 | 'Twixt Kiss and Lip or Under the Sword. By the author of "Women Must Weep," [i.e. F. W. O. Ward] Third edition |  |
“THE BEAUTIFUL NANCY.”
The heavens were all gritty and grim,
With the rain-spluttered splashes;
And the waters rolled ragged and dim,
In unmerciful crashes.
With the rain-spluttered splashes;
And the waters rolled ragged and dim,
In unmerciful crashes.
'Twas as though a mad painter had flung
On the sky and its vapours,
The gaunt shapes from his fantasy sprung,
Their caprices and capers—
On the sky and its vapours,
The gaunt shapes from his fantasy sprung,
Their caprices and capers—
The wild dreams of his frantic conceit,
In their writhings and rushes;
All the chaos his hand could complete,
With tempestuous brushes.
In their writhings and rushes;
All the chaos his hand could complete,
With tempestuous brushes.
And the billows were wrapped in a mist,
They fell backward and forward
As they hustled each other and hissed,
With the spray driven shoreward.
They fell backward and forward
As they hustled each other and hissed,
With the spray driven shoreward.
How they grappled the seaweed they caught,
In their hunger and hurry!
How they mumbled and mouthed it and fought,
As do hounds what they worry!
In their hunger and hurry!
How they mumbled and mouthed it and fought,
As do hounds what they worry!
They were yellow of feature and face,
And their fury was single;
While they clutched with a cruel embrace,
At the yellower shingle.
And their fury was single;
While they clutched with a cruel embrace,
At the yellower shingle.
What a jostling and thumping of stone,
What a rattling of pebbles,
Made the seaboard look famished and lone,
With their storm-cleaving trebles!
What a rattling of pebbles,
Made the seaboard look famished and lone,
With their storm-cleaving trebles!
Lean and lank lay the seaweed in lines—
Yea, it massed in to mountains;
And in ridges and ribs and inclines,
Whence the steam flowed in fountains.
Yea, it massed in to mountains;
And in ridges and ribs and inclines,
Whence the steam flowed in fountains.
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Down the wind swooped in passionate squalls,
Sowing ruin and sadness;
Till it sank into sinister falls,
In the midst of its madness.
Sowing ruin and sadness;
Till it sank into sinister falls,
In the midst of its madness.
Now it broke the broad spaces in lumps,
That were swollen and savage;
While they moved with cross jerkings and jumps,
To destruction and ravage.
That were swollen and savage;
While they moved with cross jerkings and jumps,
To destruction and ravage.
Now it clotted the billows in curds,
With a fretting and foaming;
Or it draggled slant wings of the birds,
That it clipt in their roaming.
With a fretting and foaming;
Or it draggled slant wings of the birds,
That it clipt in their roaming.
Now it whipped the white tops of the waves,
With invisible scourges
Or it drove like a ploughshare, that graves
Through the heart of the surges.
With invisible scourges
Or it drove like a ploughshare, that graves
Through the heart of the surges.
Now it crept through the cracks of the gale,
As through chinks in a hovel;
While the waters went crawling and pale,
With a serpentine grovel.
As through chinks in a hovel;
While the waters went crawling and pale,
With a serpentine grovel.
Then in zigs and in zags rushed the rain,
From its toppled down sluices;
Making mischief and mirth out of pain,
And a thousand abuses.
From its toppled down sluices;
Making mischief and mirth out of pain,
And a thousand abuses.
Here the shingle was scribbled and scrawled,
With the wreckage in acres;
There the sand-hills rose bitter and bald,
Save with scum from the breakers.
With the wreckage in acres;
There the sand-hills rose bitter and bald,
Save with scum from the breakers.
And the ships in the stress of the storm,
Growing laggard and craven,
Just as doves in a timorous swarm,
Were all huddled in haven,
Growing laggard and craven,
Just as doves in a timorous swarm,
Were all huddled in haven,
Ah, they tugged at their anchors and strained,
With a horror of reeling;
And the hopes of the mariners waned,
To a desperate steeling!
With a horror of reeling;
And the hopes of the mariners waned,
To a desperate steeling!
By the edge of the sea where it broke,
A wan woman went pacing;
And yet never a syllable spoke,
To the strife she was facing.
