Irish Songs and Poems By William Allingham: Second Edition: With Nine Airs for Voice and Pianoforte, and a Permanent Photograph of the Waterfall of Asaroe |
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THE GOBLIN CHILD OF BELASHANNY.
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 | Irish Songs and Poems |  |
THE GOBLIN CHILD OF BELASHANNY.
In the large old house by the Bridge, once a Barrack, the room is still
shown in which Robert Stewart, afterwards Lord Castlereagh,
is said to have seen a Ghost, one which made a lasting impression
on his mind. From early childhood I heard as one of the
local traditions (not a very old one), that ‘Castlereagh saw a
Ghost in the Barrack,’ and the circumstance of his marching
in with his men at night-fall, etc., were also related. There
is no reason to doubt that this is the Ghost described in Lockhart's
‘Life of Scott,’ chap. 1vi. Moore sets down in
his ‘Diary’ (Abbotsford, Oct. 30th, 1825): ‘Scott said the
only two men who had ever told him that they had actually
seen a ghost, afterwards put an end to themselves. One was
Lord Castlereagh, who had himself mentioned to Scott his
seeing the “radiant-boy.” It was one night when he was in
barracks, and the face brightened gradually out of the fireplace
and approached him. Lord Castlereagh stepped forwards to it,
and it receded again, and faded into the same place. . . . It
was the Duke of Wellington made Lord Castlereagh tell the
story to Sir Walter, and Lord C. told it without hesitation,
and as if believing in it implicitly.’ [Memoirs, etc., of Thomas
Moore, London, 1853, vol. iv., pp. 337, 338.] People on the
spot sometimes tell you it was ‘The Green Lady’ that appeared
to Castlereagh, but this is mixing two separate Ghosts; ‘The
Green Lady’ being the apparition of an Officer's Wife, said to
have been done to death in the Barracks by her Husband's
hand—when or how I have never learned.
In the large old house by the Bridge, once a Barrack, the room is still shown in which Robert Stewart, afterwards Lord Castlereagh, is said to have seen a Ghost, one which made a lasting impression on his mind. From early childhood I heard as one of the local traditions (not a very old one), that ‘Castlereagh saw a Ghost in the Barrack,’ and the circumstance of his marching in with his men at night-fall, etc., were also related. There is no reason to doubt that this is the Ghost described in Lockhart's ‘Life of Scott,’ chap. 1vi. Moore sets down in his ‘Diary’ (Abbotsford, Oct. 30th, 1825): ‘Scott said the only two men who had ever told him that they had actually seen a ghost, afterwards put an end to themselves. One was Lord Castlereagh, who had himself mentioned to Scott his seeing the “radiant-boy.” It was one night when he was in barracks, and the face brightened gradually out of the fireplace and approached him. Lord Castlereagh stepped forwards to it, and it receded again, and faded into the same place. . . . It was the Duke of Wellington made Lord Castlereagh tell the story to Sir Walter, and Lord C. told it without hesitation, and as if believing in it implicitly.’ [Memoirs, etc., of Thomas Moore, London, 1853, vol. iv., pp. 337, 338.] People on the spot sometimes tell you it was ‘The Green Lady’ that appeared to Castlereagh, but this is mixing two separate Ghosts; ‘The Green Lady’ being the apparition of an Officer's Wife, said to have been done to death in the Barracks by her Husband's hand—when or how I have never learned.
Well nigh a hundred years ago,
As wintry dusk was drawing late,
Through Belashanny's old bridge gate,
Changed pass-words with the pacing guard,
Left-wheel'd into the barrack-yard,
And halted willingly,—for tired
The men were, drooping, soaked, and mired;
And ev'n the highest in command,
With trembling knee and fevered hand,
Felt on his horse almost as jaded
And glad to end the march as they did.
Betimes to bed; and though, 'twas true,
His quarters here proved strange enough;
Snatched as they seemed, with trimming rough,
From long disuse; yet in a pile
Heaped on the hearth in good old style,
Bogwood and turf with jovial roar
Threw ruddy blaze on wall and floor,
And the new-comer thought he might,
On such a fagg'd November night,
Ev'n in a rougher place have found
A door to sleep's Enchanted Ground.
A dim, fantastic, endless train
Of striving fancies vex'd his brain;
Till as the weary hours went by
He ever grew, he knew not why,
More anxious, and his heart was sick,
And the pulse in his pillow'd ear beat thick.
Was full of heavy midnight gloom,
Save when the sinking coals gave birth
To smouldering flashes on the hearth,
And from the single darkness made
A thousand ghostly forms of shade,
On which the waker gazed and gazed
Until his thoughts grew mazed and mazed,
And down at length his aching lids were weigh'd.
Leaped up into a dazzling pyre,
And boldly from the brighten'd hearth
A Naked Child stepp'd forth.
A bound,—a pausing of the heart,
He saw. It came across the floor,
Its size increasing more and more
At every stride, until a dread
Gigantic form stood by his bed.
Down into his rigid face—
Back it drew, with steadfast look,
Dwindling every step it took,
Till the Naked Child return'd
To the fire, which brightly burn'd
To greet it: then black sudden gloom
Sunk upon the silent room;
Of the river flowing down
Through the arches of the bridge,
And underneath the casement-ledge.—
Had nests of goblins left, to fill
Each mouldy nook and corner close,
Like spiders in an ancient house.
And this one read within the face
Intruding on its dwelling-place,
Lines of woe, despair, and blood,
By spirits only understood;
As mortals now can read the same
In the letters of his name
Who in that haunted chamber lay,
When we call him Castlereagh.
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