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28
A MIDDLE-CLASS TRAGEDY.
Lonely I went by a highway-road track
Threading a desolate level;
Leafless the hedges, the herbage lay black,
Fit for swine flocks of the devil.
Threading a desolate level;
Leafless the hedges, the herbage lay black,
Fit for swine flocks of the devil.
Nothing less evil such pasture could tread:
Drosses and dregs of the city
Broad-cast abolished the clover, and spread
In a vitriol scum without pity.
Drosses and dregs of the city
Broad-cast abolished the clover, and spread
In a vitriol scum without pity.
Here they had flayed the field-faces for brick,
Here the black sails of great mills
Flapped round in ruins, despondently sick,
Strident, rehearsing their ills.
Here the black sails of great mills
Flapped round in ruins, despondently sick,
Strident, rehearsing their ills.
29
Near them a woman sat making her moan,
Deep in the slow-creeping glooms.
A hedge at her back and her feet on a stone,
Pale as a tenant of tombs.
Deep in the slow-creeping glooms.
A hedge at her back and her feet on a stone,
Pale as a tenant of tombs.
I was a penman without coin or birth,
Chained to a desk with a quill.
“Nobody needs me the least upon earth,
If I save her some one will.
Chained to a desk with a quill.
“Nobody needs me the least upon earth,
If I save her some one will.
“Some one I need to expect me at eve,
Some one to love me of right,
To drudge all the week for, that she may receive
A pound more on Saturday night.
Some one to love me of right,
To drudge all the week for, that she may receive
A pound more on Saturday night.
“A weed! well, no matter: the weed bloom is sweet,
A stray! who am I to complain?
So only she love me, I'll kneel to her feet,
Forgetting their highway stain.
A stray! who am I to complain?
So only she love me, I'll kneel to her feet,
Forgetting their highway stain.
30
“Who without scorn there had passed thee? Not one.
Faded, O love, was thine eye.
Frozen almost in the rain-blast alone,
Cherish her, lest she may die.”
Faded, O love, was thine eye.
Frozen almost in the rain-blast alone,
Cherish her, lest she may die.”
Past rode a banker, his hat-brim was wide;
Sleek came a Levite in view,
Crossed at a trot to the opposite side,
Sniffing his tithe over-due.
Sleek came a Levite in view,
Crossed at a trot to the opposite side,
Sniffing his tithe over-due.
Knaves, let them go; their abhorrence is praise,
Scorning that greatens my prize.
Swine are these, folded with fat round their face;
Sweet, O my pearl, then arise.
Scorning that greatens my prize.
Swine are these, folded with fat round their face;
Sweet, O my pearl, then arise.
Let me recover this thing on my lips,
Utterly mine, loved of none.
Let my life cherish her dead finger tips;
Let my blood make her pulse run.
Utterly mine, loved of none.
Let my life cherish her dead finger tips;
Let my blood make her pulse run.
31
Live for her only that she may have mirth,
Derelict, waif of the night;
Birthright I've none like the choice of the earth;
Delicate things are their right.
Derelict, waif of the night;
Birthright I've none like the choice of the earth;
Delicate things are their right.
Firm in one counsel I builded my nest,
Mine is she now, that was vile;
Utterly mine, what she was matters least,
Let the world sneer, I can smile.
Mine is she now, that was vile;
Utterly mine, what she was matters least,
Let the world sneer, I can smile.
Love I had need of, and ever so great
Will to give love where I chose;
Training my fancy to baffle my fate,
Perfect she seemed as a rose.
Will to give love where I chose;
Training my fancy to baffle my fate,
Perfect she seemed as a rose.
Lovely I held her, tho' faded indeed,
Queen of all wisedom and love;
On sweet delusion I feasted my need,
Till my soul freshened and throve.
Queen of all wisedom and love;
On sweet delusion I feasted my need,
Till my soul freshened and throve.
32
Till a rich neighbour in mischievous play,
Satyr and exquisite, chose
Once, like a lurcher, to loiter my way,
Feeling his track by his nose.
Satyr and exquisite, chose
Once, like a lurcher, to loiter my way,
Feeling his track by his nose.
Cried, “Who is she, that this boor of a clerk
Treasures so close in his nest?
Of all sweet birds flocking in to my ark
Surely his ring-dove is best.
Treasures so close in his nest?
Of all sweet birds flocking in to my ark
Surely his ring-dove is best.
“Why should he smooth her sleek feathers alone,
Why this monopoly claim?
Pipe to her, fowler, thy mellowest tone,
'Tice her, then trample her tame.”
