LIT101 BATCH 1 SELECTIONS and the dry land appeared.
10 God called the dry land “earth,”
Genesis 1
New American Bible (Revised Edition) (NABRE)
Preamble. The Creation of the World
Chapter 1
The Story of Creation.[a] 1 In the beginning, when God created
the heavens and the earth— 2 [b]and the earth was without form
or shape, with darkness over the abyss and a mighty wind
sweeping over the waters—
3
Then God said: Let there be light, and there was light. 4 God
saw that the light was good. God then separated the light from
the darkness. 5 God called the light “day,” and the darkness he
called “night.” Evening came, and morning followed—the first
day.[c]
6
Then God said: Let there be a dome in the middle of the
waters, to separate one body of water from the other. 7 God
[d]
made the dome, and it separated the water below the dome
from the water above the dome. And so it happened. 8 God
called the dome “sky.” Evening came, and morning followed—
the second day.
9
Then God said: Let the water under the sky be gathered into a
single basin, so that the dry land may appear. And so it
happened: the water under the sky was gathered into its basin,
and the basin of water he called “sea.” God saw that it was
good. 11 Then God said: Let the earth bring forth vegetation:
every kind of plant that bears seed and every kind of fruit tree
on earth that bears fruit with its seed in it. And so it
happened: 12 the earth brought forth vegetation: every kind of
plant that bears seed and every kind of fruit tree that bears fruit
with its seed in it. God saw that it was good. 13 Evening came,
and morning followed—the third day.
14
Then God said: Let there be lights in the dome of the sky, to
separate day from night. Let them mark the seasons, the days
and the years,15 and serve as lights in the dome of the sky, to
illuminate the earth. And so it happened: 16 God made the two
great lights, the greater one to govern the day, and the lesser
one to govern the night, and the stars.17 God set them in the
dome of the sky, to illuminate the earth, 18 to govern the day and
the night, and to separate the light from the darkness. God saw
that it was good. 19 Evening came, and morning followed—the
fourth day.
20
Then God said: Let the water teem with an abundance of
living creatures, and on the earth let birds fly beneath the dome
of the sky. 21 God created the great sea monsters and all kinds
of crawling living creatures with which the water teems, and all
22
kinds of winged birds. God saw that it was good, and God
blessed them, saying: Be fertile, multiply, and fill the water of
the seas; and let the birds multiply on the earth. 23 Evening
came, and morning followed—the fifth day.
24
Then God said: Let the earth bring forth every kind of living
creature: tame animals, crawling things, and every kind of wild
animal. And so it happened: 25 God made every kind of wild
animal, every kind of tame animal, and every kind of thing that
crawls on the ground. God saw that it was good. 26 Then God
said: Let us make[e] human beings in our image, after our
likeness. Let them have dominion over the fish of the sea, the
birds of the air, the tame animals, all the wild animals, and all
the creatures that crawl on the earth.
27
God created mankind in his image;
in the image of God he created them;
male and female[f] he created them.
28
God blessed them and God said to them: Be fertile and
multiply; fill the earth and subdue it.[g] Have dominion over the
fish of the sea, the birds of the air, and all the living things that
crawl on the earth. 29 [h]God also said: See, I give you every
seed-bearing plant on all the earth and every tree that has seed-
bearing fruit on it to be your food; 30 and to all the wild animals,
all the birds of the air, and all the living creatures that crawl on
the earth, I give all the green plants for food. And so it
happened. 31 God looked at everything he had made, and found
it very good. Evening came, and morning followed—the sixth
day.
Genesis 2
New American Bible (Revised Edition) (NABRE)
Chapter 2
1
Thus the heavens and the earth and all their array were
completed.2 [a]On the seventh day God completed the work he
had been doing; he rested on the seventh day from all the work
he had undertaken. 3 God blessed the seventh day and made it
holy, because on it he rested from all the work he had done in
creation.
I. The Story of the Nations
The Garden of Eden. 4 This is the story[b] of the heavens and
the earth at their creation. When the LORD God made the earth
and the heavens— 5 there was no field shrub on earth and no
grass of the field had sprouted, for the LORD God had sent no
[c]
rain upon the earth and there was no man to till the
ground, 6 but a stream[d] was welling up out of the earth and
watering all the surface of the ground— 7 then the LORDGod
formed the man[e] out of the dust of the ground and blew into his
nostrils the breath of life, and the man became a living being.
8
The LORD God planted a garden in Eden, in the east,[f] and
9 [g]
placed there the man whom he had formed. Out of the
ground the LORD God made grow every tree that was delightful
to look at and good for food, with the tree of life in the middle of
the garden and the tree of the knowledge of good and evil.
10
A river rises in Eden[h] to water the garden; beyond there it
divides and becomes four branches. 11 The name of the first is
the Pishon; it is the one that winds through the whole land of
Havilah, where there is gold. 12 The gold of that land is good;
bdellium and lapis lazuli are also there. 13 The name of the
second river is the Gihon; it is the one that winds all through the
land of Cush. 14 The name of the third river is the Tigris; it is the
one that flows east of Asshur. The fourth river is the Euphrates.
15
The LORD God then took the man and settled him in the
garden of Eden, to cultivate and care for it. 16 The LORD God
gave the man this order: You are free to eat from any of the
trees of the garden 17 except the tree of knowledge of good and
evil. From that tree you shall not eat; when you eat from it you
shall die.[i]
18
The LORD God said: It is not good for the man to be alone. I
will make a helper suited to him.[j] 19 So the LORD God formed
out of the ground all the wild animals and all the birds of the air,
and he brought them to the man to see what he would call them;
whatever the man called each living creature was then its
name. 20 The man gave names to all the tame animals, all the
birds of the air, and all the wild animals; but none proved to be
a helper suited to the man.
21
So the LORD God cast a deep sleep on the man, and while he
was asleep, he took out one of his ribs and closed up its place
with flesh.22 The LORD God then built the rib that he had taken
from the man into a woman. When he brought her to the
man, 23 the man said:

