Modern Love and Poems of the English Roadside, with Poems and Ballads
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The hosts of the world. All heated, what wonder he little could brook
To catch the sight of Mary’s demure puritanical look?
And still as he led the onslaught, his treacherous side-shots he sent
At her who was fighting a battle as fierce, and who sat there unbent.
XVI.
“‘We stood in line, and like hedgehogs the Russians, roll’d under us thick.
“‘They frighten’d me there.’—He’s no coward; for when, Miss, they came at the quick,
“The sight he swears, was a breakfast. ‘My stomach felt tight: in a glimpse
“‘I saw you snoring at home with the dear cuddled-up little imps.
“‘And then like the winter brickfields at midnight, hot fire lengthen’d out.
“‘Our fellows were just leash’d bloodhounds: no heart of the lot faced about.
XVII.
“‘And only that grumbler, Bob Harris, remarked that we stood one to ten:
“‘Ye fool, says Mick Grady, just tell ’em they know how to compliment men!
“‘And I sang out your old words: ‘If the opposite side isn’t God’s,
“‘Heigh! after you’ve counted a dozen, the pluckiest lads have the odds.’
“‘Ping-ping flew the enemies’ pepper: the Colonel roar’d, Forward, and we
“‘Went at them. ’Twas first like a blanket: and then a long plunge in the sea.
XVIII.
“‘Well, now about me and the Frenchman: it happen’d I can’t tell you how:
“‘And, Grandfather, hear, if you love me, and put aside prejudice now:’
“He never says ‘Grandfather’—Tom don’t—unless it’s a serious thing.
“‘Well, there were some pits for the rifles, just dug on our French-leaning wing:
“‘And backwards, and forwards, and backwards we went, and at last I was vex’d,
“‘And swore I would never surrender a foot when the Russians charged next.
XIX.
“‘I know that life’s worth keeping.’—Ay, so it is, lad; so it is!
“‘But my life belongs to a woman.’—Does that mean Her Majesty, Miss?9
“‘These Russians came lumping and grinning: they’re fierce at it, though they are blocks.
“‘Our fellows were pretty well pump’d, and look’d sharp for the little French cocks.
“‘Lord, didn’t we pray for their crowing! when over us, on the hill-top,
“‘Behold the first line of them skipping, like kangaroos seen on the hop!
XX.
“‘That sent me into a passion, to think of them spying our flight!’
“Heigh, Tom! you’ve Bridgeman blood, boy! And, ‘face them!’ I shouted: ‘all right;
“‘Sure, Serjeant, we’ll take their shot dacent,10 like gentlemen,’ Grady replied.
“‘A ball in his mouth, and the noble old Irishman dropp’d by my side.
“‘Then there was just an instant to save myself, when a short wheeze
“‘Of bloody lungs under the smoke, and a red-coat11 crawl’d up on his knees.
XXI.
“‘’Twas Ensign Baynes12 of our parish.’ Ah, ah, Miss Charlworth, the one
“Our Tom fought for a young lady? Come, now we’ve got into the fun!
“‘I shoulder’d him: he primed his pistol, and I trailed my musket, prepared.’
“Why, that’s a fine pick-a-back13 for ye, to make twenty Russians look scared!
“‘They came—never mind how many: we couldn’t have run very well,
“‘We fought back to back:’ ‘face to face, our last time!’ he said, smiling, and fell.
XXII.
“‘Then I strove wild for his body: the beggars saw glittering rings,
“‘Which I vow’d to send to his mother. I got some hard knocks and sharp stings,
“‘But felt them no more than an angel, or devil, except in the wind.
“‘I know that I swore at a Russian for showing his teeth, and he grinn’d
“‘The harder: quick, as from heaven, a man on a horse rode between,
“‘And fired, and swung his bright sabre: I can’t write you more of the scene.
XXIII.
“‘But half in his arms, and half at his stirrup, he bore me right forth,
“‘And pitch’d me among my old comrades: before I could tell south from north,
“‘He caught my hand up, and kiss’d it! Don’t ever let any man speak
“‘A word against Frenchmen, I near him! I can’t find his name, tho’ I seek.
“‘But French, and a General, surely he was, and, God bless him! thro’ him
“‘I’ve learnt to love a whole nation.’ The ancient man paused, winking dim.
XXIV.
A curious look, half woeful, was seen on his face as he turn’d
His eyes upon each of his children, like one who but faintly discern’d
His old self in an old mirror. Then gathering sense in his fist,
He sounded it hard on his knee-cap. “Your hand, Tom, the French fellow kiss’d!
“He kiss’d my boy’s old pounder! I say he’s a gentleman!” Straight
The letter he toss’d to one daughter; bade her the remainder relate.
XXV.
Tom properly stated his praises in facts, but the lady preferr’d,
To deck the narration with brackets, and drop her additional word.
What nobler Christian natures these women could boast, who ’twas known,
Once spat at the name of their nephew, and now made his praises their own!
The letter at last was finish’d, the hearers breath’d freely, and sign
Was given, ‘Tom’s health!’—Quoth the farmer: “Eh, Miss? are you weak in the spine?”
