A beam of light fell o'er him, A hush and then a groan; And darkness swept across the sky' 1848. 216 William Edmondstoune Aytoun. THE SHAMEFUL DEATH THERE were four of us about that bed; He did not die in the night, He did not die in the day, But in the morning twilight PS When neither sun nor moon was bright, 12 He was not slain with the sword, Knight's axe, or the knightly spear, Yet spoke he never a word After he came in here; I cut away the cord From the neck of my brother dear. He did not strike one blow, For the recreants came behind, In the place where the hornbeams grow, For the hornbeam boughs swing so, That the twilight makes it blind. They lighted a great torch then, I am threescore and ten, And my hair is all turn'd grey, But I met Sir John of the Fen Long ago on a summer day, And am glad to think of the moment when I took his life away. I am threescore and ten, And my strength is mostly pass'd, But long ago I and my men, When the sky was overcast, 18 24 30 36 And the smoke roll'd over the reeds of the fen, Slew Guy of the Dolorous Blast. And now, knights all of you, A good knight and a true, 1858. And for Alice, his wife, pray too. 142 46 William Morris. RIZPAH 17 WAILING, wailing, wailing, the wind over land and sea And Willy's voice in the wind, "O mother, come out to me!" Why should he call me to-night, when he knows that I cannot go? For the downs are as bright as day, and the full moon stares at the snow. We should be seen, my dear; they would spy us out of the town. The loud black nights for us, and the storm rushing over the down, When I cannot see my own hand, but am led by the creak of the chain, And grovel and grope for my son till I find my self drenched with the rain. 8 Anything fallen again? nay-what was there left to fall? I have taken them home, I have number'd the bones, I have hidden them all. What am I saying? and what are you? do you come as a spy? Falls? what falls? who knows? As the tree falls so must it lie. 12 Who let her in? how long has she been? you what have you heard? Why did you sit so quiet? you never have spoken a word. O to pray with me-yes-a lady-none of their spies But the night has crept into my heart, and begun to darken my eyes. Ah--you, that have lived so soft, what should you know of the night, 16 The blast and the burning shame and the bitter frost and the fright? I have done it, while you were asleep-you were only made for the day. I have gather'd my baby together-and now you may go your way. 20 Nay-for it's kind of you, Madam, to sit by an old dying wife. But say nothing hard of my boy, I have only an hour of life. I kiss'd my boy in the prison, before he went out to die. "They dared me to do it," he said, and he never has told me a lie. I whipt him for robbing an orchard once when he was but a child "The farmer dared me to do it," he said; he was always so wild And idle and could n't be idle-my Willy he never could rest. The King should have made him a soldier, he would have been one of his best. 28 But he lived with a lot of wild mates, and they never would let him be good; They swore that he dare not rob the mail, and he swore that he would; And he took no life, but he took one purse, and when all was done He flung it among his fellows-"I'll none of it," said my son. I came into court to the Judge and the lawyers. I told them my tale, God's own truth-but they kill'd him, they kill'd him for robbing the mail. 32 They hang'd him in chains for a show-we had always borne a good name To be hang'd for a thief-and then put awayis n't that enough shame? Dust to dust-low down-let us hide! but they set him so high |