The Poetical Works of William Wordsworth Volume I Part 58

MARMADUKE I would fain hope that we deceive ourselves: When first I saw him sitting there, alone, It struck upon my heart I know not how.

OSWALD To-day will clear up all.--You marked a Cottage, That ragged Dwelling, close beneath a rock By the brook-side: it is the abode of One, A Maiden innocent till ensnared by Clifford, Who soon grew weary of her; but, alas!

What she had seen and suffered turned her brain.

Cast off by her Betrayer, she dwells alone, Nor moves her hands to any needful work: She eats her food which every day the peasants Bring to her hut; and so the Wretch has lived Ten years; and no one ever heard her voice; But every night at the first stroke of twelve She quits her house, and, in the neighbouring Churchyard Upon the self-same spot, in rain or storm, She paces out the hour 'twixt twelve and one-- She paces round and round an Infant's grave, And in the Churchyard sod her feet have worn A hollow ring; they say it is knee-deep-- Ah! [1] what is here?

[A female Beggar rises up, rubbing her eyes as if in sleep--a Child in her arms.]

BEGGAR O Gentlemen, I thank you; I've had the saddest dream that ever troubled The heart of living creature.--My poor Babe Was crying, as I thought, crying for bread When I had none to give him; whereupon, I put a slip of foxglove in his hand, Which pleased him so, that he was hushed at once: When, into one of those same spotted bells A bee came darting, which the Child with joy Imprisoned there, and held it to his ear, And suddenly grew black, as he would die.

MARMADUKE We have no time for this, my babbling Gossip; Here's what will comfort you.

[Gives her money.]

BEGGAR The Saints reward you For this good deed!--Well, Sirs, this pa.s.sed away; And afterwards I fancied, a strange dog, Trotting alone along the beaten road, Came to my child as by my side he slept And, fondling, licked his face, then on a sudden Snapped fierce to make a morsel of his head: But here he is, [kissing the Child]

it must have been a dream.

OSWALD When next inclined to sleep, take my advice, And put your head, good Woman, under cover.

BEGGAR Oh, Sir, you would not talk thus, if you knew What life is this of ours, how sleep will master The weary-worn.--You gentlefolk have got Warm chambers to your wish. I'd rather be A stone than what I am.--But two nights gone, The darkness overtook me--wind and rain Beat hard upon my head--and yet I saw A glow-worm, through the covert of the furze, s.h.i.+ne calmly as if nothing ailed the sky: At which I half accused the G.o.d in Heaven.-- You must forgive me.

OSWALD Ay, and if you think The Fairies are to blame, and you should chide Your favourite saint--no matter--this good day Has made amends.

BEGGAR Thanks to you both; but, Oh Sir!

How would you like to travel on whole hours As I have done, my eyes upon the ground, Expecting still, I knew not how, to find A piece of money glittering through the dust.

MARMADUKE This woman is a prater. Pray, good Lady!

Do you tell fortunes?

BEGGAR Oh Sir, you are like the rest.

This Little-one--it cuts me to the heart-- Well! they might turn a beggar from their doors, But there are Mothers who can see the Babe Here at my breast, and ask me where I bought it: This they can do, and look upon my face-- But you, Sir, should be kinder.

MARMADUKE Come hither, Fathers, And learn what nature is from this poor Wretch!

BEGGAR Ay, Sir, there's n.o.body that feels for us.

Why now--but yesterday I overtook A blind old Greybeard and accosted him, I' th' name of all the Saints, and by the Ma.s.s He should have used me better!--Charity!

If you can melt a rock, he is your man; But I'll be even with him--here again Have I been waiting for him.

OSWALD Well, but softly, Who is it that hath wronged you?

BEGGAR Mark you me; I'll point him out;--a Maiden is his guide, Lovely as Spring's first rose; a little dog, Tied by a woollen cord, moves on before With look as sad as he were dumb; the cur, I owe him no ill will, but in good sooth He does his Master credit.

MARMADUKE As I live, 'Tis Herbert and no other!

BEGGAR 'Tis a feast to see him, Lank as a ghost and tall, his shoulders bent, And long beard white with age--yet evermore, As if he were the only Saint on earth, He turns his face to heaven.

OSWALD But why so violent Against this venerable Man?

BEGGAR I'll tell you: He has the very hardest heart on earth; I had as lief turn to the Friar's school And knock for entrance, in mid holiday.

MARMADUKE But to your story.

BEGGAR I was saying, Sir-- Well!--he has often spurned me like a toad, But yesterday was worse than all;--at last I overtook him, Sirs, my Babe and I, And begged a little aid for charity: But he was snappish as a cottage cur.

Well then, says I--I'll out with it; at which I cast a look upon the Girl, and felt As if my heart would burst; and so I left him.

OSWALD I think, good Woman, you are the very person Whom, but some few days past, I saw in Eskdale, At Herbert's door.

BEGGAR Ay; and if truth were known I have good business there.

OSWALD I met you at the threshold, And he seemed angry.

BEGGAR Angry! well he might; And long as I can stir I'll dog him.--Yesterday, To serve me so, and knowing that he owes The best of all he has to me and mine.

But 'tis all over now.--That good old Lady Has left a power of riches; and I say it, If there's a lawyer in the land, the knave Shall give me half.

OSWALD What's this?--I fear, good Woman, You have been insolent.

BEGGAR And there's the Baron, I spied him skulking in his peasant's dress.

OSWALD How say you? in disguise?--

MARMADUKE But what's your business With Herbert or his Daughter?