“This one, at last, is bone of my bones

and flesh of my flesh;
This one shall be called ‘woman,’
for out of man this one has been taken.”[k]
24
That is why a man leaves his father and mother and clings to
his wife, and the two of them become one body.[l]
25
The man and his wife were both naked, yet they felt no
shame.[m]
Genesis 3 I was afraid, because I was naked, so I hid.” 11 Then God asked:
New American Bible (Revised Edition) (NABRE)
Who told you that you were naked? Have you eaten from the
Chapter 3 tree of which I had forbidden you to eat? 12 The man replied,
“The woman whom you put here with me—she gave me fruit
Expulsion from Eden. 1 Now the snake was the most
from the tree, so I ate it.” 13 The LORD God then asked the
cunning[a] of all the wild animals that the LORD God had made.
woman: What is this you have done? The woman answered,
He asked the woman, “Did God really say, ‘You shall not eat
“The snake tricked me, so I ate it.”
from any of the trees in the garden’?” 2 The woman answered
the snake: “We may eat of the fruit of the trees in the garden; 3 it 14
Then the LORD God said to the snake:
is only about the fruit of the tree in the middle of the garden that
Because you have done this,
God said, ‘You shall not eat it or even touch it, or else you will
cursed are you
die.’” 4 But the snake said to the woman: “You certainly will not
among all the animals, tame or wild;
die! 5 God knows well that when you eat of it your eyes will be
On your belly you shall crawl,
opened and you will be like gods, who know[b] good and
and dust you shall eat
evil.” 6 The woman saw that the tree was good for food and
all the days of your life.[d]
pleasing to the eyes, and the tree was desirable for gaining 15
I will put enmity between you and the woman,
wisdom. So she took some of its fruit and ate it; and she also
and between your offspring and hers;
gave some to her husband, who was with her, and he ate
They will strike at your head,
it. 7 Then the eyes of both of them were opened, and they knew
while you strike at their heel.[e]
that they were naked; so they sewed fig leaves together and 16
To the woman he said:
made loincloths for themselves.
I will intensify your toil in childbearing;
8
When they heard the sound of the LORD God walking about in
in pain[f] you shall bring forth children.
[c]
the garden at the breezy time of the day, the man and his wife
Yet your urge shall be for your husband,
hid themselves from the LORD God among the trees of the
and he shall rule over you.
garden. 9 The LORD God then called to the man and asked him:
Where are you? 10 He answered, “I heard you in the garden; but
17
To the man he said: Because you listened to your wife and fiery revolving sword east of the garden of Eden, to guard the
ate from the tree about which I commanded you, You shall not way to the tree of life.
eat from it,

Cursed is the ground[g] because of you!

