The Dream of Eugene Aram.’Twas in the prime of summer-time,An evening calm and cool,And four-and-twenty happy boysCame bounding out of school;[1093]There were some that ran, and some that leaptLike troutlets in the pool.Away[1094]they sped, with gamesome minds,And souls untouched by sin;To a level mead they came, and thereThey drave the wickets in:Pleasantly shone[1095]the setting sunOver the town of Lynn.Like sportive deer they coursed about,And shouted as they ran—Turning to mirth all things[1096]of earth,As only boyhood can,But the usher[1097]sat remote from all,A melancholy man!His hat was off, his vest apart,To catch Heaven’s[1098]blessed breeze;For a burning thought was in his brow,And his bosom ill at ease;So he leaned his head on his hands, and readThe book between his knees.Leaf after leaf he turned[1099]it o’er,Nor ever glanced aside,For the peace of his soul he read that bookIn the golden eventide;Much study had made him very lean,And pale, and leaden-eyed.At last he shut the ponderous tome;With a fast and fervent graspHe strained[1100]the dusky covers close,And fixed the brazen hasp:“O God![1101]could I so close my mind,And clasp it with a clasp!”Then leaping[1102]on his feet upright:Some moody turns he took—Now up the mead, then down the mead,And past a shady nook—And lo! he saw a little boy[1103]That pored upon a book.“My gentle lad, what is’t you read,Romance or fairy fable?Or is it some historic page,Of kings and crowns unstable?”The young boy gave an upward glance—“It is ‘The Death of Abel.’”[1104]The usher took six hasty strides,As smit with sudden pain—Six hasty strides beyond the place,Then slowly back again;And down[1105]he sat beside the lad,And talked with him of Cain;And, long since then, of bloody menWhose deeds tradition saves;Of lonely folk cut off unseen,And hid[1106]in sudden graves;Of horrid stabs, in groves forlorn,And murders done in caves;And how the sprites of injured menShriek upward[1107]from the sod—Ay, how the ghostly hand will pointTo show the burial clod;And unknown facts of guilty actsAre seen in dreams from God;He told how murderers walked the earthBeneath the curse[1108]of Cain,With crimson clouds before their eyes,And flames about their brain;For blood has left upon their soulsIts everlasting stain.“And well,” quoth he, “I know, for truth,Their pangs must be extreme—Woe, woe, unutterable woe,[1109]Who spill life’s sacred stream!For why?Methought, last night, I wroughtA murder in a dream!“One that had never done me wrong,A feeble man, and old;I led him to a lonely field—[1110]The moon[1111]shone clear and cold;‘Now here,’ said I, ‘this man shall die,And I will have his gold!’“Two sudden blows[1112]with ragged stick,And one with a heavy stone,One hurried gash[1113]with a hasty knife,And then the deed was done;There was nothing lying at my footBut lifeless flesh and bone.“Nothing but lifeless flesh and bone,That could not do me ill;And yet I feared him all the more,For lying there so still;[1114]There was a manhood in his look,That murder could not kill.“And, lo! the universal air[1115]Seemed lit with ghastly flame;Ten thousand thousand dreadful eyes[1116]Were looking down in blame;I took the dead men by his hand,[1117]And called upon his name.“O God![1118]it made me quake to seeSuch sense within the slain;But when I touched[1119]the lifeless clay,The blood gushed out[1120]amain;For every clot a burning spotWas scorching in my brain.[1121]“My head was like an ardent coal;My heart[1122]as solid ice;My wretched, wretched soul, I knew,Was at the devil’s price;A dozen times I groaned; the deadHad never groaned but twice.“And now, from forth the frowning sky,[1123]From the heaven’s topmost height,I heard a voice—the awful voiceOf the blood-avenging sprite:‘Thou guilty man! take up thy dead,And hide it from my sight!’