The swannerds, where their sedges are, Moved on in sunset's golden breath; The shepherde lads I heard afarre, And my sonne's wife, Elizabeth; Till, floating o'er the grassy sea, Came downe that kyndly message free, The Brides of Mavis Enderby.
Then some looked uppe into the sky, And all along where Lindis flows To where the goodly vessels lie, And where the lordly steeple shows. They sayde, "And why should this thing be, What danger lowers by land or sea? They ring the tune of Enderby.
"For evil news from Mablethorpe, Of pyrate galleys, warping down,— For shippes ashore beyond the scorpe, They have not spared to wake the towne; But while the west bin red to see, And storms be none, and pyrates flee, Why ring The Brides of Enderby?"
I looked without, and lo! my sonne Came riding downe with might and main; He raised a shout as he drew on, Till all the welkin rang again: "Elizabeth! Elizabeth!" (A sweeter woman ne'er drew breath Than my sonne's wife, Elizabeth.)
"The olde sea-wall (he cryed) is downe! The rising tide comes on apace; And boats adrift in yonder towne Go sailing uppe the market-place!" He shook as one that looks on death: "God save you, mother!" straight he sayth; "Where is my wife, Elizabeth?"
"Good sonne, where Lindis winds away With her two bairns I marked her long; And ere yon tells beganne to play, Afar I heard her milking-song." He looked across the grassy sea, To right, to left, Ho, Enderby! They rang The Brides of Enderby.
With that he cried and beat his breast; For lo! along the river's bed A mighty eygre reared his crest, And uppe the Lindis raging sped. It swept with thunderous noises loud,— Shaped like a curling snow-white cloud, Or like a demon in a shroud.
And rearing Lindis, backward pressed, Shook all her trembling bankes amaine; Then madly at the eygre's breast Flung uppe her weltering walls again. Then bankes came downe with ruin and rout,— Then beaten foam flew round about,— Then all the mighty floods were out.
So farre, so fast, the eygre drave, The heart had hardly time to beat Before a shallow seething wave Sobbed in the grasses at oure feet: The feet had hardly time to flee Before it brake against the knee,— And all the world was in the sea.
Upon the roofe we sate that night; The noise of bells went sweeping by; I marked the lofty beacon light Stream from the church-tower, red and high,— A lurid mark, and dread to see; And awsome bells they were to mee, That in the dark rang Enderby.