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+The Project Gutenberg EBook of Myra's Well, by George Francis Dawson
+
+This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with
+almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or
+re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included
+with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org
+
+
+Title: Myra's Well
+ A Tale of All-Hallow-E'en
+
+Author: George Francis Dawson
+
+Release Date: February 26, 2011 [EBook #35411]
+
+Language: English
+
+Character set encoding: ASCII
+
+*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK MYRA'S WELL ***
+
+
+
+
+Produced by Heather Clark, Carla Foust, and the Online
+Distributed Proofreading Team at https://www.pgdp.net (This
+file was produced from images generously made available
+by The Internet Archive)
+
+
+
+
+
+ MYRA'S WELL.
+
+ A TALE
+
+ OF
+
+ ALL-HALLOW-E'EN,
+
+ BY
+
+ GEORGE FRANCIS DAWSON.
+
+
+ WASHINGTON:
+ GIBSON BROS., PRINTERS
+ 1883.
+
+
+
+
+ Entered according to Act of Congress, in the year 1883,
+
+ BY GEORGE FRANCIS DAWSON,
+
+ in the office of the Librarian of Congress, Washington, D. C.
+
+
+
+
+MYRA'S WELL.
+
+A Tale of All-Hallow-E'en.
+
+
+ It is the night of all nights of the year,
+ When ghosts and warlocks haunt the troubled earth,
+ And disembodied spirits visit us--
+ Spirits of good and evil from the dead,
+ Fresh from the angel hosts and from the damned,
+ And from the vast profound betwixt the two;
+ Spirits from living bodies, disenthralled
+ By blessed sleep, or yearnings most intense,
+ Or by more subtle agencies beyond our ken--
+ Bearing portentious messages to those
+ Who in full faith the future would behold.
+
+ The clear-cut radiance of a frosty moon
+ Lights up, and darkens, all the growth around.
+ The great trees stand out black against the stars.
+ The wind in gusts bestirs the Autumn leaves,
+ Whose late October tints are lost in gloom,
+ Or are grown pallid with their shivering;
+ Whose fitful rustlings are the only sounds
+ Which break the dead cold silence of the night.
+ Yet hist! faint eerie tones are sometimes heard--
+ Which blanch the cheek and palsy all the limbs--
+ Like to the moaning of departed souls!
+
+ Within the farm-house is a large high room
+ Unceiled, but studded thick with rafters old,
+ Grown black with age or smoke; around its walls
+ Stiff hams and bacon-flitches dimly seen;
+ And here and there the dim uncertain forms
+ Of kitchen-ware and chairs and metal mugs;
+ From the low windows, half across the floor,
+ Stretch bands of moonlight flecked with shadowed leaves
+ Which tremble till the moonlight seems to dance;
+ Beside the fireplace stands some piled-up wood,
+ But the great hearthstone opens cold and black;
+ Beneath the inner door, a chink of light
+ Seems but to make the dimness darker yet;
+ The only sound the tick-tack of the clock,
+ Which serves to make the silence audible.
+
+ High on the hill a lordly pile looks down
+ From its proud eminence and grand domain
+ Upon the farm-house in the vale below.
+ Builded of marble, lofty, turretted,
+ It looms beneath the moonlight o'er the trees
+ Like some etherial castle in the skies,
+ Limned in white alabaster, glistening, grand,
+ Unreal, weird, not made by mortal hands.
+ But sudden, as one's wrapt gaze takes it in,
+ It turns to gray, then vanishes!
+ Yet, no!
+ 'Tis but a sudden cloud athwart the moon.
+
+ Within the castle, in a sumptuous room,
+ Sits young Sir Bertram Morven, all alone.
+ He had been reading that sweet Persian tale
+ Of him who knocked at the beloved one's door
+ And cried: "'Tis I, who loveth thee!" To whom
+ She, answering, said: "Thou canst not enter here!"
+ And how, a twelvemonth past, he knocked again,
+ And the beloved one asking: "Who art thou?"
