Part 2
The discussion of narrative methods may be left to the will and discretion of the teacher. A study of the separate poems here presented will show that while the four almost indispensable elements of narration--plot, setting, characters, and motive--may usually be found, their use and emphasis vary greatly according to the theories and personalities of the authors. The employment of such arts of construction as suspense and climax may be discovered by the individual student, who should also test each poem for its unity, coherence, and proportion. In a collection such as this there is ample room for instructive criticism and comparison. But narrative poems may well be read for the interest they excite. If a narrative poem fails in this respect, it is all but condemned from the start. It is hoped that these examples may show the student that _poetry_ is not always dull and lifeless; that it may possess at times all the features which make literature attractive as well as inspiring.
The editors are grateful for assistance rendered them by Mr. A. W. Leonard and Mr. Archibald Freeman, both instructors in Phillips Academy, Andover, Massachusetts.
WILLIAM COWPER
THE DIVERTING HISTORY OF JOHN GILPIN
SHOWING HOW HE WENT FARTHER THAN HE INTENDED, AND CAME HOME SAFE AGAIN
John Gilpin was a citizen Of credit and renown, A trainband captain eke[1] was he Of famous London town.
John Gilpin's spouse said to her dear, 5 "Though wedded we have been These twice ten tedious years, yet we No holiday have seen.
"To-morrow is our wedding day, And we will then repair 10 Unto the Bell at Edmonton[2] All in a chaise and pair.
"My sister, and my sister's child, Myself, and children three, Will fill the chaise; so you must ride 15 On horseback after we.[3]"
He soon replied, "I do admire Of womankind but one, And you are she, my dearest dear, Therefore it shall be done. 20
"I am a linendraper bold, As all the world doth know, And my good friend the calender[4] Will lend his horse to go."
Quoth Mrs. Gilpin, "That's well said; 25 And for that wine is dear, We will be furnished with our own, Which is both bright and clear."
John Gilpin kiss'd his loving wife; O'erjoyed was he to find, 30 That, though on pleasure she was bent, She had a frugal mind.
The morning came, the chaise was brought, But yet was not allow'd To drive up to the door, lest all 35 Should say that she was proud.
So three doors off the chaise was stay'd, Where they did all get in; Six precious souls, and all agog[5] To dash through thick and thin. 40
Smack went the whip, round went the wheels, Were never folks so glad, The stones did rattle underneath, As if Cheapside[6] were mad.
John Gilpin at his horse's side 45 Seized fast the flowing mane, And up he got, in haste to ride, But soon came down again;
For saddletree[7] scarce reach'd had he His journey to begin, 50 When, turning round his head, he saw Three customers come in.
So down he came; for loss of time, Although it grieved him sore, Yet loss of pence, full well he knew, 55 Would trouble him much more.
'Twas long before the customers Were suited to their mind, When Betty screaming came down stairs, "The wine is left behind!" 60
"Good lack!" quoth he--"yet bring it me, My leathern belt likewise, In which I bear my trusty sword When I do exercise."
Now Mistress Gilpin (careful soul!) 65 Had two stone bottles found, To hold the liquor that she loved, And keep it safe and sound.
Each bottle had a curling ear, Through which the belt he drew, 70 And hung a bottle on each side, To make his balance true.
Then over all, that he might be Equipp'd from top to toe, His long red cloak, well brush'd and neat, 75 He manfully did throw.
Now see him mounted once again Upon his nimble steed, Full slowly pacing o'er the stones, With caution and good heed. 80
But finding soon a smoother road Beneath his well shod feet, The snorting beast began to trot, Which gall'd him in his seat.
So, "fair and softly," John he cried, 85 But John he cried in vain; That trot became a gallop soon, In spite of curb and rein.
So stooping down, as needs he must Who cannot sit upright, 90 He grasp'd the mane with both his hands, And eke with all his might.
His horse, who never in that sort Had handled been before, What thing upon his back had got 95 Did wonder more and more.
Away went Gilpin, neck or nought; Away went hat and wig; He little dreamt, when he set out, Of running such a rig. 100
The wind did blow, the cloak did fly, Like streamer long and gay, Till, loop and button failing both, At last it flew away.
Then might all people well discern 105 The bottles he had slung; A bottle swinging at each side, As hath been said or sung.
The dogs did bark, the children scream'd, Up flew the windows all; 110 And every soul cried out, "Well done!" As loud as he could bawl.
Away went Gilpin--who but he? His fame soon spread around, "He carries weight! he rides a race[8]! 115 'Tis for a thousand pound!"
And still as fast as he drew near, 'Twas wonderful to view, How in a trice the turnpike men Their gates wide open threw. 120
And now, as he went bowing down His reeking head full low, The bottles twain behind his back Were shatter'd at a blow.
