Upon the roofe we sat that night,
The noise of bells went sweeping by;
I marked the lofty beacon light

Stream from the church tower, red and high-
A lurid mark and dread to see;
And awesome 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 I my sonne was at my side,
And yet the ruddy beacon glowed;
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,

Shiver, quiver;

Stand beside the sobbing river,
Sobbing, throbbing, in its falling
To the sandy lonesome shore;
I shall never hear her calling,
"Leave your meadow grasses mellow,
Mellow, mellow;

Quit your cowslips, cowslips yellow;
Come uppe, Whitefoot, come uppe, Lightfoot;
Quit your pipes of parsley hollow,

Hollow, hollow;

Come uppe, Lightfoot, rise and follow;
Lightfoot, Whitefoot,

From your clovers lift your head;

Come uppe, Jetty, follow, follow,

Jetty to the milking shed."

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;

The waters laid thee at his doore,
Ere yet the early dawn was clear.
Thy pretty bairns in fast embrace,
The lifted sun shone on thy face,
Downe drifted to thy dwelling-place.

That flow strewed wrecks about the grass,
That ebbe swept out the flocks to sea;
A fatal ebbe and flow, alas!

To manye more than myne and mee;
But each will mourn his own (she saith)
And sweeter woman ne'er drew breath
Than my sonne's wife, Elizabeth.

JEAN INGELOW

49, 272
16, 126

6, 89, 159