by Emily Brontë (1818 - 1848)
Why ask to know the date the clime?
Language: English
Why ask to know the date the clime? More then mere words they cannot be Men knelt to God and worshipped crime And crushed the helpless even as we But they had learnt from length of strife Of civil war and anarchy To laugh at death and look on life With somewhat lighter sympathy It was the autumn of the year The time to labouring peasants dear Week after week from noon to noon September shone as bright as June Still, never hand a sickle held The crops were garnered in the field Trod out and ground by horse's feet While every ear was milky sweet And kneaded on the threshing floor With mire of tears and human gore Some said they thought that heaven's pure rain Would hardly bless those fields again Not so - the all benignant skies Rebuked that fear of famished eyes July passed on with showers and dew And August glowed in showerless blue No harvest time could be more fair Had harvest fruits but ripened there And I confess that hate of rest And thirst for things abandoned now Had weaned me from my country's breast And brought me to that land of woe Enthusiast in a name delighting My alien sword I drew to free One race, beneath two standards fighting For Loyalty and Liberty When kindred strive God help the weak A brothers ruth 'tis vain to seek At first it hurt my chivalry To join them in their cruelty But I grew hard I learnt to wear An iron front to terror's prayer I learnt to turn my ears away From tortures groans as well as they By force I learnt what power had I To say the conquered should not die? What heart one trembling foe to save When hundreds daily filled the grave? Yet there were faces that could move A moment's flash of human love And there were fates that made me feel I was not to the centre steel I've often witnessed wise men fear To meet distress which they foresaw And seeming cowards nobly bear A doom that thrilled the brave with awe Strange proofs I've seen how hearts could hide Their secret with a lifelong pride And then reveal it as they died Strange courage and strange weakness too In that last hour, when most are true And timid natures strangely nerved To deeds from which the desperate swerved These I may tell but leave them now Go with me where my thoughts would go Now all today, and all last night I've had one scene before my sight Wood shadowed dales a harvest moon Unclouded in its glorious noon A solemn landscape wide and still A red fire on a distant hill A line of fires and deep below Another duskier, drearier glow Charred beams and lime and blackened stones Self piled in cairns o'er burning bones And lurid flames that licked the wood Then quenched their glare in pools of blood But yestereve No never care Let street and suburb smoulder there- Smoke-hidden, in the winding glen They lay too far to vex my ken Four score shot down all veterans strong One prisoner spared their leader young And he within his house was laid Wounded, and weak and nearly dead We gave him life against his will For he entreated us to kill And statue-like we saw his tears And harshly fell our captain's sneers 'Now, heaven forbid' with scorn he said that noble gore our hands should shed Like common blood - retain thy breath Or scheme, If thou canst purchase death When men are poor we sometimes hear And pitying grant that dastard prayer When men are rich we make them buy The pleasant privilege to die O we have castles reared for kings Embattled towers and buttressed wings Thrice three feet thick, and guarded well With chain and bolt and sentinel! We build our despots dwellings sure Knowing they love to live secure And our respect for royalty Extends to thy estate and thee The supplicant groaned his moistened eye Swam wild and dim with agony The gentle blood could ill sustain Degrading taunts, unhonoured pain Bold had he shown himself to lead Eager to smite and proud to bleed A man amid the battle's storm An infant in the after calm Beyond the town his mansion stood Girt round with pasture land and wood And there our wounded soldiers lying Enjoyed the ease of wealth in dying For him, no mortal more then he Had softened life with luxury And truly did our priest declare Of good things he had had his share We lodged him in an empty place The full moon beaming on his face Through shivered glass, and ruins, made Where shell and ball the fiercest played I watched his ghastly couch beside Regardless if he lived or died Nay, muttering curses on the breast Whose ceaseless moans denied me rest Twas hard, I know, 'twas harsh to say 'Hell snatch thy worthless soul away! But then 'twas hard my lids to keep