| |
| WILLIAM DEWY, Tranter Reuben, Farmer Ledlow late at plough, | |
| Robert’s kin, and John’s, and Ned’s, | |
| And the Squire, and Lady Susan, lie in Mellstock churchyard now! | |
| |
| “Gone,” I call them, gone for good, that group of local hearts and heads; | |
| Yet at mothy curfew-tide, | 5 |
| And at midnight when the noon-heat breathes it back from walls and leads, | |
| |
| They’ve a way of whispering to me—fellow-wight who yet abide— | |
| In the muted, measured note | |
| Of a ripple under archways, or a lone cave’s stillicide: | |
| |
| “We have triumphed: this achievement turns the bane to antidote, | 10 |
| Unsuccesses to success, | |
| Many thought-worn eves and morrows to a morrow free of thought. | |
| |
| “No more need we corn and clothing, feel of old terrestrial stress; | |
| Chill detraction stirs no sigh; | |
| Fear of death has even bygone us: death gave all that we possess.” | 15 |
| |
| W. D.—“Ye mid burn the wold bass-viol that I set such vallie by.” | |
| Squire.—“You may hold the manse in fee, | |
| You may wed my spouse, my children’s memory of me may decry.” | |
| |
| Lady.—“You may have my rich brocades, my laces; take each household key; | |
| Ransack coffer, desk, bureau; | 20 |
| Quiz the few poor treasures hid there, con the letters kept by me.” | |
| |
| Far.—“Ye mid zell my favorite heifer, ye mid let the charlock grow, | |
| Foul the grinterns, give up thrift.” | |
| Wife.—“If ye break my best blue china, children, I sha’n’t care or ho.” | |
| |
| All—“We’ve no wish to hear the tidings, how the people’s fortunes shift; | 25 |
| What your daily doings are; | |
| Who are wedded, born, divided; if your lives beat slow or swift. | |
| |
| “Curious not the least are we if our intents you make or mar, | |
| If you quire to our old tune, | |
| If the City stage still passes, if the weirs still roar afar.” | 30 |
| |
| Thus, with very gods’ composure, freed those crosses late and soon | |
| Which, in life, the Trine allow | |
| (Why, none witteth), and ignoring all that haps beneath the moon, | |
| |
| William Dewy, Tranter Reuben, Farmer Ledlow late at plough, | |
| Robert’s kin, and John’s, and Ned’s, | 35 |
| And the Squire, and Lady Susan, murmur mildly to me now. | |
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