 | The select poems of Dr. Thomas Dunn English (exclusive of the "Battle lyrics") |  |
268
THE SLEIGH-RIDE.
Here, at my chamber window, I
Watch painted cutters gliding by,
And see, along the crowded street,
The horses dash with flinging feet:
But little do I reck of those
As memory's current backward flows.
Watch painted cutters gliding by,
And see, along the crowded street,
The horses dash with flinging feet:
But little do I reck of those
As memory's current backward flows.
A winter scene of early days
Is spread before the inner gaze—
The pleasant hours from dark to dawn,
When by the stout farm horses drawn,
The sledges, with their laughing loads,
Went swiftly o'er the Mansfield roads.
Is spread before the inner gaze—
The pleasant hours from dark to dawn,
When by the stout farm horses drawn,
The sledges, with their laughing loads,
Went swiftly o'er the Mansfield roads.
John Scudder, in his four-horse sleigh,
Four couples in it, led the way;
A dozen others in a string,
With shouts that made the night-air ring,
While in my cutter, following fast
Myself and Betty came the last.
Four couples in it, led the way;
A dozen others in a string,
With shouts that made the night-air ring,
While in my cutter, following fast
Myself and Betty came the last.
What cared we two that those ahead
Faster upon the white road sped?
And what cared I if we should win
Later our welcome at the inn?
She sat beside me—thoughts of her
Even now these pulses thrill and stir.
Faster upon the white road sped?
And what cared I if we should win
Later our welcome at the inn?
She sat beside me—thoughts of her
Even now these pulses thrill and stir.
Past houses where the sleepers lay
Unwakened by the watch-dog's bay,
Through patches of the woodland where
The leafless trees rose gaunt and bare,
Through drifts our horses scarce could tread,
With songs and laughter on we sped.
Unwakened by the watch-dog's bay,
269
The leafless trees rose gaunt and bare,
Through drifts our horses scarce could tread,
With songs and laughter on we sped.
How wild the pleasure of that night,
Careering o'er the snow-waste white!
How tinkled musically clear
Our bells within the atmosphere!
How gay our mirth and wild our din
When once we reached M'Ardle's Inn!
Careering o'er the snow-waste white!
How tinkled musically clear
Our bells within the atmosphere!
How gay our mirth and wild our din
When once we reached M'Ardle's Inn!
The old Scotch landlord, bluff and loud,
A ready welcome gave the crowd,
Made hostlers take our brutes to stall,
Gave us what drink we chose to call,
Then led us to the great, wide room
Where tallow-dips dispelled the gloom.
A ready welcome gave the crowd,
Made hostlers take our brutes to stall,
Gave us what drink we chose to call,
Then led us to the great, wide room
Where tallow-dips dispelled the gloom.
The fiddler in his corner there
Sat ready in his backless chair;
And soon the rustic belles and beaux
Ranged down the room in double rows,
Waiting the music light and sweet
To set in motion eager feet.
Sat ready in his backless chair;
And soon the rustic belles and beaux
Ranged down the room in double rows,
Waiting the music light and sweet
To set in motion eager feet.
Old Sol, the fiddler, jolly one,
Named after David's royal son,
(Though little did that Solomon know
Save how to handle fiddle-bow,)
Bent down his woolly pate and grey,
Stamped his left foot, and sawed away.
Named after David's royal son,
(Though little did that Solomon know
Save how to handle fiddle-bow,)
Bent down his woolly pate and grey,
Stamped his left foot, and sawed away.
Then every one on pleasure bent
Danced all night long to heart's content,
Wound and unwound, and in and out
Moved through the wild, fantastic rout,
Changing their partners oft and free;
But Betty danced alone with me.
Danced all night long to heart's content,
270
Moved through the wild, fantastic rout,
Changing their partners oft and free;
But Betty danced alone with me.
Then swiftly, at the dawning grey,
My steel-shod cutter made its way,
With Betty, promised as my bride,
Well-wrapped, and snuggled at my side,
The cold, blue heavens bending o'er,
And Dobbin dashing on before.
My steel-shod cutter made its way,
With Betty, promised as my bride,
Well-wrapped, and snuggled at my side,
The cold, blue heavens bending o'er,
And Dobbin dashing on before.
Betty is dead, the rest have gone;
But still the stream moves slowly on:
An old man, lone and friendless now,
With wrinkles on my cheeks and brow,
I sit and watch the jingling sleighs
Swift gliding o'er the city ways.
But still the stream moves slowly on:
An old man, lone and friendless now,
With wrinkles on my cheeks and brow,
I sit and watch the jingling sleighs
Swift gliding o'er the city ways.
| The select poems of Dr. Thomas Dunn English (exclusive of the "Battle lyrics") | |