Monday, June 22, 2009

The Highwayman

Good morning!!
Here is a really cool poem by Alfred Noyes. This poem, like Longfellow's Paul Revere's Ride, has a beat like the drummimg of horses hooves. While your reading it, see if you can feel it. It is bizarre, but awesome. TD

The Highwayman - Alfred Noyes (1880-1958)
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—
The highwayman came riding, up to the old inn-door.
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.
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.
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—
"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."
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 moonliglt, and galloped away to the West.

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 gypsy's ribbon, looping the purple moor,
A red-coat troop came marching—
King George's men came matching, up to the old inn-door.
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 her casement, the road that he would ride.
They had tied her up to attention, with many a sniggering jest;
They had 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!
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!
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 .
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!
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.
He turned; he spurred to the West; 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, his face grew grey 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.
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.
* * * * * *
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—
A highwayman comes riding, up to the old inn-door.
Over the cobbles he clatters and clangs in the dark inn-yard;
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.


  1. Wow. I didn't realize how long this was!

  2. The Highway Man is SOOO awesome too !! It's so dramatic and beautifully written, and I just love it.
    I simply love dramatic romances.

  3. Hooray! A comment! I think I love you Lady A. I was beginning to go crazy when I kept seeing "1 comment."
    Yes, those two poems(Paul... and this one)are amazingly cool.

  4. I am dreadfully sorry for that outburst of emotion Lady A. It had no personal intentions, in case you were wondering. Sorry~

  5. I knew what you meant :D

    I feel like I just want to shout sometimes too.

  6. Well... that could get awkward. I probably wouldn't be so very swell at explaining myself.

  7. The Highway Man is just awesome. My dad always says we use the word, "awesome" too much, but what other word can you use for a poem like this??
    Paul Revere's Ride gives me goosebumps every time I read it. I used to have that memorized too. I know this kid who called that poem, "stupid and lame." If we weren't in a restaurant at the time I might have torn his hair out. (Thank goodness we were.) That poem is flippin' AWESOME. (There's that word again.)
    How did we start talking about Paul Revere's Ride anyway?

  8. Caesar, we started talking about it when Lord A.D. compared them in his post. H.R.H

  9. What self-sacrificing love! But I cannot condone killing oneself. I am not sure what the right thing to do would be in that situation.

  10. What book are you from Lady E.? The Inheritance, right?

  11. Yes, The Inheritance by Louisa May Alcott. I wish I were as virtuous as she is in the book!

  12. Lord Anthony, I must insist upon knowing your meaning when you said, "that could get awkward." I understand you were answering my question, "Oh, so you don't love me?" but it was only a harmless jest. You puzzle me, good lord.

  13. Um... I didn't mean anything. Nothing. Nothing at all.

  14. Really, Lord and Lady, this banter has nothing to do with the literary work at the top of this page. Please stay on subject! :)

  15. Hey lords and ladies,
    Sorry it is taking me so long to write my post. I was going to post last night, but I accidentally left my book at someone's house. I only have one chapter left, so hopefully I will pick up the book at some point today, and post by tonight! Just thought I would let you know. Thank you.
    Lady Arwen