XXVI.
For Mary had sunk, and her body was shaking, as if in a fit,
Tom’s letter she held, and her thumb-nail the month when the letter was writ
Fast-dinted, while she hung sobbing: “O, see, Sir, the letter is old!
“O, do not be too happy!”—“If I understand you, I’m bowl’d!”
Said Grandfather Bridgeman, “and down go my wickets!14—not happy! when here,
“Here’s Tom like to marry his General’s daughter—or widow—I’ll swear!
XXVII.
“I wager he knows how to strut, too! It’s all on the cards that the Queen
“Will ask him to Buckingham Palace, to say what he’s done and he’s seen.
“Victoria’s fond of her soldiers: and she’s got a nose for a fight.
“If Tom tells a cleverish story—there is such a thing as a knight!
“And don’t he look roguish and handsome!—To see a girl snivelling there—
“By George, Miss, it’s clear that you’re jealous!”—“I love him!” she answered his stare.
XXVIII.
“Yes! now!” breathed the voice of a woman.—“Ah! now!” quiver’d low the reply.
“And ‘now’ ’s just a bit too late, so it’s no use your piping15 your eye,”
The farmer added bluffly. “Old lawyer Charlworth was rich;
“You follow’d his instructions in kicking Tom into the ditch.
“If you’re such a dutiful daughter, that doesn’t prove Tom is a fool.
“Forgive and forget’s my motto! and here’s my grog16 growing cool!”
XXIX.
“But, Sir,” Mary faintly repeated: “for four long weeks I have fail’d
“To come and cast on you my burden; such grief for you always prevail’d!”
“My heart has so bled for you!” The old man burst on her speech:
“You’ve chosen a likely time, Miss! a pretty occasion to preach!”
And was it not outrageous, that now, of all times, one should come
With incomprehensible pity! Far better had Mary been dumb.
XXX.
But when again she stammer’d in this bewildering way,
The farmer no longer could bear it, and begg’d her to go, or to stay,
But not to be whimpering nonsense at such a time. Prick’d by a goad,
“’Twas you who sent him to glory:—you’ve come here to reap what you sow’d.
“Is that it?” he ask’d; and the silence the elders preserved, plainly said,
On Mary’s heaving bosom this begging petition was read.
XXXI.
And that it was scarcely a bargain that she who had driven him wild,
Should share, now, the fruits of his valour, the women express’d, as they smiled.
The family pride of the Bridgemans was comforted; still, with contempt,
They look’d on a monied damsel of modesty quite so exempt.
“O give me force to tell them!” cried Mary, and even as she spoke,
A shout and a hush of the children: a vision on all of them broke.
XXXII.
Wheel’d, pale, in a chair, and shatter’d, the wreck of their hero was seen;
The ghost of Tom drawn slow o’er the orchard’s shadowy green.
Could this be the martial darling they joy’d in a moment ago?
“He knows it?” to Mary Tom murmur’d, and closed his weak lids at her, “No.”
“Beloved!” she said, falling by him, “I have been a coward: I thought
“You lay in the foreign country, and some strange good might be wrought.
XXXIII.
“Each day I have come to tell him, and failed, with my hand on the gate.
“I bore the dreadful knowledge, and crush’d my heart with its weight.
“The letter brought by your comrade—he has but just read it aloud!
“It only reach’d him this morning!” Her head on his shoulder she bow’d.
Then Tom with Pity’s tenderest lordliness patted her arm,
And eyed the old white-head fondly, with something of doubt and alarm.
XXXIV.
O, take to your fancy a sculptor whose fresh marble offspring appears
Before him, shiningly perfect, the laurel-crown’d issue of years:
Is Heaven offended? for lightning behold from its bosom escape,
And those are mocking fragments that made the harmonious shape!
He cannot love the ruins, till feeling that ruins alone
Are left, he loves them threefold. So pass’d the old grandfather’s moan!
XXXV.
John’s text for a sermon on Slaughter, he heard, and he did not protest.
All rigid as April snow-drifts, he stood, hard and feeble; his chest
Just showing the swell of the fire as it melted him. Smiting a rib,
“Heigh! what have we been about, Tom! Was this all a terrible fib?”
He cried, and the letter forth-trembled. Tom told what the cannon had done.
Few present but ached to see falling those aged tears on his heart’s son!
XXXVI.
Up lanes of the quiet village, and where the mill-waters rush red
Thro’ browning summer meadows to catch the sun’s crimsoning head,
You meet an old man and a maiden who has the soft ways of a wife
With one whom they wheel, alternate; whose delicate flush of new life
Is prized like the early primrose. Then shake his right hand, in the chair—
The old man fails never to tell you: “You’ve got the French General’s there!”
Notes
1. scapegrace: reckless person
2. buss: kiss
3. maltster: a person who makes malt from grain
4. van-bird of summer: harbinger of summer, first bird indicating summer is on its way
5. laburnums: flowering trees or bushes with bright yellow flowers
6. Mary, it seems, rejected Tom as a suitor before he went off to war.
7. Muscovite: man from Moscow
8. Inkermann: the Ukrainian site of a major battle and turning point in the Crimean War, fought 5 November 1854. The allied British and French forces fought against the Russians.