“I took the dreary body up,[1124]And cast[1125]it in a stream—A sluggish water, black[1126]as ink,The depth was so extreme,My gentle boy, remember[1127]thisIsnothing but a dream!“Down[1128]went the corpse with hollow plunge,And vanished in the pool;Anon I cleansed[1129]my bloody hands,And washed my forehead[1130]cool,And sat among the urchins young,That evening in the school.“O heaven![1131]to think of their white souls,And mine so black and grim!I could not share in childish prayer,Nor join in evening hymn;Like a devil of the pit[1132]I seemed,Mid holy cherubim.“And peace went with them, one and all,And each calm pillow spread;But guilt was my grim chamberlain,That lighted me to bed;And drew my midnight curtains round,[1133]With fingers bloody red.“All night I lay in agony,In anguish[1134]dark and deep,My fevered eyes I dared not close,But stared aghast at Sleep;For Sin has rendered unto herThe keys of hell to keep.“All night I lay in agony,From weary chime to chime,With one besetting, horrid hint,That racked[1135]me all the time—A mighty yearning like the firstFierce impulse unto crime.“One stern tyrannic thought, that madeAll other thoughts its slave;[1136]Stronger and stronger every pulseDid that temptation crave,Still urging me to go[1137]and seeThe dead man in his grave.“Heavily I rose up, as soonAs light was in the sky,And sought the black, accursed[1138]pool,With a wild, misgiving eye;And I saw the dead[1139]in the river bed,For the faithless stream was dry.“Merrily rose the lark,[1140]and shookThe dewdrop from its wing;But I never marked its morning flight,I never heard it sing;For I was stooping once againUnder the horrid thing.“With breathless speed, like a soul in chase,I took him up[1141]and ran;There was no time to dig a graveBefore the day began:In a lonesome wood, with heaps of leaves,Ihid[1142]the murdered man;“And all that day I read in school,But my thought was otherwhere;As soon as the midday task was done,In secret I was there;And a mighty wind had swept[1143]the leaves,Andstillthe corpse[1144]was bare.“Then down I cast me[1145]on my face,And first began to weep,For I knew my secret then was oneThat earth refused to keep—Or land or sea, though he should beTen thousand fathoms[1146]deep.“So wills the fierce avenging sprite,Till blood for blood atones;Ay, though he’s buried in a cave,And trodden down with stones,And years have rotted off his flesh,The world shall see his bones.“O God! that horrid,horrid[1147]dreamBesets me now,awake;Again, again, with dizzy brain,[1148]The human life I take;And my red right hand grows raging hot,Like Cranmer’s at the stake.“And still no peace for the restless clay,Will wave or mould allow;The horrid thingpursuesmy soul—It stands before[1149]menow!”The fearful boy looked up, and sawHuge drops upon his brow.That very night, while gentle sleepThe urchin’s eyelids kissed,Two stern-faced men set out from Lynn,Through the cold and heavy mist;And Eugene Aram walked[1150]between,With gyves upon his wrist.—Thomas Hood.Gestures.[1093]H. O.[1094]H. Sw.[1095]P. H. Sw.[1096]B. H. O.[1097]Left H. O.[1098]Glance up.[1099]Sp.[1100]Sp.[1101]Look up.[1102]Left, raise P.[1103]D. F.[1104]Look up.[1105]D. F.[1106]P. D. F.[1107]Raise P.[1108]P. H. O.[1109]Shake head.[1110]H. F.[1111]A. O.[1112]Sp.[1113]Sp.[1114]P. D. F.[1115]A. Sw.[1116]Ind. A. Impulses.[1117]Sp.[1118]Left hand to face.[1119]P. Sp.[1120]Raise P. Sp.[1121]To head.[1122]To heart sustained.[1123]Look up.[1124]-[1125]B. Sp.[1126]P. D. F.[1127]Ind. H. O.[1128]D. F.[1129]B. Sp.[1130]To head.[1131]Clasp hands and look up.[1132]Ind. D. O.[1133]B. Sp.[1134]B. Cli. D.[1135]To breast.[1136]P. D. O.[1137]H. O.[1138]V. D. O.[1139]Ind. D. O.[1140]A. O.[1141]B. Sp.[1142]P. D. O.[1143]P. D. Sw.[1144]D. O.[1145]B. P. D. F.[1146]D. F.[1147]B. V. H. O.[1148]To head.[1149]H. F. and shrink backward.[1150]H. F.
