praise lack. Not anything but brute we feel.” 24560|“O that’s your pride,” said Meiny, wondering; 24560|“What work can you expect of that great Dane? 24560|It is a man of deeds he’s oft bewail’d, 24560|With toil,” she said, “so many are betray’d, 24560|A mighty man, so many are betray’d. 24560|“He has the trick of mischief both to try, 24560|And to conceal, what one can both deny; 24560|With sly attack he works his secret woe, 24560|He slaughters babes unborn in mortal foe, 24560|And he has sent his son from Afric Ind, 24560|To open Carthage, to free Carthage.” 24560|“O that’s your pride,” the Ebbesenan cried. 24560|“What can it do? When seven days’ siege I bring 24560|To the tenth conquest of your realm, my king, 24560|All your king’s traitors, all your realm’s lost fame, 24560|All that we hoped, and all our prayers to name, 24560|Should be my bloody deed, no more your shame!” 24560|So for that day, his hope he had so longed 24560|To end that strife, and all that bliss he won; =======SAMPLE 89========= 24560|“O wenk faltering, aged man, 24560|It wis mead it wis mead I reed! 24560|I saw the jovial Morvengar 24560|Was walking on his feed. 24560|“My hart, it wis mead, I nad, 24560|It wis mead I fain wud kame!” 24560|“If that ye fand him,” kithridai, 24560|“Ye’re welcome, good sir Abbot,” said kain; 24560|“But if ye dow not o’r yon boor, 24560|He’s nevir ganeay dressed.” 24560|“Oor uncle, aunted, uncle,” said kain, 24560|“Is miemon,” said kain; 24560|“Oor uncle tha hev mervit ta do, 24560|He’s no wonder, sire.” 24560|“Tha we’ll tak t’srahman’s hart, lad,” says t’ Member, 24560|“The t’sonder comes auf monde.” 24560|“Oor uncle he has varry-speech, 24560|An nah we quat it aff— 24560|I saw it in a silv’t sowlin’, 24560|“He’ll answer nah an oder man.” 24560|“Oor uncle, I will kame wi me, 24560|An nah I’ll tell or show; 24560|But if my wife comes down fra thee, 24560|Tha’ll tell ’t they all ha proud o me.” 24560|“We’ll tak thi wark,” said t’ uncle fro, 24560|“An nah we’ll tak thi wark,” said he: 24560|“We two, if not we two afore, 24560|Shall r =======SAMPLE 90========= 24560|The cock and hen-roost, one and nine, 24560|Lolled on the crumbling wall; 24560|And now it changes to Tryamas 24560|And leaps from Hall. 24560|But many a league they wheeled and cooed, 24560|And still the stranger chode, 24560|And still they turned, and still they rowed, 24560|And still they rode and strayed. 24560|A whisper, as through misty meres 24560|They disappeared, came whispering down; 24560|Then all that shook was mixt with dews— 24560|“Now bury me, I will bury me, 24560|I cannot pray and sigh.” 24560|“And wilt thou give me ewes and kine, 24560|And wilt thou tear the little white goose 24560|From its pavilion of leaves and vines, 24560|And throw him from its shining cloister, 24560|And bid him rest a little?” 24560|“And wilt thou give me ewes and kine, 24560|And wilt thou tear the little white goose 24560|From its pavilion of leaves and vines, 24560|From its pavilion of leaves and kine, 24560|And throw him down a little?” 24560|“Thine owres are better far than thine, 24560|Thine owres are better far than thine, 24560|I’m fain my own to shew thee, sweet maiden, 24560|I love thee more and moor.” 24560|The little maiden turned to weeping, 24560|As in a rasp she lay, 24560|Deep in her bosom sunk her cheek, 24560|And her eye stream’d out the ray. 24560|She drew her gown from her weeping, 24560|’Midst her love-laden eyes; 24560|“Hast thou put on thy widow’s cravat, 24560|And giv’n a little new-born infant, 24560|Which shall be born in her breast?” 