[PART I--FROM MS.]

Beneath this thorn when I was young, This thorn that blooms so sweet, We loved to stretch our lazy limbs In summer's noon-tide heat.

And hither too the old man came, 5 The maiden and her feer, 'Then tell me, s.e.xton, tell me why The toad has harbour here.

'The Thorn is neither dry nor dead, But still it blossoms sweet; 10 Then tell me why all round its roots The dock and nettle meet.

'Why here the hemlock, &c. [_sic in MS._]

'Why these three graves all side by side, Beneath the flow'ry thorn, 15 Stretch out so green and dark a length, By any foot unworn.'

There, there a ruthless mother lies Beneath the flowery thorn; And there a barren wife is laid, 20 And there a maid forlorn.

The barren wife and maid forlorn Did love each other dear; The ruthless mother wrought the woe, And cost them many a tear. 25

Fair Ellen was of serious mind, Her temper mild and even, And Mary, graceful as the fir That points the spire to heaven.

Young Edward he to Mary said, 30 'I would you were my bride,'

And she was scarlet as he spoke, And turned her face to hide.

'You know my mother she is rich, And you have little gear; 35 And go and if she say not Nay, Then I will be your fere.'

Young Edward to the mother went.

To him the mother said: 'In truth you are a comely man; 40 You shall my daughter wed.'

[271:1][In Mary's joy fair Eleanor Did bear a sister's part; For why, though not akin in blood, They sisters were in heart.] 45

Small need to tell to any man That ever shed a tear What pa.s.sed within the lover's heart The happy day so near.

The mother, more than mothers use, 50 Rejoiced when they were by; And all the 'course of wooing' pa.s.sed[271:2]

Beneath the mother's eye.

And here within the flowering thorn How deep they drank of joy: 55 The mother fed upon the sight, Nor . . . [_sic in MS._]

[PART II--FROM MS.][271:3]

And now the wedding day was fix'd, The wedding-ring was bought; The wedding-cake with her own hand 60 The ruthless mother brought.

'And when to-morrow's sun shines forth The maid shall be a bride'; Thus Edward to the mother spake While she sate by his side. 65

Alone they sate within the bower: The mother's colour fled, For Mary's foot was heard above-- She decked the bridal bed.

And when her foot was on the stairs 70 To meet her at the door, With steady step the mother rose, And silent left the bower.

She stood, her back against the door, And when her child drew near-- 75 'Away! away!' the mother cried, 'Ye shall not enter here.

'Would ye come here, ye maiden vile, And rob me of my mate?'

And on her child the mother scowled 80 A deadly leer of hate.

Fast rooted to the spot, you guess, The wretched maiden stood, As pale as any ghost of night That wanteth flesh and blood. 85

She did not groan, she did not fall, She did not shed a tear, Nor did she cry, 'Oh! mother, why May I not enter here?'

But wildly up the stairs she ran, 90 As if her sense was fled, And then her trembling limbs she threw Upon the bridal bed.

The mother she to Edward went Where he sate in the bower, 95 And said, 'That woman is not fit To be your paramour.

'She is my child--it makes my heart With grief and trouble swell; I rue the hour that gave her birth, 100 For never worse befel.

'For she is fierce and she is proud, And of an envious mind; A wily hypocrite she is, And giddy as the wind. 105

'And if you go to church with her, You'll rue the bitter smart; For she will wrong your marriage-bed, And she will break your heart.

'Oh G.o.d, to think that I have shared 110 Her deadly sin so long; She is my child, and therefore I As mother held my tongue.

'She is my child, I've risked for her My living soul's estate: 115 I cannot say my daily prayers, The burthen is so great.

'And she would scatter gold about Until her back was bare; And should you swing for l.u.s.t of hers 120 In truth she'd little care.'

Then in a softer tone she said, And took him by the hand: 'Sweet Edward, for one kiss of your's I'd give my house and land. 125

'And if you'll go to church with me, And take me for your bride, I'll make you heir of all I have-- Nothing shall be denied.'

Then Edward started from his seat, 130 And he laughed loud and long-- 'In truth, good mother, you are mad, Or drunk with liquor strong.'

To him no word the mother said, But on her knees she fell, 135 And fetched her breath while thrice your hand Might toll the pa.s.sing-bell.

'Thou daughter now above my head, Whom in my womb I bore, May every drop of thy heart's blood 140 Be curst for ever more.

'And cursed be the hour when first I heard thee wawl and cry; And in the Church-yard cursed be The grave where thou shalt lie!' 145

And Mary on the bridal-bed Her mother's curse had heard; And while the cruel mother spake The bed beneath her stirred.

In wrath young Edward left the hall, 150 And turning round he sees The mother looking up to G.o.d And still upon her knees.

Young Edward he to Mary went When on the bed she lay: 155 'Sweet love, this is a wicked house-- Sweet love, we must away.'

He raised her from the bridal-bed, All pale and wan with fear; 'No Dog,' quoth he, 'if he were mine, 160 No Dog would kennel here.'

He led her from the bridal-bed, He led her from the stairs.

[Had sense been hers she had not dar'd To venture on her prayers. _MS. erased._]

The mother still was in the bower, And with a greedy heart 165 She _drank perdition_ on her knees, Which never may depart.

But when their steps were heard below On G.o.d she did not call; She did forget the G.o.d of Heaven, 170 For they were in the hall.

She started up--the servant maid Did see her when she rose; And she has oft declared to me The blood within her froze. 175