 | The Poems of Robert Bloomfield |  |
63
MARKET-NIGHT.
I
‘O Winds, howl not so long and loud;‘Nor with your vengeance arm the snow:
‘Bear hence each heavy-loaded cloud:
‘And let the twinkling Star-beams glow.
II
‘Now sweeping floods rush down the slope,‘Wide scattering ruin—Stars, shine soon!
‘No other light my Love can hope;
‘Midnight will want the joyous Moon.
64
III
‘O guardian Spirits!—Ye that dwell‘Where woods, and pits, and hollow ways,
‘The lone night-trav'ller's fancy swell
‘With fearful tales, of older days,—
IV
‘Press round him—guide his willing steed‘Through darkness, dangers, currents, snows;
‘Wait where, from shelt'ring thickets freed,
‘The dreary Heath's rude whirlwind blows;
V
‘That o'er the Hill with furious sweep‘Now writhes, now rends the shivering tree—
‘Sure-footed beast, thy road thou'lt keep:
‘Nor storm nor darkness startles thee!
65
VI
‘O blest assurance, (trusty steed,)‘To thee the buried road is known:
‘Home, all the spur thy footsteps need,
‘When loose the frozen rein is thrown.
VII
‘Between the roaring blasts that shake‘The naked Elder at the door,
‘Though not one prattler to me speak,
‘Their sleeping sighs delight me more.
VIII
‘Sound is their rest:—they little know‘What pain, what cold, their Father feels:
‘But dream, perhaps, they see him now,
‘While each the promis'd Orange peels.
66
IX
‘Would it were so!—the fire burns bright,‘And on the warming trencher gleams;
‘In expectation's raptur'd sight
‘How precious his arrival seems!
X
‘I'll look abroad!—'tis piercing cold!—‘How the bleak wind assails his breast!
‘Yet there the parting clouds unfold;
‘The storm is verging o'er the West.
XI
‘There shines a Star!—O welcome Sight!—‘Through the thin vapours bright'ning still!
‘Yet, 'twas beneath the fairest night
‘The murd'rer stain'd yon lonely Hill.
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XII
‘Mercy, kind Heav'n! such thoughts dispel!‘No voice, no foot is heard around!
‘Perhaps he's near the haunted well!
‘But Dapple knows each inch of ground.
XIII
‘Distressing hour! uncertain fate!‘O Mercy, Mercy, guide him home!—
‘Hark!—then I heard the distant gate,—
‘Repeat it, Echo; quickly, come!
XIV
‘One minute now will ease my fears—‘Or, still more wretched must I be?
‘No: surely Heaven has spar'd our tears
‘I see him, cloth'd in snow;—'tis he.—
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XV
‘Where have you stay'd? put down your load.‘How have you borne the storm, the cold?
‘What horrors did I not forbode—
‘That Beast is worth his weight in gold.’
XVI
Thus spoke the joyful Wife;—then ranIn grateful steams to hide her head:
Dapple was hous'd, the weary Man
With joy glanc'd o'er the Children's bed.
XVII
‘What, all asleep!—so best; he cried:‘O what a night I've travell'd through!
‘Unseen, unheard, I might have died;
‘But Heaven has brought me safe to you.
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XVIII
‘Dear Partner of my nights and days,‘That smile becomes thee!—Let us then
‘Learn, though mishap may cross our ways,
‘It is not ours to reckon when.’
| The Poems of Robert Bloomfield | |