Nell.You’re a kind[671]woman, Nan! Ay, kind and true![672]God[673]will be good to faithful folk like you!You knew my Ned?A better,[674]kinder lad never drew breath.We loved each other true, and we were wedIn church, like some who took him to his death;[675]A lad as gentle as a lamb, but lost[676]His senses when he took a drop too much.Drink[677]did it all—drink made him mad when cross’d—He was a poor man, and they’re hard[678]on such.O Nan! that night! that night!When I was sitting in this[679]very chair,Watching and waiting in the candle-light,And heard[680]his foot come creaking up the stair,And turned and saw him standing yonder,[681]whiteAnd wild, with staring eyes and rumpled hair!And when I caught[682]his arm and called in fright,He pushed[683]me, swore, and to the door[684]he pass’dTo lock and bar[685]it fast.Then down he drops[686]just like a lump of lead,Holding his brow,[687]shaking, and growing whiter,And—Nan!—just then the light[688]seem’d growing brighter,And I could see the hands[689]that held his head,All red![690]all bloody red!What could I do but scream? He groaned to hear,Jump’d to his feet, and gripped[691]me by the wrist;“Be still,[692]or I shall kill thee, Nell!” he hiss’d.And I was still for fear.“They’re after[693]me—I’ve knifed a man!” he said,“Be still![694]—the drink—drink did it!—he is dead!”[695]Then we grew still, dead still. I couldn’t weep;All I could do was cling[696]to Ned and hark,[697]And Ned was cold,[698]cold, cold, as if asleep,But breathing hard and deep.The candle[699]flicker’d out—the room grew dark[700]And—Nan!—although my heart[701]was true and tried—When all grew cold[702]and dim,I shuddered[703]—not for fear of them outside,[704]But just afraid to be alone with him.[705]“Ned! Ned!”[706]I whisper’d—and he moan’d and shook,But did not heed or look!“Ned! Ned![707]speak, lad! tell me[708]it is not true!”At that he raised his head and look’d so wild;Then, with a stare that froze my blood, he threwHis arms around[709]me, crying like a child,And held me close—and not a word was spoken,While I clung tighter to his heart and press’d him,And did not fear him, though my heart was broken,But kiss’d his poor stain’d hands, and cried, and bless’d[710]him!Then, Nan, the dreadful daylight, coming coldWith sound[711]of falling rain—When I could see his face,[712]and it look’d old,Like the pinch’d face of one that dies[713]in pain;Well, though we heard folk stirring[714]in the sun,We never thought to hide away or run,Until we heard those voices[715]in the street,That hurrying of feet,And Ned leap’d up,[716]and knew that they had come.“Run, Ned!”[717]I cried, but he was deaf and dumb;“Hide, Ned!”[718]I scream’d, and held him; “Hide thee, man!”[719]He stared with blood-shot eyes and hearken’d, Nan!And all the rest[720]is like a dream—the soundOf knocking[721]at the door—A rush of men—a struggle on the ground[722]—A mist—a tramp—a roar;For when I got my senses back again,The room was empty,[723]and my head[724]went round!God[725]help him? Godwillhelp him! Ay, no fear![726]It was the drink,[727]not Ned[728]—he meant no wrong;So kind! So good!—and I am useless[729]here,Now he is lost that loved me true and long.