They feel her sliding arms from their tranced
But they dare not look to see the cause:
I awoke from sleep, I awoke from sleep,
Up I rose from my grave so deep;
The earth was black, but overhead
For heavy on their senses the faint enchant- The stars were yellow, the moon was red; ment lies And I walked along all white and thin,
Through all that night of anguish and And lifted the latch and entered in, perilous amaze;
And reached the chamber as dark as night,
And neither fear nor wonder can ope their And though it was dark my face was white.
Or their limbs from the cold ground raise.
Mother, mother, I look on thee! Mother, mother, you frighten me!
For your cheeks are thin, and your hair is gray!"
But I smiled, and kissed her fears away,
I smoothed her hair and I sang a song,
And on my knee I rocked her long:
"O mother, mother, sing low to me;
I am sleepy now, and I cannot see!"
I kissed her, but I could not weep,
Then fly the ghastly three as swiftly as they And she went to sleep, she went to sleep.
And tell their tale of sorrow to anxious
As we lay asleep, as we lay asleep, My May and I, in our grave so deep,
They pined away and died within the year As we lay asleep in our midnight mirk,
And ne'er was Anna Grace seen again.
Under the shade of Our Lady's kirk,
I wakened up in the dead of night,
Though May my daughter lay warm and
And I heard the cry of a little one,
THE LEGEND OF THE STEPMOTHER. And I knew 't was the voice of Hugh my son:
As I lay asleep, as I lay asleep,
Under the grass as I lay so deep,
As I lay asleep in my cotton serk
Under the shade of Our Lady's kirk,
I wakened up in the dead of night,
I wakened up in my death-serk white,
And I heard a cry from far away,
And I knew the voice of my daughter May:
"Mother, mother, come hither to me!
Mother, mother, come hither and see!
Mother, mother, mother dear,
Another mother is sitting here:
My body is bruised, and in pain I cry,
On straw in the darkness afraid I lie;
I thirst and hunger for drink and meat,
And mother, mother, to sleep were sweet!"
I heard the cry, though my grave was deep,
And awoke from sleep, and awoke from sleep.
Raise me, mother, and kiss my cheek,
For oh I am weary and sore and weak."
I smoothed his hair with a mother's joy,
And he laughed aloud, my own brave boy;
I raised and held him on my breast,
Sang him a song, and bade him rest.
"Mother, mother, sing low to me;
I am sleepy now and I cannot see! "
I kissed him and I could not weep,
As he went to sleep, as he went to sleep.
As I lay asleep, as I lay asleep,
With my girl and boy in my grave so deep,
As I lay asleep, I woke in fear,
Awoke, but awoke not my children dear,
And heard a cry so low and weak
From a tiny voice that could not speak;
I heard the cry of a little one,
My bairn that could neither talk nor run,
My little, little one, uncaressed
Starving for lack of the milk of the breast;
And I rose from sleep and entered in,
And found my little one pinched and thin,
And crooned a song and hushed its moan,
And put its lips to my white breastbone;
And the red, red moon that lit the place
Went white to look at the little face,
And I kissed and kissed, and I could not
As it went to sleep, as it went to sleep.
As it lay asleep, as it lay asleep,
I set it down in the darkness deep,
Smoothed its limbs and laid it out,
And drew the curtains around about;
Then into the dark, dark room I hied
Where he lay awake at the woman's side,
And though the chamber was black as night,
He saw my face, for it was so white;
I gazed in his eyes, and he shrieked in pain,
And I knew he would never sleep again,
And back to my grave went silently,
And soon my baby was brought to me;
My son and daughter beside me rest,
My little baby is on my breast;
Our bed is warm, and our grave is deep,
But he cannot sleep, he cannot sleep.
Town, tower,
Shore, deep, Where lower Clouds steep;
Waves gray Where play Winds gay
All asleep.
Hark! a sound,
Far and slight,
Breathes around
On the night-
High and higher,
Nigh and nigher,
Like a fire
Roaring bright.
Now on it is sweeping
With rattling beat,
Like dwarf imp leaping
In gallop fleet;
He flies, he prances,
In frolic fancies-
On wave-crest dances
With pattering feet.
Hark, the rising swell,
With each nearer burst!
Like the toll of bell
Of a convent cursed;
Like the billowy roar
On a storm-lashed shoreNow hushed, now once more Maddening to its worst.
O God! the deadly sound
Of the djinns' fearful cry!
Quick, 'neath the spiral round
Of the deep staircase, fly!
See, see our lamplight fade!
And of the balustrade
Mounts, mounts the circling shade
Up to the ceiling high!
'Tis the djinns' wild-streaming swarm
Whistling in their tempest-flight;
Snap the tall yews 'neath the storm,
Like a pine-flame crackling bright;
On! on the storm of wings
Bears far the fiery fear,
Till scarce the breeze now brings
Dim murmurings to the ear;
Like locusts' humming hail,
Or thrash of tiny flail
Plied by the pattering hai
On some old roof-tree near.
Fainter now are borne
Fitful murmurings still;
As, when Arab horn
Swells its magic peal,
Shoreward o'er the deep
Fairy,voices sweep,
And the infant's sleep
Golden visions fill.
Each deadly djinn,
Dark child of fright,
Of death and sin,
Speeds the wild flight.
Hark, the dull moan!
Like the deep tone
Of ocean's groan,
Afar, by night!
More and more
Fades it now,
As on shore
Ripples flow--
As the plaint,
Far and faint,
Of a saint,
Murmured low.
Hark! hist!
Around
I list!
The bounds
Of space
All trace
Efface
Of sound.
Translation of JOHN L. O'SULLIVAN.
POEMS OF SENTIMENT AND REFLECTION.
Tas snow-drop, and then the violet,
Arose from the ground with warm rain wet
And their breath was mixed with fresh odor, gent
From the turf, like the voice and the instrument.
Then the pied wind-flowers, and the tulip tall,
And narcissi, the fairest among them all,
Who gaze on their eyes in the stream's recess
Till they die of their own dear loveliness;
And the naiad-like lily of the vale,
Whom youth makes so fair and passion so pale,
That the light of its tremulous bells is seen
Through their pavilions of tender green;
And the hyacinth purple, and white, and blue,
Which flung from its bells a sweet peal anew
Of music so delicate, soft, and intense,
It was felt like an odor within the sense;
And the rose like a nymph to the bath addrest,
Which unveiled the depth of her glowing breast,
Till, fold after fold, to the fainting air
The soul of her beauty and love lay bare;
And the wand-like lily which lifted up,
As a mœnad, its moonlight-colored cup,
Till the fiery star, which is its eye,
(azed through clear dew on the tender sky;
And the jessamine faint, and the sweet tuberose,
The sweetest flower for scent that blows;
And all rare blossoms from every clime
Grew in that garden in perfect prime.
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