14 THE OLD HAG. Just entering Weller's Wood,-most strange,— He met the hag again! "Lord Stratford, stop! Lord Stratford, turn! Lord Stratford, haste not so! For, ere to-morrow's sun hath set, Your baby's blood must flow!" "Pooh! pooh! old dame!" She frown'd again, Then howl'd an Irish cry; But still Lord Stratford smil'd, and sung, "This day a stag must die." "A curse light on thee, thoughtless Lord!" "And why, dame, those portentous words? I prithee, beldame, say.” But, as he spoke, the hounds swept by— "Tantivy! hark away!" And off o'er hill and dale he flies, Unmindful of her words; When lo! again the hag appears Behind a grove of firs! She wav'd her hand, and cross'd her breast, "Your babe, unfeeling man, your babe Must bleed-must groan-must die!" He started! and, at length, appal'd, And now, with fear oppress'd, his face And to fair Ellen he reveal'd And now the night came on; and now And now the raven wildly scream'd; Swept o'er the trees in Weller's Wood, The clock struck twelve. "Come, Ellen, come, "Tis time to go to rest;" Then, snatching up his lovely boy, And now they all had sunk to sleep; 16 THE OLD HAG. Were sad she shriek'd, "Oh, Stratford !-no, She shriek'd again: for now she sees Peep through the door, and then advance, 'Twas but a dream-a frightful dream Oh, Stratford, let's away! Then, hastening up, they took the babe, And left their stately dome, And straight to Dunstan town they went, But scarcely had they left the house, When quickly to the castle-gates And now, my readers, let us stop, This mystery to reveal, And tell why this poor babe should be One night, 'twas in November last,- A murderer to Lord Stratford's came, The butler had not gone to bed, But, just as he had op'd the door, And then he rush'd into the house, Lord Stratford now, with vengeance fir'd, A few weeks after this event, With desperate look, he paus'd, and said, "By yonder sun I swear, Before it sets to-morrow eve, Shall die Lord Stratford's heir! "His life !—No, no! that would not do !— "Twould not my vengeance cloy ! But I'll prepare a lasting grief, The hag by chance was in the wood, 18 SISTER JANE. When, hastening on, with quicken'd step, And now, remark how very much You see, twas not her wish to harm, And by her warning voice was spar'd And, searching out, the crone he found Then kindly brought her to his home, SISTER JANE. SEARCH England and Ireland and Scotland all over, Then sit down again, for your search will be vain, Because you can never, no, never, discover A sister like mine, my own sweet sister Jane! |