Then the wife of the skipper lost at sea Said, "God has touched him! why should we?"90 Said an old wife mourning her only son, "Cut the rogue's tether and let him run!" So with soft relentings and rude excuse, Half scorn, half pity, they cut him loose, And gave him a cloak to hide him in,95 And left him alone with his shame and sin. Poor Floyd Ireson, for his hard heart, Tarred and feathered and carried in a cart By the women of Marblehead!
[BARCLAY OF URY]
Up the streets of Aberdeen[318] By the kirk[319] and college green Rode the Laird[320] of Ury. Close behind him, close beside, Foul of mouth and evil-eyed,5 Pressed the mob in fury.
Flouted him the drunken churl, Jeered at him the serving-girl, Prompt to please her master; And the begging carlin,[321] late10 Fed and clothed at Ury's gate, Cursed him as he passed her.
Yet, with calm and stately mien, Up the streets of Aberdeen Came he slowly riding;15 And, to all he saw and heard, Answering not with bitter word, Turning not for chiding.
Came a troop with broadswords swinging, Bits and bridles sharply ringing,20 Loose and free and froward; Quoth the foremost, 'Ride him down! Push him! prick him! through the town Drive the Quaker coward!'
But from out the thickening crowd25 Cried a sudden voice and loud: 'Barclay! Ho! a Barclay!' And the old man at his side Saw a comrade, battle tried, Scarred and sunburned darkly,30
Who with ready weapon bare, Fronting to the troopers there, Cried aloud: 'God save us, Call ye coward him who stood Ankle deep in Lützen's[322] blood,35 With the brave Gustavus?'
'Nay, I do not need thy sword, Comrade mine,' said Ury's lord; 'Put it up, I pray thee: Passive to his holy will,40 Trust I in my Master still, Even though He slay me.