William Wordsworth
The Idiot Boy
from Lyrical Ballads (Volume 1, 1798)
'Tis eight o'clock, - a clear March night, | ||
The moon is up - the sky is blue, | ||
The owlet in the moonlight air, | ||
He shouts from nobody knows where; | ||
5 | He lengthens out his lonely shout, | |
Halloo! halloo! a long halloo! | ||
-Why bustle thus about your door, | ||
What means this bustle, Betty Foy? | ||
Why are you in this mighty fret? | ||
10 | And why on horseback have you set | |
Him whom you love, your idiot boy? | ||
Beneath the moon that shines so bright, | ||
Till she is tired, let Betty Foy | ||
With girt and stirrup fiddle-faddle; | ||
15 | But wherefore set upon a saddle | |
Him whom she loves, her idiot boy? | ||
There's scarce a soul that's out of bed; | ||
Good Betty put him down again; | ||
His lips with joy they burr at you, | ||
20 | But, Betty! what has he to do | |
With stirrup, saddle, or with rein? | ||
The world will say 'tis very idle, | ||
Bethink you of the time of night; | ||
There's not a mother, no not one, | ||
25 | But when she hears what you have done, | |
Oh! Betty she'll be in a fright. | ||
But Betty's bent on her intent, | ||
For her good neighbour, Susan Gale, | ||
Old Susan, she who dwells alone, | ||
30 | Is sick, and makes a piteous moan, | |
As if her very life would fail. | ||
There's not a house within a mile, | ||
No hand to help them in distress; | ||
Old Susan lies a bed in pain, | ||
35 | And sorely puzzled are the twain, | |
For what she ails they cannot guess. | ||
And Betty's husband's at the wood, | ||
Where by the week he doth abide, | ||
A woodman in the distant vale; | ||
40 | There's none to help poor Susan Gale, | |
What must be done? what will betide? | ||
And Betty from the lane has fetched | ||
Her pony, that is mild and good, | ||
Whether he be in joy or pain, | ||
45 | Feeding at will along the lane, | |
Or bringing faggots from the wood. | ||
And he is all in travelling trim, | ||
And by the moonlight, Betty Foy | ||
Has up upon the saddle set, | ||
50 | The like was never heard of yet, | |
Him whom she loves, her idiot boy. | ||
And he must post without delay | ||
Across the bridge that's in the dale, | ||
And by the church, and o'er the down, | ||
55 | To bring a doctor from the town, | |
Or she will die, old Susan Gale. | ||
There is no need of boot or spur, | ||
There is no need of whip or wand, | ||
For Johnny has his holly-bough, | ||
60 | And with a hurly-burly now | |
He shakes the green bough in his hand. | ||
And Betty o'er and o'er has told | ||
The boy who is her best delight, | ||
Both what to follow, what to shun, | ||
65 | What do, and what to leave undone, | |
How turn to left, and how to right. | ||
And Betty's most especial charge, | ||
Was, Johnny! Johnny! mind that you | ||
Come home again, nor stop at all, | ||
70 | Come home again, whate'er befal, | |
My Johnny do, I pray you do. | ||
To this did Johnny answer make, | ||
Both with his head, and with his hand, | ||
And proudly shook the bridle too, | ||
75 | And then! his words were not a few, | |
Which Betty well could understand. | ||
And now that Johnny is just going, | ||
Though Betty's in a mighty flurry, | ||
She gently pats the pony's side, | ||
80 | On which her idiot boy must ride, | |
And seems no longer in a hurry. | ||
But when the pony moved his legs, | ||
Oh! then for the poor idiot boy! | ||
For joy he cannot hold the bridle, | ||
85 | For joy his head and heels are idle, | |
He's idle all for very joy. | ||
And while the pony moves his legs, | ||
In Johnny's left hand you may see, | ||
The green bough's motionless and dead: | ||
90 | The moon that shines above his head | |
Is not more still and mute than he. | ||
His heart it was so full of glee, | ||
