Curses and cries and a gnashing of teeth,

A grapple and stab on the slippery heath,

And Sir Richard leaped up on the fool that went down, Proud as a conqueror donning his crown.

They broke them away through a flooding of fire,
Trampling the best blood of London to mire,
When suddenly rising a smoke and a blaze,
Made all "the dragon's sons" stare in amaze:
"Oho!" quoth Sir Richard, "my city grows hot:
I've left it rent-paid to the villainous Scot!"

Walter Thornbury (1828-1876]

THE EARL O' QUARTERDECK

A NEW OLD BALLAD

THE wind it blew, and the ship it flew;
And it was "Hey for hame!

And ho for hame!" But the skipper cried,
"Haud her oot o'er the saut sea faem."

Then up and spake the king himsel':
"Haud on for Dunfermline!"

Quo the skipper, "Ye're king upo' the land-
I'm king upo' the brine."

And he took the helm intil his hand,
And he steered the ship sae free;
Wi' the wind astarn, he crowded sail,
And stood right out to sea.

Quo the king, "There's treason in this, I vow;

This is something underhand!

'Bout ship!" Quo the skipper, "Yer grace forgets Ye are king but o' the land!"

And still he held to the open sea;

And the east-wind sank behind;

And the west had a bitter word to say,

Wi' a white-sea roarin' wind.

The Earl o' Quarterdeck

And he turned her head into the north.
Said the king: "Gar fling him o'er."

Quo the fearless skipper: "It's a' ye're worth!
Ye'll ne'er see Scotland more."

The king crept down the cabin-stair,
To drink the gude French wine,
And up she cam', his daughter fair,
And luikit owre the brine.

She turned her face to the drivin' hail,
To the hail but and the weet;

Her snood it brak, and, as lang's hersel',
Her hair drave out i' the sleet.

She turned her face frae the drivin' win'-
"What's that ahead?" quo she.

The skipper he threw himsel' frae the win',
And he drove the helm a-lee.

"Put to yer hand, my lady fair!

Put to yer hand," quo he;

"Gin she dinna face the win' the mair,

It's the waur for you and me."

2657

For the skipper kenned that strength is strength,
Whether woman's or man's at last.

To the tiller the lady she laid her han',
And the ship laid her cheek to the blast.

For that slender body was full o' soul,
And the will is mair than shape;

As the skipper saw when they cleared the berg,
And he heard her quarter scrape.

Quo the skipper: "Ye are a lady fair,
And a princess grand to see;

But ye are a woman, and a man wad sail
To hell in yer company."

She liftit a pale and queenly face;

Her een flashed, and syne they swim. “And what for no to heaven?" she says,

And she turned awa' frae him.

But she took na her han' frae the good ship's helm,

Until the day did daw;

And the skipper he spak, but what he said

It was said atween them twa.

And then the good ship she lay to,
Wi' the land far on the lee;
And up cam' the king upo' the deck,
Wi' wan face and bluidshot ee.

The skipper he louted to the king:

"Gae wa', gae wa'," said the king.

Said the king, like a prince, "I was a' wrang,

Put on this ruby ring."

And the wind blew lowne, and the stars cam' oot,

And the ship turned to the shore;

And, afore the sun was up again,
They saw Scotland ance more.

That day the ship hung at the pier-heid,
And the king he stepped on the land.
"Skipper, kneel doun," the king he said.
"Hoo daur ye afore me stand?"

The skipper he louted on his knee,

The king his blade he drew:

Said the king, "How daured ye contre me?

I'm aboard my ain ship noo.

"I canna mak ye a king," said he,

"For the Lord alane can do that;

And besides ye took it intil yer ain han'
And crooned yersel' sae pat!

2659

The Earl o' Quarterdeck

"But wi' what ye will I redeem my ring;

For ance I am at your beck.

And first, as ye loutit Skipper o' Doon,
Rise up Yerl o' Quarterdeck."

The skipper he rose and looked at the king
In his een for all his croon;

Said the skipper, "Here is yer grace's ring,
And yer daughter is my boon."

The reid blude sprang into the king's face,

A wrathfu' man to see:

"The rascal loon abuses our grace;

Gae hang him upon yon tree."

But the skipper he sprang aboard his ship,
And he drew his biting blade;

And he struck the chain that held her fast,
But the iron was owre weel made.

And the king he blew a whistle loud;
And tramp, tramp, down the pier,
Cam' twenty riders on twenty steeds,
Clankin' wi' spur and spear.

"He saved yer life!" cried the lady fair; "His life ye daurna spill!"

"Will ye come atween me and my hate?" Quo the lady, "That I will!"

And on cam' the knights wi' spur and

For they heard the iron ring. "Gin ye care na for yer father's grace, Mind ye that I am the king."

"I kneel to my father for his grace,

Right lowly on my knee;

spear,

But I stand and look the king i' the face,

For the skipper is king o' me."

She turned and she sprang upo' the deck,
And the cable splashed in the sea.
The good ship spread her wings sae white,
And awa with the skipper gacs she.

Now was not this a king's daughter,
And a brave lady beside?

And a woman wi' whom a man might sail
Into the heaven wi' pride?

George Macdonald (1824-1905]

SHAMEFUL DEATH

THERE were four of us about that bed;
The mass-priest knelt at the side,
I and his mother stood at the head,
Over his feet lay the bride;

We were quite sure that he was dead,
Though his eyes were open wide.

He did not die in the night,
He did not die in the day,
But in the morning twilight
His spirit passed away;

When neither sun nor moon was bright,
And the trees were merely gray.

He was not slain with the sword,

Knight's axe, or the knightly spear,

Yet spoke he never a word

After he came in here;

I cut away the cord

From the neck of my brother dear.

He did not strike one blow,

For the recreants came behind,

In a place where the hornbeams grow,
A path right hard to find,
For the hornbeam boughs swing so

That the twilight makes it blind.