قراءة كتاب Myra's Well: A Tale of All-Hallow-E'en
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اللغة: English
الصفحة رقم: 4
again—
And sees an empty couch, dull flickering flames,
And toothless Elpsie rocking to and fro!
Then he remembers, with a start, that once—
O, long ago!—he knows not when nor where—
He had a dream, distinct and plain as this,
In which he saw this self-same sad-eyed maid
Upon the couch—and then the toothless hag!
And after that, beside a moss-grown well—
Could that be Myra's?—kneeling on the curb,
Her golden hair half-silvered by the moon,
And violet eyes lit up by love divine,
His Ada—his! And then there came a mist
Which blotted from his mem'ry all the rest.
"Ten thousand limping devils! Could it be
The well had magic power?—That She had heard?
That She this night would test it?" Thus thought he;
"And then Old Elpsie's words—ne'er known to fail!
By all the Saints and Souls I'll wait and see!"
From out the rear-door of the Farmer's house—
The old folks long since gone, and fast asleep—
Goes pretty Hettie. Once before this Eve
She went a short space hand-in-hand with John,
Both blindfold, to pull kail; but now alone:
Under her arm a bag half full of seed—
Hemp-seed—the which at midnight she must sow,
And, looking back, will see the reaper come—
Gathering the growing crop—her future spouse!
Scarce is she hid from view, when after her,
Steps forth sly John, a sickle in his hand!
Then, from the front, steals Ada, trembling one—
Half startled at the shadows on the lawn—
And takes the bridle-path t'ward Myra's well!
The wind sighs softly through the falling leaves,
And she sighs half responsively. The bark
Of distant hound sounds strangely near! The low
Of far-off cattle seems like near-by groan,
And sends strange shudders through her hurrying frame;
The rustle of the leaves, or snapping twig,
Makes her heart beat more quickly than a clock!
An hundred times before she sees the well
She clasps her rosary and says a prayer
And wishes she were home again once more—
Yet hurries all the faster on her way!
And once a frightened hare dashed swift across
Her ghostly path, and shook with terror all
Her comely limbs! And once she saw two eyes—
Two piercing eyes that sparkled, 'neath a bush,
And made her giddy till she signed the cross—
And saw a great black cat flit fast away!
Strange shapes on either hand she seemed to see
Which gibed and waved long shadowy arms, and shook
Long threat'ning fingers at her! Once she thought
She saw, betwixt a tree-top and the moon,
A witches form with Elpsie's face, and heard,
Or thought she heard, harsh maledictions fall!
And once she slipt, and nearly fell with fright,
Upon a slimy, moving thing, that crawled!
And thrice she heard the dreaded were-wolf's howl!
And thrice a flame-eyed snake did hiss at her!
And thrice she heard the hooting of an owl!
Below, above, on all sides, sharp beset
With horrid shapes and phantasies and threats,
Which grew more numerous and portentious still
As she came nearer to the sacred well,
Until her limbs could scarcely bear her form,
And all her Faith seemed vanishing in fear,
And courage almost failed expectancy.
The old folks long since gone, and fast asleep—
Goes pretty Hettie. Once before this Eve
She went a short space hand-in-hand with John,
Both blindfold, to pull kail; but now alone:
Under her arm a bag half full of seed—
Hemp-seed—the which at midnight she must sow,
And, looking back, will see the reaper come—
Gathering the growing crop—her future spouse!
Scarce is she hid from view, when after her,
Steps forth sly John, a sickle in his hand!
Then, from the front, steals Ada, trembling one—
Half startled at the shadows on the lawn—
And takes the bridle-path t'ward Myra's well!
The wind sighs softly through the falling leaves,
And she sighs half responsively. The bark
Of distant hound sounds strangely near! The low
Of far-off cattle seems like near-by groan,
And sends strange shudders through her hurrying frame;
The rustle of the leaves, or snapping twig,
Makes her heart beat more quickly than a clock!
An hundred times before she sees the well
She clasps her rosary and says a prayer
And wishes she were home again once more—
Yet hurries all the faster on her way!
And once a frightened hare dashed swift across
Her ghostly path, and shook with terror all
Her comely limbs! And once she saw two eyes—
Two piercing eyes that sparkled, 'neath a bush,
And made her giddy till she signed the cross—
And saw a great black cat flit fast away!
