Sweetly along the Salem road Bloom of orchard and lilac showed. Little the wicked skipper knew Of the fields so green and the sky so blue. 70 Riding there in his sorry trim, Like an Indian idol glum and grim, Scarcely he seemed the sound to hear Of voices shouting, far and near: "Here's Flud Oirson, fur his horrd horrt, 75 Torr'd an' futherr'd an' corr'd in a corrt By the women o' Morble'ead!" "Hear me, neighbors!" at last he cried,-- "What to me is this noisy ride? What is the shame that clothes the skin 80 To the nameless horror that lives within? Waking or sleeping, I see a wreck, And hear a cry from a reeling deck! Hate me and curse me,--I only dread The hand of God and the face of the dead!" 85 Said old Floyd Ireson, for his hard heart, Tarred and feathered and carried in a cart By the women of Marblehead! Then the wife of the skipper lost at sea Said, "God has touched him! why should we?" 90 Said an old wife mourning her only son, "Cut the rogue's tether and let him run!" So with soft relentings and rude excuse, Half scorn, half pity, they cut him loose, And gave him a cloak to hide him in, 95 And left him alone with his shame and sin. Poor Floyd Ireson, for his hard heart, Tarred and feathered and carried in a cart By the women of Marblehead! BARCLAY OF URY Up the streets of Aberdeen[318] By the kirk[319] and college green Rode the Laird[320] of Ury. Close behind him, close beside, Foul of mouth and evil-eyed, 5 Pressed the mob in fury. Flouted him the drunken churl, Jeered at him the serving-girl, Prompt to please her master; And the begging carlin,[321] late 10 Fed and clothed at Ury's gate, Cursed him as he passed her. Yet, with calm and stately mien, Up the streets of Aberdeen Came he slowly riding; 15 And, to all he saw and heard, Answering not with bitter word, Turning not for chiding. Came a troop with broadswords swinging, Bits and bridles sharply ringing, 20 Loose and free and froward; Quoth the foremost, 'Ride him down! Push him! prick him! through the town Drive the Quaker coward!' But from out the thickening crowd 25 Cried a sudden voice and loud: 'Barclay! Ho! a Barclay!' And the old man at his side Saw a comrade, battle tried, Scarred and sunburned darkly, 30