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diff --git a/41467.txt b/41467.txt deleted file mode 100644 index 5f975c7..0000000 --- a/41467.txt +++ /dev/null @@ -1,2641 +0,0 @@ - THE EVERLASTING MERCY - - - - -This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with almost -no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it -under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included with this -eBook or online at http://www.gutenberg.org/license. - - - -Title: The Everlasting Mercy -Author: John Masefield -Release Date: November 23, 2012 [EBook #41467] -Reposted: March 23, 2014 [correction to text] -Language: English -Character set encoding: US-ASCII - - -*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE EVERLASTING MERCY *** - - - - -Produced by Al Haines. - - - - -[Illustration: Cover] - - - - - THE EVERLASTING MERCY - - - BY - JOHN MASEFIELD - - AUTHOR OF - "THE TRAGEDY OF POMPEY THE GREAT" - "THE TRAGEDY OF NAN," ETC. - - - - LONDON - SIDGWICK & JACKSON LTD. - 3 ADAM STREET, ADELPHI - MCMXIII - - - - - _First Edition, Crown 8vo, November 1911;_ - _Reprinted November and December 1911,_ - _February, April and August 1912._ - _Reset December 1912; reprinted January_ - _(twice), February, March and May, 1913._ - _New Edition, Foolscap 8vo, thirteenth_ - _thousand, October 1913._ - _Fourteenth thousand, November 1913._ - - _Entered at the Library of_ - _Congress, Washington, U.S.A._ - - _All rights reserved_ - - - - - _BY THE SAME AUTHOR_ - -THE WIDOW IN THE BYE STREET - -Crown 8vo, 3s. 6d. net. -_Fourth Thousand_ - - -THE TRAGEDY OF POMPEY THE GREAT - -Crown 8vo, Cloth, 3s. 6d. net; -Paper Wrappers, 1s. 6d. net. -_Fourth Impression_ - - - London: SIDGWICK & JACKSON LTD. - - - - - TO - MY WIFE - - - - -_Thy place is biggyd above the sterrys deer,_ -_Noon erthely paleys wrouhte in so statly wyse,_ -_Com on my freend, my brothir moost enteer,_ -_For the I offryd my blood in sacrifise._ - -JOHN LYDGATE. - - - - - THE EVERLASTING MERCY - - - -From '41 to '51 -I was my folk's contrary son; -I bit my father's hand right through -And broke my mother's heart in two. -I sometimes go without my dinner -Now that I know the times I've gi'n her. - -From '51 to '6l -I cut my teeth and took to fun. -I learned what not to be afraid of -And what stuff women's lips are made of; -I learned with what a rosy feeling -Good ale makes floors seem like the ceiling, -And how the moon gives shiny light -To lads as roll home singing by't. -My blood did leap, my flesh did revel, -Saul Kane was tokened to the devil. - -From '61 to '67 -I lived in disbelief of heaven. -I drunk, I fought, I poached, I whored, -I did despite unto the Lord, -I cursed, 'twould make a man look pale, -And nineteen times I went to jail. - Now, friends, observe and look upon me, - Mark how the Lord took pity on me. - -By Dead Man's Thorn, while setting wires, -Who should come up but Billy Myers, -A friend of mine, who used to be -As black a sprig of hell as me, -With whom I'd planned, to save encroachin', -Which fields and coverts each should poach in. -Now when he saw me set my snare, -He tells me 'Get to hell from there. -This field is mine,' he says, 'by right; -If you poach here, there'll be a fight. -Out now,' he says, 'and leave your wire; -It's mine.' - 'It ain't.' - 'You put.' - 'You liar.' - -'You closhy put.' - 'You bloody liar.' -'This is my field.' - 'This is my wire.' -'I'm ruler here.' - 'You ain't.' - 'I am.' -'I'll fight you for it.' - 'Right, by damn. -Not now, though, I've a-sprained my thumb, -We'll fight after the harvest hum. -And Silas Jones, that bookie wide, -Will make a purse five pounds a side.' -Those were the words, that was the place -By which God brought me into grace. - -On Wood Top Field the peewits go -Mewing and wheeling ever so; -And like the shaking of a timbrel -Cackles the laughter of the whimbrel. -In the old quarry-pit they say -Head-keeper Pike was made away. - -He walks, head-keeper Pike, for harm, -He taps the windows of the farm; -The blood drips from his broken chin, -He taps and begs to be let in. -On Wood Top, nights, I've shaked to hark -The peewits wambling in the dark -Lest in the dark the old man might -Creep up to me to beg a light. - -But Wood Top grass is short and sweet -And springy to a boxer's feet; -At harvest hum the moon so bright -Did shine on Wood Top for the fight. - -When Bill was stripped down to his bends -I thought how long we two'd been friends, -And in my mind, about that wire, -I thought 'He's right, I am a liar, -As sure as skilly's made in prison -The right to poach that copse is his'n. -I'll have no luck to-night,' thinks I. -'I'm fighting to defend a lie. - -And this moonshiny evening's fun -Is worse than aught I ever done.' -And thinking that way my heart bled so -I almost stept to Bill and said so. -And now Bill's dead I would be glad -If I could only think I had. -But no. I put the thought away -For fear of what my friends would say. -They'd backed me, see? O Lord, the sin -Done for the things there's money in. - -The stakes were drove, the ropes were hitched, -Into the ring my hat I pitched. -My corner faced the Squire's park -Just where the fir-trees make it dark; -The place where I begun poor Nell -Upon the woman's road to hell. -I thought oft, sitting in my corner -After the time-keep struck his warner -(Two brandy flasks, for fear of noise, -Clinked out the time to us two boys). -And while my seconds chafed and gloved me -I thought of Nell's eyes when she loved me, -And wondered how my tot would end, -First Nell cast off and now my friend; -And in the moonlight dim and wan -I knew quite well my luck was gone; -And looking round I felt a spite -At all who'd come to see me fight; -The five and forty human faces -Inflamed by drink and going to races, -Faces of men who'd never been -Merry or true or live or clean; -Who'd never felt the boxer's trim -Of brain divinely knit to limb, -Nor felt the whole live body go -One tingling health from top to toe; -Nor took a punch nor given a swing, -But just soaked deady round the ring -Until their brains and bloods were foul -Enough to make their throttles howl, -While we whom Jesus died to teach -Fought round on round, three minutes each. - -And thinking that, you'll understand -I thought, 'I'll go and take Bill's hand. -I'll up and say the fault was mine, -He sha'n't make play for these here swine.' -And then I thought that that was silly, -They'd think I was afraid of Billy: -They'd think (I thought it, God forgive me) -I funked the hiding Bill could give me. -And that thought made me mad and hot. -'Think that, will they? Well, they shall not. -They sha'n't think that. I will not. I'm -Damned if I will. I will not.' - Time! - -From the beginning of the bout -My luck was gone, my hand was out. -Right from the start Bill called the play, -But I was quick and kept away -Till the fourth round, when work got mixed, -And then I knew Bill had me fixed. -My hand was out, why, Heaven knows; -Bill punched me when and where he chose. -Through two more rounds we quartered wide -And all the time my hands seemed tied; -Bill punched me when and where he pleased. -The cheering from my backers ceased, -But every punch I heard a yell -Of 'That's the style, Bill, give him hell.' -No one for me, but Jimmy's light -'Straight left! Straight left!' and 'Watch his right.' - -I don't know how a boxer goes -When all his body hums from blows; -I know I seemed to rock and spin, -I don't know how I saved my chin; -I know I thought my only friend -Was that clinked flask at each round's end -When my two seconds, Ed and Jimmy, -Had sixty seconds help to gimme. -But in the ninth, with pain and knocks -I stopped: I couldn't fight nor box. -Bill missed his swing, the light was tricky, -But I went down, and stayed down, dicky. -'Get up,' cried Jim. I said, 'I will.' -Then all the gang yelled, 'Out him, Bill. -Out him.' Bill rushed ... and Clink, Clink, Clink. -Time! and Jim's knee, and rum to drink. -And round the ring there ran a titter: -'Saved by the call, the bloody quitter.' - -They drove (a dodge that never fails) -A pin beneath my