That till full fifty yards were gone, | ||
He quite forgot his holly whip, | ||
95 | And all his skill in horsemanship, | |
Oh! happy, happy, happy John. | ||
And Betty's standing at the door, | ||
And Betty's face with joy o'erflows, | ||
Proud of herself, and proud of him, | ||
100 | She sees him in his travelling trim; | |
How quietly her Johnny goes. | ||
The silence of her idiot boy, | ||
What hopes it sends to Betty's heart! | ||
He's at the guide-post - he turns right, | ||
105 | She watches till he's out of sight, | |
And Betty will not then depart. | ||
Burr, burr - now Johnny's lips they burr, | ||
As loud as any mill, or near it, | ||
Meek as a lamb the pony moves, | ||
110 | And Johnny makes the noise he loves, | |
And Betty listens, glad to hear it. | ||
Away she hies to Susan Gale: | ||
And Johnny's in a merry tune, | ||
The owlets hoot, the owlets purr, | ||
115 | And Johnny's lips they burr, burr, burr, | |
And on he goes beneath the moon. | ||
His steed and he right well agree, | ||
For of this pony there's a rumour, | ||
That should he lose his eyes and ears, | ||
120 | And should he live a thousand years, | |
He never will be out of humour. | ||
But then he is a horse that thinks! | ||
And when he thinks his pace is slack; | ||
Now, though he knows poor Johnny well, | ||
125 | Yet for his life he cannot tell | |
What he has got upon his back. | ||
So through the moonlight lanes they go, | ||
And far into the moonlight dale, | ||
And by the church, and o'er the down, | ||
130 | To bring a doctor from the town, | |
To comfort poor old Susan Gale. | ||
And Betty, now at Susan's side, | ||
Is in the middle of her story, | ||
What comfort Johnny soon will bring, | ||
135 | With many a most diverting thing, | |
Of Johnny's wit and Johnny's glory. | ||
And Betty's still at Susan's side: | ||
By this time she's not quite so flurried; | ||
Demure with porringer and plate | ||
140 | She sits, as if in Susan's fate | |
Her life and soul were buried. | ||
But Betty, poor good woman! she, | ||
You plainly in her face may read it, | ||
Could lend out of that moment's store | ||
145 | Five years of happiness or more, | |
To any that might need it. | ||
But yet I guess that now and then | ||
With Betty all was not so well, | ||
And to the road she turns her ears, | ||
150 | And thence full many a sound she hears, | |
Which she to Susan will not tell. | ||
Poor Susan moans, poor Susan groans, | ||
As sure as there's a moon in heaven, | ||
Cries Betty, he'll be back again; | ||
155 | They'll both be here, 'tis almost ten, | |
They'll both be here before eleven. | ||
Poor Susan moans, poor Susan groans, | ||
The clock gives warning for eleven; | ||
'Tis on the stroke - If Johnny's near, | ||
160 | Quoth Betty he will soon be here, | |
As sure as there's a moon in heaven. | ||
The clock is on the stroke of twelve, | ||
And Johnny is not yet in sight, | ||
The moon's in heaven, as Betty sees, | ||
165 | But Betty is not quite at ease; | |
And Susan has a dreadful night. | ||
And Betty, half an hour ago, | ||
On Johnny vile reflections cast: | ||
A little idle sauntering thing! | ||
170 | With other names, an endless string. | |
But now that time is gone and past. | ||
And Betty's drooping at the heart. | ||
That happy time all past and gone, | ||
How can it be he is so late? | ||
175 | The Doctor he has made him wait, | |
Susan! they'll both be here anon. | ||
And Susan's growing worse and worse, | ||
And Betty's in a sad quandary; | ||
And then there's nobody to say | ||
180 | If she must go or she must stay: | |
-She's in a sad quandary. | ||
The clock is on the stroke of one; | ||
But neither Doctor nor his guide | ||
Appear along the moonlight road, | ||
185 | There's neither horse nor man abroad, | |
