The Highwayman

By Alfred Noyes

“The Highwayman” is a narrative ballad by Alfred Noyes, first published in Blackwood’s Magazine in August 1906, about an eighteenth-century robber who promises to return by moonlight to Bess, the landlord’s daughter. When King George’s soldiers tie her up as bait, she fires a musket into her own breast to warn him, and he is shot dead riding back to avenge her. The story unfolds across 17 six-line stanzas in two parts.

The highwayman gives the poem its title, but Bess is its hero. He is mostly costume and swagger; she is the only character who makes a real choice, and she makes it with the one finger the soldiers leave free. The final two stanzas then replay the opening in the present tense, so the love story never ends: it turns into a ghost story.

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Summary · The Poem · Background · Analysis and Themes · Form and Technique · Notable Lines · Themes · FAQ
Glossary · In Popular Culture · Related Poems

Summary

In Part One, a highwayman in a French cocked hat and claret velvet rides up to an inn at night and calls to Bess, the landlord’s daughter. He tells her he is off to steal gold and will be back by morning, or, if he is chased, “by moonlight, though hell should bar the way.” Tim the ostler, who also loves Bess, overhears everything.

In Part Two, the highwayman does not return; instead a troop of King George’s soldiers arrives. They gag Bess, tie her to her bed with a musket pointed at her heart and wait at her window for him. As his horse’s hooves approach, Bess reaches the trigger and fires, killing herself to warn him. He escapes, learns the next day how she died, rides back in a fury and is shot down on the highway. On winter nights, the last stanzas say, he still rides to the inn, and Bess still waits.

The Poem

PART ONE

I

The wind was a torrent of darkness among the gusty trees,
The moon was a ghostly galleon tossed upon cloudy seas,
The road was a ribbon of moonlight over the purple moor,
And the highwayman came riding—
Riding—riding—
The highwayman came riding, up to the old inn-door.

II

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;
They fitted with never a wrinkle: his boots were up to the thigh!
And he rode with a jewelled twinkle,
His pistol butts a-twinkle,
His rapier hilt a-twinkle, under the jewelled sky.

III

Over the cobbles he clattered and clashed in the dark inn-yard,
And he tapped with his whip on the shutters, but all was locked and barred;
He whistled 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.

IV

And dark in the dark old inn-yard a stable-wicket creaked
Where Tim the ostler listened; his face was white and peaked;
His eyes were hollows of madness, his hair like mouldy hay,
But he loved the landlord’s daughter,
The landlord’s red-lipped daughter,
Dumb as a dog he listened, and he heard the robber say—

V

“One kiss, my bonny sweetheart, I’m after a prize to-night,
But I shall be back with the yellow gold before the morning light;
Yet, if they press me sharply, and harry me through the day,
Then look for me by moonlight,
Watch for me by moonlight,
I’ll come to thee by moonlight, though hell should bar the way.”

VI

He rose upright in the stirrups; he scarce could reach her hand,
But she loosened her hair i’ the casement! His face burnt like a brand
As the black cascade of perfume came tumbling over his breast;
And he kissed its waves in the moonlight,
(Oh, sweet black waves in the moonlight!)
Then he tugged at his rein in the moonlight, and galloped away to the West.

PART TWO

I

He did not come in the dawning; he did not come at noon;
And out o’ the tawny sunset, before the rise o’ the moon,
When the road was a gipsy’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.

II

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.

III

They had tied her up to attention, with many a sniggering jest;
They had bound a musket beside her, with the barrel beneath her breast!
“Now, keep good watch!” and they kissed her. She heard the dead 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!

IV

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!

V

The tip of one finger touched it; she strove no more for the rest!
Up, she stood up to attention, with the barrel beneath her breast,
She would not risk their hearing; she would not strive again;
For the road lay bare in the moonlight;
Blank and bare in the moonlight;
And the blood of her veins in the moonlight throbbed to her love’s refrain.

VI

Tlot-tlot; tlot-tlot! Had they heard it? The horse-hoofs ringing clear;
Tlot-tlot, tlot-tlot, in the distance? Were they deaf that they did not hear?
Down the ribbon of moonlight, over the brow of the hill,
The highwayman came riding,
Riding, riding!
The red-coats looked to their priming! She stood up, straight and still!

VII

Tlot-tlot, in the frosty silence! Tlot-tlot, in the echoing night!
Nearer he came and nearer! Her face was like a light!
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,
Shattered her breast in the moonlight and warned him—with her death.

