All that was left of them, Left of six hundred. When can their glory fade? NORTHERN FARMER OLD STYLE WHEER 'asta beän saw long and meä liggin' 'ere aloän? Noorse thourt nowt o' a noorse whoy, Doctor's abeän an' agoän: Says that I moänt 'a naw moor aäle: but I beänt a fool : Git ma my aäle, fur I beänt a-gawin' to breäk my rule. Doctors, they knaws nowt, fur a says what's nawways true : Naw soort o' koind o’use to saäy the things that a do. I've 'ed my point o' aäle ivry noight sin' I beän 'ere. An' I've 'ed my quart ivry market-noight for foorty year. Parson's a beän loike woise, an' a sittin' 'ere o' my bed. "The amoighty's a taäkin o' you1 to 'issén, my friend," a said, An' a towd ma my sins, an's toithe were due, an' I gied it in hond : I done my duty boy 'um, as I 'a done boy the lond. Larn'd a ma' beä. I reckons I 'annot sa mooch to larn. But a cast oop, thot a did, 'bout Bessy Marris's barne. Thaw a knaws I hallus voäted wi' Squoire an' choorch an' staäte, An' i' the woost o' toimes I wur niver agin the raäte. An' I hallus coom'd to 's chooch afoor moy Sally wur deäd, An' 'eärd 'um a bummin' awaäy loike a buzzard-clock 2 ower my 'eäd, 1 ou as in hour. 2 Cockchafer. a Bittern. An' I niver knaw'd whot a meän'd but I thowt a 'ad summut to saäy, An' I thowt a said whot a owt to 'a said an' I coom'd away. Bessy Marris's barne! tha knaws she laäid it to meä. Mowt a beän, mayhap, for she wur a bad un, sheä. 'Siver, I kep 'um, I kep 'um, my lass, tha mun understond; I done moy duty boy 'um as I 'a done boy the lond. But Parson a cooms an' a goäs, an' a says it easy an' freeä, "The almoighty 's a taäkin o' you to 'issén, my friend," says 'eä. I weänt saäy men be loiars, thaw summun said it in 'aäste : But 'e reads wonn sarmin a weeäk, an' I 'a stubb'd Thurnaby waäste. D' ya moind the waäste, my lass? naw, naw, tha was not born then ; Theer wur a boggle in it, I often 'eärd 'um mysen; Moäst loike a butter-bump, fur I 'eärd 'um about an' about, But I stubb'd 'um oop wi' the lot, an' raäv'd an' rembled 'um out. If godamoighty an' parson 'ud nobbut let I weänt break rules fur Doctor, a knaws ma aloän, Meä, wi' haäte honderd haäcre o' Squoire's, an' lond o' my oän. Do godamoighty knaw what a's doin' a-taäkin’o’ meä ? I beänt wonn as saws 'ere a beän an' yonder a peä; An' Squoire 'ull be sa mad an' all a' dear! a' dear And I'a managed for Squoire coom Michaelmas thutty year. A mowt 'a taäen owd Joänes, as 'ant not a 'aäpoth o' sense, Or a mowt 'a taäen young Robins mended a fence : a niver Loook 'ow quoloty smoiles when they seeäs ma a passin' boy, Says to thessén, naw doubt, "what a man a beä sewer-loy!" Fur they knaws what I beän to Squoire sin fust a coom'd to the 'All; I done moy duty by Squoire an' I done moy duty boy hall. Squoire's i' Lunnon, an' summun I reckons 'ull 'a to wroite, For whoa's to howd the lond ater meä thot muddles ma quoit ; naw moor nor a floy; Git ma my aäle I tell tha, an' if I mun doy I mun doy. THE DAISY WRITTEN AT EDINBURGH O LOVE, what hours were thine and mine, What Roman strength Turbia show'd How like a gem, beneath, the city How richly down the rocky dell To meet the sun and sunny waters, How young Columbus seem'd to rove, Now watching high on mountain cornice, And steering, now, from a purple cove, Now pacing mute by ocean's rim ; Sartin-sewer I beä, thot a weänt niver give Till, in a narrow street and dim, it to Joänes, Naw, nor a moänt to Robins bles the stoäns. -- a niver rem I stay'd the wheels at Cogoletto, And drank, and loyally drank to him. Nor knew we well what pleas'd us most, But summun 'ull come ater meä mayhap Not the clipp'd palm of which they boast; wi' 'is kittle o' steäm Huzzin' an' maäzin' the blessed feälds wi' the Divil's oän teäm. Sin' I mun doy I mun doy, thaw loife they says is sweet, But sin' I mun doy I mun doy, for I couldn abeär to see it. What atta stannin' theer fur, an' doesn bring ma the aäle ? Doctor's a' toättler, lass, an a 's hallus i' the owd taäle; But distant color, happy hamlet, A moulder'd citadel on the coast, Or tower, or high hill-convent, seen Or olive-hoary cape in ocean; Where oleanders flush'd the bed And, crossing, oft we saw the glisten Of ice, far up on a mountain head. We lov'd that hall tho' white and cold, At Florence too what golden hours, What drives about the fresh Cascinè, Or walks in Boboli's ducal bowers. In bright vignettes, and each complete, Of tower or duomo, sunny-sweet, Or palace, how the city glitter'd, Thro' cypress avenues, at our feet. But when we cross'd the Lombard plain Remember what a plague of rain; Of rain at Reggio, rain at Parma ; At Lodi, rain, Piacenza, rain. And stern and sad (so rare the smiles O Milan, O the chanting quires, The height, the space, the gloom, the glory! A mount of marble, a hundred spires! I climb'd the roofs at break of day; I stood among the silent statues, How faintly-flush'd, how phantom-fair, Was Monte Rosa, hanging there A thousand shadowy-pencill'd valleys And snowy dells in a golden air. Remember how we came at last Had blown the lake beyond his limit, And all was flooded; and how we past From Como, when the light was gray, And in my head, for half the day, The rich Virgilian rustic measure Of Lari Maxume, all the way, Like ballad-burthen music, kept, To that fair port below the castle Or hardly slept, but watch'd awake The moonlight touching o'er a terrace One tall Agavè above the lake. What more? we took our last adieu, But ere we reach'd the highest summit I pluck'd a daisy, I gave it you. It told of England then to me, O love, we two shall go no longer So dear a life your arms enfold Yet here to-night in this dark city, When ill and weary, alone and cold, I found, tho' crush'd to hard and dry, This nursling of another sky lent me, Still in the little book you And where you tenderly laid it by : And I forgot the clouded Forth, The gloom that saddens Heaven and Earth, Perchance, to lull the throbs of pain, THE FLOWER ONCE in a golden hour I cast to earth a seed. Up there came a flower, The people said, a weed. To and fro they went Thro' my garden-bower, And muttering discontent Curs'd me and my flower. Then it grew so tall It wore a crown of light, But thieves from o'er the wall Stole the seed by night. Sow'd it far and wide I said to the lily, "There is but one With whom she has heart to be gay. I said to the rose, "The brief night goes Of lamentation, like a wind that shrills comes, Or hath come, since the making of the world. Then murmur'd Arthur, "Place me in the barge." So to the barge they came. There those three Queens Put forth their hands, and took the King, and wept. But she, that rose the tallest of them all And fairest, laid his head upon her lap, And loos'd the shatter'd casque, and chaf'd his hands, And call'd him by his name, complaining loud, And dropping bitter tears against a brow Strip'd with dark blood: for all his face was white And colorless, and like the wither'd moon Smote by the fresh beam of the springing east; |