finger nails. -They poured what seemed a running beck -Of cold spring water down my neck; -Jim with a lancet quick as flies -Lowered the swellings round my eyes. -They sluiced my legs and fanned my face -Through all that blessed minute's grace; -They gave my calves a thorough kneading, -They salved my cuts and stopped the bleeding. -A gulp of liquor dulled the pain, -And then the two flasks clinked again. -Time! - There was Bill as grim as death. -He rushed, I clinched, to get more breath. -And breath I got, though Billy bats -Some stinging short-arms in my slats. - -And when we broke, as I foresaw, -He swung his right in for the jaw. -I stopped it on my shoulder bone, -And at the shock I heard Bill groan-- -A little groan or moan or grunt -As though I'd hit his wind a bunt. -At that, I clinched, and while we clinched, -His old-time right-arm dig was flinched, -And when we broke he hit me light -As though he didn't trust his right, -He flapped me somehow with his wrist -As though he couldn't use his fist, -And when he hit he winced with pain. -I thought, 'Your sprained thumb's crocked again.' -So I got strength and Bill gave ground, -And that round was an easy round. - -During the wait my Jimmy said, -'What's making Billy fight so dead? -He's all to pieces. Is he blown?' -'His thumb's out.' - 'No? Then it's your own. -It's all your own, but don't be rash-- -He's got the goods if you've got cash, -And what one hand can do he'll do, -Be careful this next round or two.' - -Time! There was Bill, and I felt sick -That luck should play so mean a trick -And give me leave to knock him out -After he'd plainly won the bout. -But by the way the man came at me -He made it plain he meant to bat me; -If you'd a seen the way he come -You wouldn't think he'd crocked a thumb. -With all his skill and all his might -He clipped me dizzy left and right; -The Lord knows what the effort cost, -But he was mad to think he'd lost, -And knowing nothing else could save him -He didn't care what pain it gave him. -He called the music and the dance -For five rounds more and gave no chance. - -Try to imagine if you can -The kind of manhood in the man, -And if you'd like to feel his pain, -You sprain your thumb and hit the sprain, -And hit it hard, with all your power -On something hard for half-an-hour, -While someone thumps you black and blue, -And then you'll know what Billy knew. -Bill took that pain without a sound -Till half-way through the eighteenth round, -And then I sent him down and out, -And Silas said, 'Kane wins the bout.' - -When Bill came to, you understand, -I ripped the mitten from my hand -And went across to ask Bill shake. -My limbs were all one pain and ache, -I was so weary and so sore -I don't think I'd a stood much more. -Bill in his corner bathed his thumb, -Buttoned his shirt and glowered glum. -'I'll never shake your hand,' he said. -'I'd rather see my children dead. -I've been about and had some fun with you, -But you're a liar and I've done with you. -You've knocked me out, you didn't beat me; -Look out the next time that you meet me, -There'll be no friend to watch the clock for you -And no convenient thumb to crock for you, -And I'll take care, with much delight, -You'll get what you'd a got to-night; -That puts my meaning clear, I guess, -Now get to hell; I want to dress.' - -I dressed. My backers one and all -Said, 'Well done you,' or 'Good old Saul. -'Saul is a wonder and a fly 'un, -What'll you have, Saul, at the Lion?' -With merry oaths they helped me down -The stony wood-path to the town. - -The moonlight shone on Cabbage Walk, -It made the limestone look like chalk, -It was too late for any people, -Twelve struck as we went by the steeple. -A dog barked, and an owl was calling, -The Squire's brook was still a-falling, -The carved heads on the church looked down -On 'Russell, Blacksmith of this Town,' -And all the graves of all the ghosts -Who rise on Christmas Eve in hosts -To dance and carol in festivity -For joy of Jesus Christ's Nativity -(Bell-ringer Dawe and his two sons -Beheld 'em from the bell-tower once), -Two and two about about -Singing the end of Advent out, -Dwindling down to windlestraws -When the glittering peacock craws, -As craw the glittering peacock should -When Christ's own star comes over the wood. -Lamb of the sky come out of fold -Wandering windy heavens cold. -So they shone and sang till twelve -When all the bells ring out of theirselve; -Rang a peal for Christmas morn, -Glory, men, for Christ is born. - -All the old monks' singing places -Glimmered quick with flitting faces, -Singing anthems, singing hymns -Under carven cherubims. -Ringer Dawe aloft could mark -Faces at the window dark -Crowding, crowding, row on row, -Till all the church began to glow. -The chapel glowed, the nave, the choir, -All the faces became fire -Below the eastern window high -To see Christ's star come up the sky. -Then they lifted hands and turned, -And all their lifted fingers burned, -Burned like the golden altar tallows, -Burned like a troop of God's own Hallows, -Bringing to mind the burning time -When all the bells will rock and chime -And burning saints on burning horses -Will sweep the planets from their courses -And loose the stars to burn up night. -Lord, give us eyes to bear the light. - -We all went quiet down the Scallenge -Lest Police Inspector Drew should challenge. -But 'Spector Drew was sleeping sweet, -His head upon a charges sheet, -Under the gas-jet flaring full, -Snorting and snoring like a bull, -His bull cheeks puffed, his bull lips blowing, -His ugly yellow front teeth showing. -Just as we peeped we saw him fumble -And scratch his head, and shift, and mumble. - -Down in the lane so thin and dark -The tan-yards stank of bitter bark, -The curate's pigeons gave a flutter, -A cat went courting down the gutter, -And none else stirred a foot or feather. -The houses put their heads together, -Talking, perhaps, so dark and sly, -Of all the folk they'd seen go by, -Children, and men and women, merry all, -Who'd some day pass that way to burial. -It was all dark, but at the turning -The Lion had a window burning. -So in we went and up the stairs, -Treading as still as cats and hares. - -The way the stairs creaked made you wonder -If dead men's bones were hidden under. -At head of stairs upon the landing -A woman with a lamp was standing; -She greet each gent at head of stairs -With 'Step in, gents, and take your chairs. -The punch'll come when kettle bubble, -But don't make noise or there'll be trouble.' -'Twas Doxy Jane, a bouncing girl -With eyes all sparks and hair all curl, -And cheeks all red and lips all coal, -And thirst for men instead of soul. -She's trod her pathway to the fire. -Old Rivers had his nephew by her. - -I step aside from Tom and Jimmy -To find if she'd a kiss to gimme. -I blew out lamp 'fore she could speak. -She said, 'If you ain't got a cheek,' -And then beside me in the dim, -'Did he beat you or you beat him?' -'Why, I beat him' (though that was wrong). -She said, 'You must be turble strong. -I'd be afraid you'd beat me, too.' -'You'd not,' I said, 'I wouldn't do.' -'Never?' - 'No, never.' - 'Never?' - 'No.' -'O Saul. Here's missus. Let me go.' -It wasn't missus, so I didn't, -Whether I mid do or I midn't, -Until she'd promised we should meet -Next evening, six, at top of street, -When we could have a quiet talk -On that low wall up Worcester Walk. -And while we whispered there together -I give her silver for a feather -And felt a drunkenness like wine -And shut out Christ in husks and swine. -I felt the dart strike through my liver. -God punish me for't and forgive her. - -Each one could be a Jesus mild, -Each one has been a little child, -A little child with laughing look, -A lovely white unwritten book; -A book that God will take, my friend, -As each goes out at journey's end. -The Lord who gave us Earth and Heaven -Takes that as thanks for all He's given. -The book he lent is given back -All blotted red and smutted black. - -'Open the door,' said Jim, 'and call.' -Jane gasped 'They'll see me. Loose me, Saul.' -She pushed me by, and ducked downstair -With