’Twas in the prime of summer-time,An evening calm and cool,And four-and-twenty happy boysCame bounding out of school;[1093]There were some that ran, and some that leaptLike troutlets in the pool.Away[1094]they sped, with gamesome minds,And souls untouched by sin;To a level mead they came, and thereThey drave the wickets in:Pleasantly shone[1095]the setting sunOver the town of Lynn.Like sportive deer they coursed about,And shouted as they ran—Turning to mirth all things[1096]of earth,As only boyhood can,But the usher[1097]sat remote from all,A melancholy man!His hat was off, his vest apart,To catch Heaven’s[1098]blessed breeze;For a burning thought was in his brow,And his bosom ill at ease;So he leaned his head on his hands, and readThe book between his knees.Leaf after leaf he turned[1099]it o’er,Nor ever glanced aside,For the peace of his soul he read that bookIn the golden eventide;Much study had made him very lean,And pale, and leaden-eyed.At last he shut the ponderous tome;With a fast and fervent graspHe strained[1100]the dusky covers close,And fixed the brazen hasp:“O God![1101]could I so close my mind,And clasp it with a clasp!”Then leaping[1102]on his feet upright:Some moody turns he took—Now up the mead, then down the mead,And past a shady nook—And lo! he saw a little boy[1103]That pored upon a book.“My gentle lad, what is’t you read,Romance or fairy fable?Or is it some historic page,Of kings and crowns unstable?”The young boy gave an upward glance—“It is ‘The Death of Abel.’”[1104]The usher took six hasty strides,As smit with sudden pain—Six hasty strides beyond the place,Then slowly back again;And down[1105]he sat beside the lad,And talked with him of Cain;And, long since then, of bloody menWhose deeds tradition saves;Of lonely folk cut off unseen,And hid[1106]in sudden graves;Of horrid stabs, in groves forlorn,And murders done in caves;And how the sprites of injured menShriek upward[1107]from the sod—Ay, how the ghostly hand will pointTo show the burial clod;And unknown facts of guilty actsAre seen in dreams from God;He told how murderers walked the earthBeneath the curse[1108]of Cain,With crimson clouds before their eyes,And flames about their brain;For blood has left upon their soulsIts everlasting stain.“And well,” quoth he, “I know, for truth,Their pangs must be extreme—Woe, woe, unutterable woe,[1109]Who spill life’s sacred stream!For why?Methought, last night, I wroughtA murder in a dream!“One that had never done me wrong,A feeble man, and old;I led him to a lonely field—[1110]The moon[1111]shone clear and cold;‘Now here,’ said I, ‘this man shall die,And I will have his gold!’“Two sudden blows[1112]with ragged stick,And one with a heavy stone,One hurried gash[1113]with a hasty knife,And then the deed was done;There was nothing lying at my footBut lifeless flesh and bone.“Nothing but lifeless flesh and bone,That could not do me ill;And yet I feared him all the more,For lying there so still;[1114]There was a manhood in his look,That murder could not kill.“And, lo! the universal air[1115]Seemed lit with ghastly flame;Ten thousand thousand dreadful eyes[1116]Were looking down in blame;I took the dead men by his hand,[1117]And called upon his name.“O God![1118]it made me quake to seeSuch sense within the slain;But when I touched[1119]the lifeless clay,The blood gushed out[1120]amain;For every clot a burning spotWas scorching in my brain.[1121]“My head was like an ardent coal;My heart[1122]as solid ice;My wretched, wretched soul, I knew,Was at the devil’s price;A dozen times I groaned; the deadHad never groaned but twice.“And now, from forth the frowning sky,[1123]From the heaven’s topmost height,I heard a voice—the awful voiceOf the blood-avenging sprite:‘Thou guilty man! take up thy dead,And hide it from my sight!’“I took the dreary body up,[1124]And cast[1125]it in a stream—A sluggish water, black[1126]as ink,The depth was so extreme,My gentle boy, remember[1127]thisIsnothing but a dream!“Down[1128]went the corpse with hollow plunge,And vanished in the pool;Anon I cleansed[1129]my bloody hands,And washed my forehead[1130]cool,And sat among the urchins young,That evening in the school.“O heaven![1131]to think of their white souls,And mine so black and grim!I could not share in childish prayer,Nor join in evening hymn;Like a devil of the pit[1132]I seemed,Mid holy cherubim.“And peace went with them, one and all,And each calm pillow spread;But guilt was my grim chamberlain,That lighted me to bed;And drew my midnight curtains round,[1133]With fingers bloody red.“All night I lay in agony,In anguish[1134]dark and deep,My fevered eyes I dared not close,But stared aghast at Sleep;For Sin has rendered unto herThe keys of hell to keep.