« PreviousContinue »
women, born with Heavenly compassion in your hea: ts. And dying thus around us every day!
SCENE FROM “MACBETH.”
(A bell rings.)
(Exit.) Enter Lady Macbeth. Lady M. That which hath made them drunk hath made me bold : What hath quench'd them, hath given me fire: – Hark! - Peace!
It was the owl that shriek’d, the fatal bellman,
Macbeth (within). Who's there? - what ho!
Lady M. Alack! I am afraid they have awak'd,
Macb. I have done the deed :- Did'st thou not hear a noise ?
Lady M. I heard the owl scream, and the crickets cry.
As I descended ?
(Looking on his hands.) Lady M. A foolish thought, to say a sorry sight.
Macb. There's one did laugh in his sleep, and one cried, murder ! That they did wake each other; I stood and heard them: But they did say their prayers, and address’d them Again to sleep.
Lady M. There are two lodg’d together.
Macb. One cried, God bless us ! and Amen, the other;
I could not say, amen,
Consider it not so deeply.
These deeds must not be thought
Macb. Methought, I heard a voice cry, Sleep no more!
What do you mean?
Lady M. Who was it that thus cried? Why, worthy thane,
I'll go no more:
Infirm of purpose!
(Exit. — Knocking within.) Macb.
Whence is that knocking ?
- one red.
Re-enter Lady Macbeth. Lady M. My hands are of your color; but I shame To wear a heart so white. (Knock.) I hear a knocking At the south entry: - retire we to our chamber : A little water clears us of this deed: Jlow easy is it then? Your constancy Hath left you unattended. —(Knocking.) Hark, more knocking: Get on your night-gown, lest occasion call us,
And show us to be watchless: - Be not lost
(Knock.) Wake Duncan with thy knocking! Ay, 'would thou couldst!
THE HIGH TIDE ON THE COAST OF LINCOLNSHIRE. (1571.)
Jean Ingelow. The old mayor climbed the belfry tower,
The ringers rang by two, by three;
Good ringers, pull your best,” quoth he.
Play uppe • The Brides of Enderby.'”
Men say it was a stolen tyde —
The Lord that sent it, He knows all;
The message that the bells let fall :
By millions crouched on the old sea-wall.
I sat and spun within the doore,
My thread brake off, I raised myne eyes :
Lay sinking in the barren skies,
“ Cusha! Cusha! Cusha ! ” calling,
Farre away I heard her song.
“Cusha! Cusha! Cusha!” calling
Leave your meadow grasses mellow,
Mellow, mellow; Quit your cowslips, cowslips yellow; Come uppe Whitefoot, come uppe Lightfoot, Quit the stalks of parsley hollow,
Hollow, hollow; Come uppe Jetty, rise and follow, From the clovers lift your head; Come uppe Whitefoot, come uppe Lightfoot, Come uppe Jetty, rise and follow, Jetty, to the milking shed.”
If it be long, ay, long ago,
When I beginne to think howe long,
Swift as an arrowe, sharp and strong;
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
Moved on in sunset's golden breath,
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!