In toil you shall eat its yield
all the days of your life.
18
Thorns and thistles it shall bear for you,
and you shall eat the grass of the field.
19
By the sweat of your brow
you shall eat bread,
Until you return to the ground,
from which you were taken;
For you are dust,
and to dust you shall return.
20
The man gave his wife the name “Eve,” because she was
the mother of all the living.[h]
21
The LORD God made for the man and his wife garments of
skin, with which he clothed them. 22 Then the LORD God said:
See! The man has become like one of us, knowing good and
evil! Now, what if he also reaches out his hand to take fruit
from the tree of life, and eats of it and lives
forever? 23 The LORD God therefore banished him from the
garden of Eden, to till the ground from which he had been
taken. 24 He expelled the man, stationing the cherubim and the
Genesis 22
Chapter 22
The Testing of Abraham.[a] 1 Some time afterward, God put
Abraham to the test and said to him: Abraham! “Here I am!” he
2
replied. Then God said: Take your son Isaac, your only one,
whom you love, and go to the land of Moriah. There offer him
up as a burnt offering on one of the heights that I will point out
3
to you. Early the next morning Abraham saddled his donkey,
took with him two of his servants and his son Isaac, and after
cutting the wood for the burnt offering, set out for the place of
which God had told him.
4
On the third day Abraham caught sight of the place from a
distance. Abraham said to his servants: “Stay here with the
5
donkey, while the boy and I go on over there. We will worship
and then come back to you.” 6 So Abraham took the wood for
the burnt offering and laid it on his son Isaac, while he himself
carried the fire and the knife. As the two walked on
together, 7 Isaac spoke to his father Abraham. “Father!” he said.
“Here I am,” he replied. Isaac continued, “Here are the fire and
the wood, but where is the sheep for the burnt offering?” 8 “My
son,” Abraham answered, “God will provide the sheep for the
burnt offering.” Then the two walked on together.
9
When they came to the place of which God had told him,
Abraham built an altar there and arranged the wood on it. Next
he bound[b] his son Isaac, and put him on top of the wood on the
altar. 10 Then Abraham reached out and took the knife to
slaughter his son. 11 But the angel of the LORD called to him
from heaven, “Abraham, Abraham!” “Here I am,” he
answered. 12
“Do not lay your hand on the boy,” said the angel.
“Do not do the least thing to him. For now I know that you fear
God, since you did not withhold from me your son, your only
one.” 13 Abraham looked up and saw a single ram caught by its
horns in the thicket. So Abraham went and took the ram and
offered it up as a burnt offering in place of his son.[c] 14 Abraham
named that place Yahweh-yireh;[d] hence people today say, “On
the mountain the LORD will provide.”
15 [e]
A second time the angel of the LORD called to Abraham from
heaven 16 and said: “I swear by my very self—oracle of
the LORD—that because you acted as you did in not withholding
from me your son, your only one, 17 I will bless you and make
your descendants as countless as the stars of the sky and the
sands of the seashore; your descendants will take possession
of the gates of their enemies, 18 and in your descendants all the
nations of the earth will find blessing, because you obeyed my
command.”
19
Abraham then returned to his servants, and they set out
together for Beer-sheba, where Abraham lived.
LUKE 10 way back.’ 36 Which of these three, in your opinion, was
neighbor to the robbers’ victim?” 37 He answered, “The one who
25 [j]
The Greatest Commandment. There was a scholar of the
treated him with mercy.” Jesus said to him, “Go and do
law who stood up to test him and said, “Teacher, what must I
[k]
likewise.”
do to inherit eternal life?” 26 Jesus said to him, “What is written
in the law? How do you read it?” 27 He said in reply, “You shall
love the Lord, your God, with all your heart, with all your being,
with all your strength, and with all your mind, and your neighbor
as yourself.” 28 He replied to him, “You have answered correctly;
do this and you will live.”

The Parable of the Good Samaritan. 29 But because he

wished to justify himself, he said to Jesus, “And who is my
neighbor?” 30 Jesus replied, “A man fell victim to robbers as he
went down from Jerusalem to Jericho. They stripped and beat
him and went off leaving him half-dead. 31 [l]A priest happened
to be going down that road, but when he saw him, he passed
by on the opposite side. 32 Likewise a Levite came to the place,
and when he saw him, he passed by on the opposite side. 33 But
a Samaritan traveler who came upon him was moved with
compassion at the sight. 34 He approached the victim, poured oil
and wine over his wounds and bandaged them. Then he lifted
him up on his own animal, took him to an inn and cared for
him. 35 The next day he took out two silver coins and gave them
to the innkeeper with the instruction, ‘Take care of him. If you
spend more than what I have given you, I shall repay you on my
Psalm 23 King James Version (KJV) Psalm 23 New American Bible (Revised Edition) (NABRE)
23 The LORD is my shepherd; I shall not want. The Lord, Shepherd and Host
2
He maketh me to lie down in green pastures: he leadeth me 1
A psalm of David.
beside the still waters.
The LORD is my shepherd;[b]
3
He restoreth my soul: he leadeth me in the paths of
there is nothing I lack.
righteousness for his name's sake. 2
In green pastures he makes me lie down;
4
Yea, though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, to still waters he leads me;
3
I will fear no evil: for thou art with me; thy rod and thy staff they he restores my soul.
comfort me. He guides me along right paths[c]