24560|“Thou =======SAMPLE 91========= 24560|He drank the nectar of the land; 24560|He saw the shelvy hills aglow; 24560|He heard the calling of the trees 24560|And the humming of the flow— 24560|He rushed into his joyous heart, 24560|As wild through wood and dale he ran, 24560|His senses wild and raw. 24560|He rode from dam unto the abode 24560|Of his own little daughter Jane; 24560|And all his heart was merry, 24560|And all his life was jolly. 24560|He was prouder, gladder, and more bold, 24560|And would ride forth, like a serious cavalier, 24560|Through town and field and forest; 24560|And it was never half so gay 24560|As he rode up and down that dale; 24560|And, to his will, that very day, 24560|In the merry month of May. 24560|Three people out of the village, they rode 24560|With a spring forward and a swing,-- 24560|A spring which they caught, and they mounted,--quite hot,-- 24560|And the horse they saw, and the stock they did not,-- 24560|And the stock it was hot on them all,-- 24560|As hot as it was, and they mounted, and shook, 24560|And fell into a fit. 24560|They got there, to the front, 24560|And up the sides they got, 24560|When they saw the stocks, and the stocks, and the stocks, 24560|And the stock it did not bale. 24560|On the ground there sat another man, 24560|With a strong resolution, 24560|For he had not yet heard what he said, 24560|But said he would not cry. 24560|"O tempora mutantur in the Children’s-nest! 24560|O feru! O forum! O forum! 24560|I sent my soul through the fat 24560|To his father to be put in, 24560|Ere he looked for me to come, 24560|And I couldn’t find him =======SAMPLE 92========= 24560|“Come, come, my boy, thoujaw,” said the smith, 24560|And clapt his hands so free: 24560|“My master comes in sledges five, 24560|And I’ll play my part on water’s moor, 24560|If he will not save my life.” 24560|“I will,” said the smith, “my master give, 24560|And take to life the boy: 24560|But if he will not take me far, 24560|I’ll break his trance, or wring him dry,” 24560|And he stamped his foot with a bony paw, 24560|That so the sunbeams thickly saw. 24560|But the cry went up like a startled cry, 24560|“Ajaw!” the dwarf said to the dwarf, 24560|“I see that thou’st be taken,” cried he— 24560|And back the trunk he flung. 24560|He took the boy and then he pulled 24560|The water o’er to the board; 24560|And he called with a loud voice out he “Come, 24560|Come lad, I know thee for my master.” 24560|“Ha, ha, the shaggy bear!” cried he, 24560|“His shaggy bulk I see! 24560|For shame’s sake tell me, I’m an ancient hag, 24560|To be called the Wild Ass. 24560|“And I’ll tell thee, man, with a frown so hard, 24560|’Twas a bold hard tryst wi’ a master hard fought, 24560|But his chance it was not.” 24560|“And he sware by his master,” said he, 24560|“I’ll stand him for his master, if thou thryve; 24560|And on my word, if thou wilt, he sware not thee, 24560|No man with me can vie. 24560|“I sware wi’ Earl =======SAMPLE 93========= 24560|When all the hills were clad in bay 24560|And all the grass with red and blue, 24560|And all the woodland sang its charms 24560|To hear the shepherd’s lowing doves, 24560|Awed by the youthful canteen band 24560|That pealed the wild hymns’ pleasant song; 24560|“O let the hills, the rocks, rejoice, 24560|With this glad sound to greet the Skail, 24560|I sit upon the mountain’s rocks, 24560|And with the voice of jolly ale 24560|I sing and merry dance. 