half the pins out of her hair. -I went inside the lit room rollin' -Her scented handkerchief I'd stolen. -'What would you fancy, Saul?' they said. -'A gin punch hot and then to bed.' -'Jane, fetch the punch bowl to the gemmen; -And mind you don't put too much lemon. -Our good friend Saul has had a fight of it, -Now smoke up, boys, and make a night of it.' - -The room was full of men and stink -Of bad cigars and heavy drink. -Riley was nodding to the floor -And gurgling as he wanted more. -His mouth was wide, his face was pale, -His swollen face was sweating ale; -And one of those assembled Greeks -Had corked black crosses on his cheeks. -Thomas was having words with Goss, -He 'wouldn't pay, the fight was cross.' -And Goss told Tom that 'cross or no, -The bets go as the verdicts go, -By all I've ever heard or read of. -So pay, or else I'll knock your head off.' -Jim Gurvil said his smutty say -About a girl down Bye Street way. -And how the girl from Froggatt's circus -Died giving birth in Newent work'us. -And Dick told how the Dymock wench -Bore twins, poor thing, on Dog Hill bench; -And how he'd owned to one in court -And how Judge made him sorry for't. -Jock set a Jew's harp twanging drily; -'Gimme another cup,' said Riley. - -A dozen more were in their glories -With laughs and smokes and smutty stories; -And Jimmy joked and took his sup -And sang his song of 'Up, come up.' -Jane brought the bowl of stewing gin -And poured the egg and lemon in, -And whisked it up and served it out -While bawdy questions went about. -Jack chucked her chin, and Jim accost her -With bits out of the 'Maid of Gloster.' -And fifteen arms went round her waist. -(And then men ask, Are Barmaids chaste?) - -O young men, pray to be kept whole -From bringing down a weaker soul. -Your minute's joy so meet in doin' -May be the woman's door to ruin; -The door to wandering up and down, -A painted whore at half a crown. -The bright mind fouled, the beauty gay -All eaten out and fallen away, -By drunken days and weary tramps -From pub to pub by city lamps, -Till men despise the game they started -Till health and beauty are departed, -And in a slum the reeking hag -Mumbles a crust with toothy jag, -Or gets the river's help to end -The life too wrecked for man to mend. - -We spat and smoked and took our swipe -Till Silas up and tap his pipe, -And begged us all to pay attention -Because he'd several things to mention. -We'd seen the fight (Hear, hear. That's you); -But still one task remained to do; -That task was his, he didn't shun it, -To give the purse to him as won it; -With this remark, from start to out -He'd never seen a brisker bout. -There was the purse. At that he'd leave it. -Let Kane come forward to receive it. - -I took the purse and hemmed and bowed, -And called for gin punch for the crowd; -And when the second bowl was done, -I called, 'Let's have another one.' -Si's wife come in and sipped and sipped -(As women will) till she was pipped. -And Si hit Dicky Twot a clouter -Because he put his arm about her; -But after Si got overtasked -She sat and kissed whoever asked. -My Doxy Jane was splashed by this, -I took her on my knee to kiss. -And Tom cried out, 'O damn the gin; -Why can't we all have women in? -Bess Evans, now, or Sister Polly, -Or those two housemaids at the Folly? -Let someone nip to Biddy Price's, -They'd all come in a brace of trices. -Rose Davies, Sue, and Betsy Perks; -One man, one girl, and damn all Turks.' -But, no. 'More gin,' they cried; 'Come on. -We'll have the girls in when it's gone.' -So round the gin went, hot and heady, -Hot Hollands punch on top of deady. - -Hot Hollands punch on top of stout -Puts madness in and wisdom out. -From drunken man to drunken man -The drunken madness raged and ran. -'I'm climber Joe who climbed the spire.' -'You're climber Joe the bloody liar.' -'Who says I lie?' - 'I do.' - 'You lie, -I climbed the spire and had a fly.' -'I'm French Suzanne, the Circus Dancer, -I'm going to dance a bloody Lancer.' -'If I'd my rights I'm Squire's heir.' -'By rights I'd be a millionaire.' -'By rights I'd be the lord of you, -But Farmer Scriggins had his do, -He done me, so I've had to hoove it, -I've got it all wrote down to prove it. -And one of these dark winter nights -He'll learn I mean to have my rights; -I'll bloody him a bloody fix, -I'll bloody burn his bloody ricks.' - -From three long hours of gin and smokes, -And two girls' breath and fifteen blokes', -A warmish night, and windows shut, -The room stank like a fox's gut. -The heat and smell and drinking deep -Began to stun the gang to sleep. -Some fell downstairs to sleep on the mat, -Some snored it sodden where they sat. -Dick Twot had lost a tooth and wept, -But all the drunken others slept. -Jane slept beside me in the chair, -And I got up; I wanted air. - -I opened window wide and leaned -Out of that pigstye of the fiend -And felt a cool wind go like grace -About the sleeping market-place. -The clock struck three, and sweetly, slowly, -The bells chimed Holy, Holy, Holy; -And in a second's pause there fell -The cold note of the chapel bell, -And then a cock crew, flapping wings, -And summat made me think of things -How long those ticking clocks had gone -From church and chapel, on and on, -Ticking the time out, ticking slow -To men and girls who'd come and go, -And how they ticked in belfry dark -When half the town was bishop's park, -And how they'd rung a chime full tilt -The night after the church was built, -And how that night was Lambert's Feast, -The night I'd fought and been a beast. -And how a change had come. And then -I thought, 'You tick to different men.' -What with the fight and what with drinking -And being awake alone there thinking, -My mind began to carp and tetter, -'If this life's all, the beasts are better.' -And then I thought, 'I wish I'd seen -The many towns this town has been; -I wish I knew if they'd a-got -A kind of summat we've a-not, -If them as built the church so fair -Were half the chaps folk say they were; -For they'd the skill to draw their plan, -And skill's a joy to any man; -And they'd the strength, not skill alone, -To build it beautiful in stone; -And strength and skill together thus... -O, they were happier men than us. - -'But if they were, they had to die -The same as every one and I. -And no one lives again, but dies, -And all the bright goes out of eyes, -And all the skill goes out of hands, -And all the wise brain understands, -And all the beauty, all the power -Is cut down like a withered flower. -In all the show from birth to rest -I give the poor dumb cattle best.' - -I wondered, then, why life should be, -And what would be the end of me -When youth and health and strength were gone -And cold old age came creeping on? -A keeper's gun? The Union ward? -Or that new quod at Hereford? -And looking round I felt disgust -At all the nights of drink and lust, -And all the looks of all the swine -Who'd said that they were friends of mine; -And yet I knew, when morning came, -The morning would be just the same, -For I'd have drinks and Jane would meet me -And drunken Silas Jones would greet me, -And I'd risk quod and keeper's gun -Till all the silly game was done. -'For parson chaps are mad supposin' -A chap can change the road he's chosen.' -And then the Devil whispered 'Saul, -Why should you want to live at all? -Why fret and sweat and try to mend? -It's all the same thing in the end. -But when it's done,' he said, 'it's ended. -Why stand it, since it can't be mended?' -And in my heart I heard him plain, -'Throw yourself down and end it, Kane.' - -'Why not?' said I. 