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118 SONGS FOR GIRLHOOD. |
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Oh, now with fancied greetings blest, They comfort their long aching!
The sea of sleep hath borne to them What would not come with waking,
And the dreams shall most be true In their blissful breaking.
The stars are gone, the rose-bloom comes�
No blush of maid is sweeter; The red sun, half-way out of bed,
Shall be the first to greet her. None tell the news, yet sleepless wake,
And rise, and run to meet her.
Their lost tihey have, they hold; from pain
A keener bliss they borrow. How natural is joy, my heart!
How easy after sorrow! For once, the best is come that hope
Promised them " to-morrow." |
Farre away I heard her song.
" Cusha ! cusha !" all along; Where the reedy Liudis floweth,
Floweth, floweth, From the meads where melick groweth
Faintly came her milking song.
"Cnska! cusha! cusha!" calling,
" For the dews will sooue be falling; Leave your meadow grasses mellow,
Mellow, mellow, Quit your cowslips, cowslips yellow : Come uppe, Whitefoot; come uppe, Lightfoot; Quit the stalks of parsley hollow,
Hollow, hollow ; Come uppe, Jetty, rise and follow,
From the clovers lift your head. Come uppe, Whitefoot; come uppe, Lightfoot; Come uppe, Jetty; rise and follow,
Jetty, to the milking-shed."
If it be long, ay, long ago�
When I begiuue to think howe long,
Againe I hear the Lindis flow,
Swift as an arrowe, sharpe and strong;
And all the aire, it seemeth mee,
Bin full of floating bells (sayth shee),
That ring the tune of Enderby.
Alle fresh the level pasture lay, And not a shadow mote be seeue,
Save where, full fyve good miles away, The steeple towered from out the greene.
And lo! the great bell farre and wide
Was heard in all the country-side
That Saturday at eventide.
The swanuerds, where their sedges are, Moved on in suuset's golden breath;
The shepherde lads I heard afarre, And my Sonne's wife, Elizabeth;
Till, floating o'er the grassy sea,
Came dowue that kyndly message free,
The " Brides of Mavis Euderby."
Then some looked uppe into the sky,
And all along where Lindis flows To where the goodly vessels lie,
And where the lordly steeple shows. They sayde, "And why should this thing
be? What danger lowers by land or sea ? They ring the tune of Enderby! |
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THE HIGH TIDE ON THE COAST OF LIN�COLNSHIRE. 1571.
Jean Lngelow.
The old mayor climbed the belfry tower, The ringers rang by two, by three :
" Pull, if ye never pulled before;
Good riugers, pull your best," quoth he.
" Play uppe, play uppe, O Boston bells!
Ply all your changes, all your swells, Play uppe ' The Brides of Enderby !'"
Men say it was a stolen tyde�
The Lord that sent it he knows all;
But in myne ears doth still abide The message that the bells let fall:
And there was naught of strange beside
The flight of mews and peewits pied
By millions crouched on the old sea-wall.
I sat and spun within the doore.
My thread brake off; I raised myue eyes: The level sun, like ruddy ore,
Lay sinking in the barren skies; And dark against day's golden death She moved where Lindis waudereth� My Sonne's faire wife, Elizabeth.
" Cusha ! cusha ! cusha !" calling, Ere the early dews were falling, |
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