The Widow's Tale and other Poems. By the Author of Ellen Fitzarthur [i.e. by C. A. Bowles] |
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WILLIAM AND JEAN. |
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 | The Widow's Tale |  |
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WILLIAM AND JEAN.
Bright was the morn, and glowing bright
The sultry hour of noon;
But lovelier is this evening light—
This Sabbath-eve of June.
The sultry hour of noon;
But lovelier is this evening light—
This Sabbath-eve of June.
The sun yet lingers in the west—
On spire, and roof, and wall;
On wooded slope, and river's breast,
His parting glories fall.
On spire, and roof, and wall;
On wooded slope, and river's breast,
His parting glories fall.
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And insect swarms are on the wing
Down every slanting ray,
And birds from every hedgerow sing
Their vesper roundelay;—
Down every slanting ray,
And birds from every hedgerow sing
Their vesper roundelay;—
A concert blithe—and with its notes
The sound of rustic glee,
As up the winding vale it floats,
Comes mingling merrily.
The sound of rustic glee,
As up the winding vale it floats,
Comes mingling merrily.
The swain has left his spade and fields,
The lass, her six days' care:
The dusky shop its prisoner yields,
To freedom, light, and air.
The lass, her six days' care:
The dusky shop its prisoner yields,
To freedom, light, and air.
Twice paid religious sacred rites
Beneath that hallowed dome;
As health and youth, and love invites,
The happy rustics roam.
Beneath that hallowed dome;
As health and youth, and love invites,
The happy rustics roam.
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The ploughman in his snow-white frock—
(For still on village-green,
Albeit e'en village-maids can mock,
That rural garb is seen,)
(For still on village-green,
Albeit e'en village-maids can mock,
That rural garb is seen,)
In snow-white frock, contrasting strong
His brown and glowing cheek,
He speeds the well-known path along,
His chosen maid to seek.
His brown and glowing cheek,
He speeds the well-known path along,
His chosen maid to seek.
The maid in all her best array,
White hose, and shining shoe,
In conscious beauty shines as gay,
Ye birth-night belles! as you.
White hose, and shining shoe,
In conscious beauty shines as gay,
Ye birth-night belles! as you.
And many a dame with graver pride,
And calculating face,
Close by her aged partner's side
Walks forth with sober pace.
And calculating face,
Close by her aged partner's side
Walks forth with sober pace.
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Her gown, where flowers of every hue
In glossy mixture glow,
Drawn high each gaping pocket through,
The long white skirt to show.
In glossy mixture glow,
Drawn high each gaping pocket through,
The long white skirt to show.
His Sunday suit, in oaken chest
Six days preserved with care,
(The same on holyday and feast,
His fathers wont to wear,)
Six days preserved with care,
(The same on holyday and feast,
His fathers wont to wear,)
Short armed—wide skirted—on the breast,
With buttons long and bright,
Lapel'd; revealing the plush vest
In all its crimson light.
With buttons long and bright,
Lapel'd; revealing the plush vest
In all its crimson light.
Not always thus in social guise
Those ancient helpmates fare:
Our country way, oft otherwise
Marshals the wedded pair.
Those ancient helpmates fare:
Our country way, oft otherwise
Marshals the wedded pair.
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With hands behind his back that sway
His oaken cudgel's weight,
The husband plods along the way,
Before his trudging mate.
His oaken cudgel's weight,
The husband plods along the way,
Before his trudging mate.
Yet cordial words between them pass,
Remarks go to and fro
On turnip-crops, and after-grass—
How pigs and children grow.
Remarks go to and fro
On turnip-crops, and after-grass—
How pigs and children grow.
What whim bewitches Farmer Grimes,
With that new-fangled plough—
And how (when they were young) the times
Were better far than now.
With that new-fangled plough—
And how (when they were young) the times
Were better far than now.
And younger groups of married folk,
Yet new to worldly cares,
Yet new to wedded life, still yoke
Close linked in social pairs.
Yet new to worldly cares,
Yet new to wedded life, still yoke
Close linked in social pairs.
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The husband, with one steady arm,
Supports his sun-burnt mate—
The other clasps a feebler form—
His first-born's infant weight.
Supports his sun-burnt mate—
The other clasps a feebler form—
His first-born's infant weight.
But when before them, children twain
Go prattling on the road,
The mother (if a third remain)
Must bear the chubby load.
Go prattling on the road,
The mother (if a third remain)
Must bear the chubby load.
'Tis pleasant on their way to meet,
Returning gaily home,
The groups such Sabbath-evening sweet
Has tempted forth to roam.
