 | The Poems of Robert Bloomfield |  |
THE DRUNKEN FATHER.
Poor Ellen married Andrew Hall,
Who dwells beside the moor,
Where yonder rose-tree shades the wall,
And woodbines grace the door.
Who dwells beside the moor,
Where yonder rose-tree shades the wall,
And woodbines grace the door.
Who does not know how blest, how loved
Were her mild laughing eyes
By every youth!—but Andrew proved
Unworthy of his prize.
Were her mild laughing eyes
By every youth!—but Andrew proved
Unworthy of his prize.
In tippling was his whole delight,
Each sign-post barr'd his way;
He spent in muddy ale at night
The wages of the day.
Each sign-post barr'd his way;
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The wages of the day.
Though Ellen still had charms, was young,
And he in manhood's prime,
She sad beside her cradle sung,
And sigh'd away her time.
And he in manhood's prime,
She sad beside her cradle sung,
And sigh'd away her time.
One cold bleak night, the stars were hid,
In vain she wish'd him home;
Her children cried, half cheer'd, half chid,
“O when will father come!”
In vain she wish'd him home;
Her children cried, half cheer'd, half chid,
“O when will father come!”
Till Caleb, nine years old, upsprung,
And kick'd his stool aside,
And younger Mary round him clung,
“I'll go, and you shall guide.”
And kick'd his stool aside,
And younger Mary round him clung,
“I'll go, and you shall guide.”
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The children knew each inch of ground,
Yet Ellen had her fears;
Light from the lantern glimmer'd round,
And show'd her falling tears.
Yet Ellen had her fears;
Light from the lantern glimmer'd round,
And show'd her falling tears.
“Go by the mill and down the lane;
“Return the same way home:
“Perhaps you'll meet him, give him light;
“O how I wish he'd come!”
“Return the same way home:
“Perhaps you'll meet him, give him light;
“O how I wish he'd come!”
Away they went, as close and true
As lovers in the shade,
And Caleb swung his father's staff
At every step he made.
As lovers in the shade,
And Caleb swung his father's staff
At every step he made.
The noisy mill-clack rattled on,
They saw the water flow,
And leap in silvery foam along,
Deep murmuring below.
They saw the water flow,
And leap in silvery foam along,
Deep murmuring below.
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“We'll soon be there,” the hero said,
“Come on, 'tis but a mile,—
“Here's where the cricket-match was play'd,
“And here's the shady stile.
“Come on, 'tis but a mile,—
“Here's where the cricket-match was play'd,
“And here's the shady stile.
“How the light shines up every bough!
“How strange the leaves appear!
“Hark!—What was that?—'tis silent now,
“Come, Mary, never fear.”
“How strange the leaves appear!
“Hark!—What was that?—'tis silent now,
“Come, Mary, never fear.”
The staring oxen breathed aloud,
But never dream'd of harm;
A meteor glanced along the cloud
That hung o'er Wood-Hill Farm.
But never dream'd of harm;
A meteor glanced along the cloud
That hung o'er Wood-Hill Farm.
Old Cæsar bark'd and howl'd hard by,
All else was still as death;
But Caleb was ashamed to cry,
And Mary held her breath.
All else was still as death;
But Caleb was ashamed to cry,
And Mary held her breath.
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At length they spied a distant light,
And heard a chorus brawl;
Wherever drunkards stopp'd at night,
Why there was Andrew Hall.
And heard a chorus brawl;
Wherever drunkards stopp'd at night,
Why there was Andrew Hall.
The house was full, the landlord gay,
The bar-maid shook her head,
And wish'd the boobies far away
That kept her out of bed.
The bar-maid shook her head,
And wish'd the boobies far away
That kept her out of bed.
There Caleb enter'd, firm, but mild,
And spoke in plaintive tone:—
“My mother could not leave the child,
“So we are come alone.”
And spoke in plaintive tone:—
“My mother could not leave the child,
“So we are come alone.”
E'en drunken Andrew felt the blow
That innocence can give,
When its resistless accents flow
To bid affection live.
That innocence can give,
When its resistless accents flow
To bid affection live.
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“I'm coming, loves, I'm coming now,”—
Then, shuffling o'er the floor,
Contrived to make his balance true,
And led them from the door.
Then, shuffling o'er the floor,
Contrived to make his balance true,
And led them from the door.
The plain broad path that brought him there
By day, though faultless then,
Was up and down and narrow grown,
Though wide enough for ten.
By day, though faultless then,
Was up and down and narrow grown,
Though wide enough for ten.
The stiles were wretchedly contrived,
The stars were all at play,
And many a ditch had moved itself
Exactly in his way.
The stars were all at play,
And many a ditch had moved itself
Exactly in his way.
But still conceit was uppermost,
That stupid kind of pride:—
“Dost think I cannot see a post?
“Dost think I want a guide?
That stupid kind of pride:—
“Dost think I cannot see a post?
“Dost think I want a guide?
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“Why, Mary, how you twist and twirl!
“Why dost not keep the track?
“I'll carry thee home safe, my girl,”—
Then swung her on his back.
“Why dost not keep the track?
“I'll carry thee home safe, my girl,”—
Then swung her on his back.
Poor Caleb muster'd all his wits
To bear the light ahead,
As Andrew reel'd and stopp'd by fits,
Or ran with thund'ring tread.
To bear the light ahead,
As Andrew reel'd and stopp'd by fits,
Or ran with thund'ring tread.
Exult, ye brutes, traduced and scorn'd,
Though true to nature's plan;
Exult, ye bristled, and ye horn'd,
When infants govern man.
Though true to nature's plan;
Exult, ye bristled, and ye horn'd,
When infants govern man.
