Heroines of Yesteryears

to be remembered

Oliver Cromwell was born in England in 1599 and died there in 1658. After a long and bloody civil war the newly crowned king "Charles II", in 1651, named Cromwell "The Great Protector or Lord Protector" of England and he remained in that position until his death.

Rose Hartwick Thorpe was born in Indiana on July 18, 1850, she was raised in Michigan and died in San Diego on July 19, 1939. In 1867 she wrote the poem "Curfew Must Not Ring Tonight" which was set in England during the time that Oliver Cromwell was Lord Protector. It in turn was based on an article, "Love and Loyalty" written by "Lydia Sigourney" and published in "Peterson's Magazine" in 1865. The story, in this poem, involves Bessie a young woman whose lover, Basil Underwood, has been arrested, thrown in prison by the Puritans and sentenced to die that night when the curfew bell rings. Knowing that Lord Cromwell will be late in arriving, the young woman begs the old sexton to not ring the curfew bell . When he refuses, she climbs to the top of the bell tower and heroically risk her life by stopping the bell from ringing. The first two verses of that poem follows:

Curfew Must Not Ring Tonight

"Slowly England's sun was setting over the hilltops far away, / Filling all the land with beauty at the close of one sad day; / And its last rays kissed the forhead of a man and maiden fair, / He with steps so slow and weary; she with sunny, floating hair; / He with bowed head, sad and thoughtful, she with lips all cold and white, / Struggling to keep back the mumur, curfew must not ring tonight!"

"Sexton", Bessie's white lips faltered, pointing to the prison old, / With its walls tall and gloomy, moss-grown walls dark, damp and cold, / I've a lover in the prison, doomed this very night to die, / At the ringing of the curfew, and no earthly help is nigh. / Cromwell will not come till sunset; and her lips grew strangely white, / As she spoke in husky whispers, curfew must not ring tonight!"

Some untold years later an unknown poet, apparently with too much time on his, or her, hands wrote the following parody of Ms. Thorpe's poem and titled it:

"Towser Shall Be Tied Tonight"

"Slow the Kansas sun was setting o'er the wheat fields far away, / Streaking all the air with cobwebs, at the close of one hot day; / And its last rays kissed the forheads of a man and maiden fair, / He with whiskers short and flowzy, she with red and glistening hair; / He with jaws shut stern and silent, she with lips cold and white, / Struggling to keep back the murmur, "Towser shall be tied tonight."

"Papa, slowly spoke the maiden, "I am almost seventeen, / And I've got a real lover, though he's rather young and green; / But he has a horse and buggy, and a cow and thirty hens, / Boys that start out poor, dear Papa, make the best of honest men; / But if Towser sees and bites him, fills his heart with sudden fright, / He will never come again, Pa; Towser must be tied tonight"

"Daughter," firmly spoke the farmer (every word pierced her young heart / Like a carving knife through chicken, as it hunts a tender part). / I've a patch of early melons, two of them are ripe today, / Towser must be loose to watch them, or they'll all be stole away. / I have hoed them late and early, (in dim morn and evening light), / Now they're grown I must not lose them, Towser won't be tied tonight."

"Then the old man ambled forward, opened wide the kennel door; / Towser bounded forth to meet him, as he oft had done before. / And the farmer stooped and loosed him from the dog chain short and stout; / To himself he softly chuckled: "Bessie's fellow must look out." / But the maiden at the window saw the cruel teeth show white; / In an undertone she murmured, "Towser must be tied tonight."

"Then the maiden's brow grew thoughtful, and her breath came short and thick, / Till she spied the family clothesline, and she whispered, "That's the trick." / From the kitchen door she glided with a plate of meat and bread; / Towser wagged his tail in greeting, knowing well he would be fed. / In his well worn leather collar tied she then the clothesline tight, / All the time her white lips saying; "Towser must be tied tonight."

"There, old doggie," spoke the maiden. "You can watch the melon patch, / But the front gate's free and open when John Henry lifts the latch, / For the clothesline tight is fastened to the harvest-apple tree. / You can run and watch the melons, but the front gate you can't see." / Then her glad ears heard a buggy, and her eyes grew big and bright, / While her young heart said in gladness; "Towser, dog is tied tonight."

"Up the path the young man saunters, with eyes and cheeks aglow, / For he loves the red haired maiden, and he aims to tell her so. / "But Bessie's roguish little brother, in a fit of boyish glee, / Had untied the slender clothline from the harvest-apple tree; / Then old Towser heard the footsteps, raised his bristle, fixed for fight. / "Bark away," the maiden whispers. "Towser, you are tied tonight."

"Then old Towser bounded forward, past the open kitchen door; / Bessie screamed and quickly followed, but John Henry's gone before. / Down the path he speeds most quickly, for old Towser sets the pace, / And the maiden, close behind them, shows them she is in the race. / Then the clothesline-can she get it? And her eyes grow big and bright, / As she springs and grasps it firmly. "Towser shall be tied tonight."

"Oftentimes a little minute, forms the destiny of men. / You can change the fate of nations by the stroke of one small pen. / Towser made one last long effort, caught John Henry by his pants, / But John Henry kept on running, for he thought that his last chance; / But the maiden held on firmly, and the rope was drawn up tight -- / But old Towser kept the garments, for he was not tied tonight."

"Then the old man hears the racket, with long strides he soon is there, / While John Henry and the maiden, crouching, for the worst prepare. / At his feet John tells his story, shows his clothing soiled and torn; / And his face, so sad and pleading, yet so white and scared and worn, / Touched the old man's heart with pity, filled his eyes with misty light, / "Take her, boy, and make her happy. Towser shall be tied tonight." "

As far as I know the writer is still unknown and if still living probably wishes to remain "Anon." but I would have loved to meet him or her because it is the kind of poetry I like. I don't understand this so-called modern writing but who am I to say anything except what I like and don't like. Thanks, stay tuned - William