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I'll pipe my quail-call from the field :
Be kind, nor make me wait.'
In cap and mantle clad he came,
At night, with lonely tread; Unseen, and silent as a mist,
And hush'd the dogs with bread.
And when the amorous nightingale
Sung sweetly to his mate,
And, ah! ne'er made him wait.
The words he whisper'd were so soft,
They won her ear and heart ; How soon will she, who loves, believe ! • How deep a lover's art !
No lure, no soothing guise, he spard,
To banish virtuous shame; He call’d on holy God above,
As witness to his flame.
He clasp'd her to his breast, and swore
To be for ever true:
And while she strove, he drew her on,
And led her to the bower
Sweet smelt the beans in flower.
There beat her heart, and heaved her breast,
And pleaded every sense; And there the glowing breath of lust · Did blast her innocence.
And when she saw the pods increase,
The ruddier cherries stain,
Her waist new weight sustain.
And when the mowers went afield,
The yellow corn to ted,
And shook with tender dread...
And when the winds of autumn hist
Along the stubble field;
No longer be conceal’d.
Her sire, a harsh and angry man,
With furious voice revild: · Hence from my sight! I'll none of thee
I harbour not thy child.'
And fast, amid her fluttering hair,
With clenched fist he gripes, And seiz'd a leathern thong, and lash'd : Her side with sounding stripes.
Her lily skin, so soft and white,
He ribb’d with bloody wales ; And thrust her out, though black the night,
Though sleet and storm assails.
Up the harsh rock, on flinty paths,
The maiden had to roam;
On tottering feet she grop'd her way,
And sought her lover's home."
A mother thou hast made of me,
Before thou mad'st a wife:
These livid stripes are rife:
• Behold;' and then with bitter sobs,
She sank upon the floor • Make good the evil thou has wrought ; :
My injur'd name restore.'
• Poor soul,I'll have thee hous’d and nurs’d;
Thy terrors I lament. Stay here; we'll have some further talk- i
The old one shall repent~'
I have no time to rest and wait;
That saves not my good name,
O leave me not to shame;
• But at the holy altar be
Our union sanctified;
Receive me for thy bride.'
• Unequal matches must not blot
The honours of my line ;
To harbour thee as mine?
"What's fit and fair I'll do for thee;
Shalt yet retain my love
Our former transports prove.'
* Thy wicked soul, hard-hearted man,
May pangs in helt await! Sure, if not suited for thy bride,
I was not for thy máte.
Go, seek a spouse of nobler blood,
Nor God's just judgments dread
Defile thy marriage-bed.
Then, traitor, feel how wretched they
In hopeless shame immerst;
* Roll thy dry eyes in wild despair
Unsooth’d thy grinning wo;
And sink to fiends below. .
Collected, then, she started up,
And, through the hissing sleet, Through 'thorn and briar, through flood and mire,
She fled with bleeding feet.
• Where now,' she cried, “my gracious God !
What refuge have I left?
Of hope in man bereft.
On hand and foot she feebly crawld
Beneath the bower unblest ; Where withering leaves, and gathering snow, • Prepar'd her only rest.
There rending pains and darting throes
Assail'd her shuddering frame;
Erst when the act of blood was done,
Her soul its guilt abhorr'd: :
Have mercy on me, Lord !
With bloody nails, beside the pond,
Its shallow grave she tore; “There rest in God, there shame and want
Thou can'st not suffer more; : " .
'Me vengeance waits. My poor, poor child,
Thy wound shall bleed afresh,
Thy mother's mould'ring Alesh'—
Hard by the bower her gibbet stands,
Her skull is still to show ; .
Three spans in length below.
That is the spot where grows no grass;
Where falls no rain nor dew, -
A hovering fire so blue.
And nightly when the ravens come,
Her ghost is seen to glide;
And pines the pool beside.