… That night before he died,I didn’t cry—my heart[730]was hard and dried;But when the clocks[731]went “one,” I took my shawlTo cover up my face, and stole away,And walk’d[732]along the silent streets, where allLook’d cold[733]and still and gray,And on[734]I went, and stood in Leicester Square,But just as “three” was sounded close at handI started and turn’d east,[735]before I knew,Then down Saint Martin’s Lane, along the Strand,And through the toll-gate on to Waterloo.Some men and lads went by,And turning round, I gazed,[736]and watch’d ’em go,Then felt that they were going to see him die,[737]And drew my shawl[738]more tight, and follow’d slow.[739]More people pass’d me, a country cart with hayStopp’d close beside[740]me, and two or threeTalk’d aboutit![741]I moan’d, and crept[742]away!Next came a hollow sound[743]I knew full well,For something gripped[744]me round the heart!—and thenThere came the solemn tolling[745]of a bell!O God! O God![746]how could[747]I sit close by,And neither scream nor cry?As if I had been stone, all hard and cold,I listen’d,[748]listen’d, listen’d, still and dumb,While the folk murmur’d, and the death-bell[749]toll’d,And the day brighten’d,[750]and his time had come.… Till, Nan!—all else was silent[751]but the knellOf the slow bell![752]And I could only wait, and wait, and wait,And what I waited for[753]I couldn’t tell—At last there came a groaning deep and great—St.Paul’s struck “eight”[754]—I scream’d, and seem’d to turn to fire and fell![755]God[756]bless him, live or dead!He never meant no wrong, was kind and true.They’ve wrought their fill of spite[757]upon his head.Why didn’t they be kind, and take me[758]too?And there’s the dear old things[759]he used to wear,And there’s[760]a lock of hair.And Ned, my Ned! is fast asleep,[761]and cannot hear me call.God bless you,[762]Nan, for all you’ve done and said!But don’t mind me, my heart[763]is broke, that’s all![764]—Robert Buchanan.Gestures.[671]H. F.[672]H. O.[673]A. F.[674]H. O.[675]D. F.[676]H. L.[677]B. Cli. D.[678]P. H. O.[679]P. H. O.[680]Raise hand to listen.[681]H. O.[682]Sp.[683]L. V. H. L.[684]H. O.[685]V. H. O.[686]D. O.[687]B. to head.[688]L. H. Sw.[689]D. O.[690]B. V. Par. to D. O.[691]L. Sp.[692]Speak to left.[693]H. L.[694]L. P. H. O.[695]B. Cli. D.[696]H. O.[697]Raise hand to listen.[698]P. D. O.[699]L. H. O.[700]B. V. H. O.[701]Hand to heart.[702]B. P. H. O.[703]B. Cli. and shudder.[704]H. O.[705]D. O.[706],[707]B. Par. to D. O.[708]Clasp hands.[709]Sp. continued.[710]P. H. O.[711]Lis.[712]D. O.[713]P. D. O.[714],[715]H. O.[716]Raise P.[717],[718],[719]L. H. L.[720]B. H. O.[721]H. O.[722]D. O.[723]B. H. O.[724]Hand to head.[725]Look to left.[726]L. V. H. O.[727]H. F.[728]H. L.[729]B. D. L.[730]Hand to heart.[731]Raise hand to listen.[732]H. Sw.[733]Turn to P.[734]H. O.[735]Left, continuous gesture to “Waterloo.”[736]H. O.[737]B. Cli. D.[738]Sp.[739]H. O.[740]L. H. O.[741]B. Cli. D.[742]H. O.[743]Lis.[744]Sp.[745]B. Sp.[746]Raise B. Cli.[747]B. Cli. D.[748]Lis.[749]A. O.[750]B. H. O.[751]P. H. O.[752]A. O.[753]B. H. F.[754]A. O.[755]B. D. F.[756]A. F.[757]P. H. O.[758]To self.[759]H. O.[760]Sp.[761]H. L.[762]L. P. H. O[763]Hand on heart.[764]H. O.