And Betty's still at Susan's side. | ||
And Susan she begins to fear | ||
Of sad mischances not a few, | ||
That Johnny may perhaps be drown'd, | ||
190 | Or lost perhaps, and never found; | |
Which they must both for ever rue. | ||
She prefaced half a hint of this | ||
With, God forbid it should be true! | ||
At the first word that Susan said | ||
195 | Cried Betty, rising from the bed, | |
Susan, I'd gladly stay with you. | ||
I must be gone, I must away, | ||
Consider, Johnny's but half-wise; | ||
Susan, we must take care of him, | ||
200 | If he is hurt in life or limb - | |
Oh God forbid! poor Susan cries. | ||
What can I do? says Betty, going, | ||
What can I do to ease your pain? | ||
Good Susan tell me, and I'll stay; | ||
205 | I fear you're in a dreadful way, | |
But I shall soon be back again. | ||
Nay, Betty, go! good Betty, go! | ||
There's nothing that can ease my pain. | ||
Then off she hies, but with a prayer | ||
210 | That God poor Susan's life would spare, | |
Till she comes back again. | ||
So, through the moonlight lane she goes, | ||
And far into the moonlight dale; | ||
And how she ran, and how she walked, | ||
215 | And all that to herself she talked, | |
Would surely be a tedious tale. | ||
In high and low, above, below, | ||
In great and small, in round and square, | ||
In tree and tower was Johnny seen, | ||
220 | In bush and brake, in black and green, | |
'Twas Johnny, Johnny, every where. | ||
She's past the bridge that's in the dale, | ||
And now the thought torments her sore, | ||
Johnny perhaps his horse forsook, | ||
225 | To hunt the moon that's in the brook, | |
And never will be heard of more. | ||
And now she's high upon the down, | ||
Alone amid a prospect wide; | ||
There's neither Johnny nor his horse, | ||
230 | Among the fern or in the gorse; | |
There's neither doctor nor his guide. | ||
Oh saints! what is become of him? | ||
Perhaps he's climbed into an oak, | ||
Where he will stay till he is dead; | ||
235 | Or sadly he has been misled, | |
And joined the wandering gypsey-folk. | ||
Or him that wicked pony's carried | ||
To the dark cave, the goblins' hall, | ||
Or in the castle he's pursuing, | ||
240 | Among the ghosts, his own undoing; | |
Or playing with the waterfall, | ||
At poor old Susan then she railed, | ||
While to the town she posts away; | ||
If Susan had not been so ill, | ||
245 | Alas! I should have had him still, | |
My Johnny, till my dying day. | ||
Poor Betty! in this sad distemper, | ||
The doctor's self would hardly spare, | ||
Unworthy things she talked and wild, | ||
250 | Even he, of cattle the most mild, | |
The pony had his share. | ||
And now she's got into the town, | ||
And to the doctor's door she hies; | ||
'Tis silence all on every side; | ||
255 | The town so long, the town so wide, | |
Is silent as the skies. | ||
And now she's at the doctor's door, | ||
She lifts the knocker, rap, rap, rap, | ||
The doctor at the casement shews, | ||
260 | His glimmering eyes that peep and doze; | |
And one hand rubs his old night-cap. | ||
Oh Doctor! Doctor! where's my Johnny? | ||
I'm here, what is't you want with me? | ||
Oh Sir! you know I'm Betty Foy, | ||
265 | And I have lost my poor dear boy, | |
You know him - him you often see; | ||
He's not so wise as some folks be, | ||
The devil take his wisdom! said | ||
The Doctor, looking somewhat grim, | ||
270 | What, woman! should I know of him? | |
And, grumbling, he went back to bed. | ||
O woe is me! O woe is me! | ||
Here will I die; here will I die; | ||
I thought to find my Johnny here, | ||
275 | But he is neither far nor near, | |
Oh! what a wretched mother I! | ||
She stops, she stands, she looks about, | ||
Which way to turn she cannot tell. | ||