Down ran the wine into the road, 125 Most piteous to be seen, Which made his horse's flanks to smoke As they had basted been.
But still he seem'd to carry weight, With leathern girdle braced; 130 For all might see the bottle necks Still dangling at his waist.
Thus all through merry Islington[9] These gambols did he play, Until he came unto the Wash 135 Of Edmonton so gay;
And there he threw the wash about On both sides of the way, Just like unto a trundling mop, Or a wild goose at play. 140
At Edmonton his loving wife From the balcony spied Her tender husband, wondering much To see how he did ride.
"Stop, stop, John Gilpin!--Here's the house," 145 They all at once did cry; "The dinner waits, and we are tired:" Said Gilpin--"So am I!"
But yet his horse was not a whit Inclined to tarry there; 150 For why?--his owner had a house Full ten miles off, at Ware.[10]
So like an arrow swift he flew, Shot by an archer strong; So did he fly--which brings me to 155 The middle of my song.
Away went Gilpin out of breath, And sore against his will, Till at his friend the calender's His horse at last stood still. 160
The calender, amazed to see His neighbor in such trim, Laid down his pipe, flew to the gate, And thus accosted him:
"What news? what news? your tidings tell; 165 Tell me you must and shall-- Say why bareheaded you are come, Or why you come at all?"
Now Gilpin had a pleasant wit, And loved a timely joke; 170 And thus unto the calender In merry guise he spoke:
"I came because your horse would come; And, if I well forbode, My hat and wig will soon be here, 175 They are upon the road."
The calender, right glad to find His friend in merry pin,[11] Return'd him not a single word, But to the house went in; 180
Whence straight he came with hat and wig; A wig that flow'd behind, A hat not much the worse for wear, Each comely in its kind.
He held them up, and in his turn 185 Thus show'd his ready wit, "My head is twice as big as yours, They therefore needs must fit.
"But let me scrape the dirt away That hangs upon your face; 190 And stop and eat, for well you may Be in a hungry case."
Said John, "It is my wedding day, And all the world would stare, If wife should dine at Edmonton, 195 And I should dine at Ware."
So turning to his horse, he said, "I am in haste to dine; 'Twas for your pleasure you came here, You shall go back for mine." 200
Ah luckless speech, and bootless boast! For which he paid full dear; For, while he spake, a braying ass Did sing most loud and clear;
Whereat his horse did snort, as he 205 Had heard a lion roar, And gallop'd off with all his might, As he had done before.
Away went Gilpin, and away Went Gilpin's hat and wig: 210 He lost them sooner than at first, For why?--they were too big.
Now mistress Gilpin, when she saw Her husband posting down Into the country far away, 215 She pull'd out half a crown;
And thus unto the youth she said, That drove them to the Bell, "This shall be yours, when you bring back My husband safe and well." 220
The youth did ride, and soon did meet John coming back amain[12]; Whom in a trice he tried to stop, By catching at his rein;
But not performing what he meant, 225 And gladly would have done, The frighted steed he frighted more, And made him faster run.
Away went Gilpin, and away Went postboy at his heels, 230 The postboy's horse right glad to miss The lumbering of the wheels.
Six gentlemen upon the road, Thus seeing Gilpin fly, With postboy scampering in the rear, 235 They raised the hue and cry[13]:--
"Stop thief! stop thief!--a highwayman!" Not one of them was mute; And all and each that passed that way Did join in the pursuit. 240
And now the turnpike gates again Flew open in short space; The toll-men thinking as before, That Gilpin rode a race.
And so he did, and won it too, 245 For he got first to town; Nor stopp'd till where he had got up He did again get down.
Now let us sing, "Long live the king, And Gilpin, long live he;" 250 And when he next doth ride abroad, May I be there to see!
ROBERT BURNS
TAM O' SHANTER
"Of brownyis and of bogilis full is this buke." GAWIN DOUGLAS.
A TALE
When chapman billies[14] leave the street, And drouty[15] neebors, neebors meet, As market-days are wearing late, And folk begin to tak the gate[16]; While we sit bousing at the nappy,[17] 5 And gettin' fou[18] and unco[19] happy, We think na on the lang Scots miles. The mosses, waters, slaps[20] and styles, That lie between us and our hame, Where sits our sulky sullen dame, 10 Gathering her brows like gathering storm, Nursing her wrath to keep it warm.
This truth fand honest Tam o' Shanter, As he frae[21] Ayr[22] ae night did canter, (Auld Ayr, wham ne'er a town surpasses 15 For honest men and bonny lasses.)