Through this long night, estranged from sleep Captive and keeper, both outworn Each in his misery yearned for morn Even though returning morn should bring Intenser toil and suffering Slow slow it came Our dreary room Grew drearier with departing gloom Yet as the west wind warmly blew I felt my pulses bound anew And turned to him nor breeze nor ray Revived that mould of shattered clay Scarce conscious of his pain he lay Scarce conscious that my hands removed The glittering toys his lightness loved The jewelled rings and locker fair Forsake the world without regret I murmured in contemptuous tone The world poor wretch will soon forget Thy noble name when thou art gone And words of such contempt I said Cold insults o'er a dying bed Which as they darken memory now Disturb my pulse and flush my brow I know that Justice holds in store Reprisals for these days of gore Not for the blood, but for the sin Of stifling mercy's voice within The blood spilt gives no pang at all It is my conscience haunting me Telling how oft my lips shed gall On many a thing too weak to be Even in thought, my enemy And whispering ever, when I pray 'God will repay - God will repay! He does repay and soon and well The deeds that turn his earth to hell The wrongs that aim a venomed dart Through nature at the Eternal Heart Surely my cruel tongue was cursed I know my prisoner heard me speak A transient gleam of feeling burst And wandered o'er his haggard cheek And from his quivering lips there stole A look to melt a demon's soul A silent prayer more powerful far Then any breathed petitions are Pleading in mortal agony To mercy's Source but not to me My plunder taken I left him there Without one breath of morning air To struggle with his last despair Regardless of the wildered cry Which wailed for death yet wailed to die I left him there unwatched alone And eager sought the court below W'ere o'er a trough of chiselled stone An ice cold well did gurgling flow The water in its basin shed A stranger tinge of fiery red I drank and scarcely marked the hue My food was dyed with crimson too As I went out a ragged child With wasted cheek and ringlets wild A shape of fear and misery Raised up her helpless hands to me And begged her fathers face to see I spurned the piteous wretch away Thy fathers face is lifeless clay As thine mayst be ere fall of day Unless the truth be quickly told Where thou hast hid thy father's gold Yet in the intervals of pain He heard my taunts and moaned again And mocking moans did I reply And asked him why he would not die In noble agony uncomplaining Was it not foul disgrace and shame To thus disgrace his ancient name? Just then a comrade came hurrying in Alas, he cried sin genders sin For every soldier slain they've sworn To hang up five come morn They've taken of stranglers sixty three Full thirty from one company And all my father's family And comrade thou hadst only one They've taken thy all thy little son Down at my captive's feet I fell I had no option in despair As thou wouldst save thy soul from hell My heart's own darling bid them spare Or human hate and hate divine Blight every orphan flower of thine He raised his head from death beguiled He wakened up he almost smiled Twice in my arms twice on my knee You stabbed my child and laughed at me And so with choking voice he said I trust I hope in God she's dead Yet not to thee not even to thee Would I return such misery? Such is that fearful grief I know I will not cause thee equal woe Write that they harm no infant there Write that it is my latest prayer I wrote - he signed and thus did save My treasure from the gory grave And oh my soul longed wildly then To give his saviour life again But heedless of my gratitude The silent corpse before me lay And still methinks in gloomy mood I see it fresh as yesterday The sad face raised imploringly To mercy's God and not to me I could not rescue him his child I found alive and tended well But she was full of anguish wild And hated me, hated to hell And weary with her savage woe One moonless night I let her go
About the headline (FAQ)
Note: in the Fisk work, this is sung by HeathcliffAuthorship:
- by Emily Brontë (1818 - 1848) [author's text not yet checked against a primary source]
Musical settings (art songs, Lieder, mélodies, (etc.), choral pieces, and other vocal works set to this text), listed by composer (not necessarily exhaustive):
- by Terry Fisk , "Why ask to know the date the clime?", published 2002 [voice, piano], from Wuthering Heights, no. 37. [text verified 1 time]
Researcher for this page: Terry Fisk
This text was added to the website: 2004-03-22
Line count: 251
Word count: 1628