 | Vulgar Verses |  |
110
De Haut en Bas.
She sat upon the poor folks' bench
Beside the western door;
With many another working wench
As modest and as poor.
Beside the western door;
With many another working wench
As modest and as poor.
But none had such a face as hers—
So wistful and so bright:
A face wherein the spirit stirs
Of wonder, of delight.
So wistful and so bright:
A face wherein the spirit stirs
Of wonder, of delight.
She sate in quiet, and at ease,
Unnoticed, and alone;
Her bare hands folded on her knees,
Because their work was done.
Unnoticed, and alone;
Her bare hands folded on her knees,
Because their work was done.
She sate, and gazed with might and main
At the great church around,
And heard, with pleasure nigh to pain,
The organ's stately sound.
At the great church around,
And heard, with pleasure nigh to pain,
The organ's stately sound.
And when that noblest music rose
Yet louder, louder still,
And throbb'd and thunder'd towards its close—
At each impassion'd thrill
Yet louder, louder still,
And throbb'd and thunder'd towards its close—
At each impassion'd thrill
111
She felt, but could not understand,
What sights and sounds would say;
She felt, and with laborious hand
She wiped her tears away.
What sights and sounds would say;
She felt, and with laborious hand
She wiped her tears away.
For all she heard and all she saw,
The splendour and the gloom,
Fill'd her untutor'd soul with awe,
Like prophecies of doom.
The splendour and the gloom,
Fill'd her untutor'd soul with awe,
Like prophecies of doom.
But now, a vision to her sight
New joy, new wonder, gave:
The glory of a golden light
Stream'd out into the nave.
New joy, new wonder, gave:
The glory of a golden light
Stream'd out into the nave.
Within it, moved a brilliant crowd
Of priests and worshippers:
How gallantly their presence show'd—
How different from hers!
Of priests and worshippers:
How gallantly their presence show'd—
How different from hers!
For she was drest like one whose place
Is by a cottage fire:
No sign of fashionable grace
In all her plain attire.
Is by a cottage fire:
No sign of fashionable grace
In all her plain attire.
She only wore her warm grey gown,
Her shawl of green and blue;
Her close straw bonnet, simply brown,
Was neat, but far from new.
Her shawl of green and blue;
Her close straw bonnet, simply brown,
Was neat, but far from new.
112
Within its arch, a snowy cap
Half hid her soft brown hair,
And framed a face which some strange hap
Had made exceeding fair:
Half hid her soft brown hair,
And framed a face which some strange hap
Had made exceeding fair:
Too fair in feature, too refined,
Had labour not subdued
Down to the level of her kind
Its sweet beatitude.
Had labour not subdued
Down to the level of her kind
Its sweet beatitude.
Labour had roughen'd all her skin,
And warm'd its ruddy hue;
But left the unsullied soul within
Still womanly, still true.
And warm'd its ruddy hue;
But left the unsullied soul within
Still womanly, still true.
Thus then she watch'd that brilliant crowd;
And with no envious eye
Beheld the prosperous and the proud
Go negligently by.
And with no envious eye
Beheld the prosperous and the proud
Go negligently by.
She minded not their callous stare;
She sat beside the wall,
And only thought, that one was there
Who loved her best of all.
She sat beside the wall,
And only thought, that one was there
Who loved her best of all.
Him only, with her eyes she sought
In all that multitude;
And “Will he notice me?” she thought:
She hardly thought he would.
In all that multitude;
And “Will he notice me?” she thought:
She hardly thought he would.
113
True, he was always kind and free;
And often arm in arm
They walk'd like equals, he and she,
At evening, toward the farm;
And often arm in arm
They walk'd like equals, he and she,
At evening, toward the farm;
But once—so quick her memory ran—
A passing stranger said
“How odd! He is a gentleman,
And she a servant-maid!”
A passing stranger said
“How odd! He is a gentleman,
And she a servant-maid!”
Then, surely, in so grand a place,
So fair a throng, as this,
He might be shamed to see her face
And own that she was his.
So fair a throng, as this,
He might be shamed to see her face
And own that she was his.
Ah, there he was! And yet, she sigh'd;
For he was not alone;
With him, another man she spied
Of station like his own.
For he was not alone;
With him, another man she spied
Of station like his own.
How slow, how leisurely, they walk'd!
And she was close at hand;
She heard them, but of what they talk'd
She could not understand.
And she was close at hand;
She heard them, but of what they talk'd
She could not understand.
They talk'd about the Norman door,
The windows, and the tombs:
While she—she only knew the lore
Of buckets and of brooms!
The windows, and the tombs:
While she—she only knew the lore
Of buckets and of brooms!
114
At last, they saw her; he at least,
Her sweetheart, saw; and smiled,
And came to her, as to a feast
Of dainties, comes a child.
Her sweetheart, saw; and smiled,
And came to her, as to a feast
Of dainties, comes a child.
So ardent was his look, so flush'd
With pleasure—not with pain—
She started to her feet, and blush'd,
And curtsied to the twain.
With pleasure—not with pain—
She started to her feet, and blush'd,
And curtsied to the twain.