A wan woman went pacing;
And yet never a syllable spoke,
To the strife she was facing.
In the teeth of the wind she stood fast,
Though it ever waxed bolder;
Though it tore at her garments, and cast
The wild hair on her shoulder.
Though it ever waxed bolder;
Though it tore at her garments, and cast
The wild hair on her shoulder.
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Oft she shaded her eyes with her hands,
Through her tresses 'wet tangle;
Slewing round on the sea and the sand,
In the riot and wrangle.
Through her tresses 'wet tangle;
Slewing round on the sea and the sand,
In the riot and wrangle.
Was her boy not the flower of the flock,
And the fool of her fancy?
Would he 'scape through that shadow and shock,
In the “Beautiful Nancy”?
And the fool of her fancy?
Would he 'scape through that shadow and shock,
In the “Beautiful Nancy”?
She was due—and the seamen in doubt,
Stood with lean levelled glasses;
Sweeping still the horizon about,
O'er those perilous passes.
Stood with lean levelled glasses;
Sweeping still the horizon about,
O'er those perilous passes.
But the ships in the Downs lay all snug,
Full a thousand and over;
And not one braved the hurricane's hug,—
It was death to the rover.
Full a thousand and over;
And not one braved the hurricane's hug,—
It was death to the rover.
Tossing up, tossing down, till they leaked,
Beating back to the ocean;
While the cordage all rattled and creaked,
With a dismal commotion.
Beating back to the ocean;
While the cordage all rattled and creaked,
With a dismal commotion.
Though the timbers no rivet had lacked,
Yet the sea was their master;
Into fissures and furrows they cracked,
That seemed doomed to disaster.
Yet the sea was their master;
Into fissures and furrows they cracked,
That seemed doomed to disaster.
Though the framework was seasoned and sound,
The best bolts stirred and started;
Though the bulwarks with iron were bound,
Yet the clamps pulled and parted.
The best bolts stirred and started;
Though the bulwarks with iron were bound,
Yet the clamps pulled and parted.
Through the canvas and rigging the wind,
Made a whistling and rushing;
Every angle and flap it could find,
Felt its rending or crushing.
Made a whistling and rushing;
Every angle and flap it could find,
Felt its rending or crushing.
Under shelter the water was slack,
Though the sea ran in wrinkles;
While the beacon through rain and through rack,
Shed the feeblest of twinkles.
Though the sea ran in wrinkles;
While the beacon through rain and through rack,
Shed the feeblest of twinkles.
Yet that woman went lonely and white,
For the fool of her fancy;
Would he come in the day or at night,
In the “Beautiful Nancy”?
For the fool of her fancy;
Would he come in the day or at night,
In the “Beautiful Nancy”?
Lo, her sea-sodden garments drip down,
And her hands twist and tingle;
And her feet tremble naked and brown,
As they gripe at the shingle.
And her hands twist and tingle;
And her feet tremble naked and brown,
As they gripe at the shingle.
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Open-mouthed and wide-eyed doth she lean,
In a gaze vast and vivid;
Taking in at a glance all the scene,
With her look long and livid.
In a gaze vast and vivid;
Taking in at a glance all the scene,
With her look long and livid.
Blow on blow, sheet on sheet, they hit hard,
Savage wind, savage water;
Till she bends as a mast or a yard,
In the whirl that has caught her.
Savage wind, savage water;
Till she bends as a mast or a yard,
In the whirl that has caught her.
Till she rocks as a drunken man reels,
Or a wight in a swooning;
While she hears with a whizzing of wheels,
The old songs of her crooning.
Or a wight in a swooning;
While she hears with a whizzing of wheels,
The old songs of her crooning.
Till she sees, as she staggers still on,
Through a mist of mad spangles,
A young face that is weeping and wan,
That the storm strikes and mangles.
Through a mist of mad spangles,
A young face that is weeping and wan,
That the storm strikes and mangles.
Now to larboard and starboard she sways,
Now backward and forward;
Then she mutters a charm or she prays,
Looking southward and nor'ward.
Now backward and forward;
Then she mutters a charm or she prays,
Looking southward and nor'ward.
Far to east, far to west went her look,
Through the hurricane's churning;
While her bosom was tortured, and shook,
With an infinite yearning.