5
for the sake of his name.
Thou preparest a table before me in the presence of mine 4
Even though I walk through the valley of the shadow of
enemies: thou anointest my head with oil; my cup runneth
death,
over.
I will fear no evil, for you are with me;
6
Surely goodness and mercy shall follow me all the days of your rod and your staff comfort me.
my life: and I will dwell in the house of the LORD for ever. 5 [d]
You set a table before me
in front of my enemies;
You anoint my head with oil;
my cup overflows.
6
Indeed, goodness and mercy[e] will pursue me
all the days of my life;
I will dwell in the house of the LORD
for endless days.
Sonnet 29: When, in disgrace with fortune and men’s eyes
BY WILLIAM SHAKESPEARE
When, in disgrace with fortune and men’s eyes,
I all alone beweep my outcast state,
And trouble deaf heaven with my bootless cries,
And look upon myself and curse my fate,
Wishing me like to one more rich in hope,
Featured like him, like him with friends possessed,
Desiring this man’s art and that man’s scope,
With what I most enjoy contented least;
Yet in these thoughts myself almost despising,
Haply I think on thee, and then my state,
(Like to the lark at break of day arising
From sullen earth) sings hymns at heaven’s gate;
For thy sweet love remembered such wealth brings
That then I scorn to change my state with kings.
On His Blindness by John Milton
When I consider how my light is spent
Ere half my days in this dark world and wide,
And that one talent which is death to hide
Lodg'd with me useless, though my soul more bent
To serve therewith my Maker, and present
My true account, lest he returning chide,
"Doth God exact day-labour, light denied?"
I fondly ask. But Patience, to prevent
That murmur, soon replies: "God doth not need
Either man's work or his own gifts: who best
Bear his mild yoke, they serve him best. His state
Is kingly; thousands at his bidding speed
And post o'er land and ocean without rest:
They also serve who only stand and wait."
God Sees the Truth, But Waits
By Leo Tolstoy
In the town of Vladimir lived a young merchant named Ivan
Dmitrich Aksionov. He had two shops and a house of his own.
Aksionov was a handsome, fair-haired, curly-headed fellow, full
of fun, and very fond of singing. When quite a young man he
had been given to drink, and was riotous when he had had too
much; but after he married he gave up drinking, except now and
then.
One summer Aksionov was going to the Nizhny Fair, and as he
bade good-bye to his family, his wife said to him, "Ivan Dmitrich,
do not start to-day; I have had a bad dream about you."
Aksionov laughed, and said, "You are afraid that when I get to
the fair I shall go on a spree."
His wife replied: "I do not know what I am afraid of; all I know is
that I had a bad dream. I dreamt you returned from the town,
and when you took off your cap I saw that your hair was quite
grey."
Aksionov laughed. "That's a lucky sign," said he. "See if I don't
sell out all my goods, and bring you some presents from the
fair."
So he said good-bye to his family, and drove away.
When he had travelled half-way, he met a merchant whom he
knew, and they put up at the same inn for the night. They had
some tea together, and then went to bed in adjoining rooms.
It was not Aksionov's habit to sleep late, and, wishing to travel
while it was still cool, he aroused his driver before dawn, and
told him to put in the horses.
Then he made his way across to the landlord of the inn (who
lived in a cottage at the back), paid his bill, and continued his
journey.
When he had gone about twenty-five miles, he stopped for the
horses to be fed. Aksionov rested awhile in the passage of the
inn, then he stepped out into the porch, and, ordering a samovar
to be heated, got out his guitar and began to play.
Suddenly a troika drove up with tinkling bells and an official
alighted, followed by two soldiers. He came to Aksionov and
began to question him, asking him who he was and whence he
came. Aksionov answered him fully, and said, "Won't you have
some tea with me?" But the official went on cross-questioning
him and asking him. "Where did you spend last night? Were you
alone, or with a fellow-merchant? Did you see the other
merchant this morning? Why did you leave the inn before
dawn?"
Aksionov wondered why he was asked all these questions, but
he described all that had happened, and then added, "Why do
you cross-question me as if I were a thief or a robber? I am
travelling on business of my own, and there is no need to
question me."
Then the official, calling the soldiers, said, "I am the police-
officer of this district, and I question you because the merchant
with whom you spent last night has been found with his throat
cut. We must search your things."
They entered the house. The soldiers and the police-officer
unstrapped Aksionov's luggage and searched it. Suddenly the
officer drew a knife out of a bag, crying, "Whose knife is this?"
Aksionov looked, and seeing a blood-stained knife taken from
his bag, he was frightened.
"How is it there is blood on this knife?"
Aksionov tried to answer, but could hardly utter a word, and only
stammered: "I--don't know--not mine." Then the police-officer
said: "This morning the merchant was found in bed with his
throat cut. You are the only person who could have done it. The
house was locked from inside, and no one else was there. Here
is this blood-stained knife in your bag and your face and manner
betray you! Tell me how you killed him, and how much money
you stole?"
Aksionov swore he had not done it; that he had not seen the
merchant after they had had tea together; that he had no money
except eight thousand rubles of his own, and that the knife was
not his. But his voice was broken, his face pale, and he trembled
with fear as though he went guilty.