'Why not? But no. -I won't. I've never had my go. -I've not had all the world can give. -Death by and by, but first I'll live. -The world owes me my time of times, -And that time's coming now, by crimes.' - -A madness took me then. I felt -I'd like to hit the world a belt. -I felt that I could fly through air, -A screaming star with blazing hair, -A rushing comet, crackling, numbing -The folk with fear of judgment coming, -A 'Lijah in a fiery car -Coming to tell folk what they are. - -'That's what I'll do,' I shouted loud, -'I'll tell this sanctimonious crowd, -This town of window-peeping, prying, -Maligning, peering, hinting, lying, -Male and female human blots -Who would, but daren't be, whores and sots, -That they're so steeped in petty vice -That they're less excellent than lice, -That they're so soaked in petty virtue -That touching one of them will dirt you, -Dirt you with the stain of mean -Cheating trade and going between, -Pinching, starving, scraping, hoarding -Spying through the chinks of boarding -To see if Sue the prentice lean -Dares to touch the margarine. -Fawning, cringing, oiling boots, -Raging in the crowd's pursuits, -Flinging stones at all the Stephens, -Standing firm with all the evens, -Making hell for all the odd, -All the lonely ones of God, -Those poor lonely ones who find -Dogs more mild than human kind. -For dogs,' I said, 'are nobles born -To most of you, you cockled corn. -I've known dogs to leave their dinner, -Nosing a kind heart in a sinner. -Poor old Crafty wagged his tail -The day I first came home from jail, -When all my folk, so primly clad, -Glowered black and thought me mad, -And muttered how they'd been respected, -While I was what they'd all expected. -(I've thought of that old dog for years, -And of how near I come to tears.) - -'But you, you minds of bread and cheese, -Are less divine than that dog's fleas. -You suck blood from kindly friends, -And kill them when it serves your ends. -Double traitors, double black, -Stabbing only in the back, -Stabbing with the knives you borrow -From the friends you bring to sorrow. -You stab all that's true and strong; -Truth and strength you say are wrong; -Meek and mild, and sweet and creeping, -Repeating, canting, cadging, peeping, -That's the art and that's the life -To win a man his neighbour's wife. -All that's good and all that's true, -You kill that, so I'll kill you.' - -At that I tore my clothes in shreds -And hurled them on the window leads; -I flung my boots through both the winders -And knocked the glass to little flinders; -The punch bowl and the tumblers followed, -And then I seized the lamps and holloed. -And down the stairs, and tore back bolts, -As mad as twenty blooded colts; -And out into the street I pass, -As mad as two-year-olds at grass, -A naked madman waving grand -A blazing lamp in either hand. -I yelled like twenty drunken sailors, -'The devil's come among the tailors.' -A blaze of flame behind me streamed, -And then I clashed the lamps and screamed -'I'm Satan, newly come from hell.' -And then I spied the fire-bell. - -I've been a ringer, so I know -How best to make a big bell go. -So on to bell-rope swift I swoop, -And stick my one foot in the loop -And heave a down-swig till I groan, -'Awake, you swine, you devil's own.' - -I made the fire-bell awake, -I felt the bell-rope throb and shake; -I felt the air mingle and clang -And beat the walls a muffled bang, -And stifle back and boom and bay -Like muffled peals on Boxing Day, -And then surge up and gather shape, -And spread great pinions and escape; -And each great bird of clanging shrieks -O Fire, Fire! from iron beaks. -My shoulders cracked to send around -Those shrieking birds made out of sound -With news of fire in their bills. -(They heard 'em plain beyond Wall Hills.) - -Up go the winders, out come heads, -I heard the springs go creak in beds; -But still I heave and sweat and tire, -And still the clang goes 'Fire, Fire!' -'Where is it, then? Who is it, there? -You ringer, stop, and tell us where.' -'Run round and let the Captain know.' -'It must be bad, he's ringing so.' - -'It's in the town, I see the flame; -Look there! Look there, how red it came.' -'Where is it, then 'O stop the bell.' -I stopped and called: 'It's fire of hell; -And this is Sodom and Gomorrah, -And now I'll burn you up, begorra.' - -By this the firemen were mustering, -The half-dressed stable men were flustering, -Backing the horses out of stalls -While this man swears and that man bawls, -'Don't take th'old mare. Back, Toby, back. -Back, Lincoln. Where's the fire, Jack?' -'Damned if I know. Out Preston way.' -'No. It's at Chancey's Pitch, they say.' -'It's sixteen ricks at Pauntley burnt.' -'You back old Darby out, I durn't.' -They ran the big red engine out, -And put 'em to with damn and shout. -And then they start to raise the shire, -'Who brought the news, and where's the fire?' -They'd moonlight, lamps, and gas to light 'em. -I give a screech-owl's screech to fright 'em, -And snatch from underneath their noses -The nozzles of the fire hoses. -'I am the fire. Back, stand back, -Or else I'll fetch your skulls a crack; -D'you see these copper nozzles here? -They weigh ten pounds apiece, my dear; -I'm fire of hell come up this minute -To burn this town, and all that's in it. -To burn you dead and burn you clean, -You cogwheels in a stopped machine, -You hearts of snakes, and brains of pigeons, -You dead devout of dead religions, -You offspring of the hen and ass, -By Pilate ruled, and Caiaphas. -Now your account is totted. Learn -Hell's flames are loose and you shall burn.' - -At that I leaped and screamed and ran, -I heard their cries go 'Catch him, man.' -'Who was it?' 'Down him.' 'Out him, Ern. -'Duck him at pump, we'll see who'll burn.' -A policeman clutched, a fireman clutched, -A dozen others snatched and touched. -'By God, he's stripped down to his buff.' -'By God, we'll make him warm enough.' -'After him.' 'Catch him,' 'Out him,' 'Scrob him. -'We'll give him hell.' 'By God, we'll mob him.' -'We'll duck him, scrout him, flog him, fratch him. -'All right,' I said. 'But first you'll catch him.' - -The men who don't know to the root -The joy of being swift of foot, -Have never known divine and fresh -The glory of the gift of flesh, -Nor felt the feet exult, nor gone -Along a dim road, on and on, -Knowing again the bursting glows, -The mating hare in April knows, -Who tingles to the pads with mirth -At being the swiftest thing on earth. -O, if you want to know delight, -Run naked in an autumn night, -And laugh, as I laughed then, to find -A running rabble drop behind, -And whang, on every door you pass, -Two copper nozzles, tipped with brass, -And doubly whang at every turning, -And yell, 'All hell's let loose, and burning.' - -I beat my brass and shouted fire -At doors of parson, lawyer, squire, -At all three doors I threshed and slammed -And yelled aloud that they were damned. -I clodded squire's glass with turves -Because he spring-gunned his preserves. -Through parson's glass my nozzle swishes -Because he stood for loaves and fishes, -But parson's glass I spared a tittle. -He give me an orange once when little, -And he who gives a child a treat -Makes joy-bells ring in Heaven's street, -And he who gives a child a home -Builds palaces in Kingdom come, -And she who gives a baby birth -Brings Saviour Christ again to Earth, -For life is joy, and mind is fruit, -And body's precious earth and root. -But lawyer's glass--well, never mind, -Th'old Adam's strong in me, I find. -God pardon man, and may God's son -Forgive the evil things I've done. - -What more? By Dirty Lane I crept -Back to the Lion, where I slept. -The raging madness hot and floodin' -Boiled itself out and left me sudden, -Left me worn out and sick and cold, -Aching as though I'd all grown old; -So there I lay, and there they found me -On door-mat, with a curtain round me. -Si took my heels and Jane my head -And laughed, and carried me to bed. -And from the neighbouring street they reskied -My boots and trousers, coat and weskit; -They bath-bricked both the nozzles bright -To be mementoes of the night, -And knowing what I should awake with -They flannelled me a quart to slake with, -And sat and shook till half-past two -Expecting Police Inspector Drew. - -I woke and drank, and went to meat -In clothes still dirty from the street. -Down in the bar I heard 'em tell -How someone rang the fire-bell, -And how th'inspector's search had thriven, -And how five pounds reward was given. -And Shepherd Boyce, of Marley, glad us -By saying it was blokes from mad'us, -Or two young rips lodged at the Prince -Whom none had seen nor