“The Highwayman”<\/p>\n
Part One<\/p>\n
<\/p>\n
“The wind was a torrent of darkness among the gusty trees.<\/p>\n
The moon was a ghostly galleon tossed upon cloudy seas.<\/p>\n
The road was a ribbon of moonlight over the purple moor,<\/p>\n
And the highwayman came riding–<\/p>\n
Riding–riding–<\/p>\n
The highwayman came riding , up to the old inn-door.<\/p>\n
<\/p>\n
He’d a French cocked-hat on his forehead, a bundle of lace at his chin,<\/p>\n
A coat of the claret velvet, and breeches of brown doe-skin.<\/p>\n
They fitted with never a wrinkle. His boots were up to the thigh.<\/p>\n
And he rode with a jewelled twinkle,<\/p>\n
His pistol butts a-twinkle,<\/p>\n
His rapier hilt a-twinkle, under the jewelled sky.<\/p>\n
<\/p>\n
Over the cobbles he clattered and clashed in the dark inn-yard.<\/p>\n
He tapped with his whip on the shutters, but all was locked and barred.<\/p>\n
He whistled a tune to the window, and who should be waiting there<\/p>\n
But the landlord’s black-eyed daughter,<\/p>\n
Plaiting a dark red love-knot into her long black hair.<\/p>\n
<\/p>\n
And dark in the dark old inn-yard a stable-wicket creaked<\/p>\n
Where Tim the ostler listened. His face was white and peaked.<\/p>\n
His eyes were hollows of madness, his hair like moldy hay.<\/p>\n
But he loved the landlord’s daughter,<\/p>\n
The landlord’s red-lipped daughter.<\/p>\n
Dumb as a dog he listened, and he heard the robber say–<\/p>\n
<\/p>\n
“One kiss my bonny sweetheart, I’m after a prize to-night,<\/p>\n
But I shall be back with the yellow gold before the morning light;<\/p>\n
Yet, if they press me sharply, and harry me through the day,<\/p>\n
Then look for me by moonlight,<\/p>\n
Watch for me by moonlight,<\/p>\n
I’ll come to thee by moonlight, though hell should bar the way.”<\/p>\n
<\/p>\n
He rose upright in the stirrups. He scarce could reach her hand,<\/p>\n
But she loosened her hair in the casement. His face burnt like a brand<\/p>\n
As the black cascade of perfume came tumbling over his breast;<\/p>\n
And he kissed its waves in the moonlight,<\/p>\n
[O, sweet black waves in the moonlight!]<\/p>\n
Then he tugged at his rein in the moonlight, and galloped away to the West.<\/p>\n
Part Two<\/p>\n
He did not come in the dawning. He did not come at noon;<\/p>\n
And out of the tawny sunset, before the rise of the moon,<\/p>\n
When the road was a gypsy’s ribbon, looping the purple moor,<\/p>\n
A red-coat troop came marching–<\/p>\n
Marching–marching–<\/p>\n
King George’s men came marching, up to the old inn-door.<\/p>\n
<\/p>\n
They said no word to the landlord. They drank his ale instead.<\/p>\n
But they gagged his daughter, and bound her, to the foot of her narrow bed.<\/p>\n
Two of them knelt at her casement, with muskets at their side!<\/p>\n
There was death at every window;<\/p>\n
And hell at one dark window;<\/p>\n
For Bess could see, through her casement, the road that he<\/em> would ride.<\/p>\n <\/p>\n They had tied her up to attention, with many a sniggering jest.<\/p>\n They had bound a musket beside her, with the muzzle beneath her breast!<\/p>\n “Now keep good watch!” and they kissed her. She heard the doomed man say–<\/p>\n Look for me by moonlight;<\/em><\/p>\n Watch<\/em> for<\/em> me by moonlight;<\/em><\/p>\n I’ll come to thee by moonlight, though hell should bar the way!<\/em><\/p>\n <\/p>\n She twisted her hands behind her; but all the knots held good!!<\/p>\n She writhed her hands till her fingers were wet with sweat or blood!<\/p>\n They stretched and strained in the darkness, and the hours crawled by like years<\/p>\n Till, now, on the stroke of midnight,<\/p>\n Cold, on the stroke of midnight,<\/p>\n The tip of one finger touched it! The trigger at least was hers!<\/p>\n <\/p>\n The tip of one finger touched it. She strove no more for the rest.<\/p>\n Up, she stood up to attention, with the muzzle beneath her breast.<\/p>\n She would not risk their hearing; she would not strive again;<\/p>\n For the road lay bare in the moonlight; Blank and bare in the moonlight;<\/p>\n And the blood of her veins, in the moonlight, throbbed to her love’s refrain.<\/p>\n <\/p>\n Tlot-tlot; tlot-tlot! <\/em>Had they heard it? The horsehoofs ringing clear;<\/p>\n Tlot-tlot; tlot-tlot, <\/em>in the distance? Were they deaf that they did not hear?