Up on a hill, about three furlongs off,
The stable-boy (not far from being a dwarf)
Was sent by Jane, and caution’d how to raise
And wave on high a strip of scarlet baize,
So soon as he beheld his master’s chaise.
(A beacon-signal to the anxious Jane,
Whilst she sat peeping through the window pane;
For on this hill a distant view arose
Of the high-road, ’long which the traveller goes
When journeying to and fro near Ruttendell.)
Jane saw the streamer rais’d! then knew full well
Her lover soon would be within her sight;
She wept for joy, so great was her delight.
The south-west breeze bore up the greenwood vale
The chaise’s rattle,—thanks to the sweet gale:
An instant more the whistling whip was heard:
Jane look’d, and lo! across the grassy sward
She saw the moving mass advancing swift;—
No longer of her love is she bereft!
(Dear Mistress Toogood fired her aged breast;
And, venturing forth to meet the lordly guest
Beneath the portico,—dress, “bishop-sleeved,”—
Bestowed her saintly blessings; thus relieved
Her dear old heart of two years’ sobs and sighs;
Yet even then she scarce believed her eyes,
For seventy years and five had made them dim;
But when she heard his voice she knew ’twas him!)