THE HIGH TIDE ON THE COAST OF LINCOLNSHIRE. 233 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. From the meads where melick groweth "Cusha! Cusha! Cusha!" calling, 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, Againe I hear the Lindis flow, Swift as an arrowe, sharpe and strong; And all the aire, it seemeth mee, 234 THE HIGH TIDE ON THE COAST OF LINCOLNSHIRE. Bin full of floating bells (sayth shee), Alle fresh the level pasture lay, And not a shadowe mote be seene, The swanherds where their sedges are Then some looked uppe into the sky, To where the goodly vessels lie, And where the lordly steeple shows. They ring the tune of Enderby! "For evil news from Mablethorpe, Of pyrate galleys warping down; They have not spared to wake the towne: And storms be none, and pyrates flee, I looked without, and lo! my sonne Came riding downe with might and main: THE HIGH TIDE ON THE COAST OF LINCOLNSHIRE. 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 olde sea wall (he cried) is downe, The rising tide comes on apace, And boats adrift in yonder towne 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 away, With her two bairns I marked her long; And ere yon bells beganne to play With that he cried and beat his breast; And uppe the Lindis raging sped. And rearing Lindis backward pressed Then madly at the eygre's breast Flung uppe her weltering walls again. Then bankes came downe with ruin and rout Then beaten foam flew round about Then all the mighty floods were out. 235 236 THE HIGH TIDE ON THE COAST OF LINCOLNSHIRE. So farre, so fast the eygre drave, Upon the roofe we sate that night; I marked the lofty beacon light Stream from the church-tower, red and high— A lurid mark and dread to see; And awsome bells they were to mee, That in the dark rang “Enderby.” They rang the sailor lads to guide From roofe to roofe who fearless rowed, And yet the ruddy beacon glowed; And yet he moaned beneath his breath, "O come in life, or come in death! O lost! my love, Elizabeth.” And didst thou visit him no more? Thou didst, thou didst, my daughter deare; Ere yet the early dawn was clear. That flow strewed wrecks about the grass, A fatal ebbe and flow, alas! To manye more than myne and mee: THE HIGH TIDE ON THE COAST OF LINCOLNSHIRE. 237 And sweeter woman ne'er drew breath Than my sonne's wife, Elizabeth. I shall never hear her more By the reedy Lindis shore, "Cusha! Cusha! Cusha!" calling, Ere the early dews be falling; I shall never hear her song, "Cusha! Cusha!" all along Where the sunny Lindis floweth, Goeth, floweth; From the meads where melick groweth, When the water winding down, Onward floweth to the town. I shall never see her more Where the reeds and rushes quiver, Stand beside the sobbing river, Quit your cowslips, cowslips yellow; Hollow, hollow; Come uppe Lightfoot, rise and follow; Lightfoot, Whitefoot, From your clovers lift the head; Jetty, to the milking shed. J. Ingelow. |