English Narrative Poems

Narrative poetry, English; Readers -- Poetry

"Woman, disturb me not now at the last,                        870
    But let me hold my purpose till I die.
    Sit down again; mark me and understand,
    While I have power to speak. I charge you now
    When you shall see her, tell her that I died
    Blessing her, praying for her, loving her;                       875
    Save for the bar between us, loving her
    As when she lay her head beside my own.
    And tell my daughter Annie, whom I saw
    So like her mother, that my latest breath
    Was spent in blessing her and praying for her.                   880
    And tell my son that I died blessing him.
    And say to Philip that I blest him too;
    He never meant us any thing but good.
    But if my children care to see me dead,
    Who hardly knew me living, let them come,                        885
    I am their father; but she must not come,
    For my dead face would vex her after-life.
    And now there is but one of all my blood,
    Who will embrace me in the world-to-be:
    This hair is his: she cut it off and gave it,                    890
    And I have borne it with me all these years,
    And thought to bear it with me to my grave;
    But now my mind is changed, for I shall see him,
    My babe in bliss: wherefore when I am gone,
    Take, give her this, for it may comfort her:                     895
    It will moreover be a token to her,
    That I am he."

                    He ceased; and Miriam Lane
    Made such a voluble answer promising all,
    That once again he roll'd his eyes upon her
    Repeating all he wish'd, and once again                          900
    She promised.

                    Then the third night after this,
    While Enoch slumber'd motionless and pale,
    And Miriam watch'd and dozed at intervals,
    There came so loud a calling of the sea,
    That all the houses in the haven rang.                           905
    He woke, he rose, he spread his arms abroad,
    Crying with a loud voice "A sail! a sail!
    I am saved;" and so fell back and spoke no more.

      So past the strong heroic soul away.
    And when they buried him the little port                         910
    Had seldom seen a costlier funeral.




THE REVENGE


A BALLAD OF THE FLEET


    I

    At Flores in the Azores[225] Sir Richard Grenville lay,
    And a pinnace like a flutter'd bird, came flying from far away:
    'Spanish ships of war at sea! we have sighted fifty-three!'
    Then sware Lord Thomas Howard[226]: 'Fore God I am no coward;
    But I cannot meet them here, for my ships are out of gear,         5
    And the half my men are sick. I must fly, but follow quick.
    We are six ships of the line; can we fight with fifty-three?'


    II

Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.

Opening the text

General

English Narrative Poems

Narrative poetry, English; Readers -- Poetry

"Woman, disturb me not now at the last,                        870
    But let me hold my purpose till I die.
    Sit down again; mark me and understand,
    While I have power to speak. I charge you now
    When you shall see her, tell her that I died
    Blessing her, praying for her, loving her;                       875
    Save for the bar between us, loving her
    As when she lay her head beside my own.
    And tell my daughter Annie, whom I saw
    So like her mother, that my latest breath
    Was spent in blessing her and praying for her.                   880
    And tell my son that I died blessing him.
    And say to Philip that I blest him too;
    He never meant us any thing but good.
    But if my children care to see me dead,
    Who hardly knew me living, let them come,                        885
    I am their father; but she must not come,
    For my dead face would vex her after-life.
    And now there is but one of all my blood,
    Who will embrace me in the world-to-be:
    This hair is his: she cut it off and gave it,                    890
    And I have borne it with me all these years,
    And thought to bear it with me to my grave;
    But now my mind is changed, for I shall see him,
    My babe in bliss: wherefore when I am gone,
    Take, give her this, for it may comfort her:                     895
    It will moreover be a token to her,
    That I am he."

                    He ceased; and Miriam Lane
    Made such a voluble answer promising all,
    That once again he roll'd his eyes upon her
    Repeating all he wish'd, and once again                          900
    She promised.

                    Then the third night after this,
    While Enoch slumber'd motionless and pale,
    And Miriam watch'd and dozed at intervals,
    There came so loud a calling of the sea,
    That all the houses in the haven rang.                           905
    He woke, he rose, he spread his arms abroad,
    Crying with a loud voice "A sail! a sail!
    I am saved;" and so fell back and spoke no more.

      So past the strong heroic soul away.
    And when they buried him the little port                         910
    Had seldom seen a costlier funeral.




THE REVENGE


A BALLAD OF THE FLEET


    I

    At Flores in the Azores[225] Sir Richard Grenville lay,
    And a pinnace like a flutter'd bird, came flying from far away:
    'Spanish ships of war at sea! we have sighted fifty-three!'
    Then sware Lord Thomas Howard[226]: 'Fore God I am no coward;
    But I cannot meet them here, for my ships are out of gear,         5
    And the half my men are sick. I must fly, but follow quick.
    We are six ships of the line; can we fight with fifty-three?'


    II

Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.

English Narrative Poems

English Narrative Poems

No reviews yet