They look'd at her; the stranger's gaze
Was kindly, but severe:
Interest it show'd, but show'd amaze,
And something too of fear:
Was kindly, but severe:
Interest it show'd, but show'd amaze,
And something too of fear:
Fear, for the sorrow and the shame
That could not be defied,
If such a lover's honour'd name
Were own'd by such a bride:
That could not be defied,
If such a lover's honour'd name
Were own'd by such a bride:
Fear for the maid, in whom he saw
Such sweet simplicity,
Such tenderness, such winning awe
Of him and his degree.
Such sweet simplicity,
Such tenderness, such winning awe
Of him and his degree.
“She is a servant, then, 'tis clear;
How can she mate with him?
And yet, their love is deep and dear;
It is no passing whim.”
How can she mate with him?
And yet, their love is deep and dear;
It is no passing whim.”
115
But that his friend, so sorely tried
By warring sympathies,
By doubts, if he could vail his pride
Or she were fit to rise,
By warring sympathies,
By doubts, if he could vail his pride
Or she were fit to rise,
No longer in such toils involved,
But fix'd to choose his fate,
Spoke freely, as a man resolved
That Love should be his mate.
But fix'd to choose his fate,
Spoke freely, as a man resolved
That Love should be his mate.
Yet as a master to a maid
He only spoke to her:
“Well, Ann, I'm glad you're here,” he said;
And she said, “Thank you, sir.”
He only spoke to her:
“Well, Ann, I'm glad you're here,” he said;
And she said, “Thank you, sir.”
“Ann, when I knew you first of all,
And found you good and fair—
When you were servant at the Hall,
And I was staying there—
And found you good and fair—
When you were servant at the Hall,
And I was staying there—
“I told you, that I had a friend
Who would be true to me,
And see us safely to the end:
Well, dearest, this is he.”
Who would be true to me,
And see us safely to the end:
Well, dearest, this is he.”
Then Ann, intent on all he said,
With artless confidence
Look'd up, and to the stranger made
Her rustic reverence.
With artless confidence
Look'd up, and to the stranger made
Her rustic reverence.
116
“This,” said her sweetheart, “is my love:
My first, my only one;
This is the maid I told you of,
Whom I have woo'd and won:
My first, my only one;
This is the maid I told you of,
Whom I have woo'd and won:
“This is the happiness to be,
The partner of my life;
And you, my oldest friend, are he
Shall make us man and wife.
The partner of my life;
And you, my oldest friend, are he
Shall make us man and wife.
“See!” and he took her harden'd hand—
“This hand, so rough and brown,
To me is fairest in the land;
Because it is my own.
“This hand, so rough and brown,
To me is fairest in the land;
Because it is my own.
“And here is an unwonted thing,
I give it, for a sign:
To-morrow, Ann, this golden ring
Shall make thee wholly mine:
I give it, for a sign:
To-morrow, Ann, this golden ring
Shall make thee wholly mine:
“Mine, though thou wert condemn'd to live
By nothing else adorn'd:
With only thy poor self to give,
No wonder thou art scorn'd!
By nothing else adorn'd:
With only thy poor self to give,
No wonder thou art scorn'd!
“Scorn'd by the wealthy, the refined—
By all who cannot trace
The outlines of a noble mind
Within a peasant's face;
By all who cannot trace
The outlines of a noble mind
Within a peasant's face;
117
“But not by me! I know full well
The thoughts that in thee move;
And no one but myself can tell
What thou hast done for love.
The thoughts that in thee move;
And no one but myself can tell
What thou hast done for love.
“Go home, then; there thy mother waits,
I know she waits, for thee;
And here to-morrow at the gates
Be with us, thou and she.
I know she waits, for thee;
And here to-morrow at the gates
Be with us, thou and she.
“Come as thou art, in this plain dress—
Unwreathed, unveil'd, ungloved:
Thyself is all thy loveliness,
And all I ever loved.
Unwreathed, unveil'd, ungloved:
Thyself is all thy loveliness,
And all I ever loved.
“Thou art sufficient, as thou art,
To stand before the shrine,
And take my honour and my heart
And pay me back with thine.
To stand before the shrine,
And take my honour and my heart
And pay me back with thine.
“A homely wedding shall be ours;
A homely honeymoon:
No bridal pomp, no costly flowers,
No nymphs in satin shoon:
A homely honeymoon:
No bridal pomp, no costly flowers,
No nymphs in satin shoon:
“I would not mock thy comely face
With trivial toys like these!
Thou in thine own accustom'd place
Shalt still abide, at ease.
With trivial toys like these!
Thou in thine own accustom'd place
Shalt still abide, at ease.
118
“Aye, be a servant, if thou wilt,
Or be a lady, dear!
Thou hast the gold, though not the gilt,
That glows in either sphere.
Or be a lady, dear!
Thou hast the gold, though not the gilt,
That glows in either sphere.
“Go then; and give me only this,
Until thou art my wife:
This kiss, that to thy master is
The sacrament of life.”
Until thou art my wife:
This kiss, that to thy master is
The sacrament of life.”
L'Envoy.
And did he marry her? Oh yes!
And did it answer? Well—
Those only, who have heart to bless
A working wench, can tell.
And did it answer? Well—
Those only, who have heart to bless
A working wench, can tell.
For she is still a working wench,
And sits with hands still bare,
O' Sundays, on the poor folk's bench:
But he is with her there.
And sits with hands still bare,
O' Sundays, on the poor folk's bench:
But he is with her there.
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