heard of since, -Or that young blade from Worcester Walk -(You know how country people talk). - -Young Joe the ostler come in sad, -He said th'old mare had bit his dad. -He said there'd come a blazing screeching -Daft Bible-prophet chap a-preaching, -Had put th'old mare in such a taking -She'd thought the bloody earth was quaking. -And others come and spread a tale -Of cut-throats out of Gloucester jail, -And how we needed extra cops -With all them Welsh come picking hops; -With drunken Welsh in all our sheds -We might be murdered in our beds. -By all accounts, both men and wives -Had had the scare up of their lives. - -I ate and drank and gathered strength, -And stretched along the bench full length, -Or crossed to window seat to pat -Black Silas Jones's little cat. -At four I called, 'You devil's own, -The second trumpet shall be blown. -The second trump, the second blast; -Hell's flames are loosed, and judgment's passed. -Too late for mercy now. Take warning -I'm death and hell and Judgment morning.' -I hurled the bench into the settle, -I banged the table on the kettle, -I sent Joe's quart of cider spinning. -'Lo, here begins my second inning.' -Each bottle, mug, and jug and pot -I smashed to crocks in half a tot; -And Joe, and Si, and Nick, and Percy -I rolled together topsy versy. -And as I ran I heard 'em call, -'Now damn to hell, what's gone with Saul?' - -Out into street I ran uproarious -The devil dancing in me glorious. -And as I ran I yell and shriek -'Come on, now, turn the other cheek.' -Across the way by almshouse pump -I see old puffing parson stump. -Old parson, red-eyed as a ferret -From nightly wrestlings with the spirit; -I ran across, and barred his path. -His turkey gills went red as wrath -And then he froze, as parsons can. -'The police will deal with you, my man.' -'Not yet,' said I, 'not yet they won't; -And now you'll hear me, like or don't. -The English Church both is and was -A subsidy of Caiaphas. -I don't believe in Prayer nor Bible, -They're lies all through, and you're a libel, -A libel on the Devil's plan -When first he miscreated man. -You mumble through a formal code -To get which martyrs burned and glowed. -I look on martyrs as mistakes, -But still they burned for it at stakes; -Your only fire's the jolly fire -Where you can guzzle port with Squire, -And back and praise his damned opinions -About his temporal dominions. -You let him give the man who digs, -A filthy hut unfit for pigs, -Without a well, without a drain, -With mossy thatch that lets in rain, -Without a 'lotment, 'less he rent it, -And never meat, unless he scent it, -But weekly doles of 'leven shilling -To make a grown man strong and willing, -To do the hardest work on earth -And feed his wife when she gives birth, -And feed his little children's bones. -I tell you, man, the Devil groans. -With all your main and all your might -You back what is against what's right; -You let the Squire do things like these, -You back him in't and give him ease, -You take his hand, and drink his wine, -And he's a hog, but you're a swine. -For you take gold to teach God's ways -And teach man how to sing God's praise. -And now I'll tell you what you teach -In downright honest English speech. - -'You teach the ground-down starving man -That Squire's greed's Jehovah's plan. -You get his learning circumvented -Lest it should make him discontented -(Better a brutal, starving nation -Than men with thoughts above their station), -You let him neither read nor think, -You goad his wretched soul to drink -And then to jail, the drunken boor; -O sad intemperance of the poor. -You starve his soul till it's rapscallion, -Then blame his flesh for being stallion. -You send your wife around to paint -The golden glories of "restraint." -How moral exercise bewild'rin' -Would soon result in fewer children. -You work a day in Squire's fields -And see what sweet restraint it yields; -A woman's day at turnip picking, -Your heart's too fat for plough or ricking. - -'And you whom luck taught French and Greek -Have purple flaps on either cheek, -A stately house, and time for knowledge, -And gold to send your sons to college, -That pleasant place, where getting learning -Is also key to money earning. -But quite your damn'dest want of grace -Is what you do to save your face; -The way you sit astride the gates -By padding wages out of rates; -Your Christmas gifts of shoddy blankets -That every working soul may thank its -Loving parson, loving squire -Through whom he can't afford a fire. -Your well-packed bench, your prison pen, -To keep them something less than men; -Your friendly clubs to help 'em bury, -Your charities of midwifery. -Your bidding children duck and cap -To them who give them workhouse pap. -O, what you are, and what you preach, -And what you do, and what you teach -Is not God's Word, nor honest schism, -But Devil's cant and pauperism.' - -By this time many folk had gathered -To listen to me while I blathered; -I said my piece, and when I'd said it, -I'll do old purple parson credit, -He sunk (as sometimes parsons can) -His coat's excuses in the man. -'You think that Squire and I are kings -Who made the existing state of things, -And made it ill. I answer, No, -States are not made, nor patched; they grow, -Grow slow through centuries of pain -And grow correctly in the main, -But only grow by certain laws -Of certain bits in certain jaws. -You want to doctor that. Let be. -You cannot patch a growing tree. -Put these two words beneath your hat, -These two: securus judicat. - -The social states of human kinds -Are made by multitudes of minds. -And after multitudes of years -A little human growth appears -Worth having, even to the soul -Who sees most plain it's not the whole. -This state is dull and evil, both, -I keep it in the path of growth; -You think the Church an outworn fetter; -Kane, keep it, till you've built a better. -And keep the existing social state; -I quite agree it's out of date, -One does too much, another shirks, -Unjust, I grant; but still ... it works. -To get the whole world out of bed -And washed, and dressed, and warmed, and fed, -To work, and back to bed again, -Believe me, Saul, costs worlds of pain. -Then, as to whether true or sham -That book of Christ, Whose priest I am; -The Bible is a lie, say you, -Where do you stand, suppose it true? - -Good-bye. But if you've more to say, -My doors are open night and day. -Meanwhile, my friend, 'twould be no sin -To mix more water in your gin. -We're neither saints nor Philip Sidneys, -But mortal men with mortal kidneys.' -He took his snuff, and wheezed a greeting, -And waddled off to mothers' meeting; -I hung my head upon my chest, -I give old purple parson best. -For while the Plough tips round the Pole -The trained mind outs the upright soul, -As Jesus said the trained mind might, -Being wiser than the sons of light, -But trained men's minds are spread so thin -They let all sorts of darkness in; -Whatever light man finds they doubt it, -They love not light, but talk about it. - -But parson'd proved to people's eyes -That I was drunk, and he was wise; -And people grinned and women tittered, -And little children mocked and twittered -So blazing mad, I stalked to bar -To show how noble drunkards are, -And guzzled spirits like a beast, -To show contempt for Church and priest, -Until, by six, my wits went round -Like hungry pigs in parish pound. -At half-past six, rememb'ring Jane, -I staggered into street again -With mind made up (or primed with gin) -To bash the cop who'd run me in; -For well I knew I'd have to cock up -My legs that night inside the lock-up, -And it was my most fixed intent -To have a fight before I went. -Our Fates are strange, and no one knows his; -Our lovely Saviour Christ disposes. - -Jane wasn't where we'd planned, the jade. -She'd thought me drunk and hadn't stayed. -So I went up the Walk to look for her -And lingered by the little brook for her, -And dowsed my face, and drank at spring, -And watched two wild duck on the wing. - -The moon come pale, the wind come cool, -A big pike leapt in Lower Pool, -The peacock screamed, the clouds were