Rhapsodies :: :: University of Virginia Library

The little Old Woman was clothed in red,
On a three-legged stool she sat;
She mutter'd, and something this Old Woman said,
She mumbled, and mumbled, and thrice shook her head,
And look'd on her ugly black cat.

This little Red Woman was grim to behold,
More ugly than Sin in a rage;
Her face was all wrinkles, for she was quite old,
Her skin hung about her in many a fold,
Full ninety and nine was her age.

The meagre black cat had a ravenous eye,
Its ribs through its skin did appear;
And piercing and strange was this animal's cry,
As it squatted the little Red Woman hard by,
The like mortal never did hear.

From under her cloak then this Old Woman drew
Her hand that was skinny and brown;
And blood did the Old Woman's fingers bedew,
For hellish the deeds were this beldam would do,
And terribly grim was her frown.

Her hand the pale head of a dead infant bore,
Thick blood from the neck clotted fell;
'Twas the head of a babe which at midnight she tore
From sepulchre dreary she lov'd to explore;
Her soul she had given to hell.

And now from the sockets she tore forth the eyes,
And gorg'd on the damp livid skin;
And dreadful it then was to hear the cat's cries,
Till the Old Woman threw it the half-devour'd prize;
She eat, yet was ugly and thin.

This little Red Woman suck'd infants' pure blood,
And living she'd steal them away;
Hearts, livers, and eyes was this old beldam's food,
And those she lov'd best which belong'd to the good;
The Devil she thus did obey.

But now came the time that her bond did expire,
Which with her own blood had been sign'd;
The little Red Woman still felt some desire
To live free from torments and hell's parching fire,
And dread 'gan to seize on her mind.

To pray was in vain, for her God she denied;
To convent she fear'd much to go;
For Jesu this little Red Woman defied,
And Mary the Virgin, all christian souls' pride;
Now what must this old Woman do?

She thought, and she thought, while her catey'd her well;
The Old Woman felt much affright;
(For Vinegar Tom could her inmost thoughts tell;)
Tho' a cat to her eyes, 'twas a foul fiend from hell,
That watch'd her by day and by night.

From her three-legged stool the Red Woman uprose,
The cat trotted on at her side;
'Twas evening, and forth to the lone wood she goes,
And oft on the black cat a side glance she throws,
And curses what late was her pride.

That night and next day was the old beldam free,
The after midnight seal'd her fate;
For aged one hundred this Woman would be,
And such the agreement was sign'd on her knee,
'Fore Beelzebub seated in state.

And now the rich spires of Saint Sifred appear,
The convent was gay to behold,
But the nearer she came, more awake was her fear,
Her eyes the Red Woman scarce dar'd to uprear,
Her terrors encreas'd seven fold.

And now to the lofty old gateway she came,
When, lo! there she halted awhile;
As when ague fit seizes, so trembled her frame,
She felt all the terrors of guilt and of shame;
So they feel whom sin doth defile.

The little Red Woman knock'd once, but in vain,
Her soul 'gan with horror to quake;
Her heart it throbb'd quick, burning hot was her brain,
The blow she repeated again and again,
The lofty old portal did shake.

At length came a father; he peep'd thro' the grate;
“What would'st thou, Old Woman?” quoth he:
“I prithee, good father, straight open the gate;
“I'd speak with the abbot, for hard is my fate—
“Your holy superior I'd see.”

And now the monk open'd the portal full wide,
She tremblingly enter'd therein;
The meagre black cat still kept close at her side,
And into the convent thus quickly did glide,
Which ne'er had contain'd so much sin.

“And wilt thou conduct me?” the Old Woman said,
“And wilt thou straight lead me the way?”
“Oh! yes, little Woman all clothed in red,
“So light thro' the chambers thy footsteps thou'lt tread,
“Thy wishes anon I'll obey.”

So soft through the porter's small chamber they creep,
And there, in an old elbow chair,
A father was sitting absorbed in sleep,
And his loud nasal sounds were sonorous and deep,
He felt neither sorrow nor care.

They travers'd the cloisters, they travers'd the hall,
And pass'd thro' the chambers full high;
And there many monks rested 'gainst the cold wall,
For sleep did the senses of each man enthrall;
Each monk snor'd aloud lullaby.

End of the first Part.

PART THE SECOND.

And now they arriv'd at the good abbot's cell;
The father knock'd once at the ring;
Then thrice pull'd the chain of the little brass bell,
The clapper thrice beat, and thrice sounded the knell:
Quoth the abbot, “What news dost thou bring?”

“'Tis I, father Jerom,” the porter then said;
“An old woman fain would come in:”
Quoth the abbot, “My soul sinks with terror and dread;
“Say, is not the penitent clothed in red,
“And wrinkled and swarthy her skin?”

Quoth Jerom, “Good abbot, a saint you must be,
“The truth, without seeing, to tell;
“For red is the mantle as low as her knee,
“And red is her kirtle, and ugly is she,
“I never saw mortal so fell.”

