If it be long, aye, long ago, When I begin to think how long, Swift as an arrow, sharp and strong; 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 And my son's wife, Elizabeth; Till floating o'er the grassy sea Then some looked up into the sky, 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, 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. (A sweeter woman ne'er drew breath "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; A mighty eygre reared his crest, And rearing Lindis, backward pressed, Flung up her weltering walls again. 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 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. The lifted sun shone on thy face, That flow strewed wrecks about the grass; To many more than mine and me: I shall never hear her more Where the sunny Lindis floweth, From the meads where melick groweth, I shall never see her more Where the reeds and rushes quiver, Stand beside the sobbing river, Quit your cowslips, cowslips yellow; Come up, Whitefoot, come up, Lightfoot: Come up, Lightfoot, rise and follow; From your clovers lift the head; Jetty, to the milking shed.” JEAN INGELOW. QUA CURSUM VENTUS. As ships, becalmed at eve, that lay When fell the night, upsprung the breeze, E'en so but why the tale reveal Of those whom, year by year unchanged, At dead of night their sails were filled, 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. |