O Tam! hadst thou but been sae wise, As ta'en thy ain wife Kate's advice! She tauld thee weel thou wast a skellum,[23] A blethering,[24] blustering, drunken blellum[25]; 20 That frae November till October, Ae market-day thou wasna sober; That ilka[26] melder,[27] wi' the miller, Thou sat as lang as thou had siller; That every naig was ca'd[28] a shoe on, 25 The smith and thee gat roaring fou on; That at the Lord's house, even on Sunday, Thou drank wi' Kirkton Jean till Monday. She prophesied that, late or soon, Thou would be found deep drowned in Doon,[29] 30 Or catched wi' warlocks[30] in the mirk,[31] By Alloway's[32] auld haunted kirk.[33]
Ah, gentle dames! it gars me greet,[34] To think how monie counsels sweet, How monie lengthened sage advices, 35 The husband frae the wife despises!
But to our tale:--Ae market-night, Tam had got planted[35] unco right, Fast by an ingle,[36] bleezing finely, Wi' reaming swats,[37] that drank divinely; 40 And at his elbow, Souter[38] Johnny, His ancient, trusty, drouthy crony; Tam lo'ed him like a vera brither-- They had been fou for weeks thegither! The night drave on wi' sangs and clatter, 45 And aye the ale was growing better; The landlady and Tam grew gracious, Wi' favors secret, sweet, and precious; The souter tauld his queerest stories, The landlord's laugh was ready chorus; 50 The storm without might rair and rustle-- Tam did na mind the storm a whistle.
Care, mad to see a man sae happy, E'en drowned himself amang the nappy! As bees flee hame wi' lades o' treasure, 55 The minutes winged their way wi' pleasure: Kings may be blest, but Tam was glorious, O'er a' the ills o' life victorious.
But pleasures are like poppies spread,-- You seize the flower, its bloom is shed; 60 Or like the snowfall in the river,-- A moment white--then melts forever; Or like the borealis race, That flit ere you can point their place; Or like the rainbow's lovely form, 65 Evanishing amid the storm. Nae man can tether time or tide; The hour approaches Tam maun[39] ride: That hour, o' night's black arch the keystane, That dreary hour he mounts his beast in; 70 And sic a night he taks the road in As ne'er poor sinner was abroad in. The wind blew as 'twad blawn its last; The rattling showers rose on the blast; The speedy gleams the darkness swallowed; 75 Loud, deep, and lang the thunder bellowed: That night, a child might understand, The Deil[40] had business on his hand.
Weel mounted on his gray mare, Meg, (A better never lifted leg,) 80 Tam skelpit[41] on through dub[42] and mire, Despising wind, and rain, and fire; Whiles holding fast his guid blue bonnet, Whiles crooning o'er some auld Scots sonnet; Whiles glowering round wi' prudent cares, 85 Lest bogles[43] catch him unawares:-- Kirk-Alloway was drawing nigh, Where ghaists and houlets[44] nightly cry.
By this time he was cross the ford, Where in the snaw the chapman smoored[45]; 90 And past the birks[46] and meikle stane,[47] Where drunken Charlie brak's neck-bane; And through the whins,[48] and by the cairn,[49] Where hunters fand the murdered bairn[50]; And near the thorn, aboon the well, 95 Where Mungo's mither hanged hersel'. Before him Doon pours all his floods; The doubling storm roars through the woods; The lightnings flash from pole to pole; Near and more near the thunders roll; 100 When, glimmering through the groaning trees, Kirk-Alloway seemed in a bleeze[51]; Through ilka bore[52] the beams were glancing, And loud resounded mirth and dancing.
Inspiring bold John Barleycorn,[53] 105 What dangers thou canst make us scorn! Wi' tippenny, we fear nae evil; Wi' usquebae,[54] we'll face the devil!-- The swats sae reamed in Tammie's noddle, Fair play, he cared na deils a boddle.[55] 110 But Maggie stood right sair astonished, Till, by the heel and hand admonished, She ventured forward on the light; And, vow! Tam saw an unco sight! Warlocks and witches in a dance; 115 Nae cotillion brent[56] new frae France, But hornpipes, jigs, strathspeys,[57] and reels, Put life and mettle in their heels. A winnock-bunker[58] in the east, There sat auld Nick, in shape o' beast; 120 A towzie tyke,[59] black, grim, and large, To gie them music was his charge; He screwed the pipes and gart them skirl,[60] Till roof and rafters a' did dirl.[61] Coffins stood round, like open presses, 125 That shawed the dead in their last dresses; And by some devilish cantrip slight[62] Each in its cauld hand held a light: By which heroic Tam was able To note upon the haly table, 130 A murderer's banes in gibbet airns; Twa span-lang, wee unchristened bairns; A thief, new-cutted frae the rape, Wi' his last gasp his gab[63] did gape; Five tomahawks, wi' bluid red-rusted; 135 Five scimitars, wi' murder crusted; A garter which a babe had strangled; A knife, a father's throat had mangled, Whom his ain son o' life bereft,-- The gray hairs yet stack to the heft: 140 Wi' mair o' horrible and awfu', Which even to name wad be unlawfu'!
