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

is sadder than her tears.
But cruel eyes have found her out,
And cruel lips repeat her name,

And taunt her with her mother's shame.
She answered not with railing words,
But drew her apron o'er her face,

And, sobbing, glided from the place.
And only pausing at the door,
Her sad eyes met the troubled gaze

Of one who, in her better days,
Had been her warm and steady friend,
Ere yet her mother's doom had
made
Even Esek Harden half afraid.

He felt that mute appeal of tears,
And, starting, with an angry frown,

Hushed all the wicked murmurs down.
"Good neighbors 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