+ Replied: "It is thyself," and entered in.
+ The dull flames at his feet leap fitfully,
+ And lights and shadows sweep across his brow,
+ Like thoughts of heaven and hell across the soul.
+
+ Back in Holt's farm-house what a change is there!
+ The raftered room is filled with light and sound!
+ From blackened hearth the joyful flames leap up,
+ And roar and crackle through the piled-up logs!
+ On either side the old Holts sit and smile;
+ Betwixt them, circled, sit the younger ones,
+ Who laugh and chat, until the old man cries:
+ "Be silent, children! Let us not forget
+ The ancient usage of our family:
+ The feast of Sah'm has come! The sacred fire--
+ The Fire of Peace--is kindled on the hearth!
+ All Hallowed One, whose warmth is like this fire,
+ Which giveth joy and comfort to us all,
+ Be present with us in the coming storms,
+ Bless us and keep us in the coming year!"
+ Whereat the others, joining in: "O Thou,
+ And all Thy Saints, protect us all the year!"
+ While the flames leap and crackle all the more,
+ And roar a joyous answer to the prayer.
+
+ After a silence of a little space,
+ When thoughts are busy with the by-gone days,
+ The farmer speaks again: "Good wife," says he,
+ "We know the Past, with all its ills and joys,
+ We need not rake its ashes o'er again.
+ The Present finds us hale and hearty yet,
+ Blest in our children and our steadfast love.
+ He who would solve the Future in advance
+ Hath yet to learn the lessons of content.
+ But feasting on contentment is poor fare,
+ What say you to some bread and cheese and beer?
+ And, Ada, daughter, bring my long-stemmed pipe;
+ And, Hettie, niece, the apples and the nuts;
+ And, John, my son, pile up more blazing logs!
+ A chilly tremor through my bones just ran,
+ As if some enemy walked o'er my grave."
+ A shadowy form, shrouded and hooded, bent
+ With weight of years, and wickedness perchance,
+ Creeps slowly towards the glowing window-panes,
+ And peers within. She sees the emptied mugs
+ And pipes; the scattered hazel-husks, which tell
+ A tale of love-divining; in their chairs
+ The old folks dozing. John and Hettie sit
+ Most strangely near together! On the floor
+ Stands Ada, beauteous maiden, all alone,
+ Swaying most gracefully from side to side
+ With uplift hand and circling apple rind,
+ Which sudden drops and forms a doubtful B.
+ With blushing face and close-claspt hands, her eyes,
+ Softened with yearning hope, are raised to where
+ The moonlight strives to enter.
+ Holy saints!
+ What is it ails the terror-stricken maid?
+
+ She "saw a face glued to the window-pane--
+ A hideous face," she said, "which gibed, and seemed
+ To mock, and threaten dire calamity--
+ And waving crutch, which beckoned her outside!"
+ "Tush, tush! my girl," the 'wakened farmer cries;
+ "Twas but a fancy. Ho, John, go outside,
+ And, but to satisfy her, look around!"
+ John goes, and soon returns; he has "well searched
+ Yet searched in vain; no mortal is in sight."
+ So, reassured, the old man's mug is filled;
+ His pipe re-lit; more wood piled on the fire;
+ And, as he craves it, Ada sings a song:
+
+
+ ADA'S SONG.
+
+ A noble knight 'mid lordly halls
+ Dreams all his life away;
+ A lowly maid in cottage walls,
+ Hard-by the rippling waterfalls,
+ Permits her heart to stray.
+
+ His image mirrored in her heart--
+ Heaven help thee, lowly maid,
+ So near and yet so far apart!--
+ He tells his love. She doth not start,
+ Nor move, nor seem afraid!
+
+ "A gruesome gulf's between us spread"--
+ She cries--"Sir Knight, beware!
+ Fate spans that gulf with mystic thread
+ So frail that only souls may tread--
+ Impalpable as air!"
+
+ "Like ancient Roc I'll wing my flight"--
+ He whispers--"O, be mine!
