Narrative Poems, part 4, Mable Martin etc | Page 3

mine," he sternly said,?"This passes harmless mirth or jest;?I brook no insult to my guest.
"She is indeed her mother's child;?But God's sweet pity ministers?Unto no whiter soul than hers.
"Let Goody Martin rest in peace;?I never knew her harm a fly,?And witch or not, God knows--not I.
"I know who swore her life away;?And as God lives, I'd not condemn?An Indian dog on word of them."
The broadest lands in all the town,?The skill to guide, the power to awe,?Were Harden's; and his word was law.
None dared withstand him to his face,?But one sly maiden spake aside?"The little witch is evil-eyed!
"Her mother only killed a cow,?Or witched a churn or dairy-pan;?But she, forsooth, must charm a man!"
V. IN THE SHADOW.?Poor Mabel, homeward turning, passed?The nameless terrors of the wood,?And saw, as if a ghost pursued,
Her shadow gliding in the moon;?The soft breath of the west-wind gave?A chill as from her mother's grave.
How dreary seemed the silent house!?Wide in the moonbeams' ghastly glare?Its windows had a dead man's stare!
And, like a gaunt and spectral hand,?The tremulous shadow of a birch?Reached out and touched the door's low porch,
As if to lift its latch; hard by,?A sudden warning call she beard,?The night-cry of a boding bird.
She leaned against the door; her face,?So fair, so young, so full of pain,?White in the moonlight's silver rain.
The river, on its pebbled rim,?Made music such as childhood knew;?The door-yard tree was whispered through
By voices such as childhood's ear?Had heard in moonlights long ago;?And through the willow-boughs below.
She saw the rippled waters shine;?Beyond, in waves of shade and light,?The hills rolled off into the night.
She saw and heard, but over all?A sense of some transforming spell,?The shadow of her sick heart fell.
And still across the wooded space?The harvest lights of Harden shone,?And song and jest and laugh went on.
And he, so gentle, true, and strong,?Of men the bravest and the best,?Had he, too, scorned her with the rest?
She strove to drown her sense of wrong,?And, in her old and simple way,?To teach her bitter heart to pray.
Poor child! the prayer, begun in faith,?Grew to a low, despairing cry?Of utter misery: "Let me die!
"Oh! take me from the scornful eyes,?And hide me where the cruel speech?And mocking finger may not reach!
"I dare not breathe my mother's name?A daughter's right I dare not crave?To weep above her unblest grave!
"Let me not live until my heart,?With few to pity, and with none?To love me, hardens into stone.
"O God! have mercy on Thy child,?Whose faith in Thee grows weak and small,?And take me ere I lose it all!"
A shadow on the moonlight fell,?And murmuring wind and wave became?A voice whose burden was her name.
VI. THE BETROTHAL.?Had then God heard her? Had He sent?His angel down? In flesh and blood,?Before her Esek Harden stood!
He laid his hand upon her arm?"Dear Mabel, this no more shall be;?Who scoffs at you must scoff at me.
"You know rough Esek Harden well;?And if he seems no suitor gay,?And if his hair is touched with gray,
"The maiden grown shall never find?His heart less warm than when she smiled,?Upon his knees, a little child!"
Her tears of grief were tears of joy,?As, folded in his strong embrace,?She looked in Esek Harden's face.
"O truest friend of all'" she said,?"God bless you for your kindly thought,?And make me worthy of my lot!"
He led her forth, and, blent in one,?Beside their happy pathway ran?The shadows of the maid and man.
He led her through his dewy fields,?To where the swinging lanterns glowed,?And through the doors the huskers showed.
"Good friends and neighbors!" Esek said,?"I'm weary of this lonely life;?In Mabel see my chosen wife!
"She greets you kindly, one and all;?The past is past, and all offence?Falls harmless from her innocence.
"Henceforth she stands no more alone;?You know what Esek Harden is;--?He brooks no wrong to him or his.
"Now let the merriest tales be told,?And let the sweetest songs be sung?That ever made the old heart young!
"For now the lost has found a home;?And a lone hearth shall brighter burn,?As all the household joys return!"
Oh, pleasantly the harvest-moon,?Between the shadow of the mows,?Looked on them through the great elm--boughs!
On Mabel's curls of golden hair,?On Esek's shaggy strength it fell;?And the wind whispered, "It is well!"
THE PROPHECY OF SAMUEL SEWALL.
The prose version of this prophecy is to be found in Sewall's The New Heaven upon the New Earth, 1697, quoted in Joshua Coffin's History of Newbury. Judge Sewall's father, Henry Sewall, was one of the pioneers of Newbury.
UP and down the village streets?Strange are the forms my fancy meets,?For the thoughts and things of to-day are hid,?And through the veil of a closed lid?The ancient worthies I see again?I hear the tap of the elder's cane,?And his awful periwig I see,?And the silver buckles of shoe and knee.?Stately and slow, with thoughtful air,?His black cap hiding his whitened hair,?Walks the Judge