 | Songs in many keys |  |
168
THE CURSE IN THE HOUSE.
He came, a stranger from afar,
In the warm and pleasant month of June,
When the nightingale sang to the evening star,
And wild birds carolled a joyous tune.
In the warm and pleasant month of June,
When the nightingale sang to the evening star,
And wild birds carolled a joyous tune.
Of manly form and handsome face,
With blue, and bright, but restless eye;
A tongue that spoke with a pleasant grace:
All looked at him as he went by.
With blue, and bright, but restless eye;
A tongue that spoke with a pleasant grace:
All looked at him as he went by.
He settled near her father's croft,
Outside the borders of the town,
Where the city's hum came low and soft
Over the meadows newly mown.
Outside the borders of the town,
Where the city's hum came low and soft
Over the meadows newly mown.
He plied at first an eager trade,
With a steady hand and subtle brain,
And all the neighbours, praising, said,
“He works so close, he is sure of gain!”
With a steady hand and subtle brain,
And all the neighbours, praising, said,
“He works so close, he is sure of gain!”
169
He woo'd and won her woman's heart,
Made its affections all his own;
Guileless, and simple, free of art,
'Twas his ere well she knew 'twas gone.
Made its affections all his own;
Guileless, and simple, free of art,
'Twas his ere well she knew 'twas gone.
She pledged, without one fear, her faith;
She gave him all she had—a love
Trusting, and true, and strong as death,
Pure as the cloudless heaven above.
She gave him all she had—a love
Trusting, and true, and strong as death,
Pure as the cloudless heaven above.
Wedded they were in the village church:
“Never was sweeter or fairer bride;”
So the neighbours said as she left the porch,
And walked with her husband, side by side.
“Never was sweeter or fairer bride;”
So the neighbours said as she left the porch,
And walked with her husband, side by side.
The days went by in a sweet content,
And peace and love were in their home;
They lightly came, and as lightly went,
As sea-birds flitting over the foam.
And peace and love were in their home;
They lightly came, and as lightly went,
As sea-birds flitting over the foam.
Months passed: there came a baby boy,
White and fresh as the driven snow,
To fill their home and hearts with joy,
And make their cup of bliss o'erflow.
White and fresh as the driven snow,
To fill their home and hearts with joy,
And make their cup of bliss o'erflow.
170
But out, and alas! a cloud arose
No bigger than man's hand at first,
But pregnant with thick-coming woes,
Which soon in sorrow over them burst.
No bigger than man's hand at first,
But pregnant with thick-coming woes,
Which soon in sorrow over them burst.
Changed grew the home with love once warm,
That had lent to it so tender a grace,
For it lost for Luke the olden charm
Of baby's kiss and wife's embrace.
That had lent to it so tender a grace,
For it lost for Luke the olden charm
Of baby's kiss and wife's embrace.
And now suspicion darkly fell
Upon his honour and good name,
But why,—it boots not here to tell,
Or how he sank from shame to shame.
Upon his honour and good name,
But why,—it boots not here to tell,
Or how he sank from shame to shame.
Enough to say, the tempter came,
And caught poor Luke with glozing tongue,
Which threw around it words of flame,
And witty jests at hazard flung.
And caught poor Luke with glozing tongue,
Which threw around it words of flame,
And witty jests at hazard flung.
O woe for the drink, whose ills are more
Than thought can reach or tongue can tell!
O woe for the ale-house, through whose door
Many pass downward into hell!
Than thought can reach or tongue can tell!
O woe for the ale-house, through whose door
Many pass downward into hell!
171
The twilight fills a sombre room,
The fire is dying on the stone;
And the wife sits brooding in the gloom—
Weeping, alas! alone—alone!
The fire is dying on the stone;
And the wife sits brooding in the gloom—
Weeping, alas! alone—alone!
Luke oft came home in reckless mood,
With hollow laugh and whirling words,
Which, as she pale and trembling stood,
Cut to her heart like piercing swords.