Strange shapes on either hand she seemed to see
Which gibed and waved long shadowy arms, and shook
Long threat'ning fingers at her! Once she thought
She saw, betwixt a tree-top and the moon,
A witches form with Elpsie's face, and heard,
Or thought she heard, harsh maledictions fall!
And once she slipt, and nearly fell with fright,
Upon a slimy, moving thing, that crawled!
And thrice she heard the dreaded were-wolf's howl!
And thrice a flame-eyed snake did hiss at her!
And thrice she heard the hooting of an owl!
Below, above, on all sides, sharp beset
With horrid shapes and phantasies and threats,
Which grew more numerous and portentious still
As she came nearer to the sacred well,
Until her limbs could scarcely bear her form,
And all her Faith seemed vanishing in fear,
And courage almost failed expectancy.
At last, thank God, the sacred well in sight,
She kneels some minutes more, to tell her beads
And gather breath and strength and that repose
And fixity of purpose needed for
The coming test. Then rising, looking not
To right or left, she comes unto the well—
An open space near by the sacred oak—
And kneeling at the curb, with eyes uplift,
She addeth to her other prayers these words:
"O Sainted Myra, sanctified by death
And sorrows such as moved both Earth and Heaven;
O Sainted Myra, purified through tears
Of which this well bears witness night and day;
And thou, O Holy Mother, in whose heart
The erring find a wide-souled sympathy
And mediate help—O help me now I pray!
If this be sin, to wish to know the Truth—
That Truth which fond hearts find within this well—
Forgive the sin, and save me of thy grace!"
She kneels some minutes more, to tell her beads
And gather breath and strength and that repose
And fixity of purpose needed for
The coming test. Then rising, looking not
To right or left, she comes unto the well—
An open space near by the sacred oak—
And kneeling at the curb, with eyes uplift,
She addeth to her other prayers these words:
"O Sainted Myra, sanctified by death
And sorrows such as moved both Earth and Heaven;
O Sainted Myra, purified through tears
Of which this well bears witness night and day;
And thou, O Holy Mother, in whose heart
The erring find a wide-souled sympathy
And mediate help—O help me now I pray!
If this be sin, to wish to know the Truth—
That Truth which fond hearts find within this well—
Forgive the sin, and save me of thy grace!"
Her pensive pose, her small claspt-hands, her hair
Like golden threads in silvery air bestirred,
The beauty of her angel face, her eyes
Lit with divine effulgence like twin stars,
Her trustful innocence and faith, would melt
A heart of stone to worship at her feet!
With outstretched arms and timid touch of curb—
Thinking the time has come—she forward bends,
Looks down upon the glassy surface then—
And as she looks, the startled air resounds
With clanging bell, which strikes the hour of twelve!
Now, Holy Mary, spare that lovely maid!
Like golden threads in silvery air bestirred,
The beauty of her angel face, her eyes
Lit with divine effulgence like twin stars,
Her trustful innocence and faith, would melt
A heart of stone to worship at her feet!
With outstretched arms and timid touch of curb—
Thinking the time has come—she forward bends,
Looks down upon the glassy surface then—
And as she looks, the startled air resounds
With clanging bell, which strikes the hour of twelve!
Now, Holy Mary, spare that lovely maid!
What sees she there? At first the pool seems dark—
A cloud perchance swift coursing o'er the moon—
And, only dimly visible, A SHAPE!
But, as she looks, the shape grows clearer, till
She sees the image of Sir Bertram's face!
"O Bertram! dear Sir Bertram! God be thanked,"
She cries, "that Bertram will be lord of me!"
And then she sees TWO faces in the well!
Her own, and his! An arm steals 'round her waist!
Startled, she turns, and swoons
A cloud perchance swift coursing o'er the moon—
And, only dimly visible, A SHAPE!
But, as she looks, the shape grows clearer, till
She sees the image of Sir Bertram's face!
"O Bertram! dear Sir Bertram! God be thanked,"
She cries, "that Bertram will be lord of me!"
And then she sees TWO faces in the well!
Her own, and his! An arm steals 'round her waist!
Startled, she turns, and swoons