If it be long, aye, long ago,

When I begin to think how long,
Again I hear the Lindis flow,

Swift as an arrow, sharp and strong;
And all the air it seemeth me
Is full of floating bells (saith she),
That ring the tune of Enderby.

All fresh the level pasture lay,

And not a shadow might be seen, Save where full five good miles away The steeple towered from out the green; And lo! the great bell far and wide Was heard in all the country side That Saturday at eventide.

The swannerds where their sedges are
Moved on in sunset's golden breath,
The shepherd lads I heard afar,

And my son's wife, Elizabeth;

Till floating o'er the grassy sea
Came down that kindly message free,
The Brides of Mavis Enderby."

Then some looked up into the sky,
And all along where Lindis flows

To where the goodly vessels lie,

And where the lordly steeple shows. They said, "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 pirate galleys warping down;
For ships ashore beyond the scorpe,

They have not spared to wake the town;

But while the west is red to see,

And storms be none, and pirates flee,

Why ring The Brides of Enderby '?"

I looked without, and lo! my son

Came riding down 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 son's wife, Elizabeth.).

"The old sea wall (he cried) is down, The rising tide comes on apace, And boats adrift in yonder town Go sailing up the market-place.” He shook as one that looks on death: "God save you, mother!" straight he saith; "Where is my wife, Elizabeth?

* Good son, where Lindis winds away

With her two bairns I marked her long; And ere yon bells began 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 up 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 banks amain;
Then madly at the eygre's breast

Flung up her weltering walls again.
Then banks came down with ruin and rout,
Then beaten foam flew round about,
Then all the mighty floods were out.

So far, so fast the eygre drave,

The heart had hardly time to beat, Before a shallow seething wave

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

Upon the roof we sat that night,

The noise of bells went sweeping by:

I marked the lofty beacon light

Stream from the church tower, red and high,

A lurid mark and dread to see;

And awsome bells they were to me,

That in the dark rang 66

Enderby."

They rang the sailor lads to guide

From roof to roof who fearless rowed;

And I,

my son was at my side,

And yet the ruddy beacon glowed:

And yet he moaned beneath his breath,
O come in life, or come in death!

O lost! my love, Elizabeth."

And didst thou visit him no more?

Thou didst, thou didst, my daughter dear!

The waters laid thee at his door,

Ere yet the early dawn was clear.
Thy pretty bairns in fast embrace,

The lifted sun shone on thy face,
Down drifted to thy dwelling-placé.

That flow strewed wrecks about the grass;
That ebb swept out the flocks to sea;
A fatal ebb and flow, alas!

To many more than mine and me:
But each will mourn his own (she saith).
And sweeter woman ne'er drew breath
Than my son'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;

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 up, Whitefoot, come up, Lightfoot:
Quit your pipes of parsley hollow,
Hollow, hollow;

Come up, Lightfoot, rise and follow;
Lightfoot, Whitefoot,

From your clovers lift the head;
Come up, Jetty, follow, follow,

Jetty, to the milking shed.”

JEAN INGELOW.

QUA CURSUM VENTUS.

As ships, becalmed at eve, that lay
With canvas drooping, side by side,
Two towers of sail at dawn of day
Are scarce, long leagues apart, descried;

When fell the night, upsprung the breeze,
And all the darkling hours they plied,
Nor dreamt but each the self-same seas
By each was cleaving, side by side:

E'en so

but why the tale reveal

Of those whom, year by year unchanged,
Brief absence joined anew to feel,
Astounded, soul from soul estranged?

At dead of night their sails were filled,
And onward each rejoicing steered :

1 JEAN INGELOW was born in Ipswich, Suffolk, England, about 1830. She wrote many poems, and some novels which have attained popularity. She died in 1897.