24560|‘O let the hills, the hills, the rocks, 24560|Their lively green felicity 24560|Soft on the sugarplum is laid; 24560|And let the brooks, that frolic cheer 24560|Their banks in merry merriest glee 24560|To me, as I come frolic here 24560|To mill and forge a merry din 24560|With every wave its path within, 24560|To hear and see the jolly sheep 24560|Go gladder than the singing bird.’ 24560|“O let the hills, the hills, the hills, 24560|Their lively green felicity 24560|Smile on your dam and happy rills 24560|To hear me wooing round the rill, 24560|And see your moor-born, lovely flock, 24560|In processions large and slow; 24560|And when thy foot hath trod the land, 24560|Tossing the clod and prancing stile, 24560|Make your home pleasant. 24560|‘And when to merry Churchlees' door 24560|The birds their evening ampler swell, 24560|And for their evening song of peace 24560|The echoing wood resounds, 24560|To you, ye dwellers in the dell, 24560|And ye may well the old, old spell 24560|Sell ’neath my memory spell. 24560|‘And let the woods, the woods, the hills 24560|To thee my love I dedicate.’ 24560| =======SAMPLE 94========= 24560|“O writhlaff, and a shew of teares! 24560|I cannot bear this look of his: 24560|His leathern coat wan me!” 24560|He turned to the other side 24560|And cried with wailing and wail— 24560|“My bonny wee Dame, she giues me sark, 24560|I’ll burn my bonny ewe-skin mail! 24560|“I’ll burn my bonny wee Dame, 24560|I blew her in the kole gale; 24560|But now I am in a foreign warl’, 24560|And am with’s before I can,” 24560|“That I will burn my bonny wee Dame, 24560|And my saul-èd wife ere I can.” 24560|He struck her on the cheek, 24560|And panted in her dire distress; 24560|Then, stretching forth his hands, exclaim’d, 24560|“There, mony a day, mony a day!” 24560|He seized her o’er the neck, 24560|And sobbing kiss’d her saucy ee, 24560|“Now wille thou be, thou Dame in the spring, 24560|And I threescore and twenty more.” 24560|“O mony a weary month have ye 24560|Hid frae me every care and fear, 24560|But mony a day o’ pain and toil, 24560|At our feet threescore and ten.” 24560|“Now wilt thou nane,” quoth she, “I’ll sade thee, 24560|But mony a day thou hast me sold; 24560|And ne’er wilt thou, my heart’s beloved, 24560|Thy face again wilt hear nought!” 24560|As blythe, the Queen of the Seasons 24560|Bore the mead with a leathy hand; 24560|And the Queen of the Seasons gave a cry =======SAMPLE 95========= 24560|I’d scarcely seen, so passing strange, 24560|What time the grass was clad in green; 24560|The sunshiny fields, where cattle range— 24560|What place is this unseen! 24560|’Twas greener when we stood aloof, 24560|And heard the river murmur low, 24560|Then came a sound, a fearful shock,— 24560|The sound of a mighty knell. 24560|Some mutter’d words, that none but he 24560|A shameful cause might still proclaim! 24560|“Come, Philadelphians,” men might say, 24560|“In the sad chance ’tis plain to name; 24560|You’re not for us the black to see, 24560|If we were black, and blameless strayed. 24560|What can be otherwise? This thing 24560|Is very strange—I’m told—the thing 24560|Is not considered on the tall; 24560|It matters not a hair of bower, 24560|If you have eyes, or arms, or power. 24560|And if you don’t perceive at night, 24560|In this strange country, what of that? 24560|It was not that I dreamed the dream: 24560|This is to say, one time I seemed 24560|To be the horse, I have a feud. 24560|I’m sure you had me in your eye.” 24560|_Mon_. “Oh, dear Mame, you’ve got a scheme 24560|Why then you’re not my dog, I vow; 24560|And how is that to do a lie 24560|In a cold to-morrow?” 24560|“Just that you thought you would come back; 24560|Why should you think yourself so stiff? 24560|I’m sure no one would think yourself 24560|A cruel walking fellow-man.” 24560|“I knew you would, my Mariner! 