For the stateliest bunding man can raise Is the Ivy's food a last. Creeping on, where Time has been, A rare old plant is the Ivy green. CHARLES DICKENS. THE HIGH TIDE ON THE COAST OF LINCOLNSHIRE. (1571.) THE old mayor climb'd the belfry tower, Good ringers, pull your best," quoth he. Men say it was a stolen tyde The Lord that sent it, He knows all; But in myne ears doth still abide The message that the bells let fall: And there was naught of strange, beside The flights of mews and peewits pied By millions crouched on the old sea wall. I sat and spun within the doore, My thread brake off, I raised myne eyes; The level sun, like ruddy ore, Lay sinking in the barren skies; And dark against day's golden death She moved where Lindis wandereth, My sonne's faire wife, Elizabeth. "Cusha! Cusha! Cusha!" calling, From the meads where melick groweth 66 Cusha! Cusha! Cusha!" calling, For the dews will soone be falling; Quit your cowslips, cowslips yellow; Hollow, hollow; Come uppe Jetty, rise and follow, From the clovers lift your head ; Come uppe Whitefoot, come uppe Lightfoot, If it be long, ay, long ago, When I beginne to think howe long, Againe I hear the Lindis flow, Swift as an arrowe sharpe and strong; And all the aire, it seemeth mee, Bin full of floating bells (sayth shee), Alle fresh the level pasture lay, And not a shadowe mote be seene, Save where full fyve good miles away The steeple towered from out the greene; And lo! the great bell farre and wide Was heard in all the country side That Saturday at eventide. The swanherds where their sedges are And my sonne's wife, Elizabeth; Then some looked uppe into the sky, And all along where Lindis flows To where the goodly vessels lie, And where the lordly steeple shows. They sayde, "And why should this thing be? What danger lowers by land or sea? They ring the tune of Enderby! “For evil news from Mablethorpe, They have not spared to wake the towne: But while the west bin red to see, And storms be none, and pyrates flee, Why ring The Brides of Enderby' ?" I looked without, and lo! my sonne Came riding down with might and main; He raised a shout as he drew on, Till all the welkin rang again, "Elizabeth! Elizabeth!" (A sweeter woman ne'er drew breath Than my sonne's wife, Elizabeth.) "The old sea wall (he cried) is downe, Go sailing uppe the market-place." He shook as one that looks on death: “God save you, mother!" straight he saith "Where is my wife, Elizabeth ?” "Good sonne, where Lindis winds her way, With her two bairns I mark'd her long, And ere yon bells beganne to play Afar I heard her milking song." He looked across the grassy lea, To right, to left, "Ho, Enderby!" They rang "The Brides of Enderby!" With that he cried and beat his breast; |