9. Grandfather teases Mary, who stands listening to the letter.
10. dacent: Irish, decent
11. red-coat: a soldier in the British army
12. Baynes: Tom Bridgeman’s rival for Mary Charlworth’s affection
13. pick-a-back: piggyback; Tom is carrying Ensign Baynes over his shoulder.
14. wickets: In a game of cricket, the wicket consists of three vertical posts set into the ground; if a bowler knocks the wicket down, the batter is out.
15. piping: to produce a shrill sound; colloquially, to weep
16. grog: a drink made of equal parts spirits (usually rum) and water
The Meeting1
The old coach-road thro’ a common2 of furze,3
With knolls of pines, ran white:
Berries of autumn, with thistles, and burrs,
And spider-threads, droop’d in the light.
The light in a thin blue veil peer’d sick;
The sheep grazed close and still;
The smoke of a farm by a yellow rick4
Curl’d lazily under a hill.
No fly shook the round of the silver net;
No insect the swift bird chased; 10
Only two travellers moved and met
Across that hazy waste.
One was a girl with a babe that throve,
Her ruin and her bliss;
One was a youth with a lawless love,
Who claspt it the more for this.
The girl for her babe humm’d prayerful speech;
The youth for his love did pray;
Each cast a wistful look on each,
And either went their way. 20
Notes
1. Originally published in Once a Week on 1 September 1860, illustrated by J. E. Millais (see fig. 3).
2. common: unenclosed and uncultivated land belonging to the community, hence “waste” land
3. furze: evergreen shrub
4. rick: haystack
Modern Love
This is not meat
For little people or for fools.
—BOOK OF THE SAGES1
I.
By this he knew she wept with waking eyes:
That, at his hand’s light quiver by her head,
The strange low sobs that shook their common bed
Were called into her with a sharp surprise, 4
And strangled mute, like little gaping snakes,
Dreadfully venomous to him. She lay
Stone-still, and the long darkness flow’d away
With muffled pulses. Then, as midnight makes 8
Her giant heart of Memory and Tears
Drink the pale drug of silence, and so beat
Sleep’s heavy measure, they from head to feet
Were moveless, looking thro’ their dead black years, 12
By vain regret scrawl’d over the blank wall.
Like sculptured effigies they might be seen
Upon their marriage-tomb, the sword between;2
Each wishing for the sword that severs all. 16
II.
It ended, and the morrow brought the task:
Her eyes were guilty gates that let him in
By shutting all too zealous for their sin:
Each suck’d a secret, and each wore a mask. 4
But, oh the bitter taste her beauty had!
He sicken’d as at breath of poison-flowers:3
A languid humour stole among the hours,
And if their smiles encounter’d, he went mad, 8
And raged, deep inward, till the light was brown
Before his vision, and the world forgot,
Look’d wicked as some old dull murder spot.
A star with lurid beams, she seem’d to crown 12
The pit of infamy: and then again
He fainted on his vengefulness, and strove
To ape the magnanimity4 of love,
And smote himself,
a shuddering heap of pain. 16
III.
This was the woman; what now of the man?5
But pass him! If he comes beneath our heel6
He shall be crush’d until he cannot feel,
Or, being callous, haply7 till he can. 4
But he is nothing:—nothing? Only mark
The rich light striking from her unto him:
Ha! what a sense it is when her eyes swim
Across the man she singles, leaving dark 8
All else! Lord God, who mad’st the thing so fair,
See that I am drawn to her even now!
It cannot be such harm on her cool brow
To put a kiss? Yet if I meet him there! 12
But she is mine! Ah, no! I know too well
I claim a star whose light is overcast:
I claim a phantom-woman in the Past.
The hour has struck, though I heard not the bell! 16
IV.
All other joys of life he strove to warm,
And magnify, and catch them to his lip:
But they had suffered shipwreck with the ship,8
And gazed upon him sallow from the storm. 4
Or if Delusion came, ’twas but to show
The coming minute mock the one that went.
Cold as a mountain in its star-pitch’d tent
Stood high Philosophy, less friend than foe: 8
Whom self-caged Passion, from its prison-bars,
Is always watching with a wondering hate.9
Not till the fire is dying in the grate,
Look we for any kinship with the stars.10 12
Oh, wisdom never comes when it is gold,
And the great price we pay for it full worth.
We have it only when we are half earth.
Little avails that coinage to the old!11 16
V.
A message from her set his brain aflame.
A world of household matters fill’d her mind,
Wherein he saw hypocrisy design’d:
She treated him as something that is tame, 4
And but at other provocation bites.
Familiar was her shoulder in the glass
Through that dark rain: yet it may come to pass
That a changed eye finds such familiar sights, 8
More keenly tempting than new loveliness.
The ‘What has been’ a moment seem’d his own:
The splendours, mysteries, dearer because known,
Nor less divine: Love’s inmost sacredness, 12
Call’d to him, “Come!”—In that restraining start,
Eyes nurtured to be look’d at, scarce could see