The police-officer ordered the soldiers to bind Aksionov and to
put him in the cart. As they tied his feet together and flung him
into the cart, Aksionov crossed himself and wept. His money
and goods were taken from him, and he was sent to the nearest
town and imprisoned there. Enquiries as to his character were
made in Vladimir. The merchants and other inhabitants of that
town said that in former days he used to drink and waste his
time, but that he was a good man. Then the trial came on: he
was charged with murdering a merchant from Ryazan, and
robbing him of twenty thousand rubles.
His wife was in despair, and did not know what to believe. Her
children were all quite small; one was a baby at her breast.
Taking them all with her, she went to the town where her
husband was in jail. At first she was not allowed to see him; but
after much begging, she obtained permission from the officials,
and was taken to him. When she saw her husband in prison-
dress and in chains, shut up with thieves and criminals, she fell
down, and did not come to her senses for a long time. Then she
drew her children to her, and sat down near him. She told him
of things at home, and asked about what had happened to him.
He told her all, and she asked, "What can we do now?"
"We must petition the Czar not to let an innocent man perish."
His wife told him that she had sent a petition to the Czar, but it
had not been accepted.
Aksionov did not reply, but only looked downcast.
Then his wife said, "It was not for nothing I dreamt your hair had
turned grey. You remember? You should not have started that
day." And passing her fingers through his hair, she said: "Vanya
dearest, tell your wife the truth; was it not you who did it?"
"So you, too, suspect me!" said Aksionov, and, hiding his face
in his hands, he began to weep. Then a soldier came to say that
the wife and children must go away; and Aksionov said good-
bye to his family for the last time.
When they were gone, Aksionov recalled what had been said,
and when he remembered that his wife also had suspected him,
he said to himself, "It seems that only God can know the truth;
it is to Him alone we must appeal, and from Him alone expect
mercy."
And Aksionov wrote no more petitions; gave up all hope, and
only prayed to God.
Aksionov was condemned to be flogged and sent to the mines.
So he was flogged with a knot, and when the wounds made by
the knot were healed, he was driven to Siberia with other
convicts.
For twenty-six years Aksionov lived as a convict in Siberia. His
hair turned white as snow, and his beard grew long, thin, and
grey. All his mirth went; he stooped; he walked slowly, spoke
little, and never laughed, but he often prayed.
In prison Aksionov learnt to make boots, and earned a little
money, with which he bought The Lives of the Saints. He read
this book when there was light enough in the prison; and on
Sundays in the prison-church he read the lessons and sang in
the choir; for his voice was still good.
The prison authorities liked Aksionov for his meekness, and his
fellow-prisoners respected him: they called him "Grandfather,"
and "The Saint." When they wanted to petition the prison
authorities about anything, they always made Aksionov their
spokesman, and when there were quarrels among the prisoners
they came to him to put things right, and to judge the matter.
No news reached Aksionov from his home, and he did not even
know if his wife and children were still alive.
One day a fresh gang of convicts came to the prison. In the
evening the old prisoners collected round the new ones and
asked them what towns or villages they came from, and what
they were sentenced for. Among the rest Aksionov sat down
near the newcomers, and listened with downcast air to what
was said.
One of the new convicts, a tall, strong man of sixty, with a
closely-cropped grey beard, was telling the others what be had
been arrested for.
"Well, friends," he said, "I only took a horse that was tied to a
sledge, and I was arrested and accused of stealing. I said I had
only taken it to get home quicker, and had then let it go; besides,
the driver was a personal friend of mine. So I said, 'It's all right.'
'No,' said they, 'you stole it.' But how or where I stole it they
could not say. I once really did something wrong, and ought by
rights to have come here long ago, but that time I was not found
out. Now I have been sent here for nothing at all... Eh, but it's
lies I'm telling you; I've been to Siberia before, but I did not stay
long."
"Where are you from?" asked some one.
"From Vladimir. My family are of that town. My name is Makar,
and they also call me Semyonich."
Aksionov raised his head and said: "Tell me, Semyonich, do you
know anything of the merchants Aksionov of Vladimir? Are they
still alive?"
"Know them? Of course I do. The Aksionovs are rich, though
their father is in Siberia: a sinner like ourselves, it seems! As for
you, Gran'dad, how did you come here?"
Aksionov did not like to speak of his misfortune. He only sighed,
and said, "For my sins I have been in prison these twenty-six
years."
"What sins?" asked Makar Semyonich.
But Aksionov only said, "Well, well--I must have deserved it!"
He would have said no more, but his companions told the
newcomers how Aksionov came to be in Siberia; how some one
had killed a merchant, and had put the knife among Aksionov's
things, and Aksionov had been unjustly condemned.
When Makar Semyonich heard this, he looked at Aksionov,
slapped his own knee, and exclaimed, "Well, this is wonderful!
Really wonderful! But how old you've grown, Gran'dad!"
The others asked him why he was so surprised, and where he
had seen Aksionov before; but Makar Semyonich did not reply.
He only said: "It's wonderful that we should meet here, lads!"