“All night I lay in agony,From weary chime to chime,With one besetting, horrid hint,That racked[1135]me all the time—A mighty yearning like the firstFierce impulse unto crime.“One stern tyrannic thought, that madeAll other thoughts its slave;[1136]Stronger and stronger every pulseDid that temptation crave,Still urging me to go[1137]and seeThe dead man in his grave.“Heavily I rose up, as soonAs light was in the sky,And sought the black, accursed[1138]pool,With a wild, misgiving eye;And I saw the dead[1139]in the river bed,For the faithless stream was dry.“Merrily rose the lark,[1140]and shookThe dewdrop from its wing;But I never marked its morning flight,I never heard it sing;For I was stooping once againUnder the horrid thing.“With breathless speed, like a soul in chase,I took him up[1141]and ran;There was no time to dig a graveBefore the day began:In a lonesome wood, with heaps of leaves,Ihid[1142]the murdered man;“And all that day I read in school,But my thought was otherwhere;As soon as the midday task was done,In secret I was there;And a mighty wind had swept[1143]the leaves,Andstillthe corpse[1144]was bare.“Then down I cast me[1145]on my face,And first began to weep,For I knew my secret then was oneThat earth refused to keep—Or land or sea, though he should beTen thousand fathoms[1146]deep.“So wills the fierce avenging sprite,Till blood for blood atones;Ay, though he’s buried in a cave,And trodden down with stones,And years have rotted off his flesh,The world shall see his bones.“O God! that horrid,horrid[1147]dreamBesets me now,awake;Again, again, with dizzy brain,[1148]The human life I take;And my red right hand grows raging hot,Like Cranmer’s at the stake.“And still no peace for the restless clay,Will wave or mould allow;The horrid thingpursuesmy soul—It stands before[1149]menow!”The fearful boy looked up, and sawHuge drops upon his brow.That very night, while gentle sleepThe urchin’s eyelids kissed,Two stern-faced men set out from Lynn,Through the cold and heavy mist;And Eugene Aram walked[1150]between,With gyves upon his wrist.—Thomas Hood.
’Twas in the prime of summer-time,An evening calm and cool,And four-and-twenty happy boysCame bounding out of school;[1093]There were some that ran, and some that leaptLike troutlets in the pool.Away[1094]they sped, with gamesome minds,And souls untouched by sin;To a level mead they came, and thereThey drave the wickets in:Pleasantly shone[1095]the setting sunOver the town of Lynn.Like sportive deer they coursed about,And shouted as they ran—Turning to mirth all things[1096]of earth,As only boyhood can,But the usher[1097]sat remote from all,A melancholy man!His hat was off, his vest apart,To catch Heaven’s[1098]blessed breeze;For a burning thought was in his brow,And his bosom ill at ease;So he leaned his head on his hands, and readThe book between his knees.Leaf after leaf he turned[1099]it o’er,Nor ever glanced aside,For the peace of his soul he read that bookIn the golden eventide;Much study had made him very lean,And pale, and leaden-eyed.At last he shut the ponderous tome;With a fast and fervent graspHe strained[1100]the dusky covers close,And fixed the brazen hasp:“O God![1101]could I so close my mind,And clasp it with a clasp!”Then leaping[1102]on his feet upright:Some moody turns he took—Now up the mead, then down the mead,And past a shady nook—And lo! he saw a little boy[1103]That pored upon a book.“My gentle lad, what is’t you read,Romance or fairy fable?Or is it some historic page,Of kings and crowns unstable?”The young boy gave an upward glance—“It is ‘The Death of Abel.’”[1104]The usher took six hasty strides,As smit with sudden pain—Six hasty strides beyond the place,Then slowly back again;And down[1105]he sat beside the lad,And talked with him of Cain;And, long since then, of bloody menWhose deeds tradition saves;Of lonely folk cut off unseen,And hid[1106]in sudden graves;Of horrid stabs, in groves forlorn,And murders done in caves;And how the sprites of injured menShriek upward[1107]from the sod—Ay, how the ghostly hand will pointTo show the burial clod;And unknown facts of guilty actsAre seen in dreams from God;He told how murderers walked the earthBeneath the curse[1108]of Cain,With crimson clouds before their eyes,And flames about their brain;For blood has left upon their soulsIts everlasting stain.“And well,” quoth he, “I know, for truth,Their pangs must be extreme—Woe, woe, unutterable woe,[1109]Who spill life’s sacred stream!For why?Methought, last night, I wroughtA murder in a dream!“One that had never done me wrong,A feeble man, and old;I led him to a lonely field—[1110]The moon[1111]shone clear and cold;‘Now here,’ said I, ‘this man shall die,And I will have his gold!’