THE EVERLASTING MERCY
THE EVERLASTING MERCY
BY
JOHN MASEFIELD
AUTHOR OF
"THE TRAGEDY OF POMPEY THE GREAT"
"THE TRAGEDY OF NAN," ETC.
LONDON
SIDGWICK & JACKSON LTD.
3 ADAM STREET, ADELPHI
MCMXIII
First Edition, Crown 8vo, November 1911;
Reprinted November and December 1911,
February, April and August 1912.
Reset December 1912; reprinted January
(twice), February, March and May, 1913.
New Edition, Foolscap 8vo, thirteenth
thousand, October 1913.
Fourteenth thousand, November 1913.
Entered at the Library of
Congress, Washington, U.S.A.
All rights reserved
BY THE SAME AUTHOR
THE WIDOW IN THE BYE STREET
Crown 8vo, 3s. 6d. net.
Fourth Thousand
THE TRAGEDY OF POMPEY THE GREAT
Crown 8vo, Cloth, 3s. 6d. net;
Paper Wrappers, 1s. 6d. net.
Fourth Impression
London: SIDGWICK & JACKSON LTD.
Thy place is biggyd above the sterrys deer,
Noon erthely paleys wrouhte in so statly wyse,
Com on my freend, my brothir moost enteer,
For the I offryd my blood in sacrifise.
JOHN LYDGATE.
THE EVERLASTING MERCY
From '41 to '51
I was my folk's contrary son;
I bit my father's hand right through
And broke my mother's heart in two.
I sometimes go without my dinner
Now that I know the times I've gi'n her.
From '51 to '6l
I cut my teeth and took to fun.
I learned what not to be afraid of
And what stuff women's lips are made of;
I learned with what a rosy feeling
Good ale makes floors seem like the ceiling,
And how the moon gives shiny light
To lads as roll home singing by't.
My blood did leap, my flesh did revel,
Saul Kane was tokened to the devil.
From '61 to '67
I lived in disbelief of heaven.
I drunk, I fought, I poached, I whored,
I did despite unto the Lord,
I cursed, 'twould make a man look pale,
And nineteen times I went to jail.
Now, friends, observe and look upon me,
Mark how the Lord took pity on me.
By Dead Man's Thorn, while setting wires,
Who should come up but Billy Myers,
A friend of mine, who used to be
As black a sprig of hell as me,
With whom I'd planned, to save encroachin',
Which fields and coverts each should poach in.
Now when he saw me set my snare,
He tells me 'Get to hell from there.
This field is mine,' he says, 'by right;
If you poach here, there'll be a fight.
Out now,' he says, 'and leave your wire;
It's mine.'
'You closhy put.'
'This is my field.'
