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The Phamtoms Of St. Sepulchre
by
“‘These women three, these fearful shapes,
Look’d at me through Newgate stone,
And raised their fingers, skinny and lank,
Whispering low in under-tone:–
‘His hour draws near,–he’s one of us,–
His gibbet is built,–his noose is tied;
They have put his name on the coffin-lid:
The law of blood shall be satisfied.
He shall rest with us, and his name shall be
A by-word and a mockery.’
“‘I whisper’d to one, ‘What hast thou done?’
She answer’d, whispering, and I heard–
Although a chime rang at the time–
Every sentence, every word,
Clear above the pealing bells:–
‘I was mad, and slew my child;
Better than life, God knows, I loved it;
But pain and hunger drove me wild,
Scorn and hunger, and grief and care;
And I slew it in my despair.
And for this deed tbey raised the gibbet;
For this deed the noose they tied;
And I hung and swung in the sight of men,
And the law of blood was satisfied.’
“‘I said to the second, ‘What didst thou?’
Her keen eyes flash’d unearthly shine.
‘I married a youth when I was young,
And thought all happiness was mine;
But they stole him from me to fight the French;
And I was left in the world alone.
To beg or steal, to live or die,
Robb’d of my stay, my all, my own.
England stole my lord from me,–
I stole a ribbon, was caught and tried;
And I hung and swung in the sight of men,
And the law of blood was satisfied.’
“‘I said to the third, ‘What crime was thine?’
‘Crime!’ she auswer’d, in accents meek,
‘The babe that sucks at its mother’s breast,
And smiles with its little dimpled cheek,
Is not more innocent than I.
But truth was feeble,–error was strong;
And guiltless of a deed of shame,
Men’s justice did me cruel wrong.
They would not hear my truthful words:
They thought me fill’d with stubborn pride;
And I hung and swung in the sight of men,
And the law of blood was satisfied.’
“‘Then one and all, by that churchyard wall,
Raised their skinny hands at me;
Their voices mingling like the sound
Of rustling leaves in a withering tree:
‘His hour has come, he’s one of us;
His gibbet is built, his noose is tied;
His knell shall ring, and his corpse shall swing,
And the law of blood shall be satisfied.’
“‘They vanish’d! I saw them, one by one,
With their bare blue feet on the drifted snow
Sink like a thaw, when the sun is up,
To their wormy solitudes below.
Though you may deem this was a dream,
My facts are tangible facts to me;
For the sight glows clear as death draws near
And looks into futurity.'”