Lavengro by George Borrow (read me a book txt) 📕

oaks came whelming down;
Upon my head up starts my hair:
Why hunt abroad the hounds of air?
What cursed hag is screeching high,
Whilst crash goes all her crockery?’

You would hardly believe, Belle, that though I offered at least ten thousand lines nearly as good as those to the booksellers in London, the simpletons were so blind to their interest as to refuse purchasing them.”

“I don’t wonder at it,” said Belle, “especially if such dreadful expressions frequently occur as that towards the end; surely that was the crash of a tree?”

“Ah!” said I, “there falls the cedar tree⁠—I mean the sallow; one of the tall trees on the outside of the dingle has been snapped short.”

“What a pity,” said Belle, “that the fine old oak, which you saw the peasants cutting up, gave way the other night, when scarcely a breath of air was stirring; how much better to have fallen in a storm like this, the fiercest I remember.”

“I don’t think so,” said I; “after braving a thousand tempests, it was meeter for it to fall of itself than to be vanquished at last. But to return to Ab Gwilym’s poetry, he was above culling dainty words, and spoke boldly his mind on all subjects. Enraged with the thunder for parting him and Morfydd, he says, at the conclusion of his ode:⁠—

‘My curse, O Thunder, cling to thee,
For parting my dear pearl and me.’ ”

“You and I shall part; that is, I shall go to my tent if you persist in repeating from him. The man must have been a savage. A poor wood-pigeon has fallen dead.”

“Yes,” said I, “there he lies just outside the tent; often have I listened to his note when alone in this wilderness. So you do not like Ab Gwilym; what say you to old Goethe:⁠—

‘Mist shrouds the night, and rack;
Hear, in the woods, what an awful crack!
Wildly the owls are flitting,
Hark to the pillars splitting
Of palaces verdant ever,
The branches quiver and sever,
The mighty stems are creaking,
The poor roots breaking and shrieking,
In wild mixt ruin down dashing,
O’er one another they’re crashing;
Whilst ’midst the rocks so hoary,
Whirlwinds hurry and worry.
Hear’st not, sister⁠—’ ”

“Hark!” said Belle, “hark!”

“ ‘Hear’st not, sister, a chorus
Of voices⁠—?’ ”

“No,” said Belle, “but I hear a voice.”

XCVI

I listened attentively, but I could hear nothing but the loud clashing of branches, the pattering of rain, and the muttered growl of thunder. I was about to tell Belle that she must have been mistaken, when I heard a shout, indistinct it is true, owing to the noises aforesaid, from some part of the field above the dingle. “I will soon see what’s the matter,” said I to Belle, starting up. “I will go, too,” said the girl. “Stay where you are,” said I; “if I need you, I will call;” and, without waiting for any answer, I hurried to the mouth of the dingle. I was about a few yards only from the top of the ascent, when I beheld a blaze of light, from whence I knew not; the next moment there was a loud crash, and I appeared involved in a cloud of sulphurous smoke. “Lord have mercy upon us,” I heard a voice say, and methought I heard the plunging and struggling of horses. I had stopped short on hearing the crash, for I was half stunned; but I now hurried forward, and in a moment stood upon the plain. Here I was instantly aware of the cause of the crash and the smoke. One of those balls, generally called fireballs, had fallen from the clouds, and was burning on the plain at a short distance; and the voice which I had heard, and the plunging, were as easily accounted for. Near the left-hand corner of the grove which surrounded the dingle, and about ten yards from the fireball, I perceived a chaise, with a postillion on the box, who was making efforts, apparently useless, to control his horses, which were kicking and plunging in the highest degree of excitement. I instantly ran towards the chaise, in order to offer what help was in my power. “Help me,” said the poor fellow, as I drew nigh; but, before I could reach the horses, they had turned rapidly round, one of the fore-wheels flew from its axletree, the chaise was overset, and the postillion flung violently from his seat upon the field. The horses now became more furious than before, kicking desperately, and endeavouring to disengage themselves from the fallen chaise. As I was hesitating whether to run to the assistance of the postillion, or endeavour to disengage the animals, I heard the voice of Belle exclaiming: “See to the horses, I will look after the man.” She had, it seems, been alarmed by the crash which accompanied the fire-bolt, and had hurried up to learn the cause. I forthwith seized the horses by the heads, and used all the means I possessed to soothe and pacify them, employing every gentle modulation of which my voice was capable. Belle, in the meantime, had raised up the man, who was much stunned by his fall; but presently recovering his recollection to a certain degree, he came limping to me, holding his hand to his right thigh. “The first thing that must now be done,” said I, “is to free these horses from the traces; can you undertake to do so?” “I think I can,” said the man, looking at me somewhat stupidly. “I will help,” said Belle, and without loss of time laid hold of one of the traces. The man, after a short pause, also set to work, and in a few minutes the horses were extricated. “Now,” said I to the man, “what is next to be done?” “I don’t know,” said he; “indeed, I scarcely know anything; I have been so frightened by this horrible storm, and so shaken by my fall.” “I think,” said I, “that the storm is passing away, so cast your fears away too; and as