15 See now, there certainly seems excuse: for a moment, I trust, dear friends, The fault was but folly, no fault of mine, or if mine, I have made amends! For, every day that is first of May, on the hilltop here stand I, Martin Relph, and I strike my brow, and publish the reason why, When there gathers a crowd to mock the fool. No fool, friends, since the bite Of a worm inside is worse to bear: pray God I have balked him quite! 20 Gives by her fate fair warning to such acquaintance as play the spy. Henceforth who meddle with matters of state above them perhaps will learn That peasants should stick to their plough-tail, leave to King the King's concern. "Here's a quarrel that sets the land on fire, between King George and his foes:1 What call has a man of your kind-much less, a woman-to interpose? 30 Yet you needs must be meddling, folk like you, not foes- so much the worse! The many and loyal should keep themselves unmixed with the few perverse. "Is the counsel hard to follow? I gave it you plainly a month ago, And where was the good? The rebels have learned just all that they need to know. Not a month since in we quietly marched: a week and they had the news, From a list complete of our rank and file to a note of our caps and shoes. 35 The murder, you see, was out: Easy to guess how the change of mind in the rebels was brought about! 50 Safe in the trap would they now lie snug, had treachery made no sign: But treachery meets a just reward, no matter if fools malign! "That traitors had played us false, was proved -sent news which fell so pat: And the murder was out-this letter of love, the sender of this sent that! 'Tis an ugly job, though, all the same-a hateful, to have to deal With a case of the kind, when a woman's in fault: we soldiers need nerves of steel! 55 "If her writing is simple, and honest and only the lover-like stuff it looks, And if you yourself are a loyalist, nor down in the rebels' books, Come quick,' said I, and in person prove you are each of you clear of crime, Or martial law must take its course: this day next week's the time!' "Next week is now: does he come? Not he! Clean gone, our clerk, in a trice! 65 He has left his sweetheart here in the lurch: no need of a warning twice! His own neck free, but his partner's fast in the noose still, here she stands To pay for her fault. 'Tis an ugly job: but soldiers obey commands. "And hearken wherefore I make a speech! Should any acquaintance share The folly that led to the fault that is now to be punished, let fools beware! 70 Look black, if you please, but keep hands white: and above all else, keep wives Or sweethearts or what they may be-from ink! Not a word now, on your lives!" Black? but the Pit's own pitch was white to the Captain's face the brute With the bloated cheeks and the bulgy nose and the bloodshot eyes to suit! 75 He was muddled with wine, they say: more like, he was out of his wits with fear; He had but a handful of men, that's true,-a riot might cost him dear. And all that time stood Rosamund Page, with pinioned arms, and face Bandaged about, on the turf marked out for the party's firing-place. I hope she was wholly with God: I hope 'twas His angel stretched a hand To steady her so, like the shape of stone you see in our church-aisle stand. 80 Those heaped on the hill were blind as dumb,for, of all eyes, only mine Looked over the heads of the foremost rank. That was myself, who had stolen up last, had sidled behind the group: 90 I am highest of all on the hill-top, there stand fixed while the others stoop! From head to foot in a serpent's twine am I tightened: I touch ground? No more than a gibbet's rigid corpse which the fetters rust around! Can I speak, can I breathe, can I burst-aught else but see, see, only see? And see I do-for there comes in sight-a man, it sure must be! Who staggeringly, stumblingly, rises, falls, rises, at random flings his weight 95 And at length when he wrung their pardon out, no end to the stupid forms The license and leave: I make no doubt-what wonder if passion warms The pulse in a man if you play with his heart?he was something hasty in speech; Anyhow, none would quicken the work; he had to beseech, beseech! And the thing once signed, sealed, safe in his grasp,-what followed but fresh delays? For the floods were out, he was forced to take such a roundabout of ways! 123 And 'twas "Halt there!" at every turn of the road, since he had to cross the thick Of the red-coats: what did they care for him and his "Quick, for God's sake, quick!" Horse? bu he had one: had it how long? till the first knave smirked "You brag 10 And bared them of the glory-to drop down, Hail then, and harken from the realms of help! Except with bent head and beseeching hand- For all hope, all sustainment, all reward, Some whiteness which, I judge, thy face makes 5 Of yon grey blank of sky, we might grow faint 10 30 If I leave all for thee, wilt thou exchange That comes to each in turn, nor count it strange When I look up, to drop on a new range Of walls and floors, another home than this? Nay, wilt thou fill that place by me which is 35 Filled by dead eyes too tender to know change? That's hardest. If to conquer love, has tried, To conquer grief, tries more, as all things prove; 40 For grief indeed is love and grief beside. And fold within the wet wings of thy dove. XLIII How do I love thee? Let me count the ways. I love thee to the depth and breadth and height My soul can reach, when feeling out of sight 45 For the ends of Being, and ideal Grace. I love thee to the level of everyday's Most quiet need, by sun and candlelight. I love thee freely, as men strive for Right; I love thee purely, as they turn from Praise. 50 I love thee with the passion put to use In my old griefs, and with my childhood's faith. I love thee with a love I seemed to lose With my lost saints,-I love thee with the breath, Smiles, tears, of all my life!-and, if God choose, I shall but love thee better after death. 55 |