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Blackwood's Edinburgh Magazine — Volume 56, No. 345, July, 1844
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2018
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Round her waist his eager arms he bended,
Dashing from his eyes the blinding tear:
"Wert thou even from the grave ascended,
Come unto my heart, and warm thee here!"
Sweet the long embrace—
"Raise that pallid face;
None but thou and are watching, dear!"
XVIII
Was it love that brought the maiden thither,
To the chamber of the stranger guest?
Love's bright fire should kindle, and not wither;
Love's sweet thrill should soothe, not torture, rest.
His impassion'd mood
Warms her torpid blood,
Yet there beats no heart within her breast.
XIX
Meanwhile goes the mother, softly creeping,
Through the house, on needful cares intent,
Hears a murmur, and, while all are sleeping,
Wonders at the sounds, and what they meant.
Who was whispering so?—
Voices soft and low,
In mysterious converse strangely blent.
XX
Straightway by the door herself she stations,
There to be assured what was amiss;
And she hears love's fiery protestations,
Words of ardour and endearing bliss:
"Hark, the cock! 'Tis light!
But to-morrow night
Thou wilt come again?"—and kiss on kiss.
XXI
Quick the latch she raises, and, with features
Anger-flush'd, into the chamber hies.
"Are there in my house such shameless creatures,
Minions to the stranger's will?" she cries.
By the dying light,
Who is't meets her sight?
God! 'tis her own daughter she espies!
XXII
And the youth in terror sought to cover,
With her own light veil, the maiden's head,
Clasp'd her close; but, gliding from her lover,
Back the vestment from her brow she spread,
And her form upright,
As with ghostly might,
Long and slowly rises from the bed.
XXIII
"Mother! mother! wherefore thus deprive me
Of such joy as I this night have known?
Wherefore from these warm embraces drive me?
Was I waken'd up to meet thy frown?
Did it not suffice
That, in virgin guise,
To an early grave you brought me down?
XXIV
"Fearful is the weird that forced me hither,
From the dark-heap'd chamber where I lay;
Powerless are your drowsy anthems, neither
Can your priests prevail, howe'er they pray.
Salt nor lymph can cool
Where the pulse is full;
Love must still burn on, though wrapp'd in clay.
XXV
"To this youth my early troth was plighted,
Whilst yet Venus ruled within the land;
Mother! and that vow ye falsely slighted,
At your new and gloomy faith's command.
But no God will hear,
If a mother swear
Pure from love to keep her daughter's hand.
XXVI
"Nightly from my narrow chamber driven,
Come I to fulfil my destined part,
Him to seek for whom my troth was given,
And to draw the life blood from his heart.
He hath served my will;
More I yet must kill,
For another prey I now depart.
XXVII
Dashing from his eyes the blinding tear:
"Wert thou even from the grave ascended,
Come unto my heart, and warm thee here!"
Sweet the long embrace—
"Raise that pallid face;
None but thou and are watching, dear!"
XVIII
Was it love that brought the maiden thither,
To the chamber of the stranger guest?
Love's bright fire should kindle, and not wither;
Love's sweet thrill should soothe, not torture, rest.
His impassion'd mood
Warms her torpid blood,
Yet there beats no heart within her breast.
XIX
Meanwhile goes the mother, softly creeping,
Through the house, on needful cares intent,
Hears a murmur, and, while all are sleeping,
Wonders at the sounds, and what they meant.
Who was whispering so?—
Voices soft and low,
In mysterious converse strangely blent.
XX
Straightway by the door herself she stations,
There to be assured what was amiss;
And she hears love's fiery protestations,
Words of ardour and endearing bliss:
"Hark, the cock! 'Tis light!
But to-morrow night
Thou wilt come again?"—and kiss on kiss.
XXI
Quick the latch she raises, and, with features
Anger-flush'd, into the chamber hies.
"Are there in my house such shameless creatures,
Minions to the stranger's will?" she cries.
By the dying light,
Who is't meets her sight?
God! 'tis her own daughter she espies!
XXII
And the youth in terror sought to cover,
With her own light veil, the maiden's head,
Clasp'd her close; but, gliding from her lover,
Back the vestment from her brow she spread,
And her form upright,
As with ghostly might,
Long and slowly rises from the bed.
XXIII
"Mother! mother! wherefore thus deprive me
Of such joy as I this night have known?
Wherefore from these warm embraces drive me?
Was I waken'd up to meet thy frown?
Did it not suffice
That, in virgin guise,
To an early grave you brought me down?
XXIV
"Fearful is the weird that forced me hither,
From the dark-heap'd chamber where I lay;
Powerless are your drowsy anthems, neither
Can your priests prevail, howe'er they pray.
Salt nor lymph can cool
Where the pulse is full;
Love must still burn on, though wrapp'd in clay.
XXV
"To this youth my early troth was plighted,
Whilst yet Venus ruled within the land;
Mother! and that vow ye falsely slighted,
At your new and gloomy faith's command.
But no God will hear,
If a mother swear
Pure from love to keep her daughter's hand.
XXVI
"Nightly from my narrow chamber driven,
Come I to fulfil my destined part,
Him to seek for whom my troth was given,
And to draw the life blood from his heart.
He hath served my will;
More I yet must kill,
For another prey I now depart.
XXVII
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