straking, -My cut cheek felt the weather breaking; -An orange sunset waned and thinned -Foretelling rain and western wind, -And while I watched I heard distinct -The metals on the railway clinked. -The blood-edged clouds were all in tatters, -The sky and earth seemed mad as hatters; -They had a death look, wild and odd, -Of something dark foretold by God. -And seeing it so, I felt so shaken -I wouldn't keep the road I'd taken, -But wandered back towards the inn -Resolved to brace myself with gin. -And as I walked, I said, 'It's strange, -There's Death let loose to-night, and Change.' - -In Cabbage Walk I made a haul -Of two big pears from lawyer's wall, -And, munching one, I took the lane -Back into Market-place again. - -Lamp-lighter Dick had passed the turning -And all the Homend lamps were burning, -The windows shone, the shops were busy, -But that strange Heaven made me dizzy. -The sky had all God's warning writ -In bloody marks all over it, -And over all I thought there was -A ghastly light beside the gas. -The Devil's tasks and Devil's rages -Were giving me the Devil's wages. - -In Market-place it's always light, -The big shop windows make it bright; -And in the press of people buying -I spied a little fellow crying -Because his mother'd gone inside -And left him there, and so he cried. -And mother'd beat him when she found him, -And mother's whip would curl right round him, -And mother'd say he'd done't to crost her, -Though there being crowds about he'd lost her. - -Lord, give to men who are old and rougher -The things that little children suffer, -And let keep bright and undefiled -The young years of the little child. -I pat his head at edge of street -And gi'm my second pear to eat. -Right under lamp, I pat his head, -'I'll stay till mother come,' I said, -And stay I did, and joked and talked, -And shoppers wondered as they walked. -'There's that Saul Kane, the drunken blaggard, -Talking to little Jimmy Jaggard. -The drunken blaggard reeks of drink.' -'Whatever will his mother think?' -'Wherever has his mother gone? -Nip round to Mrs Jaggard's, John, -And say her Jimmy's out again, -In Market-place, with boozer Kane.' -'When he come out to-day he staggered. -O, Jimmy Jaggard, Jimmy Jaggard.' -'His mother's gone inside to bargain, -Run in and tell her, Polly Margin, -And tell her poacher Kane is tipsy -And selling Jimmy to a gipsy.' - -'Run in to Mrs Jaggard, Ellen, -Or else, dear knows, there'll be no tellin', -And don't dare leave yer till you've fount her, -You'll find her at the linen counter.' - -I told a tale, to Jim's delight, -Of where the tom-cats go by night, -And how when moonlight come they went -Among the chimneys black and bent, -From roof to roof, from house to house, -With little baskets full of mouse -All red and white, both joint and chop -Like meat out of a butcher's shop; -Then all along the wall they creep -And everyone is fast asleep, -And honey-hunting moths go by, -And by the bread-batch crickets cry; -Then on they hurry, never waiting -To lawyer's backyard cellar grating -Where Jaggard's cat, with clever paw, -Unhooks a broke-brick's secret door; -Then down into the cellar black, -Across the wood slug's slimy track, -Into an old cask's quiet hollow, -Where they've got seats for what's to follow; -Then each tom-cat lights little candles, -And O, the stories and the scandals, -And O, the songs and Christmas carols, -And O, the milk from little barrels. -They light a fire fit for roasting -(And how good mouse-meat smells when toasting), -Then down they sit to merry feast -While moon goes west and sun comes east. - -Sometimes they make so merry there -Old lawyer come to head of stair -To 'fend with fist and poker took firm -His parchments channelled by the bookworm, -And all his deeds, and all his packs -Of withered ink and sealing wax; -And there he stands, with candle raised, -And listens like a man amazed, -Or like a ghost a man stands dumb at, -He says, 'Hush! Hush! I'm sure there's summat!' -He hears outside the brown owl call, -He hears the death-tick tap the wall, -The gnawing of the wainscot mouse, -The creaking up and down the house, -The unhooked window's hinges ranging, -The sounds that say the wind is changing. -At last he turns, and shakes his head, -'It's nothing, I'll go back to bed.' - -And just then Mrs Jaggard came -To view and end her Jimmy's shame. - -She made one rush and gi'm a bat -And shook him like a dog a rat. -'I can't turn round but what you're straying. -I'll give you tales and gipsy playing. -I'll give you wand'ring off like this -And listening to whatever 't is, -You'll laugh the little side of the can, -You'll have the whip for this, my man; -And not a bite of meat nor bread -You'll touch before you go to bed. -Some day you'll break your mother's heart, -After God knows she's done her part, -Working her arms off day and night -Trying to keep your collars white. -Look at your face, too, in the street. -What dirty filth 've you found to eat? -Now don't you blubber here, boy, or -I'll give you sum't to blubber for.' -She snatched him off from where we stand -And knocked the pear-core from his hand, -And looked at me, 'You Devil's limb, -How dare you talk to Jaggard's Jim; -You drunken, poaching, boozing brute, you. -If Jaggard was a man he'd shoot you.' -She glared all this, but didn't speak, -She gasped, white hollows in her cheek; -Jimmy was writhing, screaming wild, -The shoppers thought I'd killed the child. - -I had to speak, so I begun. -'You'd oughtn't beat your little son; -He did no harm, but seeing him there -I talked to him and gi'm a pear; -I'm sure the poor child meant no wrong, -It's all my fault he stayed so long, -He'd not have stayed, mum, I'll be bound -If I'd not chanced to come around. -It's all my fault he stayed, not his. -I kept him here, that's how it is.' -'Oh! And how dare you, then?' says she, -'How dare you tempt my boy from me? -How dare you do't, you drunken swine, -Is he your child or is he mine? -A drunken sot they've had the beak to, -Has got his dirty whores to speak to, -His dirty mates with whom he drink, -Not little children, one would think. -Look on him, there,' she says, 'look on him -And smell the stinking gin upon him, -The lowest sot, the drunk'nest liar, -The dirtiest dog in all the shire: -Nice friends for any woman's son -After ten years, and all she's done. - -'For I've had eight, and buried five, -And only three are left alive. -I've given them all we could afford, -I've taught them all to fear the Lord. -They've had the best we had to give, -The only three the Lord let live. - -'For Minnie whom I loved the worst -Died mad in childbed with her first. -And John and Mary died of measles, -And Rob was drownded at the Teasels. -And little Nan, dear little sweet, -A cart run over in the street; -Her little shift was all one stain, -I prayed God put her out of pain. -And all the rest are gone or going -The road to hell, and there's no knowing -For all I've done and all I've made them -I'd better not have overlaid them. -For Susan went the ways of shame -The time the 'till'ry regiment came, -And t'have her child without a father -I think I'd have her buried rather. -And Dicky boozes, God forgimme, -And now't's to be the same with Jimmy. -And all I've done and all I've bore -Has made a drunkard and a whore, -A bastard boy who wasn't meant, -And Jimmy gwine where Dicky went; -For Dick began the self-same way -And my old hairs are going gray, -And my poor man's a withered knee, -And all the burden falls on me. - -'I've washed eight little children's limbs, -I've taught eight little souls their hymns, -I've risen sick and lain down pinched -And borne it all and never flinched; -But to see him, the town's disgrace, -With God's commandments broke in's face, -Who never worked, not he, nor earned, -Nor will do till the seas are burned, -Who never did since he was whole -A hand's turn for a human soul, -But poached and stole and gone with women, -And swilled down gin enough to swim in; -To see him only lift one finger -To make my little Jimmy linger. - -In spite of all his mother's prayers, -And all her ten long years