Returning gaily home,
The groups such Sabbath-evening sweet
Has tempted forth to roam.
Young laughing girls in merry bands,
And serving maidens neat,
And lovers true, whose plighted hands
Shall soon in wedlock meet;
And serving maidens neat,
And lovers true, whose plighted hands
Shall soon in wedlock meet;
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And parents, bringing up the rear
With patriarchal grace,
Of sturdy sons and daughters dear—
And oft a second race,
With patriarchal grace,
Of sturdy sons and daughters dear—
And oft a second race,
Their little ones, completes the band;
The babe scarce two months old,
And urchins in each chubby hand
Green boughs and flowers that hold.
The babe scarce two months old,
And urchins in each chubby hand
Green boughs and flowers that hold.
But one there is, whom oft I've seen,
A man with eyes cast down,
Who wanders with dejected mien,
Pale, serious, and alone.
A man with eyes cast down,
Who wanders with dejected mien,
Pale, serious, and alone.
Yet not alone—for, nestling warm
As in a mother's breast,
A little infant's sickly form
To his is fondly pressed.
As in a mother's breast,
A little infant's sickly form
To his is fondly pressed.
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Twelve months, twelve little months! are fled,
Since warm with hope of life,
And well-earned comfort, William wed
His long bethrothed wife.
Since warm with hope of life,
And well-earned comfort, William wed
His long bethrothed wife.
His long betrothed—for duteous Jean
Had still his suit denied,
To soothe the woes of age and pain
A parent's bed beside.
Had still his suit denied,
To soothe the woes of age and pain
A parent's bed beside.
And William many a stormy sea
Had ploughed, and distant main,
To amass, 'gainst she his own should be,
A little hoard for Jean.
Had ploughed, and distant main,
To amass, 'gainst she his own should be,
A little hoard for Jean.
And many a farewell had they wept,
And many a welcome spoken,
And each with faith's devotion kept
True love's mysterious token—
And many a welcome spoken,
And each with faith's devotion kept
True love's mysterious token—
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The broken sixpence:—simple bond
Two simple hearts that plighted,
As pure, as faithful, and as fond
As ever love united.
Two simple hearts that plighted,
As pure, as faithful, and as fond
As ever love united.
And many a treasure Jean possessed
Brought over seas, to prove
That absence in her William's breast
Had never weak'ned love.
Brought over seas, to prove
That absence in her William's breast
Had never weak'ned love.
Seeds whose bright hues, and rich perfumes,
A tropic climate boasts—
And handkerchiefs from Indian looms,
And skins from northern coasts.
A tropic climate boasts—
And handkerchiefs from Indian looms,
And skins from northern coasts.
Herself with foresight provident,
On future household cares,
And household garniture intent,
A goodly store prepares:
On future household cares,
And household garniture intent,
A goodly store prepares:
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A four-post bed at second price,
Yet scarce the worse for wear—
Gay flowery chintz of quaint device
Its flowing curtains fair.
Yet scarce the worse for wear—
Gay flowery chintz of quaint device
Its flowing curtains fair.
And drawers with locks and knobs of brass,
And wood of polished grain,
Tea-chest, and tray, and looking-glass,
And patchwork counterpane.
And wood of polished grain,
Tea-chest, and tray, and looking-glass,
And patchwork counterpane.
“So, when the marriage day shall come,”
She thinks with honest pride
“I shall not enter William's home
A vain, unportioned bride.”
She thinks with honest pride
“I shall not enter William's home
A vain, unportioned bride.”
Thus years crept on, till youth's sweet prime
With Jean had passed away,
And toil and hardship, more than time,
Mixed William's locks with grey.
With Jean had passed away,
And toil and hardship, more than time,
Mixed William's locks with grey.
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But ruddy was his sun-burnt cheek;
And in his Jeanie's face
Love beamed with tenderness so meek,
He missed no youthful grace.
And in his Jeanie's face
Love beamed with tenderness so meek,
He missed no youthful grace.
At length the object of her cares,
The aged parent, died;
And William wiped away the tears
Of his long-promised bride.
The aged parent, died;
And William wiped away the tears
Of his long-promised bride.
The days of mourning for the dead
(No shortened period) o'er,
In last year's June the pair were wed,
On earth to part no more.
(No shortened period) o'er,
In last year's June the pair were wed,
On earth to part no more.
At least but once—“But once again
Shall William's absence grieve thee,
One short, safe cruize, and then, my Jean!
He never more will leave thee.”
Shall William's absence grieve thee,
One short, safe cruize, and then, my Jean!
He never more will leave thee.”
