Poems, 1799 Part 7

And often the way-faring man Would love to linger there, Forgetful of his onward road To gaze on scenes so fair.

But never could Lord William dare To gaze on Severn's stream; In every wind that swept its waves He heard young Edmund scream.

In vain at midnight's silent hour Sleep closed the murderer's eyes, In every dream the murderer saw Young Edmund's form arise.

In vain by restless conscience driven Lord William left his home, Far from the scenes that saw his guilt, In pilgrimage to roam.

To other climes the pilgrim fled, But could not fly despair, He sought his home again, but peace Was still a stranger there.

Each hour was tedious long, yet swift The months appear'd to roll; And now the day return'd that shook With terror William's soul.

A day that William never felt Return without dismay, For well had conscience kalendered Young Edmund's dying day.

A fearful day was that! the rains Fell fast, with tempest roar, And the swoln tide of Severn spread Far on the level sh.o.r.e.

In vain Lord William sought the feast In vain he quaff'd the bowl, And strove with noisy mirth to drown The anguish of his soul.

The tempest as its sudden swell In gusty howlings came, With cold and death-like feelings seem'd To thrill his shuddering frame.

Reluctant now, as night came on, His lonely couch he prest, And wearied out, he sunk to sleep, To sleep, but not to rest.

Beside that couch his brother's form Lord Edmund seem'd to stand, Such and so pale as when in death He grasp'd his brother's hand;

Such and so pale his face as when With faint and faltering tongue, To William's care, a dying charge He left his orphan son.

"I bade thee with a father's love My orphan Edmund guard-- Well William hast thou kept thy charge!

Now take thy due reward."

He started up, each limb convuls'd With agonizing fear, He only heard the storm of night-- 'Twas music to his ear.

When lo! the voice of loud alarm His inmost soul appals, What ho! Lord William rise in haste!

The water saps thy walls!

He rose in haste, beneath the walls He saw the flood appear, It hemm'd him round, 'twas midnight now, No human aid was near.

He heard the shout of joy, for now A boat approach'd the wall, And eager to the welcome aid They crowd for safety all.

My boat is small, the boatman cried, This dangerous haste forbear!

Wait other aid, this little bark But one from hence can bear.

Lord William leap'd into the boat, Haste--haste to yonder sh.o.r.e!

And ample wealth shall well reward, Ply swift and strong the oar.

The boatman plied the oar, the boat Went light along the stream, Sudden Lord William heard a cry Like Edmund's drowning scream.

The boatman paus'd, methought I heard A child's distressful cry!

'Twas but the howling wind of night Lord William made reply.

Haste haste--ply swift and strong the oar!

Haste haste across the stream!

Again Lord William heard a cry Like Edmund's drowning scream.

I heard a child's distressful scream The boatman cried again.

Nay hasten on--the night is dark-- And we should search in vain.

Oh G.o.d! Lord William dost thou know How dreadful 'tis to die?

And can'st thou without pity hear A child's expiring cry?

How horrible it is to sink Beneath the chilly stream, To stretch the powerless arms in vain, In vain for help to scream?

The shriek again was heard. It came More deep, more piercing loud, That instant o'er the flood the moon Shone through a broken cloud.

And near them they beheld a child, Upon a crag he stood, A little crag, and all around Was spread the rising flood.

The boatman plied the oar, the boat Approach'd his resting place, The moon-beam shone upon the child And show'd how pale his face.

Now reach thine hand! the boatman cried Lord William reach and save!

The child stretch'd forth his little hands To grasp the hand he gave.

Then William shriek'd; the hand he touch'd Was cold and damp and dead!

He felt young Edmund in his arms A heavier weight than lead.

The boat sunk down, the murderer sunk Beneath the avenging stream; He rose, he scream'd, no human ear Heard William's drowning scream.

A BALLAD,

SHEWING HOW AN OLD WOMAN RODE DOUBLE, AND WHO RODE BEFORE HER.

[Ill.u.s.tration: heavy black-and-white drawing (woodcut) of the t.i.tle.]

