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An infant lay in its cradle asleep,
When a stranger came to the door;
“Come in,” cried the host, “open house we keep,
And we drive not away the poor.”
Ah, well-a-day! ah, well-a-day!
We know not what cometh, come how it may.
The stranger was weary, and needed rest,
And the good man brought him a chair,
And his dame bestirr'd her to wait on her guest,
And brought him her homely fare.
Ah, well-a-day! ah, well-a-day!
We know not what cometh, come how it may.

126

And when the stranger had broken his fast,
He arose, and in silence stept
To the corner where the cradle was plac'd,
To see if the infant slept.
Ah, well-a-day! ah, well-a-day!
We know not what cometh, come how it may.
“A brave child this,” and the stranger sigh'd,
(The infant was sleeping the while)
“You love him?” “I do,” the dame replied,
And she smil'd with a mother's smile.
Ah, well-a-day! ah, well-a-day!
We know not what cometh, come how it may.
“You love him too?” and he turn'd to his host,
“Ay, that I do,” said the man,
“The boy is my pride, and shall be my boast,
Should I live beyond mortal span.”
Ah, well-a-day! ah, well-a-day!
We know not what cometh, come how it may.
“Now, list,” cried the stranger, “nor deem me mad,
The day thou wilt surely rue,
When thy life for his shall be ask'd and be had,
And thy dame shall prove it true.”
Ah, well-a-day! ah, well-a-day!
We know not what cometh, come how it may.

127

Loud laugh'd the man: full years a score
Had pass'd away, and were gone,
When a stranger came again to the door,
Within sat a woman—alone.
Ah, well-a-day! ah, well-a-day!
We know not what cometh, come how it may.
She shriek'd, as the threshold the stranger cross'd,
“Thou, cursed wizard! begone,
Thou hast spoken sooth, and my husband is lost,
For the father hath murder'd his son.”
Ah, well-a-day! ah, well-a-day!
We know not what cometh, come how it may.