The passionate moment would not suffer that Past thro' his visions to the burial; thence Down to this last strange hour in his own hall; And then rose up, and with him all his guests Once more as by enchantment; all but he, Lionel, who fain had risen, but fell again, And sat as if in chains- to whom he said: 'Take my free gift, my cousin, for your wife; And were it only for the giver's sake, I leave this land for ever.' Here he ceased. Then taking his dear lady by one hand, And bearing on one arm the noble babe, He slowly brought them both to Lionel. And there the widower husband and dead wife Rush'd each at each with a cry, that rather seem'd For some new death than for a life renew'd; Whereat the very babe began to wail; At once they turn'd, and caught and brought him in To their charm'd circle, and, half killing him With kisses, round him closed and claspt again. But Lionel, when at last he freed himself From wife and child, and lifted up a face All over glowing with the sun of life, And love, and boundless thanks - the sight of this So frighted our good friend, that turning to me And saying, 'It is over: let us go’— There were our horses ready at the doors We bade them no farewell, but mounting these He past for ever from his native land; And I with him, my Julian, back to mine. TO ALFRED TENNYSON MY GRANDSON. GOLDEN-HAIR'D Ally whose name is one with mine, Crazy with laughter and babble and earth's new wine, Now that the flower of a year and a half is thine, O little blossom, O mine, and mine of mine, Glorious poet who never hast written a line, Laugh, for the name at the head of my verse is thine. May'st thou never be wrong'd by the name that is mine! THE FIRST QUARREL. (IN THE ISLE of wight.) I. 'WAIT a little,' you say, 'you are sure it'll all come right,' But the boy was born i' trouble, an' looks so wan an' so white: Wait! an' once I ha' waited - I hadn't to wait for long. Now I wait, wait, wait for Harry. - No, no, you are doing me wrong! Harry and I were married: the boy can hold up his head, The boy was born in wedlock, but after my man was dead; I ha' work'd for him fifteen years, an' I work an' I wait to the end. I am all alone in the world, an' you are my only friend. II. Doctor, if you can wait, I'll tell you the tale o' my life. When Harry an' I were children, he call'd me his own little wife; I was happy when I was with him, an' sorry when he was away, An' when we play'd together, I loved him better than play; He workt me the daisy chain - he made me the cowslip ball, He fought the boys that were rude, an' I loved him better than all. Passionate girl tho' I was, an' often at home in disgrace, I never could quarrel with Harry - I had but to look in his face. III. There was a farmer in Dorset of Harry's kin, that had need Of a good stout lad at his farm; he sent an the father agreed; So Harry was bound to the Dorsetshire farm for years an' for years; I walked with him down to the quay, poor lad, an' we parted in tears. The boat was beginning to move, we heard them a-ringing the bell, 'I'll never love any but you, God bless you, my own little Nell.' IV. I was a child, an' he was a child, an' he came to harm; There was a girl, a hussy, that workt with him up at the farm, One had deceived her an' left her alone with her sin an' her shame, An' so she was wicked with Harry; the giri was the most to blame." V. An' years went over till I that was little had grown so tall, The men would say of the maids, 'Our To make a good wife for Harry, when VI. Often I seem'd unhappy, and often as happy too, For I card it abroad in the fields 'I'll never love any but you;' 'I'll never love any but you' the morning song of the lark, 'I'll never love any but you' the nightingale's hymn in the dark. VII. And Harry came home at last, but he lock'd at me sidelong and shy, Vext me a bit, till he told me that so many years had gone by, I had grown so handsome and tall - that I might ha' forgot him somehow -For he thought - there were other ladshe was fear'd to look at me now. 'What can it matter, my lass, what I did wi' my single life? I ha' been as true to you as ever a man to his wife; An' she wasn't one o' the worst.' 'Then,' I said, 'I'm none o' the best.' An' he smiled at me, 'Ain't you, my love? Come, come, little wife, let it rest! The man isn't like the woman, no need to make such a stir.' But he anger'd me all the more, an' I said 'You were keeping with her, When I was a-loving you all along an' the same as before.' An' he didn't speak for a while, an' he anger'd me more and more. Then he patted my hand in his gentle way, 'Let bygones be!' 'Bygones! you kept yours hush'd,' I said, 'when you married me! By-gones ma' be come-agains; an' shein her shame an' her sin You'll have her to nurse my child, if I die o' my lying in! You'll make her its second mother! I hate her an' I hate you!' Ah, Harry, my man, you had better ha' beaten me black an' blue Than ha' spoken as kind as you did, when I were so crazy wi' spite, 'Wait a little, my lass, I am sure it 'ill all come right.' XIV. An' he took three turns in the rain, an' I watch'd him, an' when he came in I felt that my heart was hard, he was all wet thro' to the skin, An' I never said off wi' the wet,' I never said on wi' the dry,' So I knew my heart was hard, when he came to bid me goodbye. 'You said that you hated me, Ellen, but that isn't true, you know; I am going to leave you a bit - you'll kiss me before I go?' VI. Nay for it's kind of you, Madam, to sit by an old dying wife. But say nothing hard of my boy, I have only an hour of life. I kiss'd my boy in the prison, before he went out to die. 'They dared me to do it,' he said, and he never has told me a lie. I whipt him for robbing an orchard once when he was but a child'The farmer dared me to do it,' he said; he was always so wild And idie and couldn't be idle - my Willy he never could rest. The King should have made him a soldier, he would have been one of his best. |