"Tis known, that twenty years are passed While friends and kindred all approved XI. And they had fixed the wedding day, The morning that must wed them both; But Stephen to another Maid Had sworn another oath ; And with this other Maid to church Unthinking Stephen went Poor Martha! on that woeful day A fire was kindled in her breast, XII. They say, full six months after this, What could she seek?-or wish to hide? Her state to any eye was plain ; She was with child, and she was mad; Yet often she was sober sad From her exceeding pain. O guilty father,—would that death Had saved him from that breach of faith! XIII. Sad case for such a brain to hold Communion with a stirring child! Last Christmas-eve we talked of this, And, when at last her time drew near, XIV. More know I not, I wish I did, And it should all be told to you ; Nay-if a child to her was born No earthly tongue could ever tell; Far less could this with proof be said ; That Martha Ray about this time XV. And all that winter, when at night The wind blew from the mountain-peak, 'Twas worth your while, though in the dark, The churchyard path to seek : For many a time and oft were heard Cries coming from the mountain-head : Some plainly living voices were; And others, I've heard many swear, Were voices of the dead : I cannot think, whate'er they say, XVI. But that she goes to this old Thorn, For one day with my telescope, XVII. 'Twas mist and rain, and storm and rain : No screen, no fence could I discover ; And then the wind! in sooth, it was A wind full ten times over. I looked around, I thought I saw A jutting crag,—and off I ran, And, as I am a man, Instead of jutting crag, I found XVIII. I did not speak—I saw her face; And there she sits, until the moon The waters of the pond to shake, As all the country know, She shudders, and you hear her cry, 'Oh misery! oh misery!"" XIX. "But what's the Thorn? and what the pond? And what the hill of moss to her? And what the creeping breeze that comes The little pond to stir?" "I cannot tell; but some will say Some say she drowned it in the pond, The little Babe was buried there, XX. I've heard, the moss is spotted red With drops of that poor infant's blood; But kill a new-born infant thus, I do not think she could! Some say, if to the pond you go, Whene'er you look on it, 'tis plain XXI. And some had sworn an oath that she And, for full fifty yards around, The grass-it shook upon the ground! Yet all do still aver The little Babe lies bur ed there, Beneath that hill of moss so fair. XXII. I cannot tell how this may be, But plain it is the Thorn is bound And this I know, full many a time, When all the stars shone clear and bright, That I have heard her cry, 'Oh misery! oh misery! Oh woe is me! oh misery!"" "HER EYES ARE WILD.” Composed 1798. I. Published 1798. HER eyes are wild, her head is bare, And she came far from over the main. She has a baby on her arm, Or else she were alone: And underneath the hay-stack warm, And on the greenwood stone, She talked and sung the woods among, II. "Sweet babe! they say that I am mad, III. A fire was once within my brain; |