<\/p>\n Down the ribbon of moonlight , over the brow of the hill.<\/p>\n The highwayman came riding–<\/p>\n Riding–riding–<\/p>\n The red-coats looked to their priming! She stood up straight and still.<\/p>\n <\/p>\n Tlot- tlot,<\/em> in the frosty silence! Tlot-tlot, <\/em>in the echoing night!<\/p>\n Nearer he came and nearer. Her face was like a light.<\/p>\n Her eyes grew wide for a moment; she drew one last deep breath,<\/p>\n Then her finger moved in the moonlight,<\/p>\n Her musket shattered the moonlight,<\/p>\n Shattered her breast in the moonlight and warned him with her death.<\/p>\n <\/p>\n He turned. He spurred to the West; he did not know who stood<\/p>\n Bowed, with her head o’er the musket, drenched with her own blood!<\/p>\n Not till the dawn he heard it, and his face grew gray to hear<\/p>\n How Bess, the landlord’s daughter,<\/p>\n The landlord’s black-eyed daughter,<\/p>\n Had watched for her love in the moonlight, and died in the darkness there.<\/p>\n <\/p>\n Back, he spurred like a madman, shrieking a curse to the sky,<\/p>\n With the white road smoking behind him and his rapier brandished high.<\/p>\n Blood red were his spurs in the golden noon; wine-red was his velvet coat;<\/p>\n When they shot him down on the highway,<\/p>\n Down like a dog on the highway,<\/p>\n And he lay in his blood on the highway, with a bunch of lace at his throat.<\/p>\n <\/p>\n And still of a winter’s night, they say, when the wind is in the trees,<\/em><\/p>\n When the moon is a ghostly galleon tossed upon cloudy seas,<\/em><\/p>\n When the road is a ribbon of moonlight over the purple moor,<\/em><\/p>\n A highwayman come riding–<\/em><\/p>\n Riding–riding–<\/em><\/p>\n A highwayman come riding, up to the old inn-door.<\/em><\/p>\n <\/p>\n Over the cobbles he clatters and clangs in the dark inn-yard.<\/em><\/p>\n He taps with his whip on the shutters, but all is locked and barred.<\/em><\/p>\n He whistles a tune to the window, and who should be waiting there<\/em><\/p>\n But the landlord’s black-eyed daughter,<\/em><\/p>\n Bess, the landlord’s daughter,<\/em><\/p>\n Plaiting a dark red love-knot into her long black<\/em> hair. ” \u00a0\u00a0 <\/em>Alfred Noyes.<\/p>\n The above ballad was excerpted from my childhood and perhaps<\/p>\n yours as well.<\/p>\n Islander.<\/p>\n <\/p>\n <\/p>\n <\/p>\n <\/p>\n <\/p>\n <\/p>\n <\/p>\n t<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":" “The Highwayman” Part One “The wind was a torrent of darkness among the gusty trees. The moon was a ghostly galleon tossed upon cloudy seas. The road was a ribbon of moonlight over the purple moor, And the highwayman came riding– Riding–riding– The highwayman came riding , up to the old inn-door. He’d … Continue reading “Noyes”<\/span><\/a><\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":1,"featured_media":0,"parent":0,"menu_order":0,"comment_status":"closed","ping_status":"closed","template":"","meta":{"footnotes":""},"class_list":["post-1482","page","type-page","status-publish","hentry"],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/thewalrussaid.net\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/pages\/1482","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/thewalrussaid.net\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/pages"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/thewalrussaid.net\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/types\/page"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/thewalrussaid.net\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/users\/1"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/thewalrussaid.net\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/comments?post=1482"}],"version-history":[{"count":1,"href":"https:\/\/thewalrussaid.net\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/pages\/1482\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":1483,"href":"https:\/\/thewalrussaid.net\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/pages\/1482\/revisions\/1483"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/thewalrussaid.net\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media?parent=1482"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}