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Morning and
evening
Maids heard the goblins cry:
"Come buy our
orchard fruits,
Come buy, come buy:
Apples and
quinces,
Lemons and oranges,
Plump unpecked
cherries,
Melons and raspberries,
Bloom-down-cheeked peaches,
Swart-headed mulberries,
Wild free-born cranberries,
Crabapples, dewberries,
Pineapples, blackberries,
Apricots, strawberries; -
All ripe together
In summer weather, -
Morns
that pass by,
Fair eves that fly;
Come buy, come
buy:
Our grapes fresh from the vine,
Pomegranates full and fine,
Dates and sharp bullaces,
Rare pears and greengages,
Damsons and bilberries,
Taste them and try:
Currants and gooseberries,
Bright-fire-like barberries,
Figs to fill your mouth,
Citrons from the South,
Sweet to tongue and sound to
eye;
Come buy, come buy."Evening by evening
Among
the brookside rushes,
Laura bowed her head to hear,
Lizzie veiled her blushes:
Crouching close together
In the cooling weather,
With clasping arms and
cautioning lips,
With tingling cheeks and
finger-tips.
"Lie close," Laura said,
Pricking up
her golden head:
"We must not look at goblin men,
We must not buy their fruits:
Who knows upon what
soil they fed
Their hungry thirsty roots?"
"Come
buy," call the goblins
Hobbling down the glen.
"Oh," cried Lizzie, "Laura, Laura,
You should not
peep at goblin men."
Lizzie covered up her eyes,
Covered close lest they should look;
Laura reared her
glossy head,
And whispered like the restless brook:
"Look Lizzie, look Lizzie,
Down the glen tramp little
men.
One hauls a basket,
One bears a plate,
One
lugs a golden dish
Of many pounds weight.
How fair
the vine must grow
Whose grapes are so luscious;
How warm the wind must blow
Through those fruit
bushes."
"No," said Lizzie; "No, no, no;
Their
offers should not charm us,
Their evil gifts would
harm us."
She thrust a dimpled finger
In each ear,
shut eyes and ran:
Curious Laura chose to linger
Wondering at each merchant man.
One had a cat's face,
One whisked a tail,
One tramped at a rat's pace,
One crawled like a snail,
One like a wombat prowled
obtuse and furry,
One like a ratel tumbled hurry
skurry.
She heard a voice like voice of doves
Cooing all together:
They sounded kind and full of
loves
In the pleasant weather.
Laura stretched her
gleaming neck
Liek a rush-embedded swan,
Like a
lily from the beck,
Like a moonlit poplar branch,
Like a vessel at the launch
When its last restraint
is gone.
Backwards up the mossy glen
Turned
and trooped the goblin men,
With their shrill
repeated cry,
"Come buy, come buy."
When they
reached where Laura was
They stood stock still upon
the moss,
Leering at each other,
Brother with
queer brother;
Signalling each other,
Brother with
sly brother.
One set his basket down,
One reared
his plate;
One began to weave a crown,
Of
tendrils, leaves and rough nuts brown
(Men sell not
such in any town);
One heaved the golden weight
Of
dish and fruit to offer her:
"Come buy, come buy,"
was still their cry.
Laura stared but did not stir,
Longed but had no money:
The whisk-tailed merchant
bade her taste
In tones as smooth as honey,
The
cat-faced purred,
The rat-paced spoke a word
Of
welcome, and the snail-paced even was heard;
One
parrot-voiced and jolly
Cried "Pretty Goblin" still
for "Pretty Polly"; -
One whistled like a bird.
But sweet-tooth Laura spoke in haste:
"Good folk,
I have no coin;
To take were to purloin:
I have no
copper in my purse,
I have no silver either,
And
all my gold is on the furze
That shakes in windy
weather
Above the rusty heather."
"You have much
gold upon your head,"
They answered all together:
"Buy from us with a golden curl."
She clipped a
precious golden lock,
She dropped a tear more rare
than pearl,
Then sucked their fruit globes fair or
red:
Sweeter than honey from the rock,
Stronger
than man-rejoicing wine,
Clearer than water flowed
that juice;
She never tasted such before,
How
could it cloy with length of use?
She sucked and
sucked and sucked the more
Fruits which that unknown
orchard bore;
She sucked until her lips were sore;
Then flung the emptied rinds away
But gathered up one
kernel-stone,
And knew not was it night or day
And
she turned home alone.
