{"id":9892,"date":"2016-02-15T18:48:15","date_gmt":"2016-02-15T23:48:15","guid":{"rendered":"http:\/\/www.pioneergirl.com\/blog\/?p=9892"},"modified":"2020-03-26T11:10:30","modified_gmt":"2020-03-26T15:10:30","slug":"the-high-tide","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"http:\/\/www.pioneergirl.com\/blog\/archives\/9892","title":{"rendered":"“The High Tide”"},"content":{"rendered":"

Poem by Jean Ingelow (1820-1897) found on pages 141-146 of J. Madison Watson’s Independent Fifth Reader<\/em>.<\/p><\/blockquote>\n

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Pa knew but did not tell us until later, that a crowd used to gather in the store beneath to hear us read. – Pioneer Girl<\/em><\/p>\n

     
\nI<\/span>n Pioneer Girl<\/em>, Wilder wrote that while the family was living in rooms over the grocery store in Burr Oak, people would listen to Mary and Laura read aloud from the Independent Fifth Reader<\/em>, practicing their elocution. One of the poems the girls read read was “The High Tide on the Coast of Lincolnshire, 1571.” It was written by Jean Ingelow, an English poet and novelist who lived from 1820 to 1897, and included in a book of her poems published in 1863. Both Ralph Waldo Emerson and Alfred, Lord Tennyson were fans of Mrs. Ingelow’s work. A copy of the Fifth Reader<\/em> can be found online HERE<\/a>. <\/p>\n

The title is shortened to “The High Tide” in the Reader<\/em>; it also appears in print with the title, “The Brides of Enderby.” There is much published about Ingelow and her poem, a fictional retelling of two historical disasters. For insight into the poem read by Laura and Mary, click HERE<\/a>. The illustration above is one by Louis Harlow for an 1891 publication of Ingelow’s poem. You can read this publication HERE<\/a>. <\/p>\n

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THE HIGH TIDE.<\/strong><\/p>\n

1. The old mayor climbed the belfry tower,\nThe ringers ran by two, by three;\n“Pull, if ye never pulled before;\nGood ringers, pull your best,” quoth he.\n“Play uppe, play uppe, O Boston bells!\nPly all your changes, all your swells,\nPlay uppe ‘The Brides of Enderby.'”<\/p>\n

2. Men say it was a stolen tyde–\nThe Lord that sent it, He knows all;\nBut in myne ears doth still abide\nThe message that the bells let fall;\n And there was nought of strange, beside\nThe flights of mews and peewits pied\nBy millions crouched on the old sea wall.<\/p>\n

3. I sat and spun within the doore:\nMy thread brake off,– I raised myne eyes;\nThe level sun, like ruddy ore,\nLay sinking in the barren skies;\nAnd dark against day’s golden death\nShe moved where Lindis wanderest,–\nMy sonne’s faire wife, Elizabeth.<\/p>\n

4. “Cusha! Cusha! Cusha!” calling,\nEre the early dews were falling,\nFarre away I heard her song.\n“Cusha! Cusha!” all along;\nWhere the reedy Lindis floweth,\nFloweth, floweth,\nFrom the meads where melick groweth\nFaintly came her milking song:<\/p>\n

5. “Cusha! Cusha!Cusha!” calling,\n“for the dews will soone be falling;\nLeave your meadow grasses mellow,\nMellow, mellow;\nQuit your cowslips, cowslips yellow;\nCome uppe Whitefoot, come uppe Lightfoot,\nCome uppe Jetty, rise and follow,\nJetty, to the milking shed.<\/p>\n

6. If it be long, aye, long ago,\nWhen I beginne to think howe long,\nAgaine I hear the Lindis flow,\nSwift as an arrowe, sharpe and strong;\nAAnd all the aire it seemeth mee\nBin full of floating bells (sayth shee),\nThat ring the tune of Enderby.<\/p>\n

7. Alle fresh the level pasture lay,\nAnd not a shadowe might be seene,\nSave where, full fyve good miles away,\nThe steeple towered from out the greene;\nAnd lo! the great bell farre and wide\nWas heard in all the country side\nThat Saturday at eventide.<\/p>\n

8. The swannerds, where thir sedges are,\nMoved on in sunset’s golden breath,\nThe shepherde lads I heard affare,\nAnd my sonne’s wife, Elizabeth;\nTill, floating o’er the grassy sea,\nCame downe that kyndly message free,\nThe “Brides of MAvis Enderby.”‘<\/p>\n

9. Then some looked uppe into the sky,\nAnd all along where Lindis flows\nTo where the goodly vessels like,\nAnd where the lordly steeple shows.\nThey sayde, “And why should this thing be,\nWhat danger lowers by land or sea?\nThey ring the tune of Enderby!<\/p>\n

1o. “For evil news from Mablethorpe,\nOf pyrate galleys warping down;\nFor shippes ashore beyond the scorpe,\nThey have not spared to wake the towne:\nBut while the west bin red to see,\nAnd storms be none, and pyrates flee,\nWhy ring ‘The Brides of Enderby?'”<\/p>\n

