The Pub in Literature: England's Altered State
William Wordsworth Benjamin the Waggoner Canto I
"In Cairo's crowded streets The impatient Merchant, wondering, waits in vain, And Mecca saddens at the long delay." Thomson. 1 'Tis spent---this burning day of June! 2 Soft darkness o'er its latest gleams is stealing; 3 The buzzing dor-hawk, round and round, is wheeling, 4 That solitary bird 5 Is all that can be heard 6 In silence deeper far than that of deepest noon! 7 Confiding Glow-worms, 'tis a night 8 Propitious to your earth-born light! 9 But, where the scattered stars are seen 10 In hazy straits the clouds between, 11 Each, in his station twinkling not, 12 Seems changed into a pallid spot. 13 The mountains against heaven's grave weight 14 Rise up, and grow to wondrous height. 15 The air, as in a lion's den, 16 Is close and hot;---and now and then 17 Comes a tired and sultry breeze 18 With a haunting and a panting, 19 Like the stifling of disease; 20 But the dews allay the heat, 21 And the silence makes it sweet. 22 Hush, there is some one on the stir! 23 'Tis Benjamin the Waggoner; 24 Who long hath trod this toilsome way, 25 Companion of the night and day. 26 That far-off tinkling's drowsy cheer, 27 Mix'd with a faint yet grating sound 28 In a moment lost and found, 29 The Wain announces---by whose side 30 Along the banks of Rydal Mere 31 He paces on, a trusty Guide,--- 32 Listen! you can scarcely hear! 33 Hither he his course is bending;--- 34 Now he leaves the lower ground, 35 And up the craggy hill ascending 36 Many a stop and stay he makes, 37 Many a breathing-fit he takes;--- 38 Steep the way and wearisome, 39 Yet all the while his whip is dumb! 40 The Horses have worked with right good-will, 41 And so have gained the top of the hill; 42 He was patient, they were strong, 43 And now they smoothly glide along, 44 Recovering breath, and pleased to win 45 The praises of mild Benjamin. 46 Heaven shield him from mishap and snare! 47 But why so early with this prayer? 48 Is it for threatenings in the sky? 49 Or for some other danger nigh? 50 No; none is near him yet, though he 51 Be one of much infirmity; 52 For at the bottom of the brow, 53 Where once the Dove and Olive-bough 54 Offered a greeting of good ale 55 To all who entered Grasmere Vale; 56 And called on him who must depart 57 To leave it with a jovial heart; 58 There, where the Dove and Olive-bough 59 Once hung, a Poet harbours now, 60 A simple water-drinking Bard; 61 Why need our Hero then (though frail 62 His best resolves) be on his guard? 63 He marches by, secure and bold; 64 Yet while he thinks on times of old, 65 It seems that all looks wondrous cold; 66 He shrugs his shoulders, shakes his head, 67 And, for the honest folk within, 68 It is a doubt with Benjamin 69 Whether they be alive or dead! 70 Here is no danger,---none at all! 71 Beyond his wish he walks secure; 72 But pass a mile---and then for trial,--- 73 Then for the pride of self-denial; 74 If he resist that tempting door, 75 Which with such friendly voice will call; 76 If he resist those casement panes, 77 And that bright gleam which thence will fall 78 Upon his Leaders' bells and manes, 79 Inviting him with cheerful lure: 80 For still, though all be dark elsewhere, 81 Some shining notice will be there, 82 Of open house and ready fare. 83 The place to Benjamin right well 84 Is known, and by as strong a spell 85 As used to be that sign of love 86 And hope---the Olive-bough and Dove; 87 He knows it to his cost, good Man! 88 Who does not know the famous Swan? 89 Object uncouth! and yet our boast, 90 For it was painted by the Host; 91 His own conceit the figure planned, 92 'Twas coloured all by his own hand; 93 And that frail Child of thirsty clay, 94 Of whom I sing this rustic lay, 95 Could tell with self-dissatisfaction 96 Quaint stories of the bird's attraction! 97 Well! that is past---and in despite 98 Of open door and shining light. 99 And now the conqueror essays 100 The long ascent of Dunmail-raise; 101 And with his team is gentle here 102 As when he clomb from Rydal Mere; 103 His whip they do not dread---his voice 104 They only hear it to rejoice. 105 To stand or go is at their pleasure; 106 Their efforts and their time they measure 107 By generous pride within the breast; 108 And, while they strain, and while they rest, 109 He thus pursues his thoughts at leisure. 110 Now am I fairly safe to-night--- 111 And with proud cause my heart is light: 112 I trespassed lately worse than ever--- 113 But Heaven has blest a good endeavour; 114 And, to my soul's content, I find 115 The evil One is left behind. 116 Yes, let my master fume and fret, 117 Here am I---with my horses yet! 118 My jolly team, he finds that ye 119 Will work for nobody but me! 120 Full proof of this the Country gained; 121 It knows how ye were vexed and strained, 122 And forced unworthy stripes to bear, 123 When trusted to another's care. 124 Here was it---on this rugged slope, 125 Which now ye climb with heart and hope, 126 I saw you, between rage and fear, 127 Plunge, and fling back a spiteful ear, 128 And ever more and more confused, 129 As ye were more and more abused: 130 As chance would have it, passing by 131 I saw you in that jeopardy: 132 A word from me was like a charm; 133 Ye pulled together with one mind; 134 And your huge burthen, safe from harm, 135 Moved like a vessel in the wind! 136 ---Yes, without me, up hills so high 137 'Tis vain to strive for mastery. 