Nell.You’re a kind[671]woman, Nan! Ay, kind and true![672]God[673]will be good to faithful folk like you!You knew my Ned?A better,[674]kinder lad never drew breath.We loved each other true, and we were wedIn church, like some who took him to his death;[675]A lad as gentle as a lamb, but lost[676]His senses when he took a drop too much.Drink[677]did it all—drink made him mad when cross’d—He was a poor man, and they’re hard[678]on such.O Nan! that night! that night!When I was sitting in this[679]very chair,Watching and waiting in the candle-light,And heard[680]his foot come creaking up the stair,And turned and saw him standing yonder,[681]whiteAnd wild, with staring eyes and rumpled hair!And when I caught[682]his arm and called in fright,He pushed[683]me, swore, and to the door[684]he pass’dTo lock and bar[685]it fast.Then down he drops[686]just like a lump of lead,Holding his brow,[687]shaking, and growing whiter,And—Nan!—just then the light[688]seem’d growing brighter,And I could see the hands[689]that held his head,All red![690]all bloody red!What could I do but scream? He groaned to hear,Jump’d to his feet, and gripped[691]me by the wrist;“Be still,[692]or I shall kill thee, Nell!” he hiss’d.And I was still for fear.“They’re after[693]me—I’ve knifed a man!” he said,“Be still![694]—the drink—drink did it!—he is dead!”[695]Then we grew still, dead still. I couldn’t weep;All I could do was cling[696]to Ned and hark,[697]And Ned was cold,[698]cold, cold, as if asleep,But breathing hard and deep.The candle[699]flicker’d out—the room grew dark[700]And—Nan!—although my heart[701]was true and tried—When all grew cold[702]and dim,I shuddered[703]—not for fear of them outside,[704]But just afraid to be alone with him.[705]“Ned! Ned!”[706]I whisper’d—and he moan’d and shook,But did not heed or look!“Ned! Ned![707]speak, lad! tell me[708]it is not true!”At that he raised his head and look’d so wild;Then, with a stare that froze my blood, he threwHis arms around[709]me, crying like a child,And held me close—and not a word was spoken,While I clung tighter to his heart and press’d him,And did not fear him, though my heart was broken,But kiss’d his poor stain’d hands, and cried, and bless’d[710]him!Then, Nan, the dreadful daylight, coming coldWith sound[711]of falling rain—When I could see his face,[712]and it look’d old,Like the pinch’d face of one that dies[713]in pain;Well, though we heard folk stirring[714]in the sun,We never thought to hide away or run,Until we heard those voices[715]in the street,That hurrying of feet,And Ned leap’d up,[716]and knew that they had come.“Run, Ned!”[717]I cried, but he was deaf and dumb;“Hide, Ned!”[718]I scream’d, and held him; “Hide thee, man!”[719]He stared with blood-shot eyes and hearken’d, Nan!And all the rest[720]is like a dream—the soundOf knocking[721]at the door—A rush of men—a struggle on the ground[722]—A mist—a tramp—a roar;For when I got my senses back again,The room was empty,[723]and my head[724]went round!God[725]help him? Godwillhelp him! Ay, no fear![726]It was the drink,[727]not Ned[728]—he meant no wrong;So kind! So good!—and I am useless[729]here,Now he is lost that loved me true and long.… That night before he died,I didn’t cry—my heart[730]was hard and dried;But when the clocks[731]went “one,” I took my shawlTo cover up my face, and stole away,And walk’d[732]along the silent streets, where allLook’d cold[733]and still and gray,And on[734]I went, and stood in Leicester Square,But just as “three” was sounded close at handI started and turn’d east,[735]before I knew,Then down Saint Martin’s Lane, along the Strand,And through the toll-gate on to Waterloo.Some men and lads went by,And turning round, I gazed,[736]and watch’d ’em go,Then felt that they were going to see him die,[737]And drew my shawl[738]more tight, and follow’d slow.[739]More people pass’d me, a country cart with hayStopp’d close beside[740]me, and two or threeTalk’d aboutit![741]I moan’d, and crept[742]away!Next came a hollow sound[743]I knew full well,For something gripped[744]me round the heart!—and thenThere came the solemn tolling[745]of a bell!O God! O God![746]how could[747]I sit close by,And neither scream nor cry?As if I had been stone, all hard and cold,I listen’d,[748]listen’d, listen’d, still and dumb,While the folk murmur’d, and the death-bell[749]toll’d,And the day brighten’d,[750]and his time had come.… Till, Nan!—all else was silent[751]but the knellOf the slow bell![752]And I could only wait, and wait, and wait,And what I waited for[753]I couldn’t tell—At last there came a groaning deep and great—St.Paul’s struck “eight”[754]—I scream’d, and seem’d to turn to fire and fell![755]God[756]bless him, live or dead!He never meant no wrong, was kind and true.They’ve wrought their fill of spite[757]upon his head.Why didn’t they be kind, and take me[758]too?And there’s the dear old things[759]he used to wear,And there’s[760]a lock of hair.And Ned, my Ned! is fast asleep,[761]and cannot hear me call.God bless you,[762]Nan, for all you’ve done and said!But don’t mind me, my heart[763]is broke, that’s all![764]—Robert Buchanan.
