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| ONE hundred years ago, and something more, | |
| In Queen Street, Portsmouth, at her tavern door, | |
| Neat as a pin, and blooming as a rose, | |
| Stood Mistress Stavers in her furbelows, | |
| Just as her cuckoo-clock was striking nine. | 5 |
| Above her head, resplendent on the sign, | |
| The portrait of the Earl of Halifax, | |
| In scarlet coat and periwig of flax, | |
| Surveyed at leisure all her varied charms, | |
| Her cap, her bodice, her white folded arms, | 10 |
| And half resolved, though he was past his prime, | |
| And rather damaged by the lapse of time, | |
| To fall down at her feet, and to declare | |
| The passion that had driven him to despair. | |
| For from his lofty station he had seen | 15 |
| Stavers, her husband, dressed in bottle-green, | |
| Drive his new Flying Stage-coach, four in hand, | |
| Down the long lane, and out into the land, | |
| And knew that he was far upon the way | |
| To Ipswich and to Boston on the Bay! | 20 |
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| Just then the meditations of the Earl | |
| Were interrupted by a little girl, | |
| Barefooted, ragged, with neglected hair, | |
| Eyes full of laughter, neck and shoulders bare, | |
| A thin slip of a girl, like a new moon, | 25 |
| Sure to be rounded into beauty soon, | |
| A creature men would worship and adore, | |
| Though now in mean habiliments she bore | |
| A pail of water, dripping, through the street, | |
| And bathing, as she went, her naked feet. | 30 |
| |
| It was a pretty picture, full of grace,— | |
| The slender form, the delicate, thin face; | |
| The swaying motion, as she hurried by; | |
| The shining feet, the laughter in her eye, | |
| That o’er her face in ripples gleamed and glanced, | 35 |
| As in her pail the shifting sunbeam danced: | |
| And with uncommon feelings of delight | |
| The Earl of Halifax beheld the sight. | |
| Not so Dame Stavers, for he heard her say | |
| These words, or thought he did, as plain as day: | 40 |
| “O Martha Hilton! Fie! how dare you go | |
| About the town half dressed, and looking so!” | |
| At which the gypsy laughed, and straight replied: | |
| “No matter how I look; I yet shall ride | |
| In my own chariot, ma’am.” And on the child | 45 |
| The Earl of Halifax benignly smiled, | |
| As with her heavy burden she passed on, | |
| Looked back, then turned the corner, and was gone. | |
| |
| What next, upon that memorable day, | |
| Arrested his attention was a gay | 50 |
| And brilliant equipage, that flashed and spun, | |
| The silver harness glittering in the sun, | |
| Outriders with red jackets, lithe and lank, | |
| Pounding the saddles as they rose and sank, | |
| While all alone within the chariot sat | 55 |
| A portly person with three-cornered hat, | |
| A crimson velvet coat, head high in air, | |
| Gold-headed cane, and nicely powdered hair, | |
| And diamond buckles sparkling at his knees, | |
| Dignified, stately, florid, much at ease. | 60 |
| Onward the pageant swept, and as it passed, | |
| Fair Mistress Stavers courtesied low and fast; | |
| For this was Governor Wentworth, driving down | |
| To Little Harbor, just beyond the town, | |
| Where his Great House stood looking out to sea, | 65 |
| A goodly place, where it was good to be. | |
| |
| It was a pleasant mansion, an abode | |
| Near and yet hidden from the great high-road, | |
| Sequestered among trees, a noble pile, | |
| Baronial and colonial in its style; | 70 |
| Gables and dormer-windows everywhere, | |
| And stacks of chimneys rising high in air,— | |
| Pandæan pipes, on which all winds that blew | |
| Made mournful music the whole winter through. | |
| Within, unwonted splendors met the eye, | 75 |
| Panels, and floors of oak, and tapestry; | |
| Carved chimney-pieces, where on brazen dogs | |
| Revelled and roared the Christmas fires of logs; | |
| Doors opening into darkness unawares, | |
| Mysterious passages, and nights of stairs; | 80 |
| And on the walls, in heavy gilded frames, | |
| The ancestral Wentworths with Old-Scripture names. | |
| |
| Such was the mansion where the great man dwelt, | |
| A widower and childless; and he felt | |