With hollow laugh and whirling words,
Which, as she pale and trembling stood,
Cut to her heart like piercing swords.
Sometimes his better self returned,
When prompted by a deep despair
That like a fire within him burned,
There from his anguish sprang a prayer.
When prompted by a deep despair
That like a fire within him burned,
There from his anguish sprang a prayer.
But this soon passed, as dews at morn,
Which bead each tender spike of grass,
Or as the shadows across the corn
When 'thwart the heaven clouds come and pass.
Which bead each tender spike of grass,
Or as the shadows across the corn
When 'thwart the heaven clouds come and pass.
For when he felt temptation's power,
He crept out to the sinful place,
And there spent many a careless hour,
And sank still lower in disgrace.
He crept out to the sinful place,
And there spent many a careless hour,
And sank still lower in disgrace.
172
A blight fell on the hapless wife,
Sorrow lay heavy at her heart;
A nameless fear held all her life,
And every shadow made her start.
Sorrow lay heavy at her heart;
A nameless fear held all her life,
And every shadow made her start.
She met him with no word unkind,
She sought to soothe his pain to rest;
Around his neck her arms would wind,
And fondly press him to her breast.
She sought to soothe his pain to rest;
Around his neck her arms would wind,
And fondly press him to her breast.
Tears often filled her weary eye,
The kindly neighbours shook their head;
“Poor Katie, ah, she will surely die,”
They oft to each other sadly said.
The kindly neighbours shook their head;
“Poor Katie, ah, she will surely die,”
They oft to each other sadly said.
Oft as he rose to cross the door,
The weeping wife would bar the way,
And would in piteous tones implore
That with her and the child he'd stay.
The weeping wife would bar the way,
And would in piteous tones implore
That with her and the child he'd stay.
At times he'd promise, loudly swear
That he would never drink again;
His words were plausible and fair,
But he was weak—his vows were vain.
That he would never drink again;
His words were plausible and fair,
But he was weak—his vows were vain.
173
And once—oh bitter shame to tell!—
When she had prayed him not to go,
Maddened, by fumes as if of hell,
He struck his loving wife a blow.
When she had prayed him not to go,
Maddened, by fumes as if of hell,
He struck his loving wife a blow.
That blow smote hope, if not love, dead,
It took all sweetness from her life;
“The grave,” the pitying neighbours said,
“Will open soon for his poor wife.”
It took all sweetness from her life;
“The grave,” the pitying neighbours said,
“Will open soon for his poor wife.”
Once came he home, wine-maddened, wild,—
She had been watching half the night;
Sound in the cradle slept the child,
Low in the socket burned the light.
She had been watching half the night;
Sound in the cradle slept the child,
Low in the socket burned the light.
His song before him reached the door,
Hurting the ear on which it came;
And when he staggered on the floor,
She saw his face glowed like a flame.
Hurting the ear on which it came;
And when he staggered on the floor,
She saw his face glowed like a flame.
With vacant laugh his boy he took
From the warm cot on which he slept,
And held him up with hand that shook,
Till the poor infant screamed and wept.
From the warm cot on which he slept,
And held him up with hand that shook,
Till the poor infant screamed and wept.
174
Then as he tossed it in the air
With shaking hand, uncertain gait,
His wife looked on with blank despair,
Foreboding what might be its fate.
With shaking hand, uncertain gait,
His wife looked on with blank despair,
Foreboding what might be its fate.
And when she, pale and pleading, stood,
And sought to hold her husband's arm,
He swore an oath that froze her blood,
He would not do her darling harm.
And sought to hold her husband's arm,
He swore an oath that froze her blood,
He would not do her darling harm.
“O Luke,” she said, “give me the child,
For love of Christ, dear Luke have care!”
He laughed a frantic laugh and wild,
And on her turned a drunken stare.
For love of Christ, dear Luke have care!”
He laughed a frantic laugh and wild,
And on her turned a drunken stare.
O mother's heart that dreaded all!