Through the hurricane's churning;
While her bosom was tortured, and shook,
With an infinite yearning.
Is his sail, that the blast beats and caves,
The white crest in the distance?
Does he sink in the trough of the waves,
Beyond hail of assistance.
The white crest in the distance?
Does he sink in the trough of the waves,
Beyond hail of assistance.
O she longs for a glimpse of her lad,
For the fool of her fancy;
Who went sailing so bright and so glad,
In the “Beautiful Nancy”!
For the fool of her fancy;
Who went sailing so bright and so glad,
In the “Beautiful Nancy”!
What is this that the billows have clutched,
As a prey or a plaything;
That the foam flakes have yellowed and smutched,
With their creamy enwraithing?
As a prey or a plaything;
That the foam flakes have yellowed and smutched,
With their creamy enwraithing?
What is this that they grind in their grip,
As do hounds in their hurry;
Which they mumble and mouth and let slip,
Like a bone that they worry?
As do hounds in their hurry;
Which they mumble and mouth and let slip,
Like a bone that they worry?
Is it flotsam or jetsam, or corpse
With dank sea-braided tresses;
That the wild water strangles and warps,
In its cruel caresses?
With dank sea-braided tresses;
That the wild water strangles and warps,
In its cruel caresses?
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Is it waif of a wreck that has sunk,
And rolls rotting or rotten;
A brine-bitten plank or a hunk,
From abysses forgotten?
And rolls rotting or rotten;
A brine-bitten plank or a hunk,
From abysses forgotten?
How they tumble the toy in their sport,
Do those tyrannous surges;
How the lashes rain sharper and short,
From those pitiless scourges!
Do those tyrannous surges;
How the lashes rain sharper and short,
From those pitiless scourges!
Now it leaps with a plunge from the womb,
Of the wind-riven breakers;
Now it flies like a ghost to its tomb,
In the ocean's dim acres.
Of the wind-riven breakers;
Now it flies like a ghost to its tomb,
In the ocean's dim acres.
And nearer and nearer it drew,
On its storm-ridden pillow;
To a shape from a shadow it grew,
As it danced with the billow.
On its storm-ridden pillow;
To a shape from a shadow it grew,
As it danced with the billow.
'Tis a plank or a rib from the side,
Of some sea-scuttled vessel;
That was torn by the fangs of the tide,
With the tempest to wrestle.
Of some sea-scuttled vessel;
That was torn by the fangs of the tide,
With the tempest to wrestle.
Ah, she buried her nails in her hands,
And she twined and untwined them;
Staring round on the sea and the sands,
And the gloom that confined them!
And she twined and untwined them;
Staring round on the sea and the sands,
And the gloom that confined them!
Ah, she bit at her lips in their blood,
Till her teeth met together;
While the rain's sheeted slants in a flood,
Blurred and blotted the weather!
Till her teeth met together;
While the rain's sheeted slants in a flood,
Blurred and blotted the weather!
Empty hands she reached forth to the plank,
As it rose and subsided;
As she touched it, it shivered and sank,
And her anguish derided.
As it rose and subsided;
As she touched it, it shivered and sank,
And her anguish derided.
Now it flowed on the cap of a wave,
And the back current breasted;
Now a flounder and wallow it gave,
And re-ebbed unarrested.
And the back current breasted;
Now a flounder and wallow it gave,
And re-ebbed unarrested.
But at last to her prayers it was sent,
But in sorrow and pity;
By the rage of the elements rent,
And all grimy and gritty.
But in sorrow and pity;
By the rage of the elements rent,
And all grimy and gritty.
Through the surf with its passionate beat,
Drove the thing that she dreaded;
Till it lay like a log at her feet,
In the seaweed embedded.
Drove the thing that she dreaded;
Till it lay like a log at her feet,
In the seaweed embedded.
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With a hubbub and hustling it came,
Read afar by her fancy;
For in letters of light ran the name—
Of the “Beautiful Nancy.”
Read afar by her fancy;
For in letters of light ran the name—
Of the “Beautiful Nancy.”
| 'Twixt Kiss and Lip or Under the Sword. By the author of "Women Must Weep," [i.e. F. W. O. Ward] Third edition | |