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A beam of light fell o'er him,
Like a glory round the shriven,
And he climbed the lofty ladder
As it were the path to heaven.
Then came a flash from out the cloud,
And a stunning thunder-roll;
And no man dared to look aloft,
For fear was on every soul.
There was another heavy sound,

A hush and then a groan;

And darkness swept across the sky'
The work of death was done!

1848.

216

William Edmondstoune Aytoun.

THE SHAMEFUL DEATH

THERE were four of us about that bed;
The mass-priest knelt at the side,
I and his mother stood at the head,
Over his feet lay the bride;
We were quite sure that he was dead,
Though his eyes were open wide.

He did not die in the night,

He did not die in the day,

But in the morning twilight
His spirit pass'd away,

PS

When neither sun nor moon was bright,
And the trees were merely gray.

12

He was not slain with the sword,

Knight's axe, or the knightly spear, Yet spoke he never a word

After he came in here;

I cut away the cord

From the neck of my brother dear.

He did not strike one blow,

For the recreants came behind,

In the place where the hornbeams grow,
A path right hard to find,

For the hornbeam boughs swing so,

That the twilight makes it blind.

They lighted a great torch then,
When his arms were pinion'd fast,
Sir John the knight of the Fen,
Sir Guy of the Dolorous Blast,
With knights threescore and ten,
Hung brave Lord Hugh at last.

I am threescore and ten,

And my hair is all turn'd grey, But I met Sir John of the Fen

Long ago on a summer day,

And am glad to think of the moment when

I took his life away.

I am threescore and ten,

And my strength is mostly pass'd,

But long ago I and my men,

When the sky was overcast,

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24

30

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And the smoke roll'd over the reeds of the

fen,

Slew Guy of the Dolorous Blast.

And now, knights all of you,
I pray you pray for Sir Hugh,

A good knight and a true,

1858.

And for Alice, his wife, pray too.

142

46

William Morris.

RIZPAH

17

WAILING, wailing, wailing, the wind over land

and sea

And Willy's voice in the wind, "O mother,

come out to me!"

Why should he call me to-night, when he

knows that I cannot go?

For the downs are as bright as day, and the full moon stares at the snow.

We should be seen, my dear; they would spy us

out of the town.

The loud black nights for us, and the storm

rushing over the down,

When I cannot see my own hand, but am led by the creak of the chain,

And grovel and grope for my son till I find my self drenched with the rain.

8

Anything fallen again? nay-what was there

left to fall?

I have taken them home, I have number'd the bones, I have hidden them all.

What am I saying? and what are you? do you come as a spy?

Falls? what falls? who knows? As the tree

falls so must it lie.

12

Who let her in? how long has she been? you

what have you heard?

Why did you sit so quiet? you never have

spoken a word.

O to pray with me-yes-a lady-none of their spies

But the night has crept into my heart, and begun to darken my eyes.

Ah--you, that have lived so soft, what should you know of the night,

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The blast and the burning shame and the bitter frost and the fright?

I have done it, while you were asleep-you were only made for the day.

I have gather'd my baby together-and now

you may go your way.

20

Nay-for it's kind of you, Madam, to sit by an old dying wife.

But say nothing hard of my boy, I have only an hour of life.

I kiss'd my boy in the prison, before he went

out to die.

"They dared me to do it," he said, and he never has told me a lie.

I whipt him for robbing an orchard once when he was but a child

"The farmer dared me to do it," he said; he was always so wild

And idle and could n't be idle-my Willy

he never could rest.

The King should have made him a soldier, he would have been one of his best.

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But he lived with a lot of wild mates, and they never would let him be good;

They swore that he dare not rob the mail, and he swore that he would;

And he took no life, but he took one purse, and when all was done

He flung it among his fellows-"I'll none of

it," said my son.

I came into court to the Judge and the lawyers. I told them my tale,

God's own truth-but they kill'd him, they

kill'd him for robbing the mail.

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They hang'd him in chains for a show-we had always borne a good name

To be hang'd for a thief-and then put awayis n't that enough shame?

Dust to dust-low down-let us hide! but they set him so high

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