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THE LAY OF THE BROWN ROSARY
Onora in sleep.
A sleeping thought—most innocent of good—
It doth the Devil no harm, sweet fiend! it cannot, if it would.
I say in it no holy hymn,—I do no holy work;
I scarcely hear the sabbath-bell that chimeth from the kirk.
Evil Spirit.
Forbear that dream—forbear that dream!
Onora in sleep.
Nay, let me dream at least!
That far-off bell, it may be took for viol at a feast—
I only walk among the fields, beneath the autumn-sun,
With my dead father, hand in hand, as I have often done.
Evil Spirit.
Forbear that dream—forbear that dream!
Onora in sleep.
Nay, sweet fiend, let me go—
I never more can walk with him, oh, never more but so!
For they have tied my father's feet beneath the kirkyard stone,—
Oh, deep and straight; oh, very straight! they move at nights
alone: And then he calleth through my dreams, he calleth tenderly,—
"Come forth, my daughter, my beloved, and walk the fields with me!"
Evil Spirit.
Forbear that dream, or else disprove its pureness by a sign.
Onora in sleep.
Speak on, thou shalt be satisfied! my word shall answer thine.
I hear a bird which used to sing when I a child was praying;
I see the poppies in the corn, I used to sport away in!—
What shall I do—tread down the dew, and pull the blossoms blowing?
Or clap my wicked hands to fright the finches from the rowen?
Evil Spirit.
Thou shalt do something harder still! Stand up where thou dost stand,
Among the fields of Dreamland, with thy father, hand in hand,
A sleeping thought—most innocent of good—
It doth the Devil no harm, sweet fiend! it cannot, if it would.
I say in it no holy hymn,—I do no holy work;
I scarcely hear the sabbath-bell that chimeth from the kirk.
Evil Spirit.
Forbear that dream—forbear that dream!
Onora in sleep.
Nay, let me dream at least!
That far-off bell, it may be took for viol at a feast—
I only walk among the fields, beneath the autumn-sun,
With my dead father, hand in hand, as I have often done.
Evil Spirit.
Forbear that dream—forbear that dream!
Onora in sleep.
Nay, sweet fiend, let me go—
I never more can walk with him, oh, never more but so!
For they have tied my father's feet beneath the kirkyard stone,—
Oh, deep and straight; oh, very straight! they move at nights
alone: And then he calleth through my dreams, he calleth tenderly,—
"Come forth, my daughter, my beloved, and walk the fields with me!"
Evil Spirit.
Forbear that dream, or else disprove its pureness by a sign.
Onora in sleep.
Speak on, thou shalt be satisfied! my word shall answer thine.
I hear a bird which used to sing when I a child was praying;
I see the poppies in the corn, I used to sport away in!—
What shall I do—tread down the dew, and pull the blossoms blowing?
Or clap my wicked hands to fright the finches from the rowen?
Evil Spirit.
Thou shalt do something harder still! Stand up where thou dost stand,
Among the fields of Dreamland, with thy father, hand in hand,
