________________________________________________
Title: A Tale From The Cornish
Author: George Borrow [
More Titles by Borrow]
In Lavan's parish once of yore,
Dwelt on the spot called Tshei an Hor,
A loving couple, man and wife,
But poverty distressed their life.
And thus the man his wife address'd:
"I'll wander forth of work in quest;
And you, my dearest, you can earn
Your living here till I return."
His home he leaves, and, far from gay,
Towards the East he took his way.
At length a farmer's dwelling reaching,
He enter'd it, for work beseeching.
"What work canst do?" the farmer cried;
"All kinds of work, Sir," John replied.
Then straight they for a year agree,
Three pounds the wages were to be.
And when the year to end had come
The master paid him down the sum.
"John," said his master, "here's your fee;
But if you'll it return to me,
A point of wisdom I will teach you."
Said John: "Give it me, I beseech you."
"No, no, to give is not my way."
"Take it," said John, "and say your say."
Quoth t'other: "This in memory hold:
_Ne'er for the new road leave the old_."
They for another year agree,
The wages just the same to be;
And when the year its end had reached,
The farmer forth the three pounds fetched.
"John," said his master, "here's your fee,
But if you'll it return to me,
A point of wisdom I will teach you."
"Give it me, Sir, I do beseech you."
"For nought I will not speak, not I."
"Well, take it then," was John's reply.
Quoth t'other: "_Lodge not_, _for your life_,
_With an old man who's a young wife_."
For yet a year they then agree,
The wages still the same to be.
And when the year to end had roll'd,
The three pounds out the master told.
"John," said the master, "here's your fee;
But if you'll it return to me,
I'll the best point of wisdom learn you."
"For that, Sir, I'll the wage return you."
The farmer said: "_Take this advice_,
_Ere striking once_, _bethink thee twice_."
Now John would serve no longer there,
Home to his wife he would repair.
"Go not to-day," the farmer spake,
"To-morrow's my wife's day to bake;
She shall for you prepare a cake
Home to your faithful wife to take."
The nine pounds in the loaf they hid,
And when John them adieu had bid,
The farmer cried: "I pray thee carry
This present home unto your deary;
And as ye two there merry make,
Then, and not till then, part the cake."
John turned him homeward from the door;
And when he reach'd St. Eler's Moor,
He met three Tre-ryn merchants there
Returning home from Exeter.
"We're glad to see thee, John," they cried,
"Where hast thou been this long, long tide?"
Says John: "I'm just from service come,
And to my wife am journeying home."
"O travel with us," cried all three,
"And very welcome shalt thou be."
Before them two roads they behold;
They took the new, John kept the old.
And as they passed by Keou Tshoy Un,
When they had just lost sight of John,
Thieves set upon them furiously,
Whereat they raised a doleful cry,
Which reaching John's ears on his rout,
"Murder!" and "Thieves!" he bellowed out.
His clamour scared the robber train,
Who from the merchants sped amain.
And when they came to Market Jew
They to their joy met John anew,
And cried: "What thanks we owe thee, John!
We had for certain, every one,
Been ruined people, but for thee,
Come with us, thou'lt most welcome be."
And when they reached the hostelrie
At which it was their wont to lie,
Quoth John: "The master I must view."
"The master! what with him wouldst do?"
They answered, "we've a mistress here,
And young enough she is, and fair;
To see the host, if you're inclined,
Him in the kitchen you will find."
Into the kitchen John he goes,
And sees the master of the house,
An ancient man who turned the spit.
"O, ho!" said John, "this house I quit;
No sleeping place of it I'll make,
But in the next will quarters take."
"Do not go yet," they cried all three,
"Stay, sup with us, thou'lt welcome be."
And now, with grief and shame, I say
That with a friar of orders grey
The mistress had contrived a plan
To murder the poor ancient man,
When sleep had bound the merchants fast,
And on their heads the crime to cast.
John in the next house that same night
Saw through a hole i' the wall a light.
So getting up and gently walking,
He heard the friar and woman talking.
The friar said: "Against yon hole
My back I'll set, for fear some soul
From the next house our deeds should spy."
The hostess then most cruelly,
With a silk handkerchief she bore,
Murdered her ancient husband poor,
Strangled him did the accursed slut.
But meanwhile through the hole John cut
A round piece from the friar's gown,
And then in bed again lay down.
At morn ran out the hostess crying
That murdered was her husband lying;
And since nor man nor child had been,
Except the merchants, in the inn,
They should be hanged withouten fail;
They thereupon were led to jail.
John quickly them a visit paid.
"O, John! we've evil luck," they said;
"Last night the host was choked in bed,
And upon us the crime is laid."
"Dear gentlemen," was John's reply,
"Beseech the Justice instantly
To cause them who the murder wrought
Into his presence to be brought."
"But who knows who the deed has done?"
They faltered forth; then answered John:
"If I can't prove who did it, I
Will hang for it most willingly."
"Speak out," they cried. Said John: "Last night,
Being in bed, I saw a light;
I rose, as if I'd had a call--
There was a hole in the house wall,
'Gainst which his back a certain friar
Placed, thereby blinding it entire,
Lest, as he said, some curious eye
From the next house their deeds should spy.
I cut, meanwhile, to him unknown,
A large round piece from off his gown.
To prove that what I've said is true
I've in my pouch the piece to shew."
The merchants then were soon set free;
The murderers died on gallows tree.
All three depart from Market Jew,
Together with their comrade true,
Far as Kuz carn na Huila went,
And thence their ways lay different.
Now though the merchants earnest were
That John should with them home repair,
He steadfastly refused their plea,
Longing his wife and home to see.
When of the merchants he lost sight
He lounged away his time till night.
He'd fain know whether, while he roved
Abroad, his consort faithful proved.
Arrived, he listened at the door,
And heard a man's voice, he was sure,
Within the bed; his knife he drew,
Resolved to slay the guilty two.
But soon remembering the advice,
"_Ere striking once_, _bethink thee twice_,"
In hurry from the door he strode,
But soon returning knocked aloud.
"In name of God, who's there?" she cried;
"'Tis I am here, wife," John replied.
("Now in the name of blest Marie,
Whom heard I in her company?")
"If John thou art, pray enter free."
"First bring the light here," answered he.
'Twas brought, he stepped the threshold o'er.
Quoth he: "On coming to the door
I heard a man's voice in the bed."
"Ah, Johnny, when away you sped
In distant parts for work to roam,
I then with child was three months gone;
In bed there lies a comely boy,
Unto us both he'll be a joy."
Said John, "I've something to disclose.
My master, when I left his house,
Gave me this cake I have in hand,
And with it gave the strict command
When I with thee should merry make
Then and not till then it to break.
I'll now accomplish what he bade,
Mayhap we've wherefor to be glad."
They broke the cake in anxious haste,
The nine pounds in it, lo! were placed.
They took the money, ate the bread,
And I for truth have heard it said
No quarrel e'er or noisy word
'Twixt them from that time forth occurr'd.
Now, Gentles all, my tale is done,
I hope it has your favour won!
[The end]
George Borrow's poem: A Tale From The Cornish
________________________________________________
GO TO TOP OF SCREEN
