English Narrative Poems Part 24

JOHN GREENLEAF WHITTIER

SKIPPER IRESON'S RIDE

Of all the rides since the birth of time, Told in story or sung in rhyme,-- On Apuleius's Golden a.s.s,[312]

Or one-eyed Calender's horse of bra.s.s,[313]

Witch astride of a human back, 5 Islam's prophet on Al-Borak,[314]-- The strangest ride that ever was sped Was Ireson's, out from Marblehead!

Old Floyd Ireson, for his hard heart, Tarred and feathered and carried in a cart 10 By the women of Marblehead!

Body of turkey, head of owl, Wings a-droop like a rained-on fowl, Feathered and ruffled in every part, Skipper Ireson stood in the cart. 15 Scores of women, old and young, Strong of muscle, and glib of tongue, Pushed and pulled up the rocky lane, Shouting and singing the shrill refrain: "Here's Flud Oirson, fur his horrd horrt, 20 Torr'd an' futherr'd an' corr'd in a corrt By the women o' Morble'ead!"

Wrinkled scolds with hands on hips, Girls in bloom of cheek and lips, Wild-eyed, free-limbed, such as chase 25 Bacchus[315] round some antique vase, Brief of skirt, with ankles bare, Loose of kerchief and loose of hair, With conch-sh.e.l.ls blowing and fish-horns' tw.a.n.g, Over and over the Maenads[316] sang: 30 "Here's Flud Oirson, fur his horrd horrt, Torr'd an' futherr'd an' corr'd in a corrt By the women o' Morble'ead!"

Small pity for him!--He sailed away From a leaking s.h.i.+p in Chaleur Bay,[317]-- 35 Sailed away from a sinking wreck, With his own town's-people on her deck!

"Lay by! lay by!" they called to him.

Back he answered, "Sink or swim!

Brag of your catch of fish again!" 40 And off he sailed through the fog and rain!

Old Floyd Ireson, for his hard heart, Tarred and feathered and carried in a cart By the women of Marblehead!

Fathoms deep in dark Chaleur 45 That wreck shall lie forevermore.

Mother and sister, wife and maid, Looked from the rocks of Marblehead Over the moaning and rainy sea,-- Looked for the coming that might not be! 50 What did the winds and the sea-birds say Of the cruel captain who sailed away?-- Old Floyd Ireson, for his hard heart, Tarred and feathered and carried in a cart By the women of Marblehead! 55

Through the street, on either side, Up flew windows, doors swung wide; Sharp-tongued spinsters, old wives gray, Treble lent the fish-horn's bray.

Sea-worn grandsires, cripple-bound, 60 Hulks of old sailors run aground, Shook head, and fist, and hat, and cane, And cracked with curses the hoa.r.s.e refrain: "Here's Flud Oirson, fur his horrd horrt, Torr'd an' futherr'd an' corr'd in a corrt 65 By the women o' Morble'ead!"

Sweetly along the Salem road Bloom of orchard and lilac showed.

Little the wicked skipper knew Of the fields so green and the sky so blue. 70 Riding there in his sorry trim, Like an Indian idol glum and grim, Scarcely he seemed the sound to hear Of voices shouting, far and near: "Here's Flud Oirson, fur his horrd horrt, 75 Torr'd an' futherr'd an' corr'd in a corrt By the women o' Morble'ead!"

"Hear me, neighbors!" at last he cried,-- "What to me is this noisy ride?

What is the shame that clothes the skin 80 To the nameless horror that lives within?

Waking or sleeping, I see a wreck, And hear a cry from a reeling deck!

Hate me and curse me,--I only dread The hand of G.o.d and the face of the dead!" 85 Said old Floyd Ireson, for his hard heart, Tarred and feathered and carried in a cart By the women of Marblehead!

Then the wife of the skipper lost at sea Said, "G.o.d has touched him! why should we?" 90 Said an old wife mourning her only son, "Cut the rogue's tether and let him run!"

So with soft relentings and rude excuse, Half scorn, half pity, they cut him loose, And gave him a cloak to hide him in, 95 And left him alone with his shame and sin.

Poor Floyd Ireson, for his hard heart, Tarred and feathered and carried in a cart By the women of Marblehead!