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“Oh, William! oft I've known the pain
Of parting thus with thee—
God grant as safely back again
Thou may'st return to me.”
Of parting thus with thee—
God grant as safely back again
Thou may'st return to me.”
“Aye, doubt it not—a sailor's wife,
My Jeanie! and in tears!
I go not to the battle strife:
We part not, love! for years.”
My Jeanie! and in tears!
I go not to the battle strife:
We part not, love! for years.”
He chides those tears, but on her check
His own are mingling too:
He only looks, he cannot speak,
That ling'ring, long adieu.
His own are mingling too:
He only looks, he cannot speak,
That ling'ring, long adieu.
The ship sails on, till many a day,
And many a week is past;
And time with William creeps away
That lately sped so fast.
And many a week is past;
And time with William creeps away
That lately sped so fast.
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At length near palmy isles she moors,
(Those isles th' Atlantic laves,)
And spicy breezes from whose shores
Come wafted o'er the waves.
(Those isles th' Atlantic laves,)
And spicy breezes from whose shores
Come wafted o'er the waves.
Fair are those shores, but William's eyes
Are to their glories dim—
England's green vales and cloudy skies
Are dearer far to him.
Are to their glories dim—
England's green vales and cloudy skies
Are dearer far to him.
And when on deck 'tis his to keep
The silent watch of night,
To that dear land across the deep
Unfettered thought takes flight.
The silent watch of night,
To that dear land across the deep
Unfettered thought takes flight.
Back to his humble home she flies,
And faithfully pourtrays,
Where his own Jean with tearful eyes
For William's safety prays.
And faithfully pourtrays,
Where his own Jean with tearful eyes
For William's safety prays.
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As on the tender thought he dwells
His own are glist'ning too—
But hope the gath'ring mist dispels
As sun-beams drink the dew.
His own are glist'ning too—
But hope the gath'ring mist dispels
As sun-beams drink the dew.
She wafts him to a fairer scene,
The rapt'rous hour of meeting—
More blest for sorrows that have been,
That sweet and silent greeting!
The rapt'rous hour of meeting—
More blest for sorrows that have been,
That sweet and silent greeting!
The anchor's weighed, and set the sails,
And come the blessed day;
And the good ship, with fav'ring gales,
Bounds merrily away.
And come the blessed day;
And the good ship, with fav'ring gales,
Bounds merrily away.
The gale lasts fair—one steady breeze
Impels her briskly o'er;
And soon impatient William sees
Old England's cliffs once more.
Impels her briskly o'er;
And soon impatient William sees
Old England's cliffs once more.
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No other eye so soon discerns
Those rocky bulwarks white;
No other heart like William's burns,
Exulting at the sight.
Those rocky bulwarks white;
No other heart like William's burns,
Exulting at the sight.
They reach the port, but dull delays
Short space detain him there:
Cold reason thus computes three days—
Love reckons each a year.
Short space detain him there:
Cold reason thus computes three days—
Love reckons each a year.
But he's released, he's in the boat,
And tugging at the oar—
Three hearty cheers, and off they float,
And stoutly pull to shore.
And tugging at the oar—
Three hearty cheers, and off they float,
And stoutly pull to shore.
Their keel has hardly kissed the sand,
(The waves were rough that day,)
No matter—William leaps to land
Through clouds of dashing spray.
(The waves were rough that day,)
No matter—William leaps to land
Through clouds of dashing spray.
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And soon on reeling summit high
Of crowded coach he's stowed—
The wheels go round—the horses fly—
They smoke along the road.
Of crowded coach he's stowed—
The wheels go round—the horses fly—
They smoke along the road.
His clumsy sea-chest, long and large,
The snail-pac'd waggon brings—
But one small bundle (all his charge)
O'er his own shoulder slings.
The snail-pac'd waggon brings—
But one small bundle (all his charge)
O'er his own shoulder slings.
Rare trifles, as in days of yore,
For Jeanie it conveys—
For her he loves—now ten times more
Than e'en in courtship's days.
For Jeanie it conveys—
For her he loves—now ten times more
Than e'en in courtship's days.
The wheels go round—the horses fly—
They smoke along the way—
But William's thoughts, impatiently,
Fly swifter far than they.
They smoke along the way—
But William's thoughts, impatiently,
Fly swifter far than they.
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“What frightful speed, o'er these rough stones,”
Cries one, “with such a load!”
“What heavy sailing, William groans,
Along so smooth a road!”
Cries one, “with such a load!”
“What heavy sailing, William groans,
Along so smooth a road!”