11. I looked without, and lo! my sonne\nCame riding downe with might and main;\nHe raised a shout as he drew on,\nTill all the welkin rant again,\n“Elizabeth! Elizabeth<\/em>!”\n(A sweeter woman ne’er drew breath\nThan my sonne’s wife, Elizabeth.)<\/p>\n

12. “The olde sea wall (he cried) is downe,\nThe rising tide comes on apace,\nAnd boats adrift in yonder towne\nGo sailing uppe the market-place.”\nHe shook as one that looks on death:\n“God save you, mother!” straight he sayth;\n“Where is my wife, Elizabeth?”\r\n\t\t\t\t<\/div><\/p>\n

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13. “Good sonne, where Lindis winds away\nWith her two bairns I marked her long;\nAnd ere yon bells beganne to play,\nAfarre I heard her milking song.”\nHe looked across the grassy sea,\nTo right, to left, “Ho Enderby!”\nThey rang “The Brides of Enderby!”<\/p>\n

14. With that he cried and beat his breast;\nFor lo! along the river’s bed\nA mighty eygre reared his crest,\nAnd uppe the Lindis raging sped.\nIt swept with thunderous noises loud;\nOr like a demon in a shroud.<\/p>\n

15. And rearing Lindis backward pressed,\nShook all her trembling bankes amaine;\nThen madly at the eygre’s breast\nFlung uppe her weltering walls again.\nThen bankes came downe with ruin and rout–\nThen beaten foam flew round about–\nThen all the mightly floods were out.<\/p>\n

16. So farre, so fast the eygre drave,\nThe heart had hardly time to beat,\nBefore a shallow seetihing wave\nSobbed in the grasses at oure feet:\nThe feet had hardly time to flee\nBefore it brake against the knee,\nAnd all the world was in the sea.<\/p>\n

17. Upon the roofe we sate that night,\nThe noise of bells went sweeping by:\nI marked the lofty beacon light\nStream from the church-tower, red and high–\nA lurid mark and dread to see;\nAnd awesome bells they were to mee,\nThat in the dark rang “Enderby.”<\/p>\n

18. They rang, the sailor lads to guide\nFrom roofe to roofe who fearless rowed;\nAnd I,– my sonne was at my side,\nAnd yet the ruddy bacon glowed:\n“And yet he moaned beneath his breath,\n“O come in life, or come in death!\nO lost! my love, Elizabeth.”<\/p>\n

19. And didst thou visit him no more?\nThou didst, thou didst, my daughter deare;\nThe waters laid thee at his doore,\nEre yet the early dawn was clear.\nThy pretty bairns in fast embrace,\nThe lifted sun shone on thy face,\nDowne drifted to they dwelling-place.<\/p>\n

20. That flow strewed wrecks about the grass,\nThat ebbe swept out the flocks to sea;\nA fatal ebbe and flow, alas!\nTo manye more than myne and mee:\nBut each will mourne his own (she sayth);\nAnd sweter woman ne’er drew breath\nThan my sonne’s wife, Elizabeth.<\/p>\n

21. I shall never hear her more\nBy the reedy Lindis shore,\nCusha, Cusha, Cusha!” calling,\nEre the early dews be falling;\nI shall never hear her song,\n“Cusha, Cusha!” all along,\nWhere the sunny Lindis floweth,\nGoeth, gloweth;\nFrom the meads where melick groweth,\nWhen the water winding downe,\nOnward floweth to the towne. <\/p>\n

22. I shall never see her more\nWhere the reeds and rushes quiver,\nShiver, quiver;\nStand beside the sobbing river,\nSobbing, throbbing, in its falling,\nTo the sandy lonesome shore;\nI shall never hear her calling–\n“Leave your meadow grasses mellow,\nMellow, mellow;\nQuit your cowslips, cowslips yellow;\nCome uppe Whitefoot, come uppe Lightfoot;\nQUit your pipes of parsley hollow,\nHollow, hollow;\nCome uppe Lightfoot, rise and follow;\nLightfoot, Whitefoot,\nFrom your clovers lift the head;\nCome uppe Jetty, follow, follow,\nJetty, to the milking shed.”<\/p>\n

          -Jean Ingelow\r\n\t\t\t\t<\/div>

<\/div><\/div><\/div>\n

     
\n
\n“The High Tide”<\/strong> (PG)
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Jean Ingelow poem.<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":2,"featured_media":9896,"comment_status":"closed","ping_status":"closed","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":[],"categories":[639],"tags":[],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"http:\/\/www.pioneergirl.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/9892"}],"collection":[{"href":"http:\/\/www.pioneergirl.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"http:\/\/www.pioneergirl.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"http:\/\/www.pioneergirl.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/users\/2"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"http:\/\/www.pioneergirl.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/comments?post=9892"}],"version-history":[{"count":14,"href":"http:\/\/www.pioneergirl.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/9892\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":13215,"href":"http:\/\/www.pioneergirl.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/9892\/revisions\/13215"}],"wp:featuredmedia":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"http:\/\/www.pioneergirl.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media\/9896"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"http:\/\/www.pioneergirl.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media?parent=9892"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"http:\/\/www.pioneergirl.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/categories?post=9892"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"http:\/\/www.pioneergirl.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/tags?post=9892"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}