You’re a kind[671]woman, Nan! Ay, kind and true![672]God[673]will be good to faithful folk like you!You knew my Ned?A better,[674]kinder lad never drew breath.We loved each other true, and we were wedIn church, like some who took him to his death;[675]A lad as gentle as a lamb, but lost[676]His senses when he took a drop too much.Drink[677]did it all—drink made him mad when cross’d—He was a poor man, and they’re hard[678]on such.O Nan! that night! that night!When I was sitting in this[679]very chair,Watching and waiting in the candle-light,And heard[680]his foot come creaking up the stair,And turned and saw him standing yonder,[681]whiteAnd wild, with staring eyes and rumpled hair!And when I caught[682]his arm and called in fright,He pushed[683]me, swore, and to the door[684]he pass’dTo lock and bar[685]it fast.Then down he drops[686]just like a lump of lead,Holding his brow,[687]shaking, and growing whiter,And—Nan!—just then the light[688]seem’d growing brighter,And I could see the hands[689]that held his head,All red![690]all bloody red!What could I do but scream? He groaned to hear,Jump’d to his feet, and gripped[691]me by the wrist;“Be still,[692]or I shall kill thee, Nell!” he hiss’d.And I was still for fear.“They’re after[693]me—I’ve knifed a man!” he said,“Be still![694]—the drink—drink did it!—he is dead!”[695]Then we grew still, dead still. I couldn’t weep;All I could do was cling[696]to Ned and hark,[697]And Ned was cold,[698]cold, cold, as if asleep,But breathing hard and deep.The candle[699]flicker’d out—the room grew dark[700]And—Nan!—although my heart[701]was true and tried—When all grew cold[702]and dim,I shuddered[703]—not for fear of them outside,[704]But just afraid to be alone with him.[705]“Ned! Ned!”[706]I whisper’d—and he moan’d and shook,But did not heed or look!“Ned! Ned![707]speak, lad! tell me[708]it is not true!”At that he raised his head and look’d so wild;Then, with a stare that froze my blood, he threwHis arms around[709]me, crying like a child,And held me close—and not a word was spoken,While I clung tighter to his heart and press’d him,And did not fear him, though my heart was broken,But kiss’d his poor stain’d hands, and cried, and bless’d[710]him!Then, Nan, the dreadful daylight, coming coldWith sound[711]of falling rain—When I could see his face,[712]and it look’d old,Like the pinch’d face of one that dies[713]in pain;Well, though we heard folk stirring[714]in the sun,We never thought to hide away or run,Until we heard those voices[715]in the street,That hurrying of feet,And Ned leap’d up,[716]and knew that they had come.“Run, Ned!”[717]I cried, but he was deaf and dumb;“Hide, Ned!”[718]I scream’d, and held him; “Hide thee, man!”[719]He stared with blood-shot eyes and hearken’d, Nan!And all the rest[720]is like a dream—the soundOf knocking[721]at the door—A rush of men—a struggle on the ground[722]—A mist—a tramp—a roar;For when I got my senses back again,The room was empty,[723]and my head[724]went round!God[725]help him? Godwillhelp him! Ay, no fear![726]It was the drink,[727]not Ned[728]—he meant no wrong;So kind! So good!—and I am useless[729]here,Now he is lost that loved me true and long.… That night before he died,I didn’t cry—my heart[730]was hard and dried;But when the clocks[731]went “one,” I took my shawlTo cover up my face, and stole away,And walk’d[732]along the silent streets, where allLook’d cold[733]and still and gray,And on[734]I went, and stood in Leicester Square,But just as “three” was sounded close at handI started and turn’d east,[735]before I knew,Then down Saint Martin’s Lane, along the Strand,And through the toll-gate on to Waterloo.Some men and lads went by,And turning round, I gazed,[736]and watch’d ’em go,Then felt that they were going to see him die,[737]And drew my shawl[738]more tight, and follow’d slow.[739]More people pass’d me, a country cart with hayStopp’d close beside[740]me, and two or threeTalk’d aboutit![741]I moan’d, and crept[742]away!Next came a hollow sound[743]I knew full well,For something gripped[744]me round the heart!