Brier Rose

Brier Rose.
170.1
I.

Sald Rose Brier Rose’s mother to the naughty Brier
“What will become of you, my child, the Lord Al-mighty knows.
You will not serub the kettles, and you will not touch the broom.
You never ait a minute still at spinning wheel or
elcom. Thus grumbled in the morning, and crumbled inte
at The good wife as she bustled with bot and tray and
sleve But Brier Rose she laughed and cocked her dainty
head: Why I shall marry, mother dear,” full merrily she said.
“You marry kaucy Brier Rose! The man, he is not found.
To marry such a worthless wench, these seven leagues around.
“But Brier Rose she laughed and she trilled a
merry lay: “Perhaps he’ll come, my mother dear, from eighty
leagues away.” The good wife, with a “bumph” and a sigh. forwook
the battle. And flung her pots with much vindictive rattle: ”
Oh, Lord, what sin did I commit in youthful days
and wild. That thou hast punished me in are with
such a wayward child?” Up stole the girl on
tiptoe, so that none her sten
could hear. And, laughing, pressed
an airy kiss behind the good wife’s ear
And she, as e’er, relenting, sighed: “Oh, heaven
only knows Whatever will become of that
naughty Brier Rose. The sun was high
and summer sounds were teeming
In the airt The clank of scythes, the crickets
whir, and swell- Ing wood notes rare. From field and
conse and meadow, and through the epen door
Bwent, fragrant whiffs of new mown hay the idle
breezes bor. Then Brier Rose grew
Densive, like a bird of thoughful mien.
Whose little life has problems among the branches green.
She heard the river brawling where the
tide was swift and strong.
She heard the summer singing its strange, alluring song.
And out she skipped, the meadows o’er and gazed into the sky:
Her heart o’erbrimmed with gladness, she scarce
herself knew why. And to a merry tune she hummed. “Oh, Heaven only knows
Whatever will become of the naughty Brier Rose.”
Whene’er a thrifty matron this idle maid espied.
She shook her head in warning and scarce her wrath could hide,
For girls were made for housewives, for spinning wheel, and loom,
And not to drink the sunshine and the wild flowers’ sweet perfume,
And oft the maidens cry, when the Brier Rose went by.
“You cannot knit a stocking and you cannot bake a ple,”
But, Brier Rose, as was her wont, she cocked her curly head: ”
But I can sing a pretty song,” full merrily she sald And oft the
young lads shouted, when they saw the maid at play:
Ho, good for nothing Brier Rose, how do you do today?”.
Then she shook her tiny fist; to her cheek the color
flow: However much you coax me, I’ll never dance with you.”

II.

Thus flew the years light winged over
Brier Rose’s head, Fill she was twenty summers old,
and still remained unwed. And all the parish wondered:
“The Lord Almighty knows. Whatever will become of the naughty
Brier Ross!” and while they wondered came the spring a-danc- ing o’er the hills:
Her breath was warmer than of yore, and all the mountain rilla,
With their tinkling and their rippling, and their rushing filled the air,
And the misty sounds of water forth welling every- where.
And in the valley’s depths, like & Justy beast of prey,
The river leaped and roared aloud and tossed its mane of spray
Then hushed again ite voice to a softly splashing
croon, As dark it rolled beneath the stin and white be- neath the moon,
It was a merry sight to see the lumber as it whirled whirled
Adown the tawny eddies that hissed and seethed and swirled.
Now shooting through the rapids, and with a reel- Ing swing.
Into the foam crest diving like an animated thing.
But in the narrows of the rock, where o’er & steep Incline,
The waters plunged and wreathed in foam the dark boughs of the pine,
The lads kept watch with shout and song, and sent ench strangling beam
A-epinning down the rapids lest it should lock the stream,

III.

And wet-methinka, I hear it now-wild voices in the night.
A rush of feet, a dog’s harsh bark, a torch’s flaring light
And wandering gusta of dampness, and round us for and nigh.
A throbbing boom of water like a pulse-beat in the sky.
The dawn just pierced the palid East with spears of Cold duck red.
Aa we, with boat hooks in our hands, toward the
And terror amote us; for we heard the mighty harrows sped.
tree tops away, And thunder, as of chariots, and hissing showers of spray.
“Now, lade the sheriff shouted, “you are strong like Norway’s rock
A hundred crown I give him who breaks the lum- ber lock!
For If another hour go by, the angry water’s apoll
Our homes will be, and fields, and our weary years of toll.”
We looked each at the other; each hoped his neigh bor would
Hrave death and danger for his home, as valtant Norseman should.
But at our feet the brawling tide expanded like a Jake
And whirling beams came shooting on, and made the firm rock quake.
“Two hundred crown,” the aheriff cried, and breathless stood the crowd.
“Two hundred crowns, my bonny lada!”” In anxious tones and loud.
But not a man came forward and no one spoke or stirred.
And nothing save the thunder of the cataract was heard.
But as with trembling hands and fainting hearts we stood.
We spied a little curly head emerging from the wood.
We heard a little snatch of a merry Httle song,
And saw the dainty Brier Rose come dancing through the throng.
An angry murmer rose from the people round about-
“Fling her into the river!” we heard the matrona shout.
“Chase her away, the silly thing; for God himself scarce knows,
Why ever he created that worthless Brier Rose.
“Sweet Brier Rose, she heard their cries, a pensive little amile
Across her fair face fiitted that might a stone be- gulle:
And then she gave her pretty head a rougish little cock.
“Hand me a boat hock, lade,” she said. “I think I’ll break the lock.”
Derisive shouts of laughter broke from throats of young and old:
“Ho! good for nothing Brier Rose, your tongue was ever bold.”
And, mockingly, a boat hook into her hand was lung.
When, lo! Into the river’s midst with daring leap she sprung! blinding spray: at play:
And now and then faint gleams we caught of color thro’ the mist.
A crimson waist, a golden head, a dainty little wrist.
We saw her dimly through a mist of dense and
From beam to beam she slipped, like a water sprite thing: for God himself
scarce knows, Why ever he created that worthless Brier Rose.”
Bweet Brier Bone, she heard their cries, s little amile Denatve
Acrom her fair face nitted that might astone be- And then she gave her pretty head a roukish little
cock
“Hand me a boat hook, lade,” she said. “I think I’ll break the lock Derisive shouts of laughter broke from throats of
young and old: “Ho! good for nothing Brier Rose, your tongue was ever bold.”
And, mockingly, a boat hook into her hand was nung When lo! Into the river’s midat with daring leat she sprung!
We saw her dimly through amlat of dense and blinding spray: beam to beam she alipped, like a water aprite
From bea at play:
And now and then faint gleams we caught of color thro the mist.
A crimson waist, a golden head, a dainty little wrist.
In terror pressed the people to the marwin of the
A hundred breaths were bated, a hundred hearts stood still:
For hark from out the rapida came a strange and creaking sound,
And then & crash of thunder which shook the very ground.
The water hurled the lumber mazs down o’er the rocky steep,
We heard a murtled rumbling and a roaring in the
deep: We saw a tiny form which the torrent swiftly
bore, And flunk into the wild abyas, where it was seen no more.
Ah, naughty little Brier Rose, thou could’st not weave or spin.
Tet thou couldst do a nobler deed than all thy mock- ina kin:
For thou hadet courage e’en to die, and by thy death to save.
A thousand farms and lives from the fury of the wave.
And yet the adage Ilves in the valley of thy birth.
When wayward children spend their days in bead- lewa play and mirth,
Oft mothers say, half smiling, half sighing:
“Heaven knows Whatever will become of the naughty naughty Brier Rose”
-Hjalmar Hjorth Boyesen