“Two sudden blows[1112]with ragged stick,And one with a heavy stone,One hurried gash[1113]with a hasty knife,And then the deed was done;There was nothing lying at my footBut lifeless flesh and bone.“Nothing but lifeless flesh and bone,That could not do me ill;And yet I feared him all the more,For lying there so still;[1114]There was a manhood in his look,That murder could not kill.“And, lo! the universal air[1115]Seemed lit with ghastly flame;Ten thousand thousand dreadful eyes[1116]Were looking down in blame;I took the dead men by his hand,[1117]And called upon his name.“O God![1118]it made me quake to seeSuch sense within the slain;But when I touched[1119]the lifeless clay,The blood gushed out[1120]amain;For every clot a burning spotWas scorching in my brain.[1121]“My head was like an ardent coal;My heart[1122]as solid ice;My wretched, wretched soul, I knew,Was at the devil’s price;A dozen times I groaned; the deadHad never groaned but twice.“And now, from forth the frowning sky,[1123]From the heaven’s topmost height,I heard a voice—the awful voiceOf the blood-avenging sprite:‘Thou guilty man! take up thy dead,And hide it from my sight!’“I took the dreary body up,[1124]And cast[1125]it in a stream—A sluggish water, black[1126]as ink,The depth was so extreme,My gentle boy, remember[1127]thisIsnothing but a dream!“Down[1128]went the corpse with hollow plunge,And vanished in the pool;Anon I cleansed[1129]my bloody hands,And washed my forehead[1130]cool,And sat among the urchins young,That evening in the school.“O heaven![1131]to think of their white souls,And mine so black and grim!I could not share in childish prayer,Nor join in evening hymn;Like a devil of the pit[1132]I seemed,Mid holy cherubim.“And peace went with them, one and all,And each calm pillow spread;But guilt was my grim chamberlain,That lighted me to bed;And drew my midnight curtains round,[1133]With fingers bloody red.“All night I lay in agony,In anguish[1134]dark and deep,My fevered eyes I dared not close,But stared aghast at Sleep;For Sin has rendered unto herThe keys of hell to keep.“All night I lay in agony,From weary chime to chime,With one besetting, horrid hint,That racked[1135]me all the time—A mighty yearning like the firstFierce impulse unto crime.“One stern tyrannic thought, that madeAll other thoughts its slave;[1136]Stronger and stronger every pulseDid that temptation crave,Still urging me to go[1137]and seeThe dead man in his grave.“Heavily I rose up, as soonAs light was in the sky,And sought the black, accursed[1138]pool,With a wild, misgiving eye;And I saw the dead[1139]in the river bed,For the faithless stream was dry.“Merrily rose the lark,[1140]and shookThe dewdrop from its wing;But I never marked its morning flight,I never heard it sing;For I was stooping once againUnder the horrid thing.“With breathless speed, like a soul in chase,I took him up[1141]and ran;There was no time to dig a graveBefore the day began:In a lonesome wood, with heaps of leaves,Ihid[1142]the murdered man;“And all that day I read in school,But my thought was otherwhere;As soon as the midday task was done,In secret I was there;And a mighty wind had swept[1143]the leaves,Andstillthe corpse[1144]was bare.“Then down I cast me[1145]on my face,And first began to weep,For I knew my secret then was oneThat earth refused to keep—Or land or sea, though he should beTen thousand fathoms[1146]deep.“So wills the fierce avenging sprite,Till blood for blood atones;Ay, though he’s buried in a cave,And trodden down with stones,And years have rotted off his flesh,The world shall see his bones.“O God! that horrid,horrid[1147]dreamBesets me now,awake;Again, again, with dizzy brain,[1148]The human life I take;And my red right hand grows raging hot,Like Cranmer’s at the stake.“And still no peace for the restless clay,Will wave or mould allow;The horrid thingpursuesmy soul—It stands before[1149]menow!”The fearful boy looked up, and sawHuge drops upon his brow.That very night, while gentle sleepThe urchin’s eyelids kissed,Two stern-faced men set out from Lynn,Through the cold and heavy mist;And Eugene Aram walked[1150]between,With gyves upon his wrist.—Thomas Hood.
’Twas in the prime of summer-time,
An evening calm and cool,
And four-and-twenty happy boys
Came bounding out of school;[1093]
There were some that ran, and some that leapt
Like troutlets in the pool.
Away[1094]they sped, with gamesome minds,And souls untouched by sin;To a level mead they came, and thereThey drave the wickets in:Pleasantly shone[1095]the setting sunOver the town of Lynn.
Away[1094]they sped, with gamesome minds,
And souls untouched by sin;
To a level mead they came, and there
They drave the wickets in:
Pleasantly shone[1095]the setting sun
Over the town of Lynn.
