University of Virginia Library


87

THE COFFIN-SHIP.

“Coffin-ship” was the expressive name given by the peasantry to the wretched worn-out emigrant-ships in which they were sent to America after the great evictions in the famine time. The scene of the poem is on the coast of Clare, where in a storm the waves break over the cliffs with tremendous force, and far from the sea the air is filled with dense driving spray.

1.

Storm, and the moon like a waif,
Homeless, the baffled phantom of hope,
In a smother of hurrying rack:
Pale, with a few dim stars
Fighting the scud for a blink, a peep,
Then wanly, a visage of woe,
Searching the sea with her light.

2.

At the base of a westward-looking cliff,
Grim bastion of life o'er the ocean's long rage,
Thunder: a hell of waters, a frenzy of foam,
Black rocks, to the very fish of the deep

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Perdition to-night. Inshore,
Back from the crest of the cliff
Where faint moon rainbows flicker and pale,
Stands one, by a gleaming pool
Salt from the send of the sea,
With strong heart long a-breaking,
And a cry under the stars!

3.

Mad, in the storm, her grey hair dank with the wind-blown spray,
Her homespun gown soaked round her, heavy with brine
As her heart with tears—alone,
A woman stands by the pool,
And wrings her hands, and thuds her shuddering breast
With bruising blows; then scans the face of the pool,
And tosses her arms aloft, and sends through the night
A moaning heart-breaking cry:

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4.

“Norah ahoy! Kathleen ahoy!
Dhrops o' me heart, come back to me! Cushla machree
Norah, come back to me! look at me here alone!
Come back from the say, come back from that Coffin-Ship—
The rats is lavin' her. Whisht! do yous hear the wind
Keenin', keenin'? Whisht! Don't yous hear? When it blows
This-a-way, thro' and thro' me, the hunger le'ps in my heart.
The hunger's on me for yous to night. I want yous, I do.
I'm lonely, childre', I'm lonely. Your father stuck to the soil—
Why couldn't the' make short work, evict us into the say?
The Big House got him at last, the faver, the yalla hole,

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The pauper's grave; an' me down; and Patsy under the sod;
An' Shemus—I disremimber where is he at all. Ochone,
I'm lonely, childhre', I'm lonely! Norah, don't lave me, asthore,
Come to me, Kathleen, aroo!

5.

She turns to the pool, and gazes
At the petty wrath of its waters
Vexed by the wind-flaws; then shrill
Raves she against the blast,
Matching her quavering cry with the ceaseless roar of the sea.
She spits in the face of the storm, and threatens with arm benumbed
The raging, thundering surge.

6.

“Oh, wather, wather! for all you're quiet an' small,
Sure you're a slip o' the say—the say wid its landlord's heart

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That never heeds for a cry, th' ould slaughtherin' absentee
Ragin' an' roarin' beyant. Aw, whisht! I owe you no rint,
Ould disolation; your rint is waitin'—the Coffin-Ship,
Take her this night, an' welcome; but Christians isn't your due!”

7.

She kneels by the pool and paddles
With weak hand in the water,
Flattering with vague caresses
Its chill evasive face.
She pleads with the pool; she blarneys its heedless ear with wild words;
She pleads with sobs and sighs for its favour and its aid.

8.

“But you, wather avic, that hould there quiet an' fair
Your dacent small bit o' ground, sure you'll spake up for me now?

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You that can hear me, spake, for God's love spake to him now,
Bid him give up the childre'—sure he's no law for this!
He has no call at all to my childre'! Norah, come back!
Bring Kathleen home!”

9.

Then, even as one at last stabbed with the sudden word
Killing a hope long sick, she starts with a wailing shriek,
Back from the brink of the pool, and crouched on the sodden grass,
Rocks herself to and fro.

10.

“Mother of mercy, it's thrue—it's thrue, then! O God in heaven!
Dhrownded, dhrownded, gone down, gone down in the Coffin-Ship!

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An' is it your ghosts I seen, my darlints, there by the shore,
Walkin' an' smilin,' an' ch'atin' my poor ould eyes wid the light
O' your two sweet innocent faces—the same as ever, the same—
An' I here callin' yous home!”

11.

Then rising at last, she goes from her station with fitful feet,
Moaning, away through the storm.

12.

“Dhrownded, dhrownded, an' gone from me, Nora gone,
An' Kathleen gone—the pair o' yous gone this night,
An' gone for ever. Ochone, ochone for my heart!
Ochone for the poor this night!”

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13.

O land, sister of sighs!
O land of love with the longing in your heart!
Is this your cry that I hear?
Is this your fetch I see wandering,
Mad, in the night?