VIII

He turned; he spurred to the West; he did not know who stood
Bowed, with her head o’er the musket, drenched with her own red blood!
Not till the dawn he heard it, his face grew grey to hear
How Bess, the landlord’s daughter,
The landlord’s black-eyed daughter,
Had watched for her love in the moonlight, and died in the darkness there.

IX

Back, he spurred like a madman, shrieking a curse to the sky,
With the white road smoking behind him and his rapier brandished high!
Blood-red were his spurs i’ the golden noon; wine-red was his velvet coat;
When they shot him down on the highway,
Down like a dog on the highway,
And he lay in his blood on the highway, with the bunch of lace at his throat.

X

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.

XI

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.

Background

Alfred Noyes wrote “The Highwayman” in 1906, when he was 24 and lodging at Bagshot Heath in Surrey, a stretch of open country that had been notorious for highway robbery in the eighteenth century. He later recalled that “the sound of the wind in the pines gave me the first line,” and that he finished the poem in about two days.

It appeared in Blackwood’s Magazine in August 1906 and was collected the next year in Forty Singing Seamen and Other Poems. It was an immediate success and has stayed in school anthologies ever since, largely because it is written to be read aloud. The reference to “King George’s men” places the story in the Georgian era, the golden age of the English highwayman, when mounted robbers such as Dick Turpin became folk heroes.

Analysis and Themes

Four ideas drive the poem: a promise that turns into a trap, a heroine who acts while everyone else reacts, a soundtrack of hooves that builds unbearable suspense, and an ending that refuses to end.

Moonlight Is Both the Promise and the Trap

“Look for me by moonlight” is the most romantic line in the poem, and it is also what gets Bess killed. The soldiers do exactly what she was told to do: they watch the road by moonlight. When the refrain returns in Part Two, it runs through Bess’s head as “the dead man” speaking, because the promise has already become a death sentence.

Noyes keeps the moon in almost every stanza. It lights the highwayman’s road in the first stanza, lights the empty road Bess stares at while she waits, and finally lights the moment she dies: “Her musket shattered the moonlight.” The same light that made the romance possible frames its destruction.

Bess Is the Only One Who Chooses

The highwayman is described almost entirely by his clothes: the French cocked hat, the lace, the claret velvet, the boots “up to the thigh.” He is a glamorous figure, not a character with an inner life. Tim the ostler acts from jealousy, and the soldiers follow orders. Bess, gagged and tied, has less freedom than anyone, yet she is the only person in the poem who makes a real decision.

“The tip of one finger touched it! The trigger at least was hers!” is the turning point. The soldiers have taken everything from her except one finger’s reach, and she uses it. Her sacrifice is terrible, but it is also the only act of agency in the story, which is why readers remember Bess long after they have forgotten what the highwayman stole.

The Sound of Hooves

The poem’s long lines gallop, but Part Two adds a literal sound effect: “Tlot-tlot; tlot-tlot! Had they heard it?” The onomatopoeia arrives before the highwayman does, so the reader hears him coming at the same moment Bess does, and before the soldiers react. Noyes turns the reader into a second listener at the window, waiting with her for the shot.

An Ending That Starts Again

After the highwayman dies “like a dog on the highway,” the poem could stop. Instead the last two stanzas repeat the opening almost word for word, but in the present tense: “A highwayman comes riding.” The shift from past to present turns a tragedy into a haunting. The lovers never meet again in life, but the poem lets them repeat their first meeting forever.

Form and Technique

“The Highwayman” is a narrative ballad of 102 lines in 17 six-line stanzas, divided into Part One (six stanzas) and Part Two (eleven). Each stanza follows the same pattern: three long lines, two short indented lines that repeat a phrase, and a long closing line.

The long lines mix iambs and anapaests, so the stresses fall unevenly and the rhythm surges like a horse at full stretch: “the ROAD was a RIBbon of MOONlight over the PURple MOOR.” The rhyme scheme is AABCCB in every stanza, with lines 4 and 5 rhyming on a repeated word (“riding,” “moonlight,” “daughter”), which gives each stanza a chant-like refrain.

Noyes also works in colour. Red runs through the poem as love and blood together: the “dark red love-knot,” the “red-lipped daughter,” the red-coat soldiers, Bess “drenched with her own red blood,” the highwayman’s “wine-red” coat and “blood-red” spurs. Against it stand black hair, black eyes and the black night, so the poem looks as vivid as it sounds.