These words made Aksionov wonder whether this man knew
who had killed the merchant; so he said, "Perhaps, Semyonich,
you have heard of that affair, or maybe you've seen me before?"
"How could I help hearing? The world's full of rumours. But it's
a long time ago, and I've forgotten what I heard."
"Perhaps you heard who killed the merchant?" asked Aksionov.
Makar Semyonich laughed, and replied: "It must have been him
in whose bag the knife was found! If some one else hid the knife
there, 'He's not a thief till he's caught,' as the saying is. How
could any one put a knife into your bag while it was under your
head? It would surely have woke you up."
When Aksionov heard these words, he felt sure this was the
man who had killed the merchant. He rose and went away. All
that night Aksionov lay awake. He felt terribly unhappy, and all
sorts of images rose in his mind. There was the image of his
wife as she was when he parted from her to go to the fair. He
saw her as if she were present; her face and her eyes rose
before him; he heard her speak and laugh. Then he saw his
children, quite little, as they: were at that time: one with a little
cloak on, another at his mother's breast. And then he
remembered himself as he used to be-young and merry. He
remembered how he sat playing the guitar in the porch of the
inn where he was arrested, and how free from care he had
been. He saw, in his mind, the place where he was flogged, the
executioner, and the people standing around; the chains, the
convicts, all the twenty-six years of his prison life, and his
premature old age. The thought of it all made him so wretched
that he was ready to kill himself.
"And it's all that villain's doing!" thought Aksionov. And his anger
was so great against Makar Semyonich that he longed for
vengeance, even if he himself should perish for it. He kept
repeating prayers all night, but could get no peace. During the
day he did not go near Makar Semyonich, nor even look at him.
A fortnight passed in this way. Aksionov could not sleep at night,
and was so miserable that he did not know what to do.
One night as he was walking about the prison he noticed some
earth that came rolling out from under one of the shelves on
which the prisoners slept. He stopped to see what it was.
Suddenly Makar Semyonich crept out from under the shelf, and
looked up at Aksionov with frightened face. Aksionov tried to
pass without looking at him, but Makar seized his hand and told
him that he had dug a hole under the wall, getting rid of the earth
by putting it into his high-boots, and emptying it out every day
on the road when the prisoners were driven to their work.
"Just you keep quiet, old man, and you shall get out too. If you
blab, they'll flog the life out of me, but I will kill you first."
Aksionov trembled with anger as he looked at his enemy. He
drew his hand away, saying, "I have no wish to escape, and you
have no need to kill me; you killed me long ago! As to telling of
you--I may do so or not, as God shall direct."
Next day, when the convicts were led out to work, the convoy
soldiers noticed that one or other of the prisoners emptied some
earth out of his boots. The prison was searched and the tunnel
found. The Governor came and questioned all the prisoners to
find out who had dug the hole. They all denied any knowledge
of it. Those who knew would not betray Makar Semyonich,
knowing he would be flogged almost to death. At last the
Governor turned to Aksionov whom he knew to be a just man,
and said:
"You are a truthful old man; tell me, before God, who dug the
hole?"
Makar Semyonich stood as if he were quite unconcerned,
looking at the Governor and not so much as glancing at
Aksionov. Aksionov's lips and hands trembled, and for a long
time he could not utter a word. He thought, "Why should I screen
him who ruined my life? Let him pay for what I have suffered.
But if I tell, they will probably flog the life out of him, and maybe
I suspect him wrongly. And, after all, what good would it be to
me?"
"Well, old man," repeated the Governor, "tell me the truth: who
has been digging under the wall?"
Aksionov glanced at Makar Semyonich, and said, "I cannot say,
your honour. It is not God's will that I should tell! Do what you
like with me; I am your hands."
However much the Governor! tried, Aksionov would say no
more, and so the matter had to be left.
That night, when Aksionov was lying on his bed and just
beginning to doze, some one came quietly and sat down on his
bed. He peered through the darkness and recognised Makar.
"What more do you want of me?" asked Aksionov. "Why have
you come here?"
Makar Semyonich was silent. So Aksionov sat up and said,
"What do you want? Go away, or I will call the guard!"
Makar Semyonich bent close over Aksionov, and whispered,
"Ivan Dmitrich, forgive me!"
"What for?" asked Aksionov.
"It was I who killed the merchant and hid the knife among your
things. I meant to kill you too, but I heard a noise outside, so I
hid the knife in your bag and escaped out of the window."
Aksionov was silent, and did not know what to say. Makar
Semyonich slid off the bed-shelf and knelt upon the ground.
"Ivan Dmitrich," said he, "forgive me! For the love of God, forgive
me! I will confess that it was I who killed the merchant, and you
will be released and can go to your home."
"It is easy for you to talk," said Aksionov, "but I have suffered for
you these twenty-six years. Where could I go to now?... My wife
is dead, and my children have forgotten me. I have nowhere to
go..."
Makar Semyonich did not rise, but beat his head on the floor.
"Ivan Dmitrich, forgive me!" he cried. "When they flogged me
with the knot it was not so hard to bear as it is to see you now
... yet you had pity on me, and did not tell. For Christ's sake
forgive me, wretch that I am!" And he began to sob.

