The old mayor climbed the belfry tower, The ringers rang by two, by three; "Pull, if ye never pulled before; Good ringers, pull your best," quoth he. "Play uppe, play uppe, O Boston bells! Ply all your changes, all your swells, Play uppe, 'The Brides of Enderby.'" Men say it was a stolen tyde-- The Lord that sent it, He knows all; But in myne ears doth still abide The message that the bells let fall: And there was naught of strange, beside The flight of mews and peewits pied By millions crouched on the old sea-wall. I sat and spun within the doore, My thread brake off, I raised myne eyes; The level sun, like ruddy ore, Lay sinking in the barren skies, And dark against day's golden death She moved where Lindis wandereth, My sonne's faire wife, Elizabeth. "Cusha! Cusha! Cusha!" calling Ere the early dews were falling, Farre away I heard her song. "Cusha! Cusha!" all along; Where the reedy Lindis floweth, Floweth, floweth, From the meads where melick groweth, Faintly came her milking song. Alle fresh the level pasture lay, And not a shadowe mote be seene, Save where full fyve good miles away The steeple towered from out the greene; And lo! the great bell farre and wide Was heard in all the country side That Saturday at eventide. I looked without, and lo! my sonne Came riding down with might and main: He raised a shout as he drew on, Till all the welkin rang again, "Elizabeth! Elizabeth!" (A sweeter woman ne'er drew breath Than my sonne's wife, Elizabeth.) "The old sea wall (he cried) is downe, The rising tide comes on apace, And boats adrift in yonder towne Go sailing uppe the market-place." He shook as one that looks on death: "God save you, mother!" straight he saith, "Where is my wife, Elizabeth?" "Good sonne, where Lindis winds away, With her two bairns I marked her long; And ere yon bells beganne to play Afar I heard her milking song." He looked across the grassy lea, To right, to left, "Ho Enderby!" They rang "The Brides of Enderby!" With that he cried and beat his breast; For, lo! along the river's bed A mighty eygre reared his crest, And uppe the Lindis raging sped. It swept with thunderous noises loud; Shaped like a curling snow-white cloud, Or like a demon in a shroud. So farre, so fast the eygre drave, The heart had hardly time to beat, Before a shallow, seething wave Sobbed in the grasses at oure feet. The feet had hardly time to flee Before it brake against the knee, And all the world was in the sea.