—and thenThere came the solemn tolling[745]of a bell!O God! O God![746]how could[747]I sit close by,And neither scream nor cry?As if I had been stone, all hard and cold,I listen’d,[748]listen’d, listen’d, still and dumb,While the folk murmur’d, and the death-bell[749]toll’d,And the day brighten’d,[750]and his time had come.… Till, Nan!—all else was silent[751]but the knellOf the slow bell![752]And I could only wait, and wait, and wait,And what I waited for[753]I couldn’t tell—At last there came a groaning deep and great—St.Paul’s struck “eight”[754]—I scream’d, and seem’d to turn to fire and fell![755]God[756]bless him, live or dead!He never meant no wrong, was kind and true.They’ve wrought their fill of spite[757]upon his head.Why didn’t they be kind, and take me[758]too?And there’s the dear old things[759]he used to wear,And there’s[760]a lock of hair.And Ned, my Ned! is fast asleep,[761]and cannot hear me call.God bless you,[762]Nan, for all you’ve done and said!But don’t mind me, my heart[763]is broke, that’s all![764]—Robert Buchanan.
You’re a kind[671]woman, Nan! Ay, kind and true![672]God[673]will be good to faithful folk like you!You knew my Ned?A better,[674]kinder lad never drew breath.We loved each other true, and we were wedIn church, like some who took him to his death;[675]A lad as gentle as a lamb, but lost[676]His senses when he took a drop too much.Drink[677]did it all—drink made him mad when cross’d—He was a poor man, and they’re hard[678]on such.O Nan! that night! that night!When I was sitting in this[679]very chair,Watching and waiting in the candle-light,And heard[680]his foot come creaking up the stair,And turned and saw him standing yonder,[681]whiteAnd wild, with staring eyes and rumpled hair!And when I caught[682]his arm and called in fright,He pushed[683]me, swore, and to the door[684]he pass’dTo lock and bar[685]it fast.Then down he drops[686]just like a lump of lead,Holding his brow,[687]shaking, and growing whiter,And—Nan!—just then the light[688]seem’d growing brighter,And I could see the hands[689]that held his head,All red![690]all bloody red!What could I do but scream? He groaned to hear,Jump’d to his feet, and gripped[691]me by the wrist;“Be still,[692]or I shall kill thee, Nell!” he hiss’d.And I was still for fear.“They’re after[693]me—I’ve knifed a man!” he said,“Be still![694]—the drink—drink did it!—he is dead!”[695]Then we grew still, dead still. I couldn’t weep;All I could do was cling[696]to Ned and hark,[697]And Ned was cold,[698]cold, cold, as if asleep,But breathing hard and deep.The candle[699]flicker’d out—the room grew dark[700]And—Nan!—although my heart[701]was true and tried—When all grew cold[702]and dim,I shuddered[703]—not for fear of them outside,[704]But just afraid to be alone with him.[705]“Ned! Ned!”[706]I whisper’d—and he moan’d and shook,But did not heed or look!“Ned! Ned![707]speak, lad! tell me[708]it is not true!”At that he raised his head and look’d so wild;Then, with a stare that froze my blood, he threwHis arms around[709]me, crying like a child,And held me close—and not a word was spoken,While I clung tighter to his heart and press’d him,And did not fear him, though my heart was broken,But kiss’d his poor stain’d hands, and cried, and bless’d[710]him!Then, Nan, the dreadful daylight, coming coldWith sound[711]of falling rain—When I could see his face,[712]and it look’d old,Like the pinch’d face of one that dies[713]in pain;Well, though we heard folk stirring[714]in the sun,We never thought to hide away or run,Until we heard those voices[715]in the street,That hurrying of feet,And Ned leap’d up,[716]and knew that they had come.“Run, Ned!”[717]I cried, but he was deaf and dumb;“Hide, Ned!”[718]I scream’d, and held him; “Hide thee, man!”[719]He stared with blood-shot eyes and hearken’d, Nan!And all the rest[720]is like a dream—the soundOf knocking[721]at the door—A rush of men—a struggle on the ground[722]—A mist—a tramp—a roar;For when I got my senses back again,The room was empty,[723]and my head[724]went round!God[725]help him? Godwillhelp him! Ay, no fear![726]It was the drink,[727]not Ned[728]—he meant no wrong;So kind! So good!—and I am useless[729]here,Now he is lost that loved me true and long.