When Aksionov heard him sobbing he, too, began to weep.

"God will forgive you!" said he. "Maybe I am a hundred times
worse than you." And at these words his heart grew light, and
the longing for home left him. He no longer had any desire to
leave the prison, but only hoped for his last hour to come.

In spite of what Aksionov had said, Makar Semyonich

confessed, his guilt. But when the order for his release came,
Aksionov was already dead.
 The Highwayman BY ALFRED NOYES But the landlord’s black-eyed daughter,
Bess, the landlord’s daughter,
PART ONE
Plaiting a dark red love-knot into her long black hair.
The wind was a torrent of darkness among the gusty trees.
The moon was a ghostly galleon tossed upon cloudy seas.
And dark in the dark old inn-yard a stable-wicket creaked
The road was a ribbon of moonlight over the purple moor,
Where Tim the ostler listened. His face was white and peaked.
And the highwayman came riding—
His eyes were hollows of madness, his hair like mouldy hay,
Riding—riding—
But he loved the landlord’s daughter,
The highwayman came riding, up to the old inn-door.
The landlord’s red-lipped daughter.
Dumb as a dog he listened, and he heard the robber say—
He’d a French cocked-hat on his forehead, a bunch of lace at his
chin,
A coat of the claret velvet, and breeches of brown doe-skin. “One kiss, my bonny sweetheart, I’m after a prize to-night,

They fitted with never a wrinkle. His boots were up to the thigh. But I shall be back with the yellow gold before the morning light;

And he rode with a jewelled twinkle, Yet, if they press me sharply, and harry me through the day,

His pistol butts a-twinkle, Then look for me by moonlight,

His rapier hilt a-twinkle, under the jewelled sky. Watch for me by moonlight,
I’ll come to thee by moonlight, though hell should bar the way.”

Over the cobbles he clattered and clashed in the dark inn-yard.