24560|You’re not the one to be accused; 24560|You’re not the one to leave your =======SAMPLE 96========= 24560|“Come to my arms, my youthful boy! 24560|I pray thee hasten to the door. 24560|Fly forth, thou kingly name, thou sayn, 24560|And give thy soul to me.” 24560|He turned him to the wall, and cried, 24560|“I come from that Far Fairy Band, 24560|For the door thou speak'st to me.” 24560|“Now mark’st thou there the evil sprite 24560|That dyed in blood the trysting-face? 24560|See yonder he-goat’s hewing’d light— 24560|“Beware the evil sprite that tries 24560|To get away from that drear space, 24560|And all the evil-charioteer.” 24560|There stood in straight a hideous ring 24560|A horrid Damsel lying! 24560|Above—�twas deadly pale and supine, 24560|And blood her ghastly figure. 24560|It was a pale and slim young damsel, 24560|And she had sorrow’s smile. 24560|“Go, take that dead young Damsel’s hand, 24560|For the door thou ridest in.” 24560|It was a red silk shirt o’erflowing, 24560|And scarlet the bright silk shone. 24560|“Now tell me, Damsel,” she was going, 24560|“O tell me, Damsel, where? 24560|“In my green mantle warm I gather, 24560|To bind the hair it bore. 24560|“O tell me, Damsel, what it is, 24560|That makes the maid to fade? 24560|In all my maids arrayed in vermeil sheen, 24560|They were so fair of shade. 24560|“O, Damsel, tell to me thy name: 24560|It lists me not to go; 24560|For I no maid of honour am, 24560|Or maid of honour be.” 24560|“O, tell me, =======SAMPLE 97========= 24560|But Linderfou, when he the fight 24560|Went through to bathe in his blood, 24560|Answered him thus: “The Cromlechish power 24560|But slinks away, the time is short, 24560|I yield, my son, to thee.” 24560|“My father’s father, thou hast borne 24560|Ten thousand slaughtering hordes o’erthrown; 24560|And yet I doubt I see thee still 24560|But for thy sake alone.” 24560|He gazed in silence round; 24560|Then, overcome by wonder at the sight, 24560|He made reply: “Nay, I, thy daughter, 24560|Am woman’s only child. 24560|“The high and mighty Emperor, 24560|That rules the realm of Christendom, 24560|Has chosen a wondrous knight, 24560|So mightily should he. 24560|“My heart is full of pride, 24560|My head is full of joy.” 24560|“The royal race of kings, 24560|Of marches and of kings, 24560|Are foot by foot well known.” 24560|Then answered he his Queen— 24560|“My spirit’s all forlorn! 24560|I give thee only thee, 24560|My only son, my only child, 24560|My beautiful, my lost. 24560|“The Emperor, as he saith, 24560|Me will restore, and give, 24560|The empress of his realm, 24560|And the sovereign of his realm, 24560|To thee, O Queen, I’ve trod.” 24560|The high and mighty Emperor 24560|His homage gave, and cried, 24560|“No tribute unto thee 24560|This day can I provide.” 24560|The Emperor proudly turned 24560|His face away, and spake, 24560|“O Queen, I give thee leave 24560|To stand before thy face.” 24560|The Emperor drew his court 245 =======SAMPLE 98========= 24560|He saw that both were lying dead, 24560|And both with eyes of sorrow wild; 24560|His heart wan out with many a pang 24560|He tossed to heaven for his child— 24560|Then fell in sorrow on the sward; 24560|Two saw that neither knew their fate— 24560|And three thought little of the deed; 24560|And each in turn thought little of it 24560|Asking of Christ who died for her— 24560|But what would come of this? 24560|One saw that both were lying down 24560|On the cold ground under the hill, 24560|One found himself within a town 24560|Where men had wrought much more. 24560|One of those maidens, blind and blind, 24560|Had wandered far and wide; 24560|And still to seek him in the street, 24560|There waited in the side. 24560|“Come in, young Jesus Christ! Come in, 24560|Thy strong protection seek; 24560|Come to these suff'rings, baby Christ, 24560|Thy safe appeal to speak. 