THE
HIGHWAYMAN By
Alfred Noyes
Part One
I
The wind was a torrent of darkness among the
gusty trees,
The moon was a ghostly galleon tossed upon
cloudy seas,
The road was a ribbon of moonlight, over the
purple moor,
And the highwayman came riding--
Riding--riding--
The highwayman came riding, up to the old
inn-door.
II
He'd a French cocked-hat on
his forehead, a bunch of lace at his chin,
A coat of the claret velvet, and breeches of
brown doe-skin;
They fitted with never a wrinkle: his boots were
up to the thigh!
And he rode with a jewelled twinkle,
His pistol butts a-twinkle,
His rapier hilt a-twinkle, under the jewelled
sky.
III
Over the cobbles he clattered and clashed in the
dark inn-yard,
And he tapped with his whip on the shutters, but
all was locked and barred;
He whistled a tune to the window, and who should
be waiting there
But the landlord's black-eyed daughter,
Bess, the landlord's daughter,
Plaiting a dark red love-knot into her long
black hair.
IV
And dark in the dark old
inn-yard a stable-wicket creaked
Where Tim the ostler listened; his face was
white and peaked;
His eyes were hollows of madness, his hair like
mouldy hay,
But he loved the landlord's daughter,
The landlord's red-lipped daughter,
Dumb as a dog he listened, and he heard the
robber say--
V
"One kiss, my bonny
sweetheart, I'm after a prize to-night,
But I shall be back with the yellow gold before
the morning light;
Yet, if they press me sharply, and harry me
through the day,
Then look for me by moonlight,
Watch for me by moonlight,
I'll come to thee by moonlight, though hell
should bar the way."
VI
He rose upright in the
stirrups; he scarce could reach her hand,
But she loosened her hair i' the casement! His
face burnt like a brand
As the black cascade of perfume came tumbling
over his breast;
And he kissed its waves in the moonlight,
(Oh, sweet black waves in the moonlight!)
Then he tugged at his rein in the moonlight, and
galloped away to the West.
Part Two
I
He did not come in the dawning; he did not come
at noon;
And out o' the tawny sunset, before the rise o'
the moon,
When the road was a gipsy's ribbon, looping the
purple moor,
A red-coat troop came marching--
Marching--marching--
King George's men came marching, up to the old
inn-door.
II
They said no word to the landlord, they drank
his ale instead,
But they gagged his daughter and bound her to
the foot of her narrow bed;
Two of them knelt at her casement, with muskets
at their side!
There was death at every window;
And hell at one dark window;
For Bess could see, through
the casement, the road that he would
ride.
III
They had tied her up to attention, with many a
sniggering jest;
They bound a musket beside her, with the barrel
beneath her breast!
"Now keep good watch!" and they kissed her.
She heard the dead man say--
Look for me by moonlight;
Watch for me by moonlight;
I'll come to thee by moonlight, though hell
should bar the way!
IV
She twisted her hands behind her; but all the
knots held good!
She writhed her hands till her fingers were wet
with sweat or blood!
They stretched and strained in the darkness, and
the hours crawled by like
years,
Till, now, on the stroke of midnight,
Cold, on the stroke of midnight,
The tip of one finger touched it! The trigger at
least was hers!
V
The tip of one finger touched it; she strove no
more for the rest!
Up, she stood up to attention, with the barrel
beneath her breast,
She would not risk their hearing: she would not
strive again;
For the road lay bare in the moonlight;
Blank and bare in the moonlight;
And the blood of her veins in
the moonlight throbbed to her love's refrain.
VI
Tlot-tlot; tlot-tlot! Had they heard it?
The horse-hoofs
ringing clear;
Tlot-tlot, tlot-tlot, in the distance?
Were they deaf that they did
not hear?
Down the ribbon of moonlight, over the brow of
the hill,
The highwayman came riding,
Riding, riding!
The red-coats looked to their priming! She stood
up, straight and still!
VII
Tlot-tlot, in the frosty silence!
Tlot-tlot, in the echoing night!
Nearer he came and nearer! Her face was like a
light!
Her eyes grew wide for a moment; she drew one
last deep breath,
Then her finger moved in the
moonlight,
Her musket shattered the moonlight,
Shattered her breast in the moonlight and warned
him--with her death.
VIII
He turned; he spurred to the Westward; he did
not know who stood
Bowed, with her head o'er the musket, drenched
with her own red blood!
Not till the dawn he heard it, and slowly
blanched to hear
How Bess, the landlord's daughter,
The landlord's black-eyed daughter,
Had watched for her love in the moonlight, and
died in the darkness there.
IX
Back, he spurred like a madman, shrieking a
curse to the sky,
With the white road smoking behind him, and his
rapier brandished high!
Blood-red were his spurs i' the golden noon;
wine-red was his velvet coat;
When they shot him down on the highway,
Down like a dog on the highway,
And he lay in his blood on the highway, with the
bunch of lace at his throat.
X
And still of a winter's night, they say, when
the wind is in the trees,
When the moon is a ghostly galleon tossed upon
cloudy seas,
When the road is a ribbon of moonlight over the
purple moor,
A highwayman comes riding--
Riding--riding--
A highwayman comes riding, up to the old
inn-door.
XI
Over the cobbles he clatters and clangs in
the dark inn-yard,
And he taps with his whip on the shutters, but
all is locked and barred;
He whistles a tune to the window, and who should
be waiting there
But the landlord's black-eyed daughter,
Bess, the landlord's daughter,
Plaiting a dark red love-knot into her long
black hair.
Copied from The Family Book of Verse, selected
and edited by Lewis Gannett © 1961
The version I am used to was set to music
by Phil Ochs.
I will always remember
Two
Trees' rendition of this,
riveting us all with his intensity.
The
painting used to create this set is called "Dark
Knight" by Jonathon Earl Bowser. Used
with permission.
|