+ I'll wing thee to my castle height
+ And wed thee, sweet!" She answers bright:
+ "Then I, dear love, am thine!"
+
+ The while she sang with more than human art--
+ Her voice full-throbbing like a bird's--
+ She seemed to see a vision of the knight,
+ And seemed to be the maiden of the song,
+ And half her heart expressed its love in words,
+ While all her soul beamed from her glorious eyes,
+ And, at the last, her rounded arms, outstretched,
+ Seemed to embrace the hero of her song.
+
+ While Ada sings, what happens at the hall?
+ Sir Bertram still sits gazing at the fire,
+ Seeing strange shapes and embered phantasies
+ Come and depart and come again more strange,
+ While his set gaze grows painful, and his mind
+ Whirls with conflicting conscience and desire;
+ For he hath seen the beauteous, lovely maid--
+ And loved her from the moment that he saw--
+ Loved her, yet dared not wed, nor whisper love;
+ And now he seems to see her in her home,
+ Her golden tresses rippling o'er her brow,
+ Her violet eyes, lit up with love's own light,
+ Turned full upon himself, O ravishment!
+ While her full-throated song enthralls his soul.
+ "O love!" he cries, "Sweet love, be mine indeed--
+ Thou pearl of beauty! goddess of my heart!"
+ Her outstretched arms appear to welcome him!
+ He raises his, to clasp her to his breast--
+ When lo, the vision vanishes! and loud
+ The hoarse tower-bell clangs out the hour of ten!
+
+ He rises hastily and treads the floor.
+ "What was it Elpsie croaked, as home he rode
+ That very evening?--Elpsie, that old hag!
+ What devil had inspired her?--'Bertram, lad,
+ Ere cock-crow this All-Hallow-E'en I see
+ Thy loved one swoon in thine enamored arms!'
+ And then she laughed uncannily and struck
+ Her crutch against the lightning-blasted ash,
+ And mumbled, 'My revenge is come at last!'
+ What could she mean? Impossible, to-night!
+ Yet when hath Elpsie prophesied in vain?"
+ His heart beats fast, his blood begins to surge,
+ His head to swim. "More air!" he cries; "more air!
+ A long brisk walk will shake these fancies off!"
+
+ Meanwhile, the song grown silent at the farm;
+ The egg-charm ended, and the molten-lead
+ And apple-bobbing done with; now they sit:
+ The old man snoring while the old dame nods--
+ The young ones telling stories of the Eve:
+ How Janet Smith last Hallow-E'en did see
+ O'er her left shoulder, after certain rites,
+ The face of John Smith, who soon married her;
+ And how the mirror-test was good, no doubt;
+ And how the colewort's prophecies were sure;
+ And how the hemp-seed test was surer still;
+ But best of all, the image in the well!--
+ Stories which creep, and breed a shallow laugh
+ Perchance, with inward shuddering and fear--
+ Until a sharp gust shakes the window-panes,
+ As in the grip of some strong shiv'ring hand,
+ And, with a start, the old folks wake again!
+ "Good man, 'tis long past ten!" the old dame cries.
+ "Well, well, good wife, the hours creep on apace--
+ The sacred fire doth need replenishment--
+ And we grow older, feebler, with the years;
+ And soon must leave to younger, stronger hands,
+ The toils and troubles, and the joys, of life,
+ As now we yield to them this vigil strict;
+ Another mug and pipe, and then, to bed!"
+
+ The "image in the well!" What well? and where?
+ From farm and castle full a mile away,
+ Near to an ancient tree--a Druid oak--
+ The old well stands--its waters deep and pure--
+ Its moss-grown stones much worn by age and use.
+ In olden days--so runs the legend--when
+ The good King Arthur and his chosen knights
+ Upheld the right, and lifted womanhood
+ By force of arms to heights almost divine--
+ A recreant knight betrayed a gentle maid,
+ And she, ashamed to let the thing be known,
+ Fled from her home, into the forest wild,
+ And grieved and wept her very soul away.