| The loneliness, the uncongenial gloom, | 85 |
| That like a presence haunted every room; | |
| For though not given to weakness, he could feel | |
| The pain of wounds, that ache because they heal. | |
| |
| The years came and the years went,—seven in all, | |
| And passed in cloud and sunshine o’er the Hall; | 90 |
| The dawns their splendor through its chambers shed, | |
| The sunsets flushed its western windows red; | |
| The snow was on its roofs, the wind, the rain; | |
| Its woodlands were in leaf and bare again; | |
| Moons waxed and waned, the lilacs bloomed and died, | 95 |
| In the broad river ebbed and flowed the tide, | |
| Ships went to sea, and ships came home from sea, | |
| And the slow years sailed by and ceased to be. | |
| |
| And all these years had Martha Hilton served | |
| In the Great House, not wholly unobserved: | 100 |
| By day, by night, the silver crescent grew, | |
| Though hidden by clouds, her light still shining through; | |
| A maid of all work, whether coarse or fine, | |
| A servant who made service seem divine! | |
| Through her each room was fair to look upon; | 105 |
| The mirrors glistened, and the brasses shone, | |
| The very knocker on the outer door, | |
| If she but passed, was brighter than before. | |
| |
| And now the ceaseless turning of the mill | |
| Of Time, that never for an hour stands still, | 110 |
| Ground out the Governor’s sixtieth birthday, | |
| And powdered his brown hair with silver-gray. | |
| The robin, the forerunner of the spring, | |
| The bluebird with his jocund carolling, | |
| The restless swallows building in the eaves, | 115 |
| The golden buttercups, the grass, the leaves, | |
| The lilacs tossing in the winds of May, | |
| All welcomed this majestic holiday! | |
| He gave a splendid banquet, served on plate, | |
| Such as became the Governor of the State, | 120 |
| Who represented England and the King, | |
| And was magnificent in everything. | |
| He had invited all his friends and peers,— | |
| The Pepperels, the Langdons, and the Lears, | |
| The Sparhawks, the Penhallows, and the rest; | 125 |
| For why repeat the name of every guest? | |
| But I must mention one, in bands and gown, | |
| The rector there, the Reverend Arthur Brown | |
| Of the Established Church; with smiling face | |
| He sat beside the Governor and said grace; | 130 |
| And then the feast went on, as others do, | |
| But ended as none other I e’er knew. | |
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| When they had drunk the King, with many a cheer. | |
| The Governor whispered in a servant’s ear, | |
| Who disappeared, and presently there stood | 135 |
| Within the room, in perfect womanhood, | |
| A maiden, modest and yet self-possessed, | |
| Youthful and beautiful, and simply dressed. | |
| Can this be Martha Hilton? It must be! | |
| Yes, Martha Hilton, and no other she! | 140 |
| Dowered with the beauty of her twenty years, | |
| How ladylike, how queenlike she appears; | |
| The pale, thin crescent of the days gone by | |
| Is Dian now in all her majesty! | |
| Yet scarce a guest perceived that she was there | 145 |
| Until the Governor, rising from his chair, | |
| Played slightly with his ruffles, then looked down, | |
| And said unto the Reverend Arthur Brown: | |
| “This is my birthday: it shall likewise be | |
| My wedding-day; and you shall marry me!” | 150 |
| |
| The listening guests were greatly mystified, | |
| None more so than the rector, who replied: | |
| “Marry you? Yes, that were a pleasant task, | |
| Your Excellency; but to whom? I ask.” | |
| The Governor answered: “To this lady here”; | 155 |
| And beckoned Martha Hilton to draw near. | |
| She came and stood, all blushes, at his side. | |
| The rector paused. The impatient Governor cried: | |
| “This is the lady; do you hesitate? | |
| Then I command you as Chief Magistrate.” | 160 |
| The rector read the service loud and clear: | |
| “Dearly beloved, we are gathered here,” | |
| And so on to the end. At his command | |
| On the fourth finger of her fair left hand | |
| The Governor placed the ring; and that was all: | 165 |
| Martha was Lady Wentworth of the Hall! | |
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