of cares, -And all her broken spirit's cry -That drunkard's finger puts them by, -And Jimmy turns. And now I see -That just as Dick was, Jim will be, -And all my life will have been vain. -I might have spared myself the pain, -And done the world a blessed riddance -If I'd a drowned 'em all like kittens. -And he the sot, so strong and proud, -Who'd make white shirts of's mother's shroud, -He laughs now, it's a joke to him, -Though it's the gates of hell to Jim. - -'I've had my heart burnt out like coal, -And drops of blood wrung from soul -Day in, day out, in pain and tears, -For five and twenty wretched years; -And he, he's ate the fat and sweet, -And loafed and spat at top of street, -And drunk and leched from day till morrow, -And never known a moment's sorrow. - -He come out drunk from th'inn to look -The day my little Ann was took; -He sat there drinking, glad and gay, -The night my girl was led astray; -He praised my Dick for singing well, -The night Dick took the road to hell; -And when my corpse goes stiff and blind, -Leaving four helpless souls behind, -He will be there still, drunk and strong. -It do seem hard. It do seem wrong. -But "Woe to him by whom the offence," -Says our Lord Jesus' Testaments. -Whatever seems, God doth not slumber -Though He lets pass times without number. -He'll come with trump to call His own, -And this world's way'll be overthrown. -He'll come with glory and with fire -To cast great darkness on the liar, -To burn the drunkard and the treacher, -And do His judgment on the lecher, -To glorify the spirits' faces -Of those whose ways were stony places, -Who chose with Ruth the better part; -O Lord, I see Thee as Thou art, -O God, the fiery four-edged sword, -The thunder of the wrath outpoured, -The fiery four-faced creatures burning, -And all the four-faced wheels all turning, -Coming with trump and fiery saint. -Jim, take me home, I'm turning faint.' -They went, and some cried, 'Good old sod. -'She put it to him straight, by God.' - -Summat she was, or looked, or said, -Went home and made me hang my head. -I slunk away into the night -Knowing deep down that she was right. -I'd often heard religious ranters, -And put them down as windy canters, -But this old mother made me see -The harm I done by being me, -Being both strong and given to sin -I 'tracted weaker vessels in. - -So back to bar to get more drink, -I didn't dare begin to think, -And there were drinks and drunken singing, -As though this life were dice for flinging; -Dice to be flung, and nothing furder, -And Christ's blood just another murder. -'Come on, drinks round, salue, drink hearty. -Now, Jane, the punch-bowl for the party. -If any here won't drink with me -I'll knock his bloody eyes out. See? -Come on, cigars round, rum for mine, -Sing us a smutty song, some swine.' -But though the drinks and songs went round -That thought remained, it was not drowned. -And when I'd rise to get a light -I'd think, 'What's come to me to-night?' - -There's always crowds when drinks are standing. -The house doors slammed along the landing, -The rising wind was gusty yet, -And those who came in late were wet; -And all my body's nerves were snappin' -With sense of summat 'bout to happen, -And music seemed to come and go -And seven lights danced in a row. - -There used to be a custom then, -Miss Bourne, the Friend, went round at ten -To all the pubs in all the place -To bring the drunkard's soul to grace; -Some sulked, of course, and some were stirred, -But none gave her a dirty word. -A tall pale woman, grey and bent, -Folk said of her that she was sent. -She wore Friend's clothes, and women smiled, -But she'd a heart just like a child. -She come to us near closing time -When we were at some smutty rhyme, -And I was mad and ripe for fun; -I wouldn't a minded what I done, -So when she come so prim and grey -I pound the bar and sing, 'Hooray, -Here's Quaker come to bless and kiss us, -Come, have a gin and bitters, missus. -Or may be Quaker girls so prim -Would rather start a bloody hymn. -Now, Dick, oblige. A hymn, you swine, -Pipe up the "Officer of the Line," -A song to make one's belly ache, -Or "Nell and Roger at the Wake," -Or that sweet song, the talk in town, -"The lady fair and Abel Brown." -"O, who's that knocking at the door." -Miss Bourne'll play the music score.' -The men stood dumb as cattle are, -They grinned, but thought I'd gone too far, -There come a hush and no one break it, -They wondered how Miss Bourne would take it. -She up to me with black eyes wide, -She looked as though her spirit cried; -She took my tumbler from the bar -Beside where all the matches are -And poured it out upon the floor dust, -Among the fag-ends, spit and sawdust. - -'Saul Kane,' she said, 'when next you drink, -Do me the gentleness to think -That every drop of drink accursed -Makes Christ within you die of thirst, -That every dirty word you say -Is one more flint upon His way, -Another thorn about His head, -Another mock by where He tread, -Another nail, another cross. -All that you are is that Christ's loss.' -The clock run down and struck a chime -And Mrs Si said, 'Closing time.' - -The wet was pelting on the pane -And something broke inside my brain, -I heard the rain drip from the gutters -And Silas putting up the shutters, -While one by one the drinkers went; -I got a glimpse of what it meant, -How she and I had stood before -In some old town by some old door -Waiting intent while someone knocked -Before the door for ever locked; -She was so white that I was scared, -A gas-jet, turned the wrong way, flared, -And Silas snapped the bars in place. -Miss Bourne stood white and searched my face. -When Silas done, with ends of tunes -He 'gan a-gathering the spittoons, -His wife primmed lips and took the till. -Miss Bourne stood still and I stood still, -And 'Tick. Slow. Tick. Slow' went the clock. -She said, 'He waits until you knock.' -She turned at that and went out swift, -Si grinned and winked, his missus sniffed. - -I heard her clang the Lion door, -I marked a drink-drop roll to floor; -It took up scraps of sawdust, furry, -And crinkled on, a half inch, blurry; -A drop from my last glass of gin; -And someone waiting to come in, -A hand upon the door latch gropin' -Knocking the man inside to open. -I know the very words I said, -They bayed like bloodhounds in my head. -'The water's going out to sea -And there's a great moon calling me; -But there's a great sun calls the moon, -And all God's bells will carol soon -For joy and glory and delight -Of someone coming home to-night.' - -Out into darkness, out to night, -My flaring heart gave plenty light, -So wild it was there was no knowing -Whether the clouds or stars were blowing; -Blown chimney pots and folk blown blind -And puddles glimmering like my mind, -And chinking glass from windows banging, -And inn signs swung like people hanging, -And in my heart the drink unpriced, -The burning cataracts of Christ. - -I did not think, I did not strive, -The deep peace burnt my me alive; -The bolted door had broken in, -I knew that I had done with sin. -I knew that Christ had given me birth -To brother all the souls on earth, -And every bird and every beast -Should share the crumbs broke at the feast. - -O glory of the lighted mind. -How dead I'd been, how dumb, how blind. -The station brook, to my new eyes, -Was babbling out of Paradise; -The waters rushing from the rain -Were singing Christ has risen again. -I thought all earthly creatures knelt -From rapture of the joy I felt. -The narrow station-wall's brick ledge, -The wild hop withering in the hedge, -The lights in huntsman's upper storey -Were parts of an eternal glory, -Were God's eternal garden flowers. -I stood in bliss at this for hours. - -O glory of the lighted soul. -The dawn came up on Bradlow Knoll, -The dawn with glittering on the grasses, -The dawn which pass and never passes. - -'It's dawn,' I said, 'and chimney's smoking, -And all the blessed fields are soaking. -It's dawn, and there's an engine shunting; -And hounds, for huntsman's going hunting. -It's dawn, and I must wander north -Along the road Christ led me