BARCLAY OF URY

Up the streets of Aberdeen[318]

By the kirk[319] and college green Rode the Laird[320] of Ury.

Close behind him, close beside, Foul of mouth and evil-eyed, 5 Pressed the mob in fury.

Flouted him the drunken churl, Jeered at him the serving-girl, Prompt to please her master; And the begging carlin,[321] late 10 Fed and clothed at Ury's gate, Cursed him as he pa.s.sed her.

Yet, with calm and stately mien, Up the streets of Aberdeen Came he slowly riding; 15 And, to all he saw and heard, Answering not with bitter word, Turning not for chiding.

Came a troop with broadswords swinging, Bits and bridles sharply ringing, 20 Loose and free and froward; Quoth the foremost, 'Ride him down!

Push him! p.r.i.c.k him! through the town Drive the Quaker coward!'

But from out the thickening crowd 25 Cried a sudden voice and loud: 'Barclay! Ho! a Barclay!'

And the old man at his side Saw a comrade, battle tried, Scarred and sunburned darkly, 30

Who with ready weapon bare, Fronting to the troopers there, Cried aloud: 'G.o.d save us, Call ye coward him who stood Ankle deep in Lutzen's[322] blood, 35 With the brave Gustavus?'

'Nay, I do not need thy sword, Comrade mine,' said Ury's lord; 'Put it up, I pray thee: Pa.s.sive to his holy will, 40 Trust I in my Master still, Even though He slay me.

'Pledges of thy love and faith, Proved on many a field of death, Not by me are needed.' 45 Marvelled much that henchman bold, That his laird, so stout of old, Now so meekly pleaded.

'Woe's the day!' he sadly said, With a slowly shaking head, 50 And a look of pity; 'Ury's honest lord reviled, Mock of knave and sport of child, In his own good city!

'Speak the word, and, master mine, 55 As we charged on Tilly's[323] line, And his Walloon[324] lancers, Smiting through their midst we'll teach Civil look and decent speech To these boyish prancers!' 60

'Marvel not, mine ancient friend, Like beginning, like the end,'

Quoth the Laird of Ury; 'Is the sinful servant more Than his gracious Lord who bore 65 Bonds and stripes in Jewry?

'Give me joy that in his name I can bear, with patient frame, All these vain ones offer; While for them He suffereth long, 70 Shall I answer wrong with wrong, Scoffing with the scoffer?

'Happier I, with loss of all, Hunted, outlawed, held in thrall, With few friends to greet me, 75 Than when reeve and squire were seen, Riding out from Aberdeen, With bared heads to meet me.

'When each goodwife, o'er and o'er, Blessed me as I pa.s.sed her door; 80 And the snooded[325] daughter, Through her cas.e.m.e.nt glancing down, Smiled on him who bore renown From red fields of slaughter.

'Hard to feel the stranger's scoff, 85 Hard the old friend's falling off, Hard to learn forgiving; But the Lord his own rewards, And his love with theirs accords, Warm and fresh and living. 90

'Through this dark and stormy night Faith beholds a feeble light Up the blackness streaking; Knowing G.o.d's own time is best, In a patient hope I rest 95 For the full day-breaking!'

So the Laird of Ury said, Turning slow his horse's head Towards the Tolbooth[326] prison, Where, through iron gates, he heard 100 Poor disciples of the Word Preach of Christ arisen!

Not in vain, Confessor old, Unto us the tale is told Of thy day of trial; 105 Every age on him who strays From its broad and beaten ways Pours its seven-fold vial.

Happy he whose inward ear, Angel comfortings can hear, 110 O'er the rabble's laughter; And while Hatred's f.a.gots burn, Glimpses through the smoke discern Of the good hereafter.

Knowing this, that never yet 115 Share of Truth was vainly set In the world's wide fallow[327]; After hands shall sow the seed, After hands from hill and mead Reap the harvests yellow. 120

Thus, with somewhat of the Seer, Must the moral pioneer From the Future borrow; Clothe the waste with dreams of grain, And, on midnight's sky of rain, 125 Paint the golden morrow!

BARBARA FRIETCHIE

Up from the meadows rich with corn, Clear in the cool September morn,