Like sportive deer they coursed about,And shouted as they ran—Turning to mirth all things[1096]of earth,As only boyhood can,But the usher[1097]sat remote from all,A melancholy man!
Like sportive deer they coursed about,
And shouted as they ran—
Turning to mirth all things[1096]of earth,
As only boyhood can,
But the usher[1097]sat remote from all,
A melancholy man!
His hat was off, his vest apart,To catch Heaven’s[1098]blessed breeze;For a burning thought was in his brow,And his bosom ill at ease;So he leaned his head on his hands, and readThe book between his knees.
His hat was off, his vest apart,
To catch Heaven’s[1098]blessed breeze;
For a burning thought was in his brow,
And his bosom ill at ease;
So he leaned his head on his hands, and read
The book between his knees.
Leaf after leaf he turned[1099]it o’er,Nor ever glanced aside,For the peace of his soul he read that bookIn the golden eventide;Much study had made him very lean,And pale, and leaden-eyed.
Leaf after leaf he turned[1099]it o’er,
Nor ever glanced aside,
For the peace of his soul he read that book
In the golden eventide;
Much study had made him very lean,
And pale, and leaden-eyed.
At last he shut the ponderous tome;With a fast and fervent graspHe strained[1100]the dusky covers close,And fixed the brazen hasp:“O God![1101]could I so close my mind,And clasp it with a clasp!”
At last he shut the ponderous tome;
With a fast and fervent grasp
He strained[1100]the dusky covers close,
And fixed the brazen hasp:
“O God![1101]could I so close my mind,
And clasp it with a clasp!”
Then leaping[1102]on his feet upright:Some moody turns he took—Now up the mead, then down the mead,And past a shady nook—And lo! he saw a little boy[1103]That pored upon a book.
Then leaping[1102]on his feet upright:
Some moody turns he took—
Now up the mead, then down the mead,
And past a shady nook—
And lo! he saw a little boy[1103]
That pored upon a book.
“My gentle lad, what is’t you read,Romance or fairy fable?Or is it some historic page,Of kings and crowns unstable?”The young boy gave an upward glance—“It is ‘The Death of Abel.’”[1104]
“My gentle lad, what is’t you read,
Romance or fairy fable?
Or is it some historic page,
Of kings and crowns unstable?”
The young boy gave an upward glance—
“It is ‘The Death of Abel.’”[1104]
The usher took six hasty strides,As smit with sudden pain—Six hasty strides beyond the place,Then slowly back again;And down[1105]he sat beside the lad,And talked with him of Cain;
The usher took six hasty strides,
As smit with sudden pain—
Six hasty strides beyond the place,
Then slowly back again;
And down[1105]he sat beside the lad,
And talked with him of Cain;
And, long since then, of bloody menWhose deeds tradition saves;Of lonely folk cut off unseen,And hid[1106]in sudden graves;Of horrid stabs, in groves forlorn,And murders done in caves;
And, long since then, of bloody men
Whose deeds tradition saves;
Of lonely folk cut off unseen,
And hid[1106]in sudden graves;
Of horrid stabs, in groves forlorn,
And murders done in caves;
And how the sprites of injured menShriek upward[1107]from the sod—Ay, how the ghostly hand will pointTo show the burial clod;And unknown facts of guilty actsAre seen in dreams from God;
And how the sprites of injured men
Shriek upward[1107]from the sod—
Ay, how the ghostly hand will point
To show the burial clod;
And unknown facts of guilty acts
Are seen in dreams from God;
He told how murderers walked the earthBeneath the curse[1108]of Cain,With crimson clouds before their eyes,And flames about their brain;For blood has left upon their soulsIts everlasting stain.
He told how murderers walked the earth
Beneath the curse[1108]of Cain,
With crimson clouds before their eyes,
And flames about their brain;
For blood has left upon their souls
Its everlasting stain.
“And well,” quoth he, “I know, for truth,Their pangs must be extreme—Woe, woe, unutterable woe,[1109]Who spill life’s sacred stream!For why?Methought, last night, I wroughtA murder in a dream!
“And well,” quoth he, “I know, for truth,
Their pangs must be extreme—
Woe, woe, unutterable woe,[1109]
Who spill life’s sacred stream!
For why?Methought, last night, I wrought
A murder in a dream!
“One that had never done me wrong,A feeble man, and old;I led him to a lonely field—[1110]The moon[1111]shone clear and cold;‘Now here,’ said I, ‘this man shall die,And I will have his gold!’