Lizzie met her at the gate
Full of wise upbraidings:
"Dear, you should not stay
so late,
Twilight is not good for maidens;
Should
not loiter in the glen
In the haunts of goblin men.
Do you not remember Jeanie,
How she met them in the
moonlight,
Took their gifts both choice and many,
Ate their fruits and wore their flowers
Plucked from
bowers
Where summer ripens at all hours?
But ever
in the noonlight
She pined and pined away;
Sought
them by night and day,
Found them no more but
dwindled and grew grey;
Then fell with the first
snow,
While to this day no grass will grow
Where
she lies low:
I planted daisies there a year ago
That never blow.
You should not loiter so."
"Nay,
hush," said Laura:
"Nay, hush, my sister:
I ate
and ate my fill,
Yet my mouth waters still;
Tomorrow night I will buy more": and kissed her:
"Have done with sorrow;
I'll bring you plums tomorrow
Fresh on their mother twigs,
Cherries worth getting;
You cannot think what figs
My teeth have met in,
What melons icy-cold
Piled on a dish of gold
Too
huge for me to hold,
What peaches with a velvet nap,
Pellucid grapes without one seed:
Odorous indeed must
be the mead
Whereon they grow, and pure the wave they
drink
With lilies at the brink,
And sugar-sweet
their sap."
Golden head by golden head
Like
two pigeons in one nest
Folded in each other's wings,
They lay down in their curtained bed:
Like two
blossoms on one stem,
Like two flakes of new-fall'n
snow,
Like two wands of ivory
Tipped with gold for
awful kings.
Moon and stars gazed in at them,
Wind
sang to them a lullaby,
Lumbering owls forbore to
fly,
Not a bat flapped to and fro
Round their
rest:
Cheek to cheek and breast to breast
Locked
together in one nest.
Early in the morning
When the first cock crowed his warning,
Neat like
bees, as sweet and busy,
Laura rose with Lizzie:
Fetched in honey, milked the cows,
Aired and set to
rights the house,
Kneaded cakes of whitest wheat,
Cakes for dainty mouths to eat,
Next churned butter,
whipped up cream,
Fed their poultry, sat and sewed;
Talked as modest maidens should:
Lizzie with an open
heart,
Laura in an absent dream,
One content, one
sick in part;
One warbling for the mere bright day's
delight,
One longing for the night.
At length
slow evening came:
They went with pitchers to the
reedy brook;
Lizzie most placid in her look,
Laura
most like a leaping flame.
They drew the gurgling
water from its deep;
Lizzie plucked purple and rich
golden flags,
Then turning homewards said: "The
sunset flushes
Those furthest loftiest crags;
Come, Laura, not another maiden lags,
No wilful
squirrel wags,
The beasts and birds are fast asleep."
But Laura loitered still among the rushes
And said
the bank was steep.
And said the hour was early
still,
The dew not fall'n, the wind not chill:
Listening ever, but not catching
The customary cry,
"Come buy, come buy,"
With its iterated jingle
Of
suger-baited words:
Not for all her watching
Once
discerning even one goblin
Raving, whisking,
tumbling, hobbling;
Let alone the herds
That used
to tramp along the glen,
In groups or single,
Of
brisk fruit-merchant men.
Till Lizzie urged, "O
Laura, come;
I hear the fruit-call but I dare not
look:
You should not loiter longer at this brook:
Come with me home.
The stars rise, the moon bends her
arc,
Each glowworn winks her spark,
Let us get
home before the night grows dark:
For clouds may
gather
Though this is summer weather,
Put out the
lights and drench us through;
Then if we lost our way
what should we do?"
Laura turned cold as stone
To find her sister heard that cry alone,
That goblin
cry,
"Come buy our fruits, come buy."
Must she
then buy no more such dainty fruits?
Must she no more
that succous pasture find,
Gone deaf and blind?
Her tree of life drooped to the root:
She said not
one word in her heart's sore ache;
But peering
through the dimness, nought discerning,
Trudged home,
her pitcher dripping all the way;
So crept to bed,
and lay
Silent till Lizzie slept;
Then sat up in a
passionate yearning,
And gnashed her teeth for
baulked desire, and wept
As if her heart would break.
Day after day, night after night,
Laura kept
watch in vain
In sullen silence of exceeding pain.
She never caught again the goblin cry:
"Come buy,
come buy"; -
She never spied the goblin men
Hawking their fruits along the glen:
But when the
moon waxed bright
Her hair grew thin and grey;
She
dwindled, as the fair full moon doth turn
To swift
deacy and burn
Her fire away.