He tapped with his whip on the shutters, but all was locked and He rose upright in the stirrups. He scarce could reach her hand,
barred. But she loosened her hair in the casement. His face burnt like a
He whistled a tune to the window, and who should be waiting brand
there
As the black cascade of perfume came tumbling over his
breast;
And he kissed its waves in the moonlight,
(O, sweet black waves in the moonlight!)
Then he tugged at his rein in the moonlight, and galloped away
to the west.
PART TWO
He did not come in the dawning. He did not come at noon;
And out of the tawny sunset, before the rise of the moon,
When the road was a gypsy’s ribbon, looping the purple moor,
A red-coat troop came marching—
Marching—marching—
King George’s men came marching, up to the old inn-door.
They said no word to the landlord. They drank his ale instead.
But they gagged his daughter, and bound her, to the foot of her
narrow bed.
Two of them knelt at her casement, with muskets at their side!
There was death at every window;
And hell at one dark window;
For Bess could see, through her casement, the road
that he would ride.
They had tied her up to attention, with many a sniggering jest.
They had bound a musket beside her, with the muzzle beneath
her breast!
“Now, keep good watch!” and they kissed her. She heard the
doomed man say—
Look for me by moonlight;
Watch for me by moonlight;
I’ll come to thee by moonlight, though hell should bar the way!
She twisted her hands behind her; but all the knots held good!
She writhed her hands till her fingers were wet with sweat or
blood!
They stretched and strained in the darkness, and the hours
crawled by like years
Till, now, on the stroke of midnight,
Cold, on the stroke of midnight,
The tip of one finger touched it! The trigger at least was hers!
The tip of one finger touched it. She strove no more for the
rest.
Up, she stood up to attention, with the muzzle beneath her Shattered her breast in the moonlight and warned him—with her
breast. death.
She would not risk their hearing; she would not strive again;
For the road lay bare in the moonlight; He turned. He spurred to the west; he did not know who stood
Blank and bare in the moonlight; Bowed, with her head o’er the musket, drenched with her own
blood!
And the blood of her veins, in the moonlight, throbbed to her
love’s refrain. Not till the dawn he heard it, and his face grew grey to hear
How Bess, the landlord’s daughter,
Tlot-tlot; tlot-tlot! Had they heard it? The horsehoofs ringing The landlord’s black-eyed daughter,
clear;
Had watched for her love in the moonlight, and died in the
Tlot-tlot; tlot-tlot, in the distance? Were they deaf that they did not darkness there.
hear?
Down the ribbon of moonlight, over the brow of the hill,
Back, he spurred like a madman, shrieking a curse to the sky,
The highwayman came riding—
With the white road smoking behind him and his rapier
Riding—riding— brandished high.
The red coats looked to their priming! She stood up, straight and Blood red were his spurs in the golden noon; wine-red was his
still. velvet coat;
When they shot him down on the highway,
Tlot-tlot, in the frosty silence! Tlot-tlot, in the echoing night! Down like a dog on the highway,
Nearer he came and nearer. Her face was like a light. And he lay in his blood on the highway, with a bunch of lace at
his throat.
Her eyes grew wide for a moment; she drew one last deep
breath,
Then her finger moved in the moonlight, . . .
Her musket shattered the moonlight,
And still of a winter’s night, they say, when the wind is in the
trees,
When the moon is a ghostly galleon tossed upon cloudy seas,
When the road is a ribbon of moonlight over the purple moor,
A highwayman comes riding—
Riding—riding—
A highwayman comes riding, up to the old inn-door.

Over the cobbles he clatters and clangs in the dark inn-yard.

He taps with his whip on the shutters, but all is locked and
barred.
He whistles a tune to the window, and who should be waiting
there
But the landlord’s black-eyed daughter,
Bess, the landlord’s daughter,

Plaiting a dark red love-knot into her long black hair.

 ‘What d’ ye leave to your mother, Lord Randal, my son?
Lord Randal (1803)
What d ‘ye leave to your mother, my handsome young man?’
Anonymous
‘Four and twenty milk kye; mother, mak my bed soon,
For I’m sick at the heart, and I fain wad lie down.’
‘O where ha’ you been, Lord Randal, my son?
‘What d’ ye leave to your sister, Lord Randal, my son?
And where ha’ you been, my handsome young man?’
What d’ ye leave to your sister, my handsome young man?’
‘I ha’ been at the greenwood; mother, mak my bed soon,
‘My gold and my silver; mother, mak my bed soon,
For I’m wearied wi’ hunting, and fain wad lie down.
For I’m sick at the heart, and I fain wad lie down.’
‘An wha met ye there, Lord Randal, my son?
‘What d’ ye leave to your brother, Lord Randal, my son?
An wha met you there, my handsome young man?’
What d ‘ye leave to your mother, my handsome young man?’
‘O I met wi my true-love; mother, mak my bed soon,
‘My house and my lands; mother, mak my bed soon,
For I’m wearied wi’ hunting, and fain wad lie down.’
For I’m sick at the heart, and I fain wad lie down.’
‘And what did she give you, Lord Randal, my son?
‘What d’ ye leave to your true-love, Lord Randal, my son?
And what did she give you, my handsome young man?’
What d ‘ye leave to your true-love, my handsome young man?’
‘Eels fried in a pan; mother, mak my bed soon,
‘I leave her hell and fire; mother, mak my bed soon,
For I’m wearied wi’ hunting, and fain wad lie down.’
For I’m sick at the heart, and I fain wad lie down.’
‘And wha gat your leavins, Lord Randal, my son?
And wha gat your leavins, my handsome young man?’
‘My hawks and my hounds; mother, mak my bed soon,
For I’m wearied wi’ hunting, and fain wad lie down.’
‘And what became of them, Lord Randal, my son?
And what became of them, my handsome young man?’
‘They stretched their legs out an died; mother, mak my bed
soon,
For I’m weary wi’ hunting, and fain wad lie down.’
‘O I fear you are poisoned, Lord Randal, my son!
I fear you are poisoned, my handsome young man!’
‘O yes, I am poisoned; mother, mak my bed soon,
For I’m sick at the heart, and I fain wad lie down.”