University of Virginia Library

GENEVIÈVE.

A LEGEND OF THE MORVAN.

Geneviève the Nivernaise
Fell upon her evil days:
Seven children to be fed,
Only two to find them bread.
Sometimes in her heart she said,
“Would that I had never wed;
Would that some of these were dead!”
Geneviève! oh, Geneviève!

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Wearily the days went by.
Drooping head and languid eye,
Crying babes and hungry sire,
Meagre food and scanty fire—
Life was torment drear and dire;
Riches were her heart's desire.
Geneviève! oh, Geneviève!

Fête-Dieu dawned serene and still.
Forth she wandered to the hill—
Wandered up the Fairy Way,
Carrying baby Désirée.
In the village church to-day
All the rest have gone to pray;
Blessed words she could not say.
Geneviève! oh, Geneviève!

Pink and sweet the roses wave,
Wreathed above the Fairy Cave.
'Tis to-day the fated hour
Fairy fetters lose their power.
Open door and haunted bower
Tempt her in to seek their dower
Geneviève! oh, Geneviève!

From her arms the child she set
On a table carved of jet,
With an apple in her hold;
For the floor was strewed with gold
Gold and gems of price untold,

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Gems and jewels manifold,
At her feet like pebbles rolled.
Geneviève! oh, Geneviève!

Suddenly she heard a knell.
Could it be the compline bell?
Ah! if once those rites were o'er,
Fairy spells would close the door;
She should never find it more.
Out she rushed with all her store.
Geneviève! oh, Geneviève!

Loud the bell for complines rung;
Loud the doors together swung.
“Ah, my baby! left behind!”
Nothing answered but the wind.
Key nor latchet could she find:
Then what anguish tore her mind!
Loud she raved at fate unkind
Geneviève! oh, Geneviève!

From her garments' weighted fold
Down she scattered gems and gold.
“Oh, the little baby face!
Oh, the tender baby grace!
Evil soul, distract and base:
Worthless jewels in her place!”
Geneviève! oh, Geneviève!

Sore she wept and loud did pray,
Till the priest came up that way.

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“Father! father! pray for me;
Bid the saints look down to see
All my dreadful misery;
Curst my wish comes back to me.
Cry for help, if help there be!”
Geneviève! oh, Geneviève!

“Mary, Mother, help!” he said;
“Give thee both thy babe and bread.
Seek the treasure night and day.
When thou findest waif and stray,
In the cave thy burden lay:
So thy curse shall pass away.”
Geneviève! oh, Geneviève!

Moonlit midnight, noon and morn
Saw her at her search forlorn:
On her knees in patient pain,
Through the forest, brake, and plain,
Now in snow, and now in rain—
Never did she seek in vain;
All at length she found again.
Geneviève! oh, Geneviève!

Now the Fête-Dieu comes once more,
And beside the cavern door
With the treasure doth she wait,
As a soul at heaven's dear gate,
Meek, repentant, desolate;
But one gift she asks of fate.
Geneviève! oh, Geneviève!

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