Th’ wynt wur still i’th shade o’th hill,
An’ stars began o’ glowin’
I’th’ fadin’ leet, one summer neet,
When th’ dew wur softly foin’;
Wi’ weary shanks, by primrose banks,
Where rindlin’ weet wur shinin’,
Aw whistle’t careless, wanderin’ slow
Toward my cot inclinin’.
Through th’ woodlan’ green aw tooted keen,
For th’ little window winkin’;—
Th’ stars may shine, they’re noan as fine
As Matty’s candle blinkin’;
O’er th’ rosy hedge aw went to th’ ridge
O’th lonesome-shaded plantin’,
To get another blink o’ th’ leet
That set my heart a-pantin’.
Then deawn bi’th well i’th fairy-dell,
Wi’ trees aboon it knittin’,
Where, near an’ fur, ther nowt astur
But bats i’th eawl-leet flittin’;
An’ fearfo’ seawnds that rustle’t reawnd
Wi’ mony a goblin-twitter,
As swarmin’ dark to flaysome wark
They flew wi’ hellish titter.
There, reet anent aw geet a glent
At brought a shiver o’er mo,
For, fair i’th track ther summat black
Coom creepin’ on afore mo;
It wur not clear, but it wur theer,—
Wi’ th’ gloomy shadow blendin’,
Neaw black an’ slim, neaw grey an’ grim,
Wi’ noather side nor endin’.
Cowd drops wur tremblin’ o’ my broo,
As there aw stood belated;—
Aw durstn’t turn, nor durstn’t goo,
But shut my e’en, an’ waited;
An’ just as aw begun to pray,
There coom fro’ th’ creepin’ spectre
A weel known seawnd that said, “Well, James!”—
’Twur nowt but th’ village rector.
“Well, James,” said he, “I’m fain to see
Yo’r pew so weel attended;
But then, yo shouldn’t fo’ asleep
Afore my sarmon’s ended:
To dreawsy ears it’s useless quite
To scatter holy teychin’:
Why don’t yo bring a bit o’ snuff,
An’ tak it while I’m preychin’.”
“Well, well,” said aw, “There’s mony a way
O’ keepin’ e’en fro’ closin’;
A needle would keep th’ body wake,
An’ th’ soul met still be dozin’;
But this receipt would set it reet,
Iv th’ mixture wur a warm un,—
Yo’m get some stingin’ gospel-snuff,
An’ put it into th’ sarmon.”
He stare’t like mad, but th’ good owd lad
Then grip’t my hond, warm-hearted,
An’ said, “Yo’re reet, yo’re reet—good neet!”
An’ that wur heaw we parted.
It touched my heart, an’ made it smart,
He spoke so mild and pratty;
Aw blest him as he walked away,
An’ then went whoam to Matty.
[Illustration]