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!

"For evil news from Mablethorpe,
Of pyrate galleys warping down;
For shippes ashore beyond the scorpe,
They have not spared to wake the
towne;

But while the west bin red to see,
And storms be none, and pyrates flee,
Why ring 'The Brides of Enderby'?"

I looked without, and lo! my sonne
Came riding downe with might and

main,

He raised a shout as he drew on,

Till all the welkin rang again, "Elizabeth! Elizabeth!'

(A sweeter woman ne'er drew breath Than my sonne's wife, Elizabeth.)

"The olde sea-wall (he cried) is downe,

The rising tide comes on apace, And boats adrift in yonder towne

Go sailing uppe the market-place." He shook as one that looks on death: "God save you, mother!" straight he saith;

"Where is my wife, Elizabeth?"

"Good sonne, where Lindis winds away With her two bairns I marked her long;

And ere yon bells beganne to play
Afar I heard her milking song."
He looked across the grassy sea,
To right, to left, "Ho Enderby!"
They rang,
"The Brides of Enderby!"

With that he cried and beat his breast;
For lo! along the river's bed

A mighty eygre reared his crest,

And uppe the Lindis raging sped. It swept with thunderous noise, loud; Shaped like a curling snow-white cloud, Or like a demon in a shroud.

And rearing Lindis backward pressed, Shook all her trembling bankes amaine; Then madly at the eygre's breast

Flung uppe her weltering walls again.

And didst thou visit him no more? Thou didst, thou didst, my daughter deare;

The waters laid thee at his doore,

Ere yet the early dawn was clear. The pretty bairns in fast embrace, The lifted sun shone on thy face, Downe drifted to thy dwelling-place.

That flow strewed wrecks about the gra That ebbe swept out the flocks to se A fatal ebbe and flow, alas!

To manye more than myne and me: But each will mourn his own (she saith). And sweeter woman ne'er drew breath Than my sonne's wife, Elizabeth.

I shall never hear her more
By the reedy Lindis shore,
"Cusha, Cusha, Cusha!" calling,
Ere the early dews be falling;
I shall never hear her song,
'Cusha, Cusha!" all along,
Where the sunny Lindis floweth,
Goeth, floweth ;

66

From the meads where melick groweth,

Shall never light on a prouder sitter,
A fairer nestful, nor ever know
A softer sound than their tender twitter,
That wind-like did come and go.

I had a nestful once of my own,
Ah, happy, happy I!

Right dearly I loved them; but when they were grown

They spread out their wings to fly.
O, one after one they flew away,

Far up to the heavenly blue,
To the better country, the upper day,
And I wish I was going too.

I pray you, what is the nest to me,
My empty nest?

And what is the shore where I stood to

AFTER THE RAIN.

283

THE rain has ceased, and in my room
The sunshine pours an airy flood;
And on the church's dizzy vane
The ancient Cross is bathed in blood.

From out the dripping ivy-leaves, Antiquely carven, gray and high, A dormer, facing westward, looks Upon the village like an eye:

And now it glimmers in the sun, A square of gold, a disk, a speck: And in the belfry sits a Dove With purple ripples on her neck.

And I galloped and I galloped on my palfrey white as milk, My robe was of the sea-green woof, my serk was of the silk; My hair was golden-yellow, and it floated to my shoe;

My eyes were like two harebells bathed in little drops of dew; My palfrey, never stopping, made a music sweetly blent With the leaves of autumn dropping all

around me as I went; And I heard the bells, grown fainter, far behind me peal and play, Fainter, fainter, fainter, till they seemed to die away;

And beside a silver runnel, on a little heap of sand,

I saw the green gnome sitting, with his cheek upon his hand. Then he started up to see me, and he ran with a cry and bound, And drew me from my palfrey white and set me on the ground.

O crimson, crimson were his locks, his face was green to see, But he cried, "Ö light-haired lassie, you are bound to marry me!" He clasped me round the middle small, he kissed me on the cheek,

Sing, sing! ring, ring! pleasant Sabbath bells!

Chime, rhyme! chime, rhyme! through dales and dells!

Rhyme, ring! chime, sing! pleasant Sabbath bells!

Chime, sing! rhyme, ring! over fields and fells!

O faintly, faintly, faintly, calling men and maids to pray,

So faintly, faintly, faintly rang the bells far away;

And as I named the Blessed Name, as in our need we can,

The ugly green gnome became a tall and comely man:

His hands were white, his beard was gold, his eyes were black as sloes, His tunic was of scarlet woof, and silken were his hose;

A

His

pensive light from faëryland still linvoice was like the running brook gered on his cheek, when he began to speak: "O, you have cast away the charm my Seven years have I dwelt in Faeryland, step-dame put on me, O, I will mount thy palfrey white, and and you have set me free. And, by those dewy little eyes, we twain ride to kirk with thee,

will wedded be!"

bath bells!

And with a "Thank you, Ned," dissembled ;

But yet I knew she understood

With what a daring wish I trembled.

tions,

Where Jews and Gentiles most are wont To throng for trade and last quota

tions, Where, hour by hour, the rates of gold Outrival, in the ears of people,

The quarter-chimes, serenely tolled

From Trinity's undaunted steeple ;

Even there I heard a strange, wild strain Sound high above the modern clamor, Above the cries of greed and gain,

The curbstone war, the auction's hammer,

And swift, on Music's misty ways,

It led, from all this strife for millions, To ancient, sweet-do-nothing days Among the kirtle-robed Sicilians.

And as it stilled the multitude,
And yet more joyous rose, and shriller,
I saw the minstrel where he stood
At ease against a Doric pillar:
One hand a droning organ played,
The other held a Pan's-pipe (fashioned
Like those of old) to lips that made
The reeds give out that strain impas-
sioned.