24560|Forget the anguish of the cross, 24560|And learn the lesson bare; 24560|Come in, dear Jesus Christ! Come in, 24560|Thy helpless child is fair!” 24560|These words of bitter scorn he spoke 24560|And bitter tears distilled; 24560|And soon, with gentle voice, “Come in, 24560|My child, it is thy child.” 24560|“And can it be that _I_ can find 24560|A faithful father there?” 24560|“No; let me go, my little child, 24560|But do not go so far; 24560|For I my helpless one must see, 24560|And I my child will war.” 24560|The other said, “I little think 24560|How, in this cold and darksome time, 24560|My voice shall seek thine own: 24560|And I will have a wife to wait 24560|My little babe to mine.” 24560|In vain =======SAMPLE 99========= 24560|“He rent it limb from limb,” quoth he, 24560|“And a little forkèd forkèd forkèd forkèd forkèd forkèd forkèd 24560|“The little forkèd forkèd forkèd forkèd forkëd forkèd forkëd 24560|Kitten atween two a little bit!” 24560|“That” says theJackals and the twain,” 24560|“Thou shalt a-shiver, as thou wilt, 24560|But not another bite.” 24560|“That’s not the case,” says Billy Broom, 24560|“But if you cut off my head, 24560|Thou can’t a-shiver jest again 24560|And yet another stroke.” 24560|But he thought it best to try, 24560|And from his mouth he drew 24560|A pumpkin cake from off his eye, 24560|And then another, too. 24560|“O crikey, why are ye awake?” 24560|“Awake,” said Billy Broom; 24560|“What! fare the day, ye wretched folk, 24560|When I can take you home. 24560|“A new-made loaf shall we be, 24560|And then a spindle we will hew 24560|For you to sit by the table here 24560|And pay off with the loin.” 24560|So out they sat, and as for bread, 24560|They gave each other a groat, 24560|And as they sat it did appear 24560|They had the changeling toot. 24560|The Jackals did as they were told, 24560|And licked the cake from the board, 24560|But these Jackals had never seen 24560|Before their fellows drank. 24560|This glorious lass o’ Inverness, 24560|Who lives upon Midsummer’s downs, 24560|With a large box, and a rolling buck, 24560|She does her hens =======SAMPLE 100========= 24560|He saw the sun sink in the west, 24560|Beuddy as a rose, 24560|Heard in dead immortality 24560|The clangor of the trees! 24560|And lo! a spirit swift uprose! 24560|It drave him on his path, 24560|It rent the prison-bars of rock, 24560|It cleft the vaulted tomb! 24560|It fled to wide untensity, 24560|It sought a sombre chasm, 24560|Unto its knees an earthly babe— 24560|“Thou art but One with Him!” 24560|“Thou livest, Father Abraham! 24560|Thy righteous will we do. 24560|Let not this body break my heart, 24560|And let my hands be laid 24560|Upon my son!” “May God be with thee, 24560|May He give thee victory!” 24560|The captive youth received the word, 24560|And hastened to his room, 24560|He stood within the awful space, 24560|His feet in frantic fear 24560|Beat fettered fast until his breast 24560|Bore both the parents there. 24560|An aged man o’er his slumb’ring bed 24560|Raised his right hand, and said: 24560|“O Father, help me, I implore, 24560|This corpse from out thy hands; 24560|Wherever I am come from, thou 24560|Dost duly visit me.” 24560|“Thine own I sought, my child!” he said; 24560|He took the bodies of the dead, 24560|And laid them in the ground. 24560|The funeral-spike he wrapt about 24560|His innocent limbs it flung: 24560|I looked—but no man ever looked, 24560|From out my prison-yard sprung. 24560|I looked—but no man ever smiled, 24560|From out my prison-yard fled; 24560|I looked—but no man ever smiled, 24560|From out my prison-yard sped. 24560