… That night before he died,I didn’t cry—my heart[730]was hard and dried;But when the clocks[731]went “one,” I took my shawlTo cover up my face, and stole away,And walk’d[732]along the silent streets, where allLook’d cold[733]and still and gray,And on[734]I went, and stood in Leicester Square,But just as “three” was sounded close at handI started and turn’d east,[735]before I knew,Then down Saint Martin’s Lane, along the Strand,And through the toll-gate on to Waterloo.Some men and lads went by,And turning round, I gazed,[736]and watch’d ’em go,Then felt that they were going to see him die,[737]And drew my shawl[738]more tight, and follow’d slow.[739]More people pass’d me, a country cart with hayStopp’d close beside[740]me, and two or threeTalk’d aboutit![741]I moan’d, and crept[742]away!Next came a hollow sound[743]I knew full well,For something gripped[744]me round the heart!—and thenThere came the solemn tolling[745]of a bell!O God! O God![746]how could[747]I sit close by,And neither scream nor cry?As if I had been stone, all hard and cold,I listen’d,[748]listen’d, listen’d, still and dumb,While the folk murmur’d, and the death-bell[749]toll’d,And the day brighten’d,[750]and his time had come.… Till, Nan!—all else was silent[751]but the knellOf the slow bell![752]And I could only wait, and wait, and wait,And what I waited for[753]I couldn’t tell—At last there came a groaning deep and great—St.Paul’s struck “eight”[754]—I scream’d, and seem’d to turn to fire and fell![755]God[756]bless him, live or dead!He never meant no wrong, was kind and true.They’ve wrought their fill of spite[757]upon his head.Why didn’t they be kind, and take me[758]too?And there’s the dear old things[759]he used to wear,And there’s[760]a lock of hair.And Ned, my Ned! is fast asleep,[761]and cannot hear me call.God bless you,[762]Nan, for all you’ve done and said!But don’t mind me, my heart[763]is broke, that’s all![764]—Robert Buchanan.
You’re a kind[671]woman, Nan! Ay, kind and true![672]
God[673]will be good to faithful folk like you!
You knew my Ned?
A better,[674]kinder lad never drew breath.
We loved each other true, and we were wed
In church, like some who took him to his death;[675]
A lad as gentle as a lamb, but lost[676]
His senses when he took a drop too much.
Drink[677]did it all—drink made him mad when cross’d—He was a poor man, and they’re hard[678]on such.O Nan! that night! that night!When I was sitting in this[679]very chair,Watching and waiting in the candle-light,And heard[680]his foot come creaking up the stair,And turned and saw him standing yonder,[681]whiteAnd wild, with staring eyes and rumpled hair!And when I caught[682]his arm and called in fright,He pushed[683]me, swore, and to the door[684]he pass’dTo lock and bar[685]it fast.Then down he drops[686]just like a lump of lead,Holding his brow,[687]shaking, and growing whiter,And—Nan!—just then the light[688]seem’d growing brighter,And I could see the hands[689]that held his head,All red![690]all bloody red!What could I do but scream? He groaned to hear,Jump’d to his feet, and gripped[691]me by the wrist;“Be still,[692]or I shall kill thee, Nell!” he hiss’d.And I was still for fear.“They’re after[693]me—I’ve knifed a man!” he said,“Be still![694]—the drink—drink did it!—he is dead!”[695]Then we grew still, dead still. I couldn’t weep;All I could do was cling[696]to Ned and hark,[697]And Ned was cold,[698]cold, cold, as if asleep,But breathing hard and deep.The candle[699]flicker’d out—the room grew dark[700]And—Nan!—although my heart[701]was true and tried—When all grew cold[702]and dim,I shuddered[703]—not for fear of them outside,[704]But just afraid to be alone with him.[705]“Ned! Ned!”[706]I whisper’d—and he moan’d and shook,But did not heed or look!“Ned! Ned![707]speak, lad! tell me[708]it is not true!”At that he raised his head and look’d so wild;Then, with a stare that froze my blood, he threwHis arms around[709]me, crying like a child,And held me close—and not a word was spoken,While I clung tighter to his heart and press’d him,And did not fear him, though my heart was broken,But kiss’d his poor stain’d hands, and cried, and bless’d[710]him!