forth.' - -So up the road I wander slow -Past where the snowdrops used to grow -With celandines in early springs, -When rainbows were triumphant things -And dew so bright and flowers so glad, -Eternal joy to lass and lad. -And past the lovely brook I paced, -The brook whose source I never traced, -The brook, the one of two which rise -In my green dream in Paradise, -In wells where heavenly buckets clink -To give God's wandering thirsty drink -By those clean cots of carven stone -Where the clear water sings alone. -Then down, past that white-blossomed pond, -And past the chestnut trees beyond, -And past the bridge the fishers knew, -Where yellow flag flowers once grew, -Where we'd go gathering cops of clover, -In sunny June times long since over. - -O clover-cops half white, half red, -O beauty from beyond the dead. -O blossom, key to earth and heaven, -O souls that Christ has new forgiven. - -Then down the hill to gipsies' pitch -By where the brook clucks in the ditch. -A gipsy's camp was in the copse, -Three felted tents, with beehive tops, -And round black marks where fires had been, -And one old waggon painted green, -And three ribbed horses wrenching grass, -And three wild boys to watch me pass, -And one old woman by the fire -Hulking a rabbit warm from wire. -I loved to see the horses bait. -I felt I walked at Heaven's gate, -That Heaven's gate was opened wide -Yet still the gipsies camped outside. -The waste souls will prefer the wild, -Long after life is meek and mild. -Perhaps when man has entered in -His perfect city free from sin, -The campers will come past the walls -With old lame horses full of galls, -And waggons hung about with withies, -And burning coke in tinkers' stithies, -And see the golden town, and choose, -And think the wild too good to lose. -And camp outside, as these camped then -With wonder at the entering men. -So past, and past the stone-heap white -That dewberry trailers hid from sight, -And down the field so full of springs, -Where mewing peewits clap their wings, -And past the trap made for the mill -Into the field below the hill. -There was a mist along the stream, -A wet mist, dim, like in a dream; -I heard the heavy breath of cows, -And waterdrops from th'alder boughs; -And eels, or snakes, in dripping grass -Whipping aside to let me pass. -The gate was backed against the ryme -To pass the cows at milking time. -And by the gate as I went out -A moldwarp rooted earth wi 's snout. -A few steps up the Callows' Lane -Brought me above the mist again; -The two great fields arose like death -Above the mists of human breath. - -All earthly things that blessed morning -Were everlasting joy and warning. -The gate was Jesus' way made plain, -The mole was Satan foiled again, -Black blinded Satan snouting way -Along the red of Adam's clay; -The mist was error and damnation, -The lane the road unto salvation, -Out of the mist into the light; -O blessed gift of inner sight. -The past was faded like a dream; -There come the jingling of a team, -A ploughman's voice, a clink of chain, -Slow hoofs, and harness under strain. -Up the slow slope a team came bowing, -Old Callow at his autumn ploughing, -Old Callow, stooped above the hales. -Ploughing the stubble into wales; -His grave eyes looking straight ahead, -Shearing a long straight furrow red; -His plough-foot high to give it earth -To bring new food for men to birth. - -O wet red swathe of earth laid bare, -O truth, O strength, O gleaming share, -O patient eyes that watch the goal, -O ploughman of the sinner's soul. -O Jesus, drive the coulter deep -To plough my living man from sleep. - -Slow up the hill the plough team plod, -Old Callow at the task of God, -Helped by man's wit, helped by the brute -Turning a stubborn clay to fruit, -His eyes for ever on some sign -To help him plough a perfect line. -At top of rise the plough team stopped, -The fore-horse bent his head and cropped -Then the chains chack, the brasses jingle, -The lean reins gather through the cringle, -The figures move against the sky, -The clay wave breaks as they go by. -I kneeled there in the muddy fallow, -I knew that Christ was there with Callow, -That Christ was standing there with me, -That Christ had taught me what to be, -That I should plough, and as I ploughed -My Saviour Christ would sing aloud, -And as I drove the clods apart -Christ would be ploughing in my heart, -Through rest-harrow and bitter roots, -Through all my bad life's rotten fruits. - -O Christ who holds the open gate, -O Christ who drives the furrow straight, -O Christ, the plough, O Christ, the laughter -Of holy white birds flying after, -Lo, all my heart's field red and torn, -And Thou wilt bring the young green corn, -The young green corn divinely springing, -The young green corn for ever singing; -And when the field is fresh and fair -Thy blessed feet shall glitter there. -And we will walk the weeded field, -And tell the golden harvest's yield, -The corn that makes the holy bread -By which the soul of man is fed, -The holy bread, the food unpriced, -Thy everlasting mercy, Christ. - -The share will jar on many a stone, -Thou wilt not let me stand alone; -And I shall feel (Thou wilt not fail), -Thy hand on mine upon the hale. - -Near Bullen Bank, on Gloucester Road, -Thy everlasting mercy showed -The ploughman patient on the hill -For ever there, for ever still, -Ploughing the hill with steady yoke -Of pine-trees lightning-struck and broke. -I've marked the May Hill ploughman stay -There on his hill, day after day -Driving his team against the sky, -While men and women live and die. - -And now and then he seems to stoop -To clear the coulter with the scoop, -Or touch an ox to haw or gee -While Severn stream goes out to sea. -The sea with all her ships and sails, -And that great smoky port in Wales, -And Gloucester tower bright i' the sun, -All know that patient wandering one. -And sometimes when they burn the leaves -The bonfires' smoking trails and heaves, -And girt red flames twink and twire -As though he ploughed the hill afire. -And in men's hearts in many lands -A spiritual ploughman stands -For ever waiting, waiting now, -The heart's 'Put in, man, zook the plough.' - -By this the sun was all one glitter, -The little birds were all in twitter; -Out of a tuft a little lark -Went higher up than I could mark, -His little throat was all one thirst -To sing until his heart should burst, -To sing aloft in golden light -His song from blue air out of sight. -The mist drove by, and now the cows -Came plodding up to milking house, -Followed by Frank, the Callows' cowman, -Who whistled 'Adam was a ploughman.' -There come such cawing from the rooks, -Such running chuck from little brooks, -One thought it March, just budding green -With hedgerows full of celandine. -An otter out of stream and played, -Two hares come loping up and stayed; -Wide-eyed and tender-eared but bold. -Sheep bleated up by Penny's fold. -I heard a partridge covey call; -The morning sun was bright on all. - -Down the long slope the plough team drove -The tossing rooks arose and hove. -A stone struck on the share. A word -Came to the team. The red earth stirred. -I crossed the hedge by shooter's gap, -I hitched my boxer's belt a strap, -I jumped the ditch and crossed the fallow -I took the hales from farmer Callow. - -How swift the summer goes, -Forget-me-not, pink, rose. -The young grass when I started -And now the hay is carted, -And now my song is ended, -And all the summer spended; -The blackbird's second brood -Routs beech-leaves in the wood -The pink and rose have speeded, -Forget-me-not has seeded. -Only the winds that blew, -The rain that makes things new, -The earth that hides things old, -And blessings manifold. - -O lovely lily clean, -O lily springing green, -O lily bursting white, -Dear lily of delight, -Spring in my heart agen -That I may flower to men. - -GREAT HAMPDEN. June 1911. - - - - NOTE - -'The Everlasting Mercy' first appeared in _The English Review_ for -October 1911. I thank the Editor and Proprietors of that paper for -permitting me to reprint it here. 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