As Tammie glow'red, amazed and curious, The mirth and fun grew fast and furious; The piper loud and louder blew; 145 The dancers quick and quicker flew; They reeled, they set, they crossed, they cleekit,[64] Till ilka carlin[65] swat and reekit, And coost her duddies[66] to the wark, And linket[67] at it in her sark[68]! 150
Now Tam, O Tam! had thae been queans,[69] A' plump and strappin' in their teens; Their sarks, instead o' creeshie flannen,[70] Been snaw-white seventeen-hunder linen[71]! Thir breeks o' mine, my only pair, 155 That ance were plush, o' guid blue hair, I wad hae gi'en them off my hurdies,[72] For ae blink o' the bonny burdies[73]! But withered beldams,[74] auld and droll Rigwooddie[75] hags wad spean[76] a foal, 160 Louping and flinging on a cummock,[77] I wonder didna turn thy stomach.
But Tam kenned what was what fu' brawlie[78]; There was ae winsome wench and walie,[79] That night enlisted in the core,[80] 165 (Lang after kenned on Carrick shore; For monie a beast to dead she shot, And perished monie a bonny boat, And shook baith meikle corn and bear,[81] And kept the country-side in fear.) 170 Her cutty-sark,[82] o' Paisley harn,[83] That while a lassie she had won, In longitude though sorely scanty, It was her best, and she was vauntie.[84] Ah! little kenned thy reverend grannie 175 That sark she coft[85] for her wee Nannie, Wi' twa pund Scots ('twas a' her riches), Wad ever graced a dance o' witches!
But here my Muse her wing maun cour; Sic flights are far beyond her power;-- 180 To sing how Nannie lap and flang[86] (A souple jade she was, and strang), And how Tam stood like ane bewitched, And thought his very e'en[87] enriched: Even Satan glow'red and fidged fu' fain,[88] 185 And hotched[89] and blew wi' might and main: Till first ae caper, syne[90] anither, Tam tint[91] his reason a' thegither, And roars out: "Weel done, Cutty-sark!" And in an instant all was dark: 190 And scarcely had he Maggie rallied, When out the hellish legion sallied. As bees bizz out wi' angry fyke,[92] When plundering herds assail their byke[93]; As open poussie's mortal foes, 195 When, pop! she starts before their nose; As eager runs the market-crowd, When "Catch the thief!" resounds aloud; So Maggie runs, the witches follow, Wi' monie an eldritch[94] screech and hollow. 200
Ah, Tam! ah, Tam! thou'll get they fairin'[95]! In hell they'll roast thee like a herrin'! In vain thy Kate awaits thy comin'; Kate soon will be a woefu' woman! Now, do thy speedy utmost, Meg, 205 And win the keystane o' the brig; There at them thou thy tail may toss, A running-stream they darena cross[96]! But ere the keystane she could make, The fient a tail she had to shake! 210 For Nannie, far before the rest, Hard upon noble Maggie prest, And flew at Tam wi' furious ettle,[97]-- But little wist she Maggie's mettle! Ae spring brought off her master hale, 215 But left behind her ain gray tail: The carlin claught her by the rump, And left poor Maggie scarce a stump.
Now, wha this tale o' truth shall read, Ilk man and mother's son, take heed! 220 Whene'er to drink you are inclined, Or cutty-sarks run in your mind, Think ye may buy the joys o'er dear,-- Remember Tam o' Shanter's mare.
WALTER SCOTT
LOCHINVAR
O, young Lochinvar is come out of the west, Through all the wide Border[98] his steed was the best; And, save his good broadsword, he weapons had none, He rode all unarm'd, and he rode all alone. So faithful in love, and so dauntless in war, 5 There never was knight like the young Lochinvar.
He staid not for brake, and he stopp'd not for stone, He swam the Esk river[99] where ford there was none; But ere he alighted at Netherby gate, The bride had consented, the gallant came late: 10 For a laggard in love, and a dastard in war, Was to wed the fair Ellen of brave Lochinvar.
So boldly he enter'd the Netherby Hall, Among bride's-men, and kinsmen, and brothers, and all: Then spoke the bride's father, his hand on his sword, 15 (For the poor craven bridegroom said never a word,) "O come ye in peace here, or come ye in war, Or to dance at our bridal, young Lord Lochinvar?"--