Rugged or smooth, the journey's o'er,
The twanging horn is blown;
And William, at the well known door,
With one light spring leaps down
The twanging horn is blown;
And William, at the well known door,
With one light spring leaps down
He's at the door—the threshold's past—
“My Jean! my own dear love!
My wife! thy William's come at last”—
No answer—“She's above.”
“My Jean! my own dear love!
My wife! thy William's come at last”—
No answer—“She's above.”
And up the narrow stair he flies,
And to her chamber-door—
But hark! an infant's feeble cries—
Oh, joy! unfelt before.
And to her chamber-door—
But hark! an infant's feeble cries—
Oh, joy! unfelt before.
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“My wife! my child! Oh, sweet surprise!”
In—in—with stealthy care—
Aye, William! on that bed she lies,
But death's thy rival there.
In—in—with stealthy care—
Aye, William! on that bed she lies,
But death's thy rival there.
Pale as her shroud that sunken cheek,
And cold that marble brow;
Those sealed and rigid lips can speak
No joyful welcome now.
And cold that marble brow;
Those sealed and rigid lips can speak
No joyful welcome now.
Tears (sent from Heaven) are sorrow's balm—
But William cannot weep—
His grief is passionless and calm,
As Jean's untroubled sleep.
But William cannot weep—
His grief is passionless and calm,
As Jean's untroubled sleep.
Vainly they urge him—those around—
They bid him weep and pray—
He hears their murm'ring voices sound,
But knows not what they say.
They bid him weep and pray—
He hears their murm'ring voices sound,
But knows not what they say.
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The infant moans—with gesture wild
He shrinks, and shudd'ring start—
“Wilt thou not look on Jeanie's child?”
Those words have thrilled his heart.
He shrinks, and shudd'ring start—
“Wilt thou not look on Jeanie's child?”
Those words have thrilled his heart.
“On Jeanie's child!—Oh, Jean! my Jean!”—
He folds it to his breast:
The flood of anguish pours amain,
So fearfully represt.
He folds it to his breast:
The flood of anguish pours amain,
So fearfully represt.
He weeps, he kneels beside the dead—
His tears are on her cheek:
That dear, dear face, though life has fled,
Still beautifully meek.
His tears are on her cheek:
That dear, dear face, though life has fled,
Still beautifully meek.
So long he looks, wild thoughts arise,
Th' extravagance of love—
He almost thinks on those closed eyes
The long dark lashes move.
Th' extravagance of love—
He almost thinks on those closed eyes
The long dark lashes move.
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Oh, William! grief distracts thy brain—
Resign that senseless clay—
Those eyes will ne'er unclose again
Till the great judgment-day—
Resign that senseless clay—
Those eyes will ne'er unclose again
Till the great judgment-day—
'Tis done—his eyes have looked their last—
They close the coffin-lid—
The pang unspeakable is past—
In the dark grave she's hid,
They close the coffin-lid—
The pang unspeakable is past—
In the dark grave she's hid,
She's in her grave, and he's alone
And unconnected here,
Save to that hapless little one,
Whose birth has cost so dear.
And unconnected here,
Save to that hapless little one,
Whose birth has cost so dear.
His Jeanie's child! her last bequest!
To give it life, she died—
Oh! sad and sacred interest—
Earth has none such beside.
To give it life, she died—
Oh! sad and sacred interest—
Earth has none such beside.
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He watches it (a sickly thing)
With all a mother's care—
He sings to it, as mothers sing,
He fears, as mothers fear.
With all a mother's care—
He sings to it, as mothers sing,
He fears, as mothers fear.
'Tis in his arms as soon as drest—
'Tis seldom from his sight
A few short hours, and in his breast
'Tis cradled half the night.
'Tis seldom from his sight
A few short hours, and in his breast
'Tis cradled half the night.
And oft on Sabbath eve, as now,
With that dear charge he strays,
With head declined and thoughtful brow,
By least frequented ways.
With that dear charge he strays,
With head declined and thoughtful brow,
By least frequented ways.
He tarries not with those who meet,
Nor seeks their path to shun:
Has courteous words for all who greet,
But social smiles for none.
Nor seeks their path to shun:
Has courteous words for all who greet,
But social smiles for none.
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And when the evening shades close round,
And to their homes they hie,
He seeks the little heap of ground,
Where all his comforts lie.
And to their homes they hie,
He seeks the little heap of ground,
Where all his comforts lie.
A sad good night to Jeanie's dust,
In tender silence given,
Is sweetened by the blessed trust
Of meeting her in heaven.
In tender silence given,
Is sweetened by the blessed trust
Of meeting her in heaven.
| The Widow's Tale | |