A.D. 852. Circa dies istos, mulier quaedam malefica, in villa quae Berkeleia dicitur degens, gulae amatrix ac petulantiae, flagitiis modum usque in senium et auguriis non ponens, usque ad mortem impudica permansit. Haec die quadam c.u.m sederet ad prandium, cornicula quam pro delitiis pascebat, nescio quid garrire coepit; quo audito, mulieris cultellus de manu excidit, simul et facies pallescere coepit, et emisso rugitu, hodie, inquit, accipiam grande incommodum, hodieque ad sulc.u.m ultimum meum pervenit aratrum, quo dicto, nuncius doloris intravit; muliere vero percunctata ad quid veniret, affero, inquit, tibi filii tui obitum & totius familiae ejus ex subita ruina interitum. Hoc quoque dolore mulier permota, lecto protinus decubuit graviter infirmata; sentiensque morb.u.m subrepere ad vitalia, liberos quos habuit superst.i.tes, monachum videlicet et monacham, per epistolam invitavit; advenientes autem voce singultiente alloquitur. Ego, inquit, o pueri, meo miserabili fato daemoniacis semper artibus inservivi; ego omnium vitiorum sentina, ego illecebrarum omnium fui magistra. Erat tamen mihi inter haec mala, spes vestrae religionis, quae meam solidaret animam desperatam; vos expctabam propugnatores contra daemones, tutores contra saevissimos hostes. Nunc igitur quoniam ad finem vitae perveni, rogo vos per materna ubera, ut mea tentatis alleviare tormenta. Insuite me defunctam in corio cervino, ac deinde in sarcophago lapideo supponite, operculumque ferro et plumbo constringite, ac demum lapidem tribus cathenis ferreis et fortissimis circundantes, clericos quinquaginta psalmorum cantores, et tot per tres dies presbyteros missarum celebratores applicate, qui feroces lenigent adversariorum incursus. Ita si tribus noctibus secura jacuero, quarta die me infodite humo.

Factumque est ut praeceperat illis. Sed, proh dolor! nil preces, nil lacrymae, nil demum valuere catenae. Primis enim duabus noctibus, c.u.m chori psallentium corpori a.s.sistabant, advenientes Daemones ostium ecclesiae confregerunt ingenti obice clausum, extremasque cathenas negotio levi dirumpunt: media autem quae fortior erat, illibata manebat.

Tertia autem nocte, circa gallicinium, strepitu hostium adventantium, omne monasterium visum est a fundamento moveri. Unus ergo daemonum, et vultu caeteris terribilior & statura eminentior, januas Ecclesiae; impetu violento concussas in fragmenta dejecit. Divexerunt clerici c.u.m laicis, metu stelerunt omnium capilli, et psalmorum concentus defecit. Daemon ergo gestu ut videbatur arroganti ad sepulchrum accedens, & nomen mulieris modic.u.m ingeminans, surgere imperavit. Qua respondente, quod nequiret pro vinculis, jam malo tuo, inquit, solveris; et protinus cathenam quae caeterorum ferociam daemonum deluserat, velut stuppeum vinculum rumpebat. Operculum etiam sepulchri pede depellens, mulierem palam omnibus ab ecclesia extraxit, ubi prae foribus niger equus superbe hinniens videbatur, uncis ferreis et clavis undique confixus, super quem misera mulier projecta, ab oculis a.s.sistentium evanuit. Audiebantur tamen clamores per quatuor fere miliaria horribiles, auxilium postulantes.

Ista itaque quae retuli incredibilia non erunt, si legatur beati Gregorii dialogus, in quo refert, hominem in ecclesia sepultam, a daemonibus foras ejectum. Et apud Francos Carolus Martellus insignis vir fortudinis, qui Saracenos Galliam ingressos, Hispaniam redire compulit, exactis vitae suae diebus, in Ecclesia beati Dionysii legitur fuisse sepultus. Sed quia patrimonia, c.u.m decimis omnium fere ecclesiarum Galliae, pro stipendio commilitonum suorum mutilaverat, miserabiliter a malignis spiritibus de sepulchro corporaliter avulsus, usque in hodiernum diem nusquam comparuit.

Matthew of Westminster.