+ And when she died--the tale is often told
+ And all the people there believe it true--
+ From the hard earth, beside her, gushed a spring,
+ Fed, as they say, by all the tears she shed--
+ Which, on a day when Arthur passed that way,
+ And heard the story sad, he bade be walled
+ With masonry, "As monument," he said,
+ "To teach all coming time that Mother Earth
+ Hath more of heart and faith than recreant knight"--
+ And named it "Myra's Well"--and passed along.
+ And later, when the false knight rode that way,
+ He was beset, dismounted, beaten, stripped,
+ And sorely wounded in a fray, and crawled
+ To Myra's Well--not knowing of the tale--
+ And kneeled to slake his thirst, and bending low,
+ Saw her reproachful face, and seeing, died!
+
+ Scarcely a bow-shot from poor Myra's Well,
+ Sheltered and hid by woods and undergrowth,
+ A low hut leans against gray-lichened rocks--
+ Old Elpsie's home--beshunned by humankind--
+ Of which strange stories had been gossiped 'round:
+ How fifty years ago, on Hallow-E'en,
+ At midnight, in a storm, a wayward youth
+ Losing his way had stumbled on the hut
+ And found it tenanted, and peeping in,
+ Beheld a sad-eyed maiden all alone
+ Reclining on a couch hard-by the fire!
+ How he had prayed admittance from the storm;
+ How pity beat the wall of prudence down;
+ And how he took advantage of her state;
+ And how she cursed him in her crazy shame,
+ And prayed God blast all issue of his loins
+ Until the wrong should be atoned in kind;
+ And how, as years ran by, though rarely seen,
+ The sad-eyed maid became a withered hag
+ And practised witchcraft and foul sorcery.
+ But whence she came, or who she was, or why
+ She was called Elpsie, none could say. They knew
+ Alone, for sure, that Farmer Holt had once,
+ Near to the graveyard, in the dead of night,
+ Seen by the moonlight, riding on a broom--
+ Straight from the castle to the hut beyond--
+ A form and face like Elpsie's, in the air--
+ Scattering on all sides curses as she flew!
+ And people fearful were of meeting her,
+ And even feared to pass by Myra's Well.
+
+ From the low thatch of Elpsie's hut upcurls
+ A smoke-wraith, dimly seen; beneath the eaves
+ Black shadows fall, save where a yellow gleam,
+ Dull and uncertain, from a crevice pours.
+ Low-pendant from a crane, within the hut,
+ A great black pot is simmering o'er a fire,
+ Whose flickering light bewrays a couch, a stool,
+ And, crouching by the fire, the tattered form
+ The matted hair, the parchment-wrinkled skin,
+ Of Elpsie--elbowing her knees, her jowl
+ Supported like a wedge between her palms--
+ Crouching and swaying feebly back and forth--
+ Her gaze intent upon the shifting scum
+ Or on the greenish vapor it exudes--
+ The while her cracked voice croons uncannily:
+
+ ELPSIE'S CROON.
+
+ In the Halls of the Morvens the race-curse shall fail
+ When the Great Mountain heaves and comes down to the vale,
+ And the last of his race the Sin shall bewail.
+
+ Black toad's liver,
+ Green snake's slime,
+ Hazel sliver,
+ Witches grime,
+ White-tipt tail of coal-black cat,
+ Rotted wing of vampire bat,
+ Were-wolf's tooth, and claw of rat,
+ Simmer! simmer! simmer!
+
+ For the curse of the Morvens shall utterly die
+ When a Raven, at midnight, by moonlight, hard-by,
+ With the weight of a Forest shall easily fly.
+
+ Maiden's fears and
+ Suitor's moans,
+ Dead girl's tears and
+ Warlock's groans,
+ Spirits' dust from witches' broom,
+ Drop of froth from madman's spume,
+ Ivy leaf from crack of doom,
+ Simmer! simmer! simmer!