“One that had never done me wrong,
A feeble man, and old;
I led him to a lonely field—[1110]
The moon[1111]shone clear and cold;
‘Now here,’ said I, ‘this man shall die,
And I will have his gold!’
“Two sudden blows[1112]with ragged stick,And one with a heavy stone,One hurried gash[1113]with a hasty knife,And then the deed was done;There was nothing lying at my footBut lifeless flesh and bone.
“Two sudden blows[1112]with ragged stick,
And one with a heavy stone,
One hurried gash[1113]with a hasty knife,
And then the deed was done;
There was nothing lying at my foot
But lifeless flesh and bone.
“Nothing but lifeless flesh and bone,That could not do me ill;And yet I feared him all the more,For lying there so still;[1114]There was a manhood in his look,That murder could not kill.
“Nothing but lifeless flesh and bone,
That could not do me ill;
And yet I feared him all the more,
For lying there so still;[1114]
There was a manhood in his look,
That murder could not kill.
“And, lo! the universal air[1115]Seemed lit with ghastly flame;Ten thousand thousand dreadful eyes[1116]Were looking down in blame;I took the dead men by his hand,[1117]And called upon his name.
“And, lo! the universal air[1115]
Seemed lit with ghastly flame;
Ten thousand thousand dreadful eyes[1116]
Were looking down in blame;
I took the dead men by his hand,[1117]
And called upon his name.
“O God![1118]it made me quake to seeSuch sense within the slain;But when I touched[1119]the lifeless clay,The blood gushed out[1120]amain;For every clot a burning spotWas scorching in my brain.[1121]
“O God![1118]it made me quake to see
Such sense within the slain;
But when I touched[1119]the lifeless clay,
The blood gushed out[1120]amain;
For every clot a burning spot
Was scorching in my brain.[1121]
“My head was like an ardent coal;My heart[1122]as solid ice;My wretched, wretched soul, I knew,Was at the devil’s price;A dozen times I groaned; the deadHad never groaned but twice.
“My head was like an ardent coal;
My heart[1122]as solid ice;
My wretched, wretched soul, I knew,
Was at the devil’s price;
A dozen times I groaned; the dead
Had never groaned but twice.
“And now, from forth the frowning sky,[1123]From the heaven’s topmost height,I heard a voice—the awful voiceOf the blood-avenging sprite:‘Thou guilty man! take up thy dead,And hide it from my sight!’
“And now, from forth the frowning sky,[1123]
From the heaven’s topmost height,
I heard a voice—the awful voice
Of the blood-avenging sprite:
‘Thou guilty man! take up thy dead,
And hide it from my sight!’
“I took the dreary body up,[1124]And cast[1125]it in a stream—A sluggish water, black[1126]as ink,The depth was so extreme,My gentle boy, remember[1127]thisIsnothing but a dream!
“I took the dreary body up,[1124]
And cast[1125]it in a stream—
A sluggish water, black[1126]as ink,
The depth was so extreme,
My gentle boy, remember[1127]this
Isnothing but a dream!
“Down[1128]went the corpse with hollow plunge,And vanished in the pool;Anon I cleansed[1129]my bloody hands,And washed my forehead[1130]cool,And sat among the urchins young,That evening in the school.
“Down[1128]went the corpse with hollow plunge,
And vanished in the pool;
Anon I cleansed[1129]my bloody hands,
And washed my forehead[1130]cool,
And sat among the urchins young,
That evening in the school.
“O heaven![1131]to think of their white souls,And mine so black and grim!I could not share in childish prayer,Nor join in evening hymn;Like a devil of the pit[1132]I seemed,Mid holy cherubim.
“O heaven![1131]to think of their white souls,
And mine so black and grim!
I could not share in childish prayer,
Nor join in evening hymn;
Like a devil of the pit[1132]I seemed,
Mid holy cherubim.
“And peace went with them, one and all,And each calm pillow spread;But guilt was my grim chamberlain,That lighted me to bed;And drew my midnight curtains round,[1133]With fingers bloody red.
“And peace went with them, one and all,
And each calm pillow spread;
But guilt was my grim chamberlain,
That lighted me to bed;
And drew my midnight curtains round,[1133]
With fingers bloody red.
“All night I lay in agony,In anguish[1134]dark and deep,My fevered eyes I dared not close,But stared aghast at Sleep;For Sin has rendered unto herThe keys of hell to keep.