Drink[677]did it all—drink made him mad when cross’d—
He was a poor man, and they’re hard[678]on such.
O Nan! that night! that night!
When I was sitting in this[679]very chair,
Watching and waiting in the candle-light,
And heard[680]his foot come creaking up the stair,
And turned and saw him standing yonder,[681]white
And wild, with staring eyes and rumpled hair!
And when I caught[682]his arm and called in fright,
He pushed[683]me, swore, and to the door[684]he pass’d
To lock and bar[685]it fast.
Then down he drops[686]just like a lump of lead,
Holding his brow,[687]shaking, and growing whiter,
And—Nan!—just then the light[688]seem’d growing brighter,
And I could see the hands[689]that held his head,
All red![690]all bloody red!
What could I do but scream? He groaned to hear,
Jump’d to his feet, and gripped[691]me by the wrist;
“Be still,[692]or I shall kill thee, Nell!” he hiss’d.
And I was still for fear.
“They’re after[693]me—I’ve knifed a man!” he said,
“Be still![694]—the drink—drink did it!—he is dead!”[695]
Then we grew still, dead still. I couldn’t weep;
All I could do was cling[696]to Ned and hark,[697]
And Ned was cold,[698]cold, cold, as if asleep,
But breathing hard and deep.
The candle[699]flicker’d out—the room grew dark[700]
And—Nan!—although my heart[701]was true and tried—
When all grew cold[702]and dim,
I shuddered[703]—not for fear of them outside,[704]
But just afraid to be alone with him.[705]
“Ned! Ned!”[706]I whisper’d—and he moan’d and shook,
But did not heed or look!
“Ned! Ned![707]speak, lad! tell me[708]it is not true!”
At that he raised his head and look’d so wild;
Then, with a stare that froze my blood, he threw
His arms around[709]me, crying like a child,
And held me close—and not a word was spoken,
While I clung tighter to his heart and press’d him,
And did not fear him, though my heart was broken,
But kiss’d his poor stain’d hands, and cried, and bless’d[710]him!
Then, Nan, the dreadful daylight, coming coldWith sound[711]of falling rain—When I could see his face,[712]and it look’d old,Like the pinch’d face of one that dies[713]in pain;Well, though we heard folk stirring[714]in the sun,We never thought to hide away or run,Until we heard those voices[715]in the street,That hurrying of feet,And Ned leap’d up,[716]and knew that they had come.“Run, Ned!”[717]I cried, but he was deaf and dumb;“Hide, Ned!”[718]I scream’d, and held him; “Hide thee, man!”[719]He stared with blood-shot eyes and hearken’d, Nan!And all the rest[720]is like a dream—the soundOf knocking[721]at the door—A rush of men—a struggle on the ground[722]—A mist—a tramp—a roar;For when I got my senses back again,The room was empty,[723]and my head[724]went round!God[725]help him? Godwillhelp him! Ay, no fear![726]It was the drink,[727]not Ned[728]—he meant no wrong;So kind! So good!—and I am useless[729]here,Now he is lost that loved me true and long.… That night before he died,I didn’t cry—my heart[730]was hard and dried;But when the clocks[731]went “one,” I took my shawlTo cover up my face, and stole away,And walk’d[732]along the silent streets, where allLook’d cold[733]and still and gray,And on[734]I went, and stood in Leicester Square,But just as “three” was sounded close at handI started and turn’d east,[735]before I knew,Then down Saint Martin’s Lane, along the Strand,And through the toll-gate on to Waterloo.Some men and lads went by,And turning round, I gazed,[736]and watch’d ’em go,Then felt that they were going to see him die,[737]And drew my shawl[738]more tight, and follow’d slow.[739]More people pass’d me, a country cart with hayStopp’d close beside[740]me, and two or threeTalk’d aboutit![741]I moan’d, and crept[742]away!