Down to the mill-pool's dangerous brink
The headlong party drove;
The boy alone had power to think,
While Mary scream'd above.
The headlong party drove;
The boy alone had power to think,
While Mary scream'd above.
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“Stop!” Caleb cried, “you've lost the path;
“The water's close before;
“I see it shine, 'tis very deep,—
“Why, don't you hear it roar?”
“The water's close before;
“I see it shine, 'tis very deep,—
“Why, don't you hear it roar?”
And then in agony exclaim'd,
“O where's my mother now?”
The Solomon of hops and malt
Stopp'd short and made a bow:
“O where's my mother now?”
The Solomon of hops and malt
Stopp'd short and made a bow:
His head was loose, his neck disjointed,
It cost him little trouble;
But, to be stopp'd and disappointed,
Poh! danger was a bubble.
It cost him little trouble;
But, to be stopp'd and disappointed,
Poh! danger was a bubble.
Onward he stepp'd, the boy alert,
Calling his courage forth,
Hung like a log on Andrew's skirt,
And down he brought them both.
Calling his courage forth,
Hung like a log on Andrew's skirt,
And down he brought them both.
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The tumb'ling lantern reach'd the stream,
Its hissing light soon gone;
'Twas night, without a single gleam,
And terror reign'd alone.
Its hissing light soon gone;
'Twas night, without a single gleam,
And terror reign'd alone.
A general scream the miller heard,
Then rubb'd his eyes and ran,
And soon his welcome light appear'd,
As grumbling he began:—
Then rubb'd his eyes and ran,
And soon his welcome light appear'd,
As grumbling he began:—
“What have we here, and whereabouts?
“Why what a hideous squall!
“Some drunken fool! I thought as much—
“'Tis only Andrew Hall!
“Why what a hideous squall!
“Some drunken fool! I thought as much—
“'Tis only Andrew Hall!
“Poor children!” tenderly he said,
“But now the danger's past.”
They thank'd him for his light and aid,
And drew near home at last.
“But now the danger's past.”
They thank'd him for his light and aid,
And drew near home at last.
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But who upon the misty path
To meet them forward press'd?
'Twas Ellen, shivering, with a babe
Close folded to her breast.
To meet them forward press'd?
'Twas Ellen, shivering, with a babe
Close folded to her breast.
Said Andrew, “Now you're glad, I know,
“To se-se-see us come;—
“But I have taken care of both,
“And brought them bo-bo-both safe home.”
“To se-se-see us come;—
“But I have taken care of both,
“And brought them bo-bo-both safe home.”
With Andrew vex'd, of Mary proud,
But prouder of her boy,
She kiss'd them both, and sobb'd aloud,—
The children cried for joy.
But prouder of her boy,
She kiss'd them both, and sobb'd aloud,—
The children cried for joy.
But what a home at last they found!
Of comforts all bereft;
The fire out, the last candle gone,
And not one penny left!
Of comforts all bereft;
The fire out, the last candle gone,
And not one penny left!
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But Caleb quick as lightning flew,
And raised a light instead;
And as the kindling brands he blew,
His father snored in bed.
And raised a light instead;
And as the kindling brands he blew,
His father snored in bed.
No brawling, boxing termagant
Was Ellen, though offended;
Who ever knew a fault like this
By violence amended?
Was Ellen, though offended;
Who ever knew a fault like this
By violence amended?
No:—she was mild as April morn,
And Andrew loved her too;
She rose at daybreak, though forlorn,
To try what love could do.
And Andrew loved her too;
She rose at daybreak, though forlorn,
To try what love could do.
And as her waking husband groan'd,
And roll'd his burning head,
She spoke with all the power of truth,
Down kneeling by his bed.
And roll'd his burning head,
She spoke with all the power of truth,
Down kneeling by his bed.
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“Dear Andrew, hear me,—though distress'd
“Almost too much to speak,—
“This infant starves upon my breast—
“To scold I am too weak.
“Almost too much to speak,—
“This infant starves upon my breast—
“To scold I am too weak.
“I work, I spin, I toil all day,
“Then leave my work to cry,
“And start with horror when I think
“You wish to see me die.
“Then leave my work to cry,
“And start with horror when I think
“You wish to see me die.
“But do you wish it? can that bring
“More comfort, or more joy?
“Look round the house, how destitute!
“Look at your ragged boy!
“More comfort, or more joy?
“Look round the house, how destitute!
“Look at your ragged boy!
“That boy should make a father proud,
“If any feeling can;
“Then save your children, save your wife,
“Your honour as a man.
“If any feeling can;
“Then save your children, save your wife,
“Your honour as a man.
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“Hear me, for God's sake hear me now,
“And act a father's part!”
The culprit bless'd her angel tongue,
And clasp'd her to his heart;
“And act a father's part!”
The culprit bless'd her angel tongue,
And clasp'd her to his heart;
And would have vow'd, and would have sworn,
But Ellen kiss'd him dumb,—
“Exert your mind, vow to yourself,
“And better days will come.
But Ellen kiss'd him dumb,—
“Exert your mind, vow to yourself,
“And better days will come.
“I shall be well when you are kind,
“And you'll be better too.”—
“I'll drink no more,”—he quick rejoin'd,—
“Be't poison if I do.”
“And you'll be better too.”—
“I'll drink no more,”—he quick rejoin'd,—
“Be't poison if I do.”
From that bright day his plants, his flowers,
His crops began to thrive,
And for three years has Andrew been
The soberest man alive.
His crops began to thrive,
And for three years has Andrew been
The soberest man alive.
| The Poems of Robert Bloomfield | |