138 Then grieve not, jolly team! though tough 139 The road we travel, steep, and rough; 140 Though Rydal-heights and Dunmail-raise, 141 And all their fellow banks and braes, 142 Full often make you stretch and strain, 143 And halt for breath and halt again, 144 Yet to their sturdiness 'tis owing 145 That side by side we still are going! 146 While Benjamin in earnest mood 147 His meditations thus pursued, 148 A storm, which had been smothered long, 149 Was growing inwardly more strong; 150 And, in its struggles to get free, 151 Was busily employed as he. 152 The thunder had begun to growl--- 153 He heard not, too intent of soul; 154 The air was now without a breath--- 155 He marked not that 'twas still as death. 156 But soon large rain-drops on his head 157 Fell with the weight of drops of lead;--- 158 He starts---and takes, at the admonition, 159 A sage survey of his condition. 160 The road is black before his eyes, 161 Glimmering faintly where it lies; 162 Black is the sky---and every hill, 163 Up to the sky, is blacker still--- 164 Sky, hill, and dale, one dismal room, 165 Hung round and overhung with gloom; 166 Save that above a single height 167 Is to be seen a lurid light, 168 Above Helm-crag ---a streak half dead, 169 A burning of portentous red; 170 And near that lurid light, full well 171 The Astrologer, sage Sidrophel, 172 Where at his desk and book he sits, 173 Puzzling aloft his curious wits; 174 He whose domain is held in common 175 With no one but the ancient woman, 176 Cowering beside her rifted cell, 177 As if intent on magic spell;--- 178 Dread pair, that, spite of wind and weather, 179 Still sit upon Helm-crag together! 180 The Astrologer was not unseen 181 By solitary Benjamin; 182 But total darkness came anon, 183 And he and every thing was gone: 184 And suddenly a ruffling breeze, 185 (That would have rocked the sounding trees. 186 Had aught of sylvan growth been there) 187 Swept through the Hollow long and bare: 188 The rain rushed down---the road was battered, 189 As with the force of billows shattered; 190 The horses are dismayed, nor know 191 Whether they should stand or go; 192 And Benjamin is groping near them, 193 Sees nothing, and can scarcely hear them. 194 He is astounded,---wonder not,--- 195 With such a charge in such a spot; 196 Astounded in the mountain gap 197 With thunder-peals, clap after clap, 198 Close-treading on the silent flashes--- 199 And somewhere, as he thinks, by crashes 200 Among the rocks; with weight of rain, 201 And sullen motions long and slow, 202 That to a dreary distance go--- 203 Till, breaking in upon the dying strain, 204 A rending o'er his head begins the fray again. 205 Meanwhile, uncertain what to do, 206 And oftentimes compelled to halt, 207 The horses cautiously pursue 208 Their way, without mishap or fault; 209 And now have reached that pile of stones, 210 Heaped over brave King Dunmail's bones 211 He who had once supreme command, 212 Last king of rocky Cumberland; 213 His bones, and those of all his Power, 214 Slain here in a disastrous hour! 215 When, passing through this narrow strait, 216 Stony, and dark, and desolate, 217 Benjamin can faintly hear 218 A voice that comes from some one near, 219 A female voice:---"Whoe'er you be, 220 Stop," it exclaimed, "and pity me!" 221 And, less in pity than in wonder, 222 Amid the darkness and the thunder, 223 The Waggoner, with prompt command, 224 Summons his horses to a stand. 225 While, with increasing agitation, 226 The Woman urged her supplication, 227 In rueful words, with sobs between--- 228 The voice of tears that fell unseen; 229 There came a flash---a startling glare, 230 And all Seat-Sandal was laid bare! 231 'Tis not a time for nice suggestion, 232 And Benjamin, without a question, 233 Taking her for some way-worn rover, 234 Said, "Mount, and get you under cover!" 235 Another voice, in tone as hoarse 236 As a swoln brook with rugged course, 237 Cried out, "Good brother, why so fast? 238 I've had a glimpse of you---avast! 239 Or, since it suits you to be civil, 240 Take her at once---for good and evil!" 241 "It is my Husband," softly said 242 The Woman, as if half afraid: 243 By this time she was snug within, 244 Through help of honest Benjamin; 245 She and her Babe, which to her breast 246 With thankfulness the Mother pressed; 247 And now the same strong voice more near 248 Said cordially, "My Friend, what cheer? 249 Rough doings these! as God's my judge, 250 The sky owes somebody a grudge! 251 We've had in half an hour or less 252 A twelvemonth's terror and distress!" 253 Then Benjamin entreats the Man 254 Would mount, too, quickly as he can: 255 The Sailor---Sailor now no more, 256 But such he had been heretofore--- 257 To courteous Benjamin replied, 258 "Go you your way, and mind not me; 259 For I must have, whate'er betide, 260 My Ass and fifty things beside,--- 261 Go, and I'll follow speedily!" 262 The Waggon moves---and with its load 263 Descends along the sloping road; 264 And the rough Sailor instantly 265 Turns to a little tent hard by: 266 For when, at closing-in of day, 267 The family had come that way, 268 Green pasture and the soft warm air 269 Tempted them to settle there.--- 270 Green is the grass for beast to graze, 271 Around the stones of Dunmail-raise! 272 The Sailor gathers up his bed, 273 Takes down the canvas overhead; 274 And, after farewell to the place, 275 A parting word---though not of grace, 276 Pursues, with Ass and all his store, 277 The way the Waggon went before.
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