Poor Betty! it would ease her pain | ||
280 | If she had heart to knock again; | |
-The clock strikes three - a dismal knell! | ||
Then up along the town she hies, | ||
No wonder if her senses fail, | ||
This piteous news so much it shock'd her, | ||
285 | She quite forgot to send the Doctor, | |
To comfort poor old Susan Gale. | ||
And now she's high upon the down, | ||
And she can see a mile of road, | ||
Oh cruel! I'm almost three-score; | ||
295 | Such night as this was ne'er before, | |
There's not a single soul abroad. | ||
She listens, but she cannot hear | ||
The foot of horse, the voice of man; | ||
The streams with softest sound are flowing, | ||
300 | The grass you almost hear it growing, | |
You hear it now if e'er you can. | ||
The owlets through the long blue night | ||
Are shouting to each other still: | ||
Fond lovers, yet not quite hob nob, | ||
305 | They lengthen out the tremulous sob, | |
That echoes far from hill to hill. | ||
Poor Betty now has lost all hope, | ||
Her thoughts are bent on deadly sin; | ||
A green-grown pond she just has pass'd, | ||
310 | And from the brink she hurries fast, | |
Lest she should drown herself therein. | ||
And now she sits her down and weeps; | ||
Such tears she never shed before; | ||
Oh dear, dear pony! my sweet joy! | ||
315 | Oh carry back my idiot boy! | |
And we will ne'er o'erload thee more. | ||
A thought it come into her head; | ||
The pony he is mild and good, | ||
And we have always used him well; | ||
320 | Perhaps he's gone along the dell, | |
And carried Johnny to the wood. | ||
Then up she springs as if on wings; | ||
She thinks no more of deadly sin; | ||
If Betty fifty ponds should see, | ||
325 | The last of all her thoughts would be, | |
To drown herself therein. | ||
Oh reader! now that I might tell | ||
What Johnny and his horse are doing! | ||
What they've been doing all this time, | ||
330 | Oh could I put it into rhyme, | |
A most delightful tale pursuing! | ||
Perhaps, and no unlikely thought! | ||
He with his pony now doth roam | ||
The cliffs and peaks so high that are, | ||
335 | To lay his hands upon a star, | |
And in his pocket bring it home. | ||
Perhaps he's turned himself about, | ||
His face unto his horse's tail, | ||
And still and mute, in wonder lost, | ||
340 | All like a silent horse-man ghost, | |
He travels on along the vale. | ||
And now, perhaps, he's hunting sheep, | ||
A fierce and dreadful hunter he! | ||
Yon valley, that's so trim and green, | ||
345 | In five months' time, should he be seen, | |
A desart wilderness will be. | ||
Perhaps, with head and heels on fire, | ||
And like the very soul of evil, | ||
He's galloping away, away, | ||
350 | And so he'll gallop on for aye, | |
The bane of all that dread the devil. | ||
I to the muses have been bound | ||
These fourteen years, by strong indentures: | ||
Oh gentle muses! let me tell | ||
355 | But half of what to him befel, | |
For sure he met with strange adventures. | ||
Oh gentle muses! is this kind | ||
Why will ye thus my suit repel? | ||
Why of your further aid bereave me? | ||
360 | And can ye thus unfriended leave me? | |
Ye muses! whom I love so well. | ||
Who's yon, that, near the waterfall, | ||
Which thunders down with headlong force, | ||
Beneath the moon, yet shining fair, | ||
365 | As careless as if nothing were, | |
Sits upright on a feeding horse? | ||
Unto his horse, that's feeding free, | ||
He seems, I think, the rein to give; | ||
Of moon or stars he takes no heed; | ||
370 | Of such we in romances read, | |
-Tis Johnny! Johnny! as I live. | ||
And that's the very pony too. | ||
Where is she, where is Betty Foy? | ||
She hardly can sustain her fears; | ||
375 | The roaring water-fall she hears, | |
And cannot find her idiot boy. | ||