For when he threw it up again,
Hoping to catch it in its fall—
Alas! his efforts were in vain.
For when he threw it up again,
Hoping to catch it in its fall—
Alas! his efforts were in vain.
A heavy thud upon the ground,
A feeble cry, short, sharp, and shrill;
A woman's shriek,—an awful sound—
That smote the ear; then all was still.
A feeble cry, short, sharp, and shrill;
A woman's shriek,—an awful sound—
That smote the ear; then all was still.
175
Dead at their feet the infant lay,
White, wan, and chill—oh, for one moan!
But no! Like some sweet rose of May,
The bud was withered ere 'twas blown.
White, wan, and chill—oh, for one moan!
But no! Like some sweet rose of May,
The bud was withered ere 'twas blown.
They stood, those two, above their dead;
They neither spoke, nor moved, nor shook;
But all aghast with speechless dread,
Like statues with a human look.
They neither spoke, nor moved, nor shook;
But all aghast with speechless dread,
Like statues with a human look.
But now a wail so sharp and shrill,
Came thrilling on the drunkard's ear,
That through his blood it sent a chill
And blanched his fevered cheeks with fear.
Came thrilling on the drunkard's ear,
That through his blood it sent a chill
And blanched his fevered cheeks with fear.
Anon there flashed a sudden light
Across his brow, into his eye,
Quick as the lightning 'thwart the night,
Disclosing all the earth and sky.
Across his brow, into his eye,
Quick as the lightning 'thwart the night,
Disclosing all the earth and sky.
Then bowed he down upon the ground
With wan white face and trembling knee,
And through the silence deep, profound,
His voice rose high in agony.
With wan white face and trembling knee,
And through the silence deep, profound,
His voice rose high in agony.
176
For grace he prayed, and cursed the hour
He yielded first to such a sin,
And cried to God in heaven for power
A conquest over self to win.
He yielded first to such a sin,
And cried to God in heaven for power
A conquest over self to win.
He grew a sobered, altered man;
Grief bowed his heart and blanched his head;
His life was lived beneath a ban,
And hope was crushed and joy was dead.
Grief bowed his heart and blanched his head;
His life was lived beneath a ban,
And hope was crushed and joy was dead.
For sorrow sat beside his hearth,
And flung its shadow across his floor;
The light had passed for ever from earth,
And would return no more—no more!
And flung its shadow across his floor;
The light had passed for ever from earth,
And would return no more—no more!
All shunned the man, as though some brand—
The mark of Cain—was on his brow;
No one held out a friendly hand,
Or said a word of welcome now.
The mark of Cain—was on his brow;
No one held out a friendly hand,
Or said a word of welcome now.
A spectre at his hearth did wait,
And darkly crouched beside his door,
Went with him as he passed the gate,
And followed him for evermore.
And darkly crouched beside his door,
Went with him as he passed the gate,
And followed him for evermore.
177
For her—she pined from day to day,
Killed by the blow that killed her child;
Fading like some sweet flower away,
She often wept, but never smiled.
Killed by the blow that killed her child;
Fading like some sweet flower away,
She often wept, but never smiled.
The days were marked by bitter pain,
Her sobs at night betrayed her grief;
To aching heart and weary brain
The grave alone held forth relief.
Her sobs at night betrayed her grief;
To aching heart and weary brain
The grave alone held forth relief.
She died; he wept his early dead,
The true and tender loving wife;
He wept with heart that inly bled,
But could not bring her back to life.
The true and tender loving wife;
He wept with heart that inly bled,
But could not bring her back to life.
Ah! better thus, that she should sleep
In peace beneath the daisied sod,
Never again to mourn or weep,
But pass where lived her child with God.
In peace beneath the daisied sod,
Never again to mourn or weep,
But pass where lived her child with God.
For Luke himself, the only hope
To ease the gnawing at his breast,
Was for the grave its gates to ope,
And take him to its welcome rest.
To ease the gnawing at his breast,
Was for the grave its gates to ope,
And take him to its welcome rest.
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