“Go hence, trusty Jerom,” the abbot then cried;
“This sinner I'll straightway confess.”
The porter obey'd, while the Red Woman tried
To banish her horrors; but this was denied;
She felt not her terrors the less.

And now the old abbot his chamber pac'd round,
He stalk'd it about and about;
His arms they were folded, his eyes bent to ground,
And something he mutter'd, and faint was the sound;
The Old Woman naught could make out.

Anon to the door did the abbot advance,
He op'd it, and in march'd the dame;
She first ey'd the father, and then look'd askance;
Beside her still Vinegar Tom met her glance;
She trembled with terror and shame.

The abbot then sate himself down in his chair;
“Approach now, Old Woman!” said he;
“Come, kneel down beside me, confess all your care;
“Your cruelty, witchcraft, each sin straight declare;
“Your soul is in dread jeopardy.”

The Red Woman trembled, and falter'd awhile;
At length she began to impart
How often sweet babies she us'd to beguile,
How ev'ry commandment of God she'd defile,
How Satan was lord of her heart.

The abbot look'd grimly, the sinner turn'd white,
The father bent on her his eye;
She trembled, and trembled, and shrunk from his sight,
Each glance ev'ry hope of her soul seem'd to blight,
And told her that Fate cast the die.

“And must I not pray, father abbot?” she said,
“To Jesu and Blessed Marie?”
“No, no,” cried the abbot, thrice shaking his head,
“'Tis I, little Woman, must pray in your stead,
“For useless thy praying would be.”

Anon toll'd the curfew, and then drew in night;
Quoth the dame, “Good sir abbot, I pray,
“Oh! speak; should I not tell my beads in your sight?
“My soul is all horror, I'm palsied with fright.”
“No pray'r,” quoth the monk, “you must say.”

Now loudly and slowly the convent bell beat;
“'Tis eleven!” the Old Woman cried;
“For mercy, sir abbot! pray on, I entreat,
“That so I may Satan's fell purpose defeat.”
Still closer she crept to his side.

Now steal on the minutes by one, two, and three,
They steal on by six, sev'n, and eight;
The Red Woman trembled like leaf on a tree,
While nearer she drew to the old abbot's knee,
For greatly she dreaded her fate.

The quarter, the half-hour, the three-quarters toll,
The moments glide swiftly away;
No longer the abbot her tongue could control;
She cried, “Mercy, Jesu! redeem my lost soul,
“Or foul fiends will snatch it away.”

And now the bell sounds forth a loud brazen knell,
It toll'd four times one, two, and three;
It warn'd the red dame that 'twas midnight so fell,
The hour when her vile soul was sentenc'd to hell:
“Oh! mercy, sir abbot!” quoth she.

“Oh! yes, I'll have mercy,” the abbot replied,
As quickly he sprang from the seat:
“Thou fain would'st have strove thy dread lord to deride,
“And shun thine own patron, but this was denied;
“I knew, and prevented the cheat.

“Yes, beldam, no longer my pow'r you'll defy;
“Your master now stands in your sight;
“'Twas I charm'd the monks, and they snore lullaby;
“A fiend was thy porter, the Devil am I;
“Prepare for the regions of night!”

He scarcely had ended, when down dropp'd the cowl,
The vestments all vanish'd away;
And Vinegar Tom sent a hideous howl,
And straight was transform'd to a fiend grim and foul,
Prepar'd his dread lord to obey.

Slow faded the form which the Devil had ta'en;
When, lo! in its stead did appear
The figure of Satan, with long tail and mane,
Sharp claws were his hands, to inflict hellish pain,
And slowly his form he 'gan rear.

His colour was black, and his eyes globes of fire,
From his nostrils rush'd sulphur and smoke;
His teeth red hot spikes, grinning ghastly and dire,
His height to the convent's arch'd roof did aspire,
Like thunder his voice when he spoke.

His middle a girdle of snakes did entwine,
From his jaws too ran brimstone and blood;
Red blotches like meteors upon him did shine;
Each foot had sharp claws to the number of nine,
Wherewith he oft tortur'd the good.

Then forth from his girdle the parchment he drew;
He rais'd it, and cried, “Prithee see;
“Here's the bond stain'd with blood, the deed signed “by you:”
(The Red Woman shriek'd, for the signet she knew:)
“So come, little Woman with me.”

She scream'd as she ran, but the Devil so fell
His claw stuck within her crook'd back;
He rais'd her, he whirl'd her, and then with a yell,
Plung'd down fathoms deep in the regions of hell;
She's tortur'd with scorpions and rack.

And now being ended the Devil's dire charm,
Each monk from his trance did arise;
They felt naught of terror, they knew naught of harm,
But chaunted their vespers quite free from alarm;—
It is thus with the good and the wise.

Thus ended the Old Woman clothed in red;
Again on her stool she ne'er sat,
Nor mumbled her curses, nor shook her bald head,
For since on her entrails the demon hath fed
That once was her ugly black cat.