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Newby Ferry.
I
The morning was mild as a morning in May,Slingsby on Saltfish was out for the day;
151
Follow'd close on the fox they had found at the Whin.
II
They have cross'd it full cry, but the horsemen are stay'd,The ford is too deep for the boldest to wade;
So to Newby they sped, like an army dispers'd,
Hoping each in his heart to be there with the first.
III
Lloyd, Robinson, Orvis, and Slingsby the brave,Pressing on to that ferry to find there a grave;
Little thought the four comrades when, rivals in pace,
With such haste they spurr'd on that they rode a death-race.
IV
Orvis now cries, in a voice of despair,“They're away far ahead, and not one of us there!
Quickly, good ferrymen, haul to the shore,
Bad luck to your craft if we catch 'em no more!”
V
Thus shouting, old Orvis leapt down to the bank,152
There stood they, dismounted, their hands on the rein,
Never more to set foot in the stirrup again!
VI
Eleven good men in the laden boat,Eleven good steeds o'er the ferry float;
Alas! ere their ferrymen's task was done,
Two widows were weeping o'er father and son!
VII
What meaneth that sudden and piercing cryFrom the horsemen who stood on the bank hard by?
The shadow of death seem'd to darken the wave,
And the torrent to pause as it open'd a grave.
VIII
Slingsby is sinking—his stretch'd arm had clungTo the rein of his horse as he overboard sprung;
The barque, overburden'd, bends down on her side,
Heels o'er, and her freight is engulf'd in the tide.
IX
In that moment an age seem'd to interveneEre Vyner was first on the surface seen;
153
To reach and to rescue his sinking friends.
X
Whips knotted fast, in the haste of despair,Reach not the doom'd who were drowning there;
Swimmers undauntedly breasted the wave,
Till themselves were nigh sunk in their efforts to save.
XI
Robinson (he who could bird-like skimO'er fence and o'er fallow) unpractis'd to swim,
Hopeless of aid in this uttermost need,
Save in the strength of his gallant steed!
XII
Slowly that horse from the river's bed,Still back'd by his rider, uprais'd his head;
But the nostrils' faint breath and the terror-glaz'd eye
Tell how vain is all hope with its fury to vie.
XIII
Unappall'd, who could gaze on the heart-rending sight?His rider unmov'd, in the saddle upright,
154
As down, still unseated, he sank in the stream!
XIV
Slingsby meanwhile from the waters uprose,Where deepest and strongest the mid-current flows;
Manfully stemming its onward course,
He struck for the boat with his failing force.
XV
Then feebly one arm was uplifted, in vainStriving to snatch at the chestnut's mane;
For that faithful steed, through the rolling tide,
Had swum like a dog to his master's side.
XVI
At length by the stream he can buffet no more,Borne, bleeding and pale, to the farther shore,
There, as the Slingsbys had ofttimes lain,
Lay the last of that House in his harness slain!
XVII
Sprung from a knightly and time-honour'd race,Pride of thy county, and chief of her chace!
Though a stranger, not less is his sorrow sincere,
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XVIII
Let Yorkshire, while England re-echoes her wail,Bereft of her bravest, record the sad tale,
How Slingsby of Scriven at Newby fell,
In the heat of that chace which he lov'd so well.
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