"My gentle lad, what is't you readRomance 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." The usher took six hasty strides, As smit with sudden pain; And down he sat beside the lad, And, long since then, of bloody men, Of lonely folk cut off unseen, And hid in sudden graves; And how the sprites of injured men And unknown facts of guilty acts Are seen in dreams from God! He told how murderers walked the earth With crimson clouds before their eyes, 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 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, The moon shone clear and cold: "Two sudden blows with a ragged stick, 'Nothing but lifeless flesh and bone, And yet I feared him all the more, There was a manhood in his look, "And lo! the universal air Seemed lit with ghastly flame- "Oh, God! it made me quake to see "My head was like an ardent coal, My wretched, wretched soul, I knew, A dozen times I groaned, the dead "And now from forth the frowning sky, "I took the dreary body up, "Down went the corpse with a hollow plunge, And vanished in the pool; Anon I cleansed my bloody hands, That evening in the school! "Oh heaven, 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 I seemed, 'Mid holy cherubim! "And peace went with them one and all, But Guilt was my grim chamberlain And drew my midnight curtains round, "All night I lay in agony, In anguish dark and deep; For sin had rendered unto her The keys of hell to keep! “All night I lay in agony, From weary chime to chime, "One stern, tyrannic thought, that made 66 Heavily I rose up as soon And sought the black accursed pool "Merrily rose the lark, and shook But I never marked its morning flight, For I was stooping once again Under the horrid thing. "With breathless speed, like a soul in chase, I took him up and ran— There was no time to dig a grave Before the day began; In a lonesome wood with heaps of leaves, "And all that day I read in school, And a mighty wind had swept the leaves, "Then down I cast me on my face, For I knew my secret then was one, "So wills the fierce avenging sprite, "Oh, God, that horrid, horrid dream And my red right hand grows raging hot, "And still no peace for the restless clay, Will wave or mould allow : The horrid thing pursues my soul- The fearful boy looked up, and saw That very night, while gentle sleep Two stern-faced men set out from Lynn, And Eugene Aram walked between |