Your pony's worth his weight in gold, | ||
Then calm your terrors, Betty Foy! | ||
She's coming from among the trees, | ||
380 | And now all full in view she sees | |
Him whom she loves, her idiot boy. | ||
And Betty sees the pony too: | ||
Why stand you thus Good Betty Foy? | ||
It is no goblin, 'tis no ghost, | ||
385 | 'Tis he whom you so long have lost, | |
He whom you love, your idiot boy. | ||
She looks again-her arms are up - | ||
She screams - she cannot move for joy; | ||
She darts as with a torrent's force, | ||
390 | She almost has o'erturned the horse, | |
And fast she holds her idiot boy. | ||
And Johnny burrs, and laughs aloud, | ||
Whether in cunning or in joy, | ||
I cannot tell; but while he laughs, | ||
395 | Betty a drunken pleasure quaffs, | |
To hear again her idiot boy. | ||
And now she's at the pony's tail, | ||
And now she's at the pony's head, | ||
On that side now, and now on this, | ||
400 | And almost stifled with her bliss, | |
A few sad tears does Betty shed. | ||
She kisses o'er and o'er again, | ||
Him whom she loves, her idiot boy, | ||
She's happy here, she's happy there. | ||
405 | She is uneasy every where; | |
Her limbs are all alive with joy. | ||
She pats the pony, where or when | ||
She knows not, happy Betty Foy! | ||
The little pony glad may be, | ||
410 | But he is milder far than she, | |
You hardly can perceive his joy. | ||
Oh! Johnny, never mind the Doctor; | ||
You've done your best, and that is all. | ||
She took the reins, when this was said, | ||
415 | And gently turned the pony's head | |
From the loud water-fall. | ||
By this the stars were almost gone, | ||
The moon was setting on the hill, | ||
So pale you scarcely looked at her: | ||
420 | The little birds began to stir, | |
Though yet their tongues were still. | ||
The pony, Betty, and her boy, | ||
Wind slowly through the woody dale; | ||
And who is she, be-times abroad, | ||
425 | That hobbles up the steep rough road? | |
Who is it, but old Susan Gale? | ||
Long Susan lay deep lost in thought, | ||
And many dreadful fears beset her, | ||
Both for her messenger and nurse; | ||
430 | And as her mind grew worse and worse, | |
Her body it grew better. | ||
She turned, she toss'd herself in bed, | ||
On all sides doubts and terrors met her; | ||
Point after point did she discuss; | ||
435 | And while her mind was fighting thus, | |
Her body still grew better. | ||
Alas! what is become of them? | ||
These fears can never be endured, | ||
I'll to the wood. - The word scarce said, | ||
440 | Did Susan rise up from her bed, | |
As if by magic cured. | ||
Away she posts up hill and down, | ||
And to the wood at length is come, | ||
She spies her friends, she shouts a greeting; | ||
445 | Oh me! it is a merry meeting, | |
As ever was in Christendom. | ||
The owls have hardly sung their last, | ||
While our four travellers homeward wend; | ||
The owls have hooted all night long, | ||
450 | And with the owls began my song, | |
And with the owls must end. | ||
For while they all were travelling home, | ||
Cried Betty, Tell us Johnny, do, | ||
Where all this long night you have been, | ||
455 | What you have heard, what you have seen, | |
And Johnny, mind you tell us true. | ||
Now Johnny all night long had heard | ||
The owls in tuneful concert strive; | ||
No doubt too he the moon had seen; | ||
460 | For in the moonlight he had been | |
From eight o'clock till five. | ||
And thus to Betty's question, he, | ||
Made answer, like a traveller bold, | ||
(His very words I give to you,) | ||
465 | The cocks did crow to-whoo, to-whoo, | |
And the sun did shine so cold. | ||
-Thus answered Johnny in his glory, | ||
And that was all his travel's story |
First published 1798
Robert Clark