One day
remembering her kernel-stone
She set it by a wall
that faced the south;
Dewed it with tears, hoped for
a root,
Watched for a waxing shoot,
But there came
none;
It never saw the sun,
It never felt the
trickling moisture run:
While with sunk eyes and
faded mouth
She dreamed of melons, as a traveller
sees
False waves in desert drouth
With shade of
leaf-crowned trees,
And burns the thirstier in the
sandful breeze.
She no more swept the house,
Tended the fowls of cows,
Fetched honey, kneaded
cakes of wheat,
Brought water from the brook:
But
sat down listless in the chimney-nook
And would not
eat.
Tender Lizzie could not bear
To watch her
sister's cankerous care
Yet not to share.
She
night and morning
Caught the goblin's cry:
"Come
buy our orchard fruits,
Come buy, come buy:" -
Beside the brook, along the glen,
She heard the tramp
of goblin men,
The voice and stir
Poor Laura could
not hear;
Longelonged to buy fruit to comfort her,
But feared to pay too dear.
She thought of Jeanie in
her grave,
Who should have been a bride;
But who
for joys brides hope to have
Fell sick and died
In
her gay prime,
In earliest Winter time,
With the
first glazing rime,
With the first snow-fall of crisp
Winter time.
Till Laura dwindling
Seemed
knocking at Death's door:
Then Lizzie weighed no more
Better and worse;
But put a silver penny in her
purse,
Kissed Laura, crossed the heath with clumps of
furze
At twilight, halted by the brook:
And for
the first time in her life
Began to listen and look.
Laughed every goblin
When they spied her peeping:
Come towards her hobbling,
Flying, running, leaping,
Puffing and blowing,
Chuckling, clapping, crowing,
Clucking and gobbling,
Mopping and mowing,
Full of
airs and graces,
Pulling wry faces,
Demure
grimaces,
Cat-like and rat-like,
Ratel- and
wombat-like,
Snail-paced in a hurry,
Parrot-voiced
and whistler,
Helter skelter, hurry skurry,
Chattering like magpies,
Fluttering like pigeons,
Gliding like fishes, -
Hugged her and kissed her,
Squeezed and caressed her:
Stretched up their dishes,
Panniers and plates:
"Look at our apples
Russet
and dun,
Bob at our cherries,
Bite at our peaches,
Citrons and dates,
Grapes for the asking,
Pears
red with basking
Out in the sun,
Plums on their
twigs;
Pluck them and suck them,
Pomegranates,
figs." -
"Good folk," said Lizzie,
Mindful of
Jeanie:
"Give me much and many:" -
Held out her
apron,
Tossed them her penny.
"Nay, take a seat
with us,
Honour and eat with us;"
They answered
grinning:
"Our feast is but beginning.
Night is
yet early,
Warm and dew-pearly,
Wakeful and
starry:
Such fruits as these
No man can carry;
Half their bloom would fly,
Half their dew would dry,
Half their flavour would pass by.
Sit down and feast
with us,
Be welcome guest with us,
Cheer you and
rest with us." -
"Thank you," said Lizzie: "But one
waits
At home alone for me:
So without further
parleying,
If you will not sell me any
Of your
fruits though much and many,
Give me back my silver
penny
I tossed you for a fee." -
They began to
scratch their pates,
No longer wagging, purring,
But visibly demurring,
Grunting and snarling.
One
called her proud,
Cross-grained, uncivil;
Their
tones waxed loud,
Their looks were evil.
Lashing
their tails
They trod and hustled her,
Elbowed and
jostled her,
Clawed with their nails,
Barking,
mewing, hissing, mocking,
Tore her gown and soiled
her stockings,
Twitched her hair out by the roots,
Stamped upon her tender feet,
Held her hands amd
squeezed their fruits
Against her mouth to make her
eat.
White and golden Lizzie stood,
Like a
lily in a flood, -
Like a rock of blue-veined stone
Lashed by tides obstreperously, -
Like a beacon left
alone
In a hoary roaring sea,
Sending up a golden
fire, -
Like a fruit-crowned orange-tree
White
with blossoms honey-sweet
Sore beset by wasp and bee,
-
Like a royal virgin town
Topped with gilded
dome and spire
Close beleaguered by a fleet
Mad to
tug her standard down.
One may lead a horse to
water,
Twenty cannot make him drink.