“All night I lay in agony,
In anguish[1134]dark and deep,
My fevered eyes I dared not close,
But stared aghast at Sleep;
For Sin has rendered unto her
The keys of hell to keep.
“All night I lay in agony,From weary chime to chime,With one besetting, horrid hint,That racked[1135]me all the time—A mighty yearning like the firstFierce impulse unto crime.
“All night I lay in agony,
From weary chime to chime,
With one besetting, horrid hint,
That racked[1135]me all the time—
A mighty yearning like the first
Fierce impulse unto crime.
“One stern tyrannic thought, that madeAll other thoughts its slave;[1136]Stronger and stronger every pulseDid that temptation crave,Still urging me to go[1137]and seeThe dead man in his grave.
“One stern tyrannic thought, that made
All other thoughts its slave;[1136]
Stronger and stronger every pulse
Did that temptation crave,
Still urging me to go[1137]and see
The dead man in his grave.
“Heavily I rose up, as soonAs light was in the sky,And sought the black, accursed[1138]pool,With a wild, misgiving eye;And I saw the dead[1139]in the river bed,For the faithless stream was dry.
“Heavily I rose up, as soon
As light was in the sky,
And sought the black, accursed[1138]pool,
With a wild, misgiving eye;
And I saw the dead[1139]in the river bed,
For the faithless stream was dry.
“Merrily rose the lark,[1140]and shookThe dewdrop from its wing;But I never marked its morning flight,I never heard it sing;For I was stooping once againUnder the horrid thing.
“Merrily rose the lark,[1140]and shook
The dewdrop from its wing;
But I never marked its morning flight,
I never heard it sing;
For I was stooping once again
Under the horrid thing.
“With breathless speed, like a soul in chase,I took him up[1141]and ran;There was no time to dig a graveBefore the day began:In a lonesome wood, with heaps of leaves,Ihid[1142]the murdered man;
“With breathless speed, like a soul in chase,
I took him up[1141]and ran;
There was no time to dig a grave
Before the day began:
In a lonesome wood, with heaps of leaves,
Ihid[1142]the murdered man;
“And all that day I read in school,But my thought was otherwhere;As soon as the midday task was done,In secret I was there;And a mighty wind had swept[1143]the leaves,Andstillthe corpse[1144]was bare.
“And all that day I read in school,
But my thought was otherwhere;
As soon as the midday task was done,
In secret I was there;
And a mighty wind had swept[1143]the leaves,
Andstillthe corpse[1144]was bare.
“Then down I cast me[1145]on my face,And first began to weep,For I knew my secret then was oneThat earth refused to keep—Or land or sea, though he should beTen thousand fathoms[1146]deep.
“Then down I cast me[1145]on my face,
And first began to weep,
For I knew my secret then was one
That earth refused to keep—
Or land or sea, though he should be
Ten thousand fathoms[1146]deep.
“So wills the fierce avenging sprite,Till blood for blood atones;Ay, though he’s buried in a cave,And trodden down with stones,And years have rotted off his flesh,The world shall see his bones.
“So wills the fierce avenging sprite,
Till blood for blood atones;
Ay, though he’s buried in a cave,
And trodden down with stones,
And years have rotted off his flesh,
The world shall see his bones.
“O God! that horrid,horrid[1147]dreamBesets me now,awake;Again, again, with dizzy brain,[1148]The human life I take;And my red right hand grows raging hot,Like Cranmer’s at the stake.
“O God! that horrid,horrid[1147]dream
Besets me now,awake;
Again, again, with dizzy brain,[1148]
The human life I take;
And my red right hand grows raging hot,
Like Cranmer’s at the stake.
“And still no peace for the restless clay,Will wave or mould allow;The horrid thingpursuesmy soul—It stands before[1149]menow!”The fearful boy looked up, and sawHuge drops upon his brow.
“And still no peace for the restless clay,
Will wave or mould allow;
The horrid thingpursuesmy soul—
It stands before[1149]menow!”
The fearful boy looked up, and saw
Huge drops upon his brow.
That very night, while gentle sleepThe urchin’s eyelids kissed,Two stern-faced men set out from Lynn,Through the cold and heavy mist;And Eugene Aram walked[1150]between,With gyves upon his wrist.—Thomas Hood.
That very night, while gentle sleep
The urchin’s eyelids kissed,
Two stern-faced men set out from Lynn,
Through the cold and heavy mist;
And Eugene Aram walked[1150]between,
With gyves upon his wrist.
—Thomas Hood.
Gestures.