Notable Lines

Three passages show how the poem builds its atmosphere, its promise and its turning point.

The wind was a torrent of darkness among the gusty trees,
The moon was a ghostly galleon tossed upon cloudy seas,
The road was a ribbon of moonlight over the purple moor,

Lines 1 to 3

Three metaphors in three lines, each built on the same pattern: “The wind was… The moon was… The road was….” The night becomes a stormy sea, and the reader is in a legend before any character appears.

Then look for me by moonlight,
Watch for me by moonlight,
I’ll come to thee by moonlight, though hell should bar the way.

Lines 28 to 30

A lover’s vow that sounds heroic and turns out to be fatal. “Though hell should bar the way” comes true in the worst possible sense: hell is waiting at Bess’s window.

The tip of one finger touched it! The trigger at least was hers!

Line 60

The poem’s moral centre. After hours of struggle, Bess gains control of a single thing, and the short exclamations make her small victory feel both triumphant and dreadful.

Themes

Love and sacrifice are at the heart of the poem. Bess gives her life for the highwayman, and he throws his away trying to avenge her, so the romance is measured by what each is willing to lose.

Betrayal drives the plot. Tim the ostler’s jealous eavesdropping is the only explanation the poem gives for how the soldiers knew where to wait, and Noyes paints him as the opposite of the lovers: pale, “peaked” and “dumb as a dog.”

The supernatural gives the poem its ending. By turning the lovers into ghosts who repeat their meeting every winter night, Noyes suggests that their love outlasts the violence that ended it.

Frequently Asked Questions

Quick answers to the questions readers most often ask about the poem.

What Is The Highwayman About?

It is about a highwayman who promises to return to Bess, the landlord’s daughter, by moonlight. Soldiers tie Bess up as bait, she shoots herself to warn him, and he is killed when he rides back to avenge her; the last stanzas suggest their ghosts still meet at the inn.

Who Betrays the Highwayman?

The poem implies it is Tim the ostler, the stable hand at the inn, who secretly loves Bess and overhears the highwayman’s promise. Noyes never states it outright, but the soldiers arrive knowing exactly where to wait.

Is The Highwayman Based on a True Story?

No. The characters are fictional, but Noyes wrote the poem at Bagshot Heath in Surrey, an area once notorious for real highwaymen, and set it in the Georgian era, when highway robbery was common in England.

What Is the Rhyme Scheme of The Highwayman?

Every stanza rhymes AABCCB. The two short middle lines usually end on the same repeated word, such as “riding” or “moonlight,” which works like a refrain.

Glossary

Older words and period details that help bring the scene into focus.

• galleon (line 2): A large sailing ship used from the fifteenth to the eighteenth century, here a metaphor for the moon moving through clouds.
• claret (line 8): A deep purplish red, the colour of red Bordeaux wine.
• doe-skin (line 8): Soft leather made from the skin of a female deer.
• rapier (line 12): A slender, sharply pointed sword worn by gentlemen.
• love-knot (line 18): A decorative knot of ribbon worn as a token of love.
• stable-wicket (line 19): A small door or gate set into a larger stable door.
• ostler (line 20): A stableman at an inn who looked after travellers’ horses.
• harry (line 27): To chase and harass relentlessly.
• casement (line 32): A window that opens outward on hinges.
• King George’s men (line 42): Soldiers of the British Crown in the eighteenth century, when three kings named George reigned in succession.
• priming (line 72): The small charge of gunpowder that sets off a musket; to look to it is to make the gun ready to fire.

In Popular Culture

A Hollywood film called The Highwayman, starring Philip Friend and Wanda Hendrix, was released in 1951.

Phil Ochs set the poem to music on his 1965 album I Ain’t Marching Any More.

Charles Keeping’s illustrated edition, published by Oxford University Press in 1981, won the Kate Greenaway Medal.

Loreena McKennitt recorded a musical setting of the poem on her 1997 album The Book of Secrets.

Related Poems

• La Belle Dame sans Merci by John Keats: Another ballad of doomed love, in which a knight is enchanted and abandoned on a cold hillside.
• Annabel Lee by Edgar Allan Poe: A love that outlasts death, told with the same hypnotic repetition.
• The Lady of Shalott by Alfred Tennyson: A woman watching a road from her window, and a love that costs her life.
• The Raven by Edgar Allan Poe: A midnight visitor, a lost love and a refrain that tightens like a noose.