Why this monopoly claim?
Pipe to her, fowler, thy mellowest tone,
'Tice her, then trample her tame.”
So to her ear he trilled poison, till she
Said, “I am all that he sings;
Coarse is my master, plebeian; but he
Lovely, begotten of kings.
Said, “I am all that he sings;
Coarse is my master, plebeian; but he
Lovely, begotten of kings.
33
“Will he not love me in houses of gold?
Hateful this hovel of clay;
Here I sit penned like a sheep to my fold;
Shall I mope longer a day?
Hateful this hovel of clay;
Here I sit penned like a sheep to my fold;
Shall I mope longer a day?
“New lover noble, my true lover strong,
Make me thine own till we die.
Let this old scarecrow to whom I belong
Whistle, his cage-bird will fly.
Make me thine own till we die.
Let this old scarecrow to whom I belong
Whistle, his cage-bird will fly.
“There you will wrap me in raiment and wreaths,
Feed me with beautiful flowers;
Days in this cabin are so many deaths,
Ashes and fetters my hours.
Feed me with beautiful flowers;
Days in this cabin are so many deaths,
Ashes and fetters my hours.
“Chained to his desk my love, ragged indeed,
Leans; well he loved me at least.
Look at my lord on his wing-footed steed
Chasing in crimson the beast.
Leans; well he loved me at least.
Look at my lord on his wing-footed steed
Chasing in crimson the beast.
34
“Is he not beautiful, utterly fair,
Carelessly sweet his caress?
Is not my clerk out-at-elbows, threadbare,
Pinching to buy me a dress?
Carelessly sweet his caress?
Is not my clerk out-at-elbows, threadbare,
Pinching to buy me a dress?
“Kind enough always, poor indigent soul!
Ah! but that other, a god,
Leads me, and loves me, and seems to control
Life with a finger, a nod!
Ah! but that other, a god,
Leads me, and loves me, and seems to control
Life with a finger, a nod!
“Grey love, adieu! See, I wave you a hand!
Drive on in patience your quill:
Life to a bountiful river expand;
Here it ran cramped to a rill.”
Drive on in patience your quill:
Life to a bountiful river expand;
Here it ran cramped to a rill.”
So, like a flash, she fled off to his towers,
Over the river-wood there.
Fed here awhile in his precinct of flowers
Queen, and immortally fair.
Over the river-wood there.
Fed here awhile in his precinct of flowers
Queen, and immortally fair.
35
Lo, what befell in his palace of light!
Love in a week became pain.
Till he cried, “Pack thee out, wench, to the night,
Rot in the ditch or the drain.
Love in a week became pain.
Till he cried, “Pack thee out, wench, to the night,
Rot in the ditch or the drain.
“Why, thou art ugly as Erebus seen
Near, plain as death to my view;
Wasted thy cheek, and I thought thee a queen,
The other fool made such ado.
Near, plain as death to my view;
Wasted thy cheek, and I thought thee a queen,
The other fool made such ado.
“Push her out hastily, night-chill begins;
Stifle her petulant breath.
Forth as my scape-goat go freighted with sins:
Crawl to the waters of death.
Stifle her petulant breath.
Forth as my scape-goat go freighted with sins:
Crawl to the waters of death.
“Wise-working Nature ordains me scot-free;
She for my sin dies; it's well.
She is no firstling of kids sent by me,
Down salt dry reaches of hell.
She for my sin dies; it's well.
She is no firstling of kids sent by me,
Down salt dry reaches of hell.
36
“First? no, nor last. 'Tis an excellent game;
This wise old world will have play.
So it transfers to her shoulders the blame
Out of a nobleman's way.
This wise old world will have play.
So it transfers to her shoulders the blame
Out of a nobleman's way.
“World, on sweet hinges, run lightly and smooth,
Feed us, the poor ones will pay!
Primest of pasturage beckon our tooth!
Rot, thou jade, till the last day!”
Feed us, the poor ones will pay!
Primest of pasturage beckon our tooth!
Rot, thou jade, till the last day!”
Out she was pushed by a varlet in black:
Warned it was penal to linger:
Feathers and lace on her head and her back,
Rings raying fire round her finger.
Warned it was penal to linger:
Feathers and lace on her head and her back,
Rings raying fire round her finger.
So, the tale runs, he has ruined my life,
For a week's pastime, it's clear.
He, a great nobleman, covets my wife,
Clerk on a hundred a year.
For a week's pastime, it's clear.
He, a great nobleman, covets my wife,
Clerk on a hundred a year.
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