“All in good time, my lord, I wash: be first the tribute weighed.”
The first sack brought they, well tied up, the weight in full it made.
The second sack was eke the same, and then the third they threw
Into the scales. Oh! oh! there lacks the weight that here is due!
When the Intendant that beheld, quick stretched he forth his hands
All eagerly upon the sack, to loose the knotted bands.
“Hold! Sir Intendant, I will cut the fastening with my sword.”
And swift it from the scabbard leapt ere he had said the word.
Upon the crouching Frank it fell, it fell with might and main,
Clean from his shoulders swept his head, and cut the balance chain.
Then rolled the head the scales into, and weighed the balance down.
“Stop the assassin—stop!” they cried all wildly through the town.
He flies! he flies! The torches bring; haste! follow him with speed!
“Ha! bring your links to light my way—the night is dark indeed.
The night is dark, the road is ice: ‘twill spoil your gilded shoes
Of leather blue so fair bedecked, and ye your toil shall lose;
For ne’er again your scales of gold shall you, for evermore,
Use to weigh flints from Brittany and pebbles from her shore.”
[KOCHE, KING OF PITT.]
Koche, the subject of this memoir, was born on the remote island of Chatham, in the Southern Pacific Ocean. Forced by a cruel servitude to fly from his native island, he passed many years in absolute solitude on the little uninhabited island of Pitt, lying some miles distant from Chatham. Here he reigned undisputed master of the land and all it contained: whence the title of “King of Pitt” among those who knew him. His account of his native island and its inhabitants, together with his own adventures, show him to have been a man of an undaunted spirit, which no adverse fortune could bend, much less break; and had he been known to Carlyle, would have been placed by him among his heroes for worship and imitation; but, unluckily, Carlyle never heard of him.