+
+ When the Tempter is weak beside Goodness and Grace,
+ And the Wrong is atoned in the very same place,
+ Then shall Happiness fall upon Morven's dark race.
+
+ How comes Sir Bertram here at such a time?
+ And has his walk dispelled his phantasies?
+ Through the crisp night-air faintly booms a bell;
+ "'Tis from the castle. There is Myra's well!
+ Eleven o'clock--and still a mile from home!
+ And there is Elpsie's hut! What did she mean?"
+ And as he notes the dull outpouring light
+ The cranny grows more bright, and larger seems!
+ "What could that mean? A moment more would tell."
+ And then he hears the warlock's prophecy!
+ He peers within and sees, or seems to see,
+ A sweet and sad-eyed maiden all alone,
+ Reclining on a couch hard-by the fire!
+ He rubs his eyes, as dreaming, looks again--
+ And sees an empty couch, dull flickering flames,
+ And toothless Elpsie rocking to and fro!
+ Then he remembers, with a start, that once--
+ O, long ago!--he knows not when nor where--
+ He had a dream, distinct and plain as this,
+ In which he saw this self-same sad-eyed maid
+ Upon the couch--and then the toothless hag!
+ And after that, beside a moss-grown well--
+ Could that be Myra's?--kneeling on the curb,
+ Her golden hair half-silvered by the moon,
+ And violet eyes lit up by love divine,
+ His Ada--his! And then there came a mist
+ Which blotted from his mem'ry all the rest.
+ "Ten thousand limping devils! Could it be
+ The well had magic power?--That SHE had heard?
+ That SHE this night would test it?" Thus thought he;
+ "And then Old Elpsie's words--ne'er known to fail!
+ By all the Saints and Souls I'll wait and see!"
+
+ From out the rear-door of the Farmer's house--
+ The old folks long since gone, and fast asleep--
+ Goes pretty Hettie. Once before this Eve
+ She went a short space hand-in-hand with John,
+ Both blindfold, to pull kail; but now alone:
+ Under her arm a bag half full of seed--
+ Hemp-seed--the which at midnight she must sow,
+ And, looking back, will see the reaper come--
+ Gathering the growing crop--her future spouse!
+ Scarce is she hid from view, when after her,
+ Steps forth sly John, a sickle in his hand!
+ Then, from the front, steals Ada, trembling one--
+ Half startled at the shadows on the lawn--
+ And takes the bridle-path t'ward Myra's well!
+ The wind sighs softly through the falling leaves,
+ And she sighs half responsively. The bark
+ Of distant hound sounds strangely near! The low
+ Of far-off cattle seems like near-by groan,
+ And sends strange shudders through her hurrying frame;
+ The rustle of the leaves, or snapping twig,
+ Makes her heart beat more quickly than a clock!
+ An hundred times before she sees the well
+ She clasps her rosary and says a prayer
+ And wishes she were home again once more--
+ Yet hurries all the faster on her way!
+ And once a frightened hare dashed swift across
+ Her ghostly path, and shook with terror all
+ Her comely limbs! And once she saw two eyes--
+ Two piercing eyes that sparkled, 'neath a bush,
+ And made her giddy till she signed the cross--
+ And saw a great black cat flit fast away!
+ Strange shapes on either hand she seemed to see
+ Which gibed and waved long shadowy arms, and shook
+ Long threat'ning fingers at her! Once she thought
+ She saw, betwixt a tree-top and the moon,
+ A witches form with Elpsie's face, and heard,
+ Or thought she heard, harsh maledictions fall!
+ And once she slipt, and nearly fell with fright,
+ Upon a slimy, moving thing, that crawled!
+ And thrice she heard the dreaded were-wolf's howl!
+ And thrice a flame-eyed snake did hiss at her!
+ And thrice she heard the hooting of an owl!
+ Below, above, on all sides, sharp beset
+ With horrid shapes and phantasies and threats,
+ Which grew more numerous and portentious still
+ As she came nearer to the sacred well,
+ Until her limbs could scarcely bear her form,
+ And all her Faith seemed vanishing in fear,
+ And courage almost failed expectancy.
