Flower Pieces and other poems By William Allingham: With two designs by Dante Gabriel Rossetti |
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SQUIRE CURTIS. |
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 | Flower Pieces and other poems |  |
151
SQUIRE CURTIS.
Squire Curtis had a cruel mouth,
Tho' honey was on his tongue;
Squire Curtis woo'd and wedded a wife,
And she was fair and young.
Tho' honey was on his tongue;
Squire Curtis woo'd and wedded a wife,
And she was fair and young.
But he said, ‘She cannot love me;
She watches me early and late;
She's meek and good and cold of mood.’—
His liking turn'd to hate.
She watches me early and late;
She's meek and good and cold of mood.’—
His liking turn'd to hate.
One autumn eve they rode through the woods,
Far and far away;
‘The dusk is drawing round,’ she said,
‘I fear we have gone astray.’
Far and far away;
‘The dusk is drawing round,’ she said,
‘I fear we have gone astray.’
He spake no word, but lighted down,
And tied his horse to a tree;
Out of the pillion he lifted her;
‘'Tis a lonely place,’ said she.
And tied his horse to a tree;
Out of the pillion he lifted her;
‘'Tis a lonely place,’ said she.
Down a forest-alley he walk'd,
And she walk'd by his side;
‘Would Heav'n we were at home!’ she said,
‘These woods are dark and wide!’
And she walk'd by his side;
‘Would Heav'n we were at home!’ she said,
‘These woods are dark and wide!’
He spake no word, but still walk'd on;
The branches shut out the sky;
In the darkest place he turn'd him round—
‘'Tis here that you must die.’
The branches shut out the sky;
In the darkest place he turn'd him round—
‘'Tis here that you must die.’
152
Once she shriek'd and never again;
He stabb'd her with his knife;
Once, twice, thrice, and every blow
Enough to take a life.
He stabb'd her with his knife;
Once, twice, thrice, and every blow
Enough to take a life.
A grave was ready; he laid her in;
He fill'd it up with care;
Under the brambles and fallen leaves
Small sign of a grave was there.
He fill'd it up with care;
Under the brambles and fallen leaves
Small sign of a grave was there.
He rode for an hour at a steady pace,
Till back to his house came he;
On face or clothing, on foot or hand,
No stain that eye could see.
Till back to his house came he;
On face or clothing, on foot or hand,
No stain that eye could see.
He boldly call'd to his serving-man,
As he lighted at the door:
‘Your Mistress is gone on a sudden journey,—
May stay for a month or more.
As he lighted at the door:
‘Your Mistress is gone on a sudden journey,—
May stay for a month or more.
‘In two days I shall follow her;
Let her waiting-woman know.’
‘Sir,’ said the serving-man, ‘My Lady
Came in an hour ago.’
Let her waiting-woman know.’
‘Sir,’ said the serving-man, ‘My Lady
Came in an hour ago.’
Squire Curtis sat him down in a chair,
And moved neither hand nor head.
In there came the waiting-woman,
‘Alas the day!’ she said.
And moved neither hand nor head.
In there came the waiting-woman,
‘Alas the day!’ she said.
‘Alas! good Sir,’ says the waiting-woman,
‘What aileth my Mistress dear,
That she sits alone without sign or word?
There is something wrong, I fear!
‘What aileth my Mistress dear,
That she sits alone without sign or word?
There is something wrong, I fear!
‘Her face was white as any corpse
As up the stair she pass'd;
She never turn'd, she never spoke;
And the chamber-door is fast.
As up the stair she pass'd;
She never turn'd, she never spoke;
And the chamber-door is fast.
153
‘She's waiting for you.’ ‘A lie!’ he shouts,
And up to his feet doth start;
‘My wife is buried in Brimley Holt,
With three wounds in her heart.’
And up to his feet doth start;
‘My wife is buried in Brimley Holt,
With three wounds in her heart.’
They search'd the forest by lantern light,
They search'd by dawn of day;
At noon they found the bramble-brake
And the pit where her body lay.
They search'd by dawn of day;
At noon they found the bramble-brake
And the pit where her body lay.
They carried the murder'd woman home,
Slow walking side by side.
Squire Curtis he swung upon gallows-tree,
But confess'd before he died.
Slow walking side by side.
Squire Curtis he swung upon gallows-tree,
But confess'd before he died.
A venerable trusty Man
With hair like drifted snow,
Told me this tale, as from his wife
He learn'd it long ago.
With hair like drifted snow,
Told me this tale, as from his wife
He learn'd it long ago.
‘Her father, Sir, in early days,
Lived close by Curtis Hall;
Many's the time he heard folk tell
Of what did there befall.
Lived close by Curtis Hall;
Many's the time he heard folk tell
Of what did there befall.
‘The story's true from first to last;
His name was Henry Dabb;
Died Christmas Eve at eighty-four,—
You'll read it on the slab.’
His name was Henry Dabb;
Died Christmas Eve at eighty-four,—
You'll read it on the slab.’
| Flower Pieces and other poems | |