If it be long-ay, long ago

When I beginne to think howe long,
Againe I hear the Lindis flow,

Swift as an arrowe, sharp 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 shadowe mote be seene, 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 countryside, That Saturday at eventide.

The swanherds, where their sedges are,
Moved on in sunset's golden breath;
The shepherde-lads I heard afarre,
And my sonne's wife, Elizabeth;
Till, floating o'er the grassy sea,
Came downe that kyndly message free,
"The Brides of Mavis Enderby."

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 :

HIGH TIDE ON THE COAST OF LINCOLNSHIRE 65

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,

6

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 cryed) is downe!
The rising tide comes on apace;
And boats, adrift in yonder towne,
Go sailing uppe the marketplace!
He shook as one that looks on death:

"God save you, mother!" straight he sayth: "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."

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 noises 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.
Then bankes came downe with ruin and rout
Then beaten foam flew round about -
Then all the mighty floods were out.

So farre, so fast, the eygre drave,
The heart had hardly time to beat
Before a shallow seething wave

Sobbed in the grasses at oure feet:
The feet had hardly time to flee
Before it brake against the knee
And all the world was in the sea!

Upon the roofe we sate that night;

The noise of bells went sweeping by ;

I marked the lofty beacon light

Stream from the church tower, red and high –

hey rang the sailor lads to guide,
From roofe to roofe who fearless rowed,

nd I

my sonne was at my side,

And yet the ruddy beacon glowed;
nd yet he moaned beneath his breath,
O come in life, or come in death!
lost! My love, Elizabeth."

nd didst thou visit him no more?

Thou didst, thou didst, my daughter deare. he waters laid thee at his doore Ere yet the early dawn was clear: hy pretty bairns in fast embrace, he lifted sun shone on thy face, ▪owne-drifted to thy dwelling-place!

hat flow strewed wrecks about the grass,
That ebbe swept out the flocks to sea
. fatal ebbe and flow, alas!

To manye more than myne

and mee:

ut each will mourn his own (she sayth,)

nd sweeter woman ne'er drew breath

'han my sonne's wife Elizabeth.

shall never hear her more

By the reedy Lindis shore,
Cusha! Cusha! Cusha!" calling
Ere the early dews be falling;

Goeth, floweth,

From the meads where melick groweth,
When the water, winding down,

Onward floweth to the town.

I shall never see her more,
Where the reeds and rushes quiver,
Shiver, quiver,

Stand beside the sobbing river-
Sobbing, throbbing, in its falling,
To the sandy lonesome shore;
I shall never hear her calling,

"Leave your meadow grasses mellow,
Mellow, mellow!

Quit your cowslips, cowslips yellow!

Come uppe, Whitefoot! Come uppe, Lightfoot! Quit your pipes of parsley hollow,

Hollow, hollow!

Come uppe, Lightfoot! Rise and follow,

Lightfoot, Whitefoot:

From your clovers lift the head!

Come uppe, Jetty! Follow, follow,
Jetty, to the milking shed!"