+
+ At last, thank God, the sacred well in sight,
+ She kneels some minutes more, to tell her beads
+ And gather breath and strength and that repose
+ And fixity of purpose needed for
+ The coming test. Then rising, looking not
+ To right or left, she comes unto the well--
+ An open space near by the sacred oak--
+ And kneeling at the curb, with eyes uplift,
+ She addeth to her other prayers these words:
+ "O Sainted Myra, sanctified by death
+ And sorrows such as moved both Earth and Heaven;
+ O Sainted Myra, purified through tears
+ Of which this well bears witness night and day;
+ And thou, O Holy Mother, in whose heart
+ The erring find a wide-souled sympathy
+ And mediate help--O help me now I pray!
+ If this be sin, to wish to know the Truth--
+ That Truth which fond hearts find within this well--
+ Forgive the sin, and save me of thy grace!"
+
+ Her pensive pose, her small claspt-hands, her hair
+ Like golden threads in silvery air bestirred,
+ The beauty of her angel face, her eyes
+ Lit with divine effulgence like twin stars,
+ Her trustful innocence and faith, would melt
+ A heart of stone to worship at her feet!
+ With outstretched arms and timid touch of curb--
+ Thinking the time has come--she forward bends,
+ Looks down upon the glassy surface then--
+ And as she looks, the startled air resounds
+ With clanging bell, which strikes the hour of twelve!
+ Now, Holy Mary, spare that lovely maid!
+
+ What sees she there? At first the pool seems dark--
+ A cloud perchance swift coursing o'er the moon--
+ And, only dimly visible, A SHAPE!
+ But, as she looks, the shape grows clearer, till
+ She sees the image of Sir Bertram's face!
+ "O Bertram! dear Sir Bertram! God be thanked,"
+ She cries, "that Bertram will be lord of me!"
+ And then she sees TWO faces in the well!
+ Her own, and his! An arm steals 'round her waist!
+ Startled, she turns, and swoons in Bertram's arms!
+
+ He holds her close to his impassioned breast,
+ Kissing her hair and eyes and cheeks and mouth;
+ Then feels the beating of her fluttering heart,
+ And prays her to come back to life and him.
+ He chafes her small white hands and dainty limbs,
+ And, from the well, drops water on her brow;
+ But all in vain--so cold and still she lies,
+ Like living beauty sudden smit with death!
+
+ "Fool that I was!" the anxious lover cries--
+ "I have worked harm indeed by coming forth.
+ Thus oft we hurt the one we love most dear
+ And learn too late the folly of an hour!"
+ He lifts her gently in his loving arms,
+ And bears her easily to Elpsie's hut--
+ No Elpsie there--the door wide open stands!--
+ And lays her on the couch, renews the fire,
+ And on his bended knee by Ada's side
+ Regards her sadly and adoringly.
+
+ Soon he perceives a tremor o'er her steal,
+ Swift fluttering of her breath, a sudden gasp,
+ A deep-drawn sigh, and then her eyes unclose--
+ Her violet eyes so tender and so true,
+ Yet with a far-off-look between the lids--
+ And gaze half mournfully at him. Then soft
+ And musical her low voice sounds again:
+ "My Bertram, mine, methought I had a dream,
+ And in that dream I lost thee--thou, my life!
+ And yet through all that dream, another dream,
+ In which thou madest me all thine own--thy wife--
+ And rained soft kisses on my lips and brow,
+ And guarded me like Christ and all His Saints,
+ And held me safely to thy noble breast
+ Through all of good or ill--
+ But thou art pale!
+ And on thy face swift shadows come and go!
+ Come, kiss me love! The night is cold, not thou!
+ For warm thy brown cheek is, as flesh and blood;
+ And now I feel thy sweet breath on my brow!
+ Are spirits all as palpable as thou?"--
+ And then--half startled by the sudden doubt--
+ "Where am I, Bertram?"