Though the
goblins cuffed and caught her,
Coaxed and fought her,
Bullied and besought her,
Scratched her, pinched her
black as ink,
Kicked and knocked her,
Mauled and
mocked her,
Lizzie uttered not a word;
Would not
open lip from lip
Lest they should cram a mouthful
in:
But laughed in heart to feel the drip
Of juice
that syrupped all her face,
And lodged in dimples of
her chin,
And streaked her neck which quaked like
curd.
At last the evil people
Worn out by her
resistance
Flung back her penny, kicked their fruit
Along whichever road they took,
Not leaving root or
stone or shoot;
Some writhed into the ground,
Some
dived into the brook
With ring and ripple,
Some
scudded on the gale without a sound,
Some vanished in
the distance.
In a smart, ache, tingle,
Lizzie
went her way:
Knew not was it night or day;
Sprang
up the bank, tore through the furze,
Threaded copse
and dingle,
And her her penny jingle
Bouncing in
her purse, -
Its bounce was music to her ear.
She
ran and ran
As if she feared some goblin man
Dogged her with gibe or curse
Or something worse:
But not one goblin scurried after,
Nor was she
pricked by fear;
The kind heart made her windy-paced
That urged her home quite out of breath with haste
And inward laughter.
She cried "Laura," up the
garden,
"Did you miss me?
Come and kiss me.
Never mind my bruises,
Hug me, kiss, suck my juices
Squeezed from goblin fruits for you,
Goblin pulp and
goblin dew.
Eat me, drink me, love me;
Laura, make
much of me:
For your sake I have braved the glen
And had to do with goblin merchant men."
Laura
started from her chair,
Flung her arms up in the air,
Clutched her hair:
"Lizzie, Lizzie, have you tasted
For my sake the fruit forbidden?
Must your light like
mine be hidden,
Your young life like mine be wasted,
Undone in mine undoing
And ruined in my ruin,
Thirsty, cankered, goblin-ridden?" -
She clung about
her sister,
Kissed and kissed and kissed her:
Tears once again
Refreshed her sunken eyes,
Dropping like rain
After long sultry drouth;
Shaking with aguish fear, and pain,
She kissed and
kissed her with a hungry mouth.
Her lips began to
scorch,
That juice was wormwood to her tongue,
She
loathed the feast:
Writhing as one possessed she
leaped and sung,
Rent all her robe, and wrung
Her
hands in lamentable haste,
And beat her breast.
Her locks streamed like a torch
Borne by a racer at
full speed,
Or like the mane of horses in their
flight,
Or like an eagle when he stems the light
Straight toward the sun,
Or like a caged thing freed,
Or like a flying flag when armies run.
Swift fire
spread through her veins, knocked at her heart,
Met
the fire smouldering there
And overbore its lesser
flame;
She gorged on bitterness without a name:
Ah! fool, to choose such part
Of soul-consuming care!
Sense failed in the mortal strife:
Like the
watch-tower of a town
Which an earthquake shatters
down,
Like a lightning-stricken mast,
Like a
wind-uprooted tree
Spun about,
Like a foam-topped
waterspout
Cast down headlong in the sea,
She fell
at last;
Pleasure past and anguish past,
Is it
death or is it life?
Life out of death.
That
night long Lizzie watched by her,
Counted her pulse's
flagging stir,
Felt for her breath,
Held water to
her lips, and cooled her face
With tears and fanning
leaves:
But when the first birds chirped about their
eaves,
And early reapers plodded to the place
Of
golden sheaves,
And dew-wet grass
Bowed in the
morning winds so brisk to pass,
And new buds with new
day
Opened of cup-like lilies on the stream,
Laura
awoke as from a dream,
Laughed in the innocent old
way,
Hugged Lizzie but not twice or thrice;
Her
gleaming locks showed not one thread of grey,
Her
breath was sweet as May
And light danced in her eyes.
Days, weeks, months, years,
Afterwards, when both
were wives
With children of their own;
Their
mother-hearts beset with fears,
Their lives bound up
in tender lives;
Laura would call the little ones
And tell them of her early prime,
Those pleasant days
long gone
Of not-returning time:
Would talk about
the haunted glen,
The wicked, quaint fruit-merchant
men,
Their fruits like honey to the throat
But
poison in the blood;
(Men sell not such in any town:)
Would tell them how her sister stood
In deadly peril
to do her good,
And win the fiery antidote:
Then
joining hands to little hands
Would bid them cling
together,
"For there is no friend like a sister
In
calm or stormy weather;
To cheer one on the tedious
way,
To fetch one if one goes astray,
To lift one
if one totters down,
To strengthen whilst one
stands."
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