Wessex Poems and Other Verses | Page 7

stony steps of the house-fronts white?We rolled rich puncheons of Spanish grape,?Till at length, with the fire of the wine alight,?I saw at a doorway a fair fresh shape -
A woman, a sylph, or sprite.
"Afeard she fled, and with heated head?I pursued to the chamber she called her own;?- When might is right no qualms deter,?And having her helpless and alone
I wreaked my will on her.
"She raised her beseeching eyes to me,?And I heard the words of prayer she sent?In her own soft language . . . Seemingly?I copied those eyes for my punishment
In begetting the girl you see!
"So, to-day I stand with a God-set brand?Like Cain's, when he wandered from kindred's ken . . .?I served through the war that made Europe free;?I wived me in peace-year. But, hid from men,
I bear that mark on me.
"And I nightly stray on the Ivel Way?As though at home there were spectres rife;?I delight me not in my proud career;?And 'tis coals of fire that a gracious wife
Should have brought me a daughter dear!"
THE STRANGER'S SONG?(As sung by MR. CHARLES CHARRINGTON in the play of "The Three Wayfarers")
O my trade it is the rarest one,?Simple shepherds all -
My trade is a sight to see;?For my customers I tie, and take 'em up on high,
And waft 'em to a far countree!
My tools are but common ones,
Simple shepherds all -?My tools are no sight to see:?A little hempen string, and a post whereon to swing,
Are implements enough for me!
To-morrow is my working day,
Simple shepherds all -?To-morrow is a working day for me:?For the farmer's sheep is slain, and the lad who did it ta'en,
And on his soul may God ha' mer-cy!
Printed in "The Three Strangers," 1883.
THE BURGHERS?(17-)
The sun had wheeled from Grey's to Dammer's Crest,?And still I mused on that Thing imminent:?At length I sought the High-street to the West.
The level flare raked pane and pediment?And my wrecked face, and shaped my nearing friend?Like one of those the Furnace held unshent.
"I've news concerning her," he said. "Attend.?They fly to-night at the late moon's first gleam:?Watch with thy steel: two righteous thrusts will end
Her shameless visions and his passioned dream.?I'll watch with thee, to testify thy wrong -?To aid, maybe.--Law consecrates the scheme."
I started, and we paced the flags along?Till I replied: "Since it has come to this?I'll do it! But alone. I can be strong."
Three hours past Curfew, when the Froom's mild hiss?Reigned sole, undulled by whirr of merchandize,?From Pummery-Tout to where the Gibbet is,
I crossed my pleasaunce hard by Glyd'path Rise,?And stood beneath the wall. Eleven strokes went,?And to the door they came, contrariwise,
And met in clasp so close I had but bent?My lifted blade upon them to have let?Their two souls loose upon the firmament.
But something held my arm. "A moment yet?As pray-time ere you wantons die!" I said;?And then they saw me. Swift her gaze was set
With eye and cry of love illimited?Upon her Heart-king. Never upon me?Had she thrown look of love so thorough-sped! . . .
At once she flung her faint form shieldingly?On his, against the vengeance of my vows;?The which o'erruling, her shape shielded he.
Blanked by such love, I stood as in a drowse,?And the slow moon edged from the upland nigh,?My sad thoughts moving thuswise: "I may house
And I may husband her, yet what am I?But licensed tyrant to this bonded pair??Says Charity, Do as ye would be done by." . . .
Hurling my iron to the bushes there,?I bade them stay. And, as if brain and breast?Were passive, they walked with me to the stair.
Inside the house none watched; and on we prest?Before a mirror, in whose gleam I read?Her beauty, his,--and mine own mien unblest;
Till at her room I turned. "Madam," I said,?"Have you the wherewithal for this? Pray speak.?Love fills no cupboard. You'll need daily bread."
"We've nothing, sire," said she; "and nothing seek.?'Twere base in me to rob my lord unware;?Our hands will earn a pittance week by week."
And next I saw she'd piled her raiment rare?Within the garde-robes, and her household purse,?Her jewels, and least lace of personal wear;
And stood in homespun. Now grown wholly hers,?I handed her the gold, her jewels all,?And him the choicest of her robes diverse.
"I'll take you to the doorway in the wall,?And then adieu," I to them. "Friends, withdraw."?They did so; and she went--beyond recall.
And as I paused beneath the arch I saw?Their moonlit figures--slow, as in surprise -?Descend the slope, and vanish on the haw.
"'Fool,' some will say," I thought. "But who is wise,?Save God alone, to weigh my reasons why?"?- "Hast thou struck home?" came with the boughs' night-sighs.
It was my friend. "I have struck well. They fly,?But carry wounds that none can cicatrize."?- "Not mortal?" said he. "Lingering--worse," said I.
LEIPZIG?(1813)?Scene: The Master-tradesmen's Parlour at the Old Ship Inn, Casterbridge. Evening.
"Old Norbert with the flat