+ "Here upon my heart,
+ Thou best-beloved, secure and safe with him
+ Who is thyself from henceforth and for aye,
+ Whether for good or ill--but surely good;
+ Here, in old Elpsie's hut, near-by the well,
+ At which I found thee, and didst bring thee here
+ Frightened by sudden seeing of a face
+ That looked the love it owns!"--
+ "O holy Saints!
+ O shame! what have I done?" poor Ada cries:
+ "It all comes back with harrowing circumstance,
+ Alas! to curse my mem'ry; woe is me!"
+ And here broke down with sudden storm of tears--
+ Of tears and sighs!
+ "Nay, nay, dear heart"--he chides,
+ And clasps her close--"The churchmen hold it true
+ That all which rightly ends is justified.
+ I always loved thee, sweet, from the first day--
+ But dared not wed--nor even woo a bride.
+ A curse is on our house. When yet a child
+ Old Elpsie told me how ancestral sin
+ Had brought it down from father unto son,
+ And thence to me. My grandsire died, unshriven,
+ By his own hand, 'tis said, beside this well;
+ And all his children died quite suddenly
+ By deaths almost as strange; and I alone
+ Am left--the last one of the line! Dare I
+ Bring misery and death to her I love--
+ As I love thee?"
+ "Thou lovest me, Sir Knight,
+ A lowly maiden, in a forest lone?
+ Ah! honest love would make no chaffer thus!
+ Thou hintest what thy proud lips dare not say--
+ Dallying like wanton bee about a flower!
+ Hath honor fled from man?"
+ "Nay, nay, mine own--
+ Banish distrust and fear! The hand of fate
+ Is in our meeting--none, save she, to blame.
+ There is a moment in each being's life
+ On which that being's destiny doth hang--
+ A moment fateful and all-pivotal;
+ For both of us that moment now has come!
+ Around the head of God a nimbus floats--
+ 'Tis the divine effulgence of His Truth!--
+ And all His Saints do borrow of that light;
+ And even men do share its guiding beams.
+ I ask thy hand in wedlock, lovely maid,
+ If thou wilt brave the curse with me."
+ "The curse!
+ Ten thousand curses would I risk with thee
+ As thy leal wife! To such a Knight as thou
+ My Bertram--my true Knight--no ill shall fall,
+ But, should it come, then let it fall on me!
+ Yet Heaven is kind, and Mary merciful--
+ O Holy one, most merciful to me!"
+
+ Sir Bertram saw sweet Ada safely home;
+ And, as he left her, from the near-by woods--
+ His heart a-tremble with his happiness--
+ He saw a light; 'twas Elpsie's hut in flames!
+
+ * * * * *
+
+ Beside the well now stands a cosy lodge
+ Sir Bertram built for Elpsie, and the hut,
+ Which heard their vows that night, exists no more.
+ Sir Bertram built a chapel on its site;
+ And thence, that coming Christmas, took his bride,
+ His lovely Ada, to her Castle-Home--
+ The home of Morven the "Great Mountain," who
+ Had gone "down to the vale" to meet his love--
+ Of Bertram, the "bright raven" who, with ease,
+ "By moonlight," in "mid-watches of the night,"
+ Had carried Ada's form--a full-sized Holt--
+ And "Holt" means "Forest" in our Saxon tongue.
+
+ And when old Elpsie died, she left a will
+ Which told the wrong that Bertram's grandsire did
+ To her, the grand-aunt of his winsome bride--
+ And left her dying blessing on the twain.
+ And she was buried in the chapel vault,
+ And prayers were said to save her soul from hell;
+ And often in the after-days they came:
+ Sir Bertram and his Lady with their sons
+ And daughters--and the Holts at times, with theirs--
+ For John and Hettie now were parents too--
+ And decked the tomb with sweet forget-me-nots;
+ And often lingered by poor Myra's Well.
+
+
+
+
+
+End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Myra's Well, by George Francis Dawson
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