Then, Nan, the dreadful daylight, coming cold
With sound[711]of falling rain—
When I could see his face,[712]and it look’d old,
Like the pinch’d face of one that dies[713]in pain;
Well, though we heard folk stirring[714]in the sun,
We never thought to hide away or run,
Until we heard those voices[715]in the street,
That hurrying of feet,
And Ned leap’d up,[716]and knew that they had come.
“Run, Ned!”[717]I cried, but he was deaf and dumb;
“Hide, Ned!”[718]I scream’d, and held him; “Hide thee, man!”[719]
He stared with blood-shot eyes and hearken’d, Nan!
And all the rest[720]is like a dream—the sound
Of knocking[721]at the door—
A rush of men—a struggle on the ground[722]—
A mist—a tramp—a roar;
For when I got my senses back again,
The room was empty,[723]and my head[724]went round!
God[725]help him? Godwillhelp him! Ay, no fear![726]
It was the drink,[727]not Ned[728]—he meant no wrong;
So kind! So good!—and I am useless[729]here,
Now he is lost that loved me true and long.
… That night before he died,
I didn’t cry—my heart[730]was hard and dried;
But when the clocks[731]went “one,” I took my shawl
To cover up my face, and stole away,
And walk’d[732]along the silent streets, where all
Look’d cold[733]and still and gray,
And on[734]I went, and stood in Leicester Square,
But just as “three” was sounded close at hand
I started and turn’d east,[735]before I knew,
Then down Saint Martin’s Lane, along the Strand,
And through the toll-gate on to Waterloo.
Some men and lads went by,
And turning round, I gazed,[736]and watch’d ’em go,
Then felt that they were going to see him die,[737]
And drew my shawl[738]more tight, and follow’d slow.[739]
More people pass’d me, a country cart with hay
Stopp’d close beside[740]me, and two or three
Talk’d aboutit![741]I moan’d, and crept[742]away!
Next came a hollow sound[743]I knew full well,For something gripped[744]me round the heart!—and thenThere came the solemn tolling[745]of a bell!O God! O God![746]how could[747]I sit close by,And neither scream nor cry?As if I had been stone, all hard and cold,I listen’d,[748]listen’d, listen’d, still and dumb,While the folk murmur’d, and the death-bell[749]toll’d,And the day brighten’d,[750]and his time had come.… Till, Nan!—all else was silent[751]but the knellOf the slow bell![752]And I could only wait, and wait, and wait,And what I waited for[753]I couldn’t tell—At last there came a groaning deep and great—St.Paul’s struck “eight”[754]—I scream’d, and seem’d to turn to fire and fell![755]God[756]bless him, live or dead!He never meant no wrong, was kind and true.They’ve wrought their fill of spite[757]upon his head.
Next came a hollow sound[743]I knew full well,
For something gripped[744]me round the heart!—and then
There came the solemn tolling[745]of a bell!
O God! O God![746]how could[747]I sit close by,
And neither scream nor cry?
As if I had been stone, all hard and cold,
I listen’d,[748]listen’d, listen’d, still and dumb,
While the folk murmur’d, and the death-bell[749]toll’d,
And the day brighten’d,[750]and his time had come.
… Till, Nan!—all else was silent[751]but the knell
Of the slow bell![752]
And I could only wait, and wait, and wait,
And what I waited for[753]I couldn’t tell—
At last there came a groaning deep and great—
St.Paul’s struck “eight”[754]—
I scream’d, and seem’d to turn to fire and fell![755]
God[756]bless him, live or dead!
He never meant no wrong, was kind and true.
Why didn’t they be kind, and take me[758]too?
And there’s the dear old things[759]he used to wear,
And there’s[760]a lock of hair.
And Ned, my Ned! is fast asleep,[761]and cannot hear me call.
God bless you,[762]Nan, for all you’ve done and said!
But don’t mind me, my heart[763]is broke, that’s all![764]
—Robert Buchanan.
Gestures.