Poems (Southey)/Volume 2/The Grandmother's Tale

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The Old Mansion House

Poems (Southey)
by Robert Southey

The Grandmother's Tale

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3900215Poems (Southey) — The Grandmother's TaleRobert Southey

ECLOGUE II.

THE GRANDMOTHER'S TALE.

JANE.Harry ! I'm tired of playing. We'll draw roundThe fire, and Grandmamma perhaps will tell usOne of her stories.HARRY.Ay—dear Grandmamma!A pretty story! something dismal now;A bloody murder.JANE. Or about a ghost.GRANDMOTHER.Nay, nay, I should but frighten ye. You know The other night when I was telling youAbout the light in the church-yard, how you trembledBecause the screech-owl hooted at the window,And would not go to bed.JANE.Why Grandmamma,You said yourself you did not like to hear him.Pray now! we wo'nt be frightened.GRANDMOTHER.Well, well, children!But you've heard all my stories. Let me see,—Did I never tell you how the smuggler murderedThe woman down at Pill?HARRY.No—never! never!GRANDMOTHER.Not how he cut her head off in the stable?HARRY.Oh—now! do tell us that! GRANDMOTHER.You must have heardYour mother, children! often tell of her.She used to weed in the garden here, and wormYour uncle's ^[1]dogs, and serve the house with coal;And glad enough she was in winter timeTo drive her asses here! it was cold workTo follow the slow beasts thro' sleet and snow,And here she found a comfortable mealAnd a brave fire to thaw her, for poor MollWas always welcome.HARRY.Oh—'twas blear-eyed MollThe collier woman,—a great ugly woman,I've heard of her. GRANDMOTHER.Ugly enough poor soul!At ten yards distance you could hardly tellIf it were man or woman, for her voiceWas rough as our old mastiff's, and she woreA man's old coat and hat,—and then her face!There was a merry story told of her,How when the press-gang came to take her husbandAs they were both in bed, she heard them coming,Drest John up in her night-cap, and herselfPut on his clothes and went before the Captain.JANE.And so they prest a woman!GRANDMOTHER.'Twas a trickShe dearly loved to tell, and all the countrySoon knew the jest, for she was used to travelFor miles around. All weathers and all hoursShe crossed the hill, as hardy as her beasts,Bearing the wind and rain and winter frosts, And if she did not reach her home at night,She laid down in the stable with her assesAnd slept as sound as they did.HARRY.With her asses!GRANDMOTHER.Yes, and she loved her beasts. For tho' poor wretchShe was a terrible reprobate and sworeLike any trooper, she was always goodTo the dumb creatures, never loaded themBeyond their strength, and rather I believeWould stint herself than let the poor beasts want,Because, she said, they could not ask for food.I never saw her stick fall heavier on themThan just with its own weight. She little thoughtThis tender-heartedness would be her death!There was a fellow who had oftentimes,As if he took delight in cruelty,Ill-used her asses. He was one who livedBy smuggling, and, for she had often met him Crossing the down at night, she threatened him,If ever tormented them again, to informOf his unlawful ways. Well—so it was—'Twas what they both were born to, he provoked her,She laid an information, and one mornThey found her in the stable, her throat cutFrom ear to ear, 'till the head only hungJust by a bit of skin.JANE.Oh dear! oh dear!HARRY.I hope they hung the man!GRANDMOTHER.They took him up;There was no proof, no one had seen the deed,And he was set at liberty. But GodWhose eye beholdeth all things, he had seenThe murder, and the murderer knew that GodWas witness to his crime. He fled the place,But nowhere could he fly the avenging hand Of heaven, but nowhere could the murder rest,A guilty conscience haunted him, by day,By night, in company, in solitude,Restless and wretched, did he bear upon himThe weight of blood; her cries were in his ears,Her stifled groans as when he knelt upon herAlways he heard; always he saw her standBefore his eyes; even in the dead of nightDistinctly seen as tho' in the broad sun,She stood beside the murderer's bed and yawn'dHer ghastly wound; till life itself becameA punishment at last he could not bear,And he confess'd^[2] it all, and gave himselfTo death, so terrible, he said, it wasTo have a guilty conscience! HARRY.Was he hung then?GRANDMOTHER.Hung and anatomized. Poor wretched man,Your uncles went to see him on his trial,He was so pale, so thin, so hollow-eyed,And such a horror in his meagre face,They said he look'd like one who never slept.He begg'd the prayers of all who saw his endAnd met his death with fears that well might warnFrom guilt, tho' not without a hope in Christ.

↑ I know not whether this cruel and stupid custom is common in other parts of England. It is supposed to prevent the dogs from doing any mischief should they afterwards become mad.
↑ There must be many persons living who remember these circumstances. They happened two or three and twenty years ago, in the neighbourhood of Bristol. The woman's name was Bees. The stratagem by which she preserved her husband from the press-gang, is also true.

[1] I know not whether this cruel and stupid custom is common in other parts of England. It is supposed to prevent the dogs from doing any mischief should they afterwards become mad.

[2] There must be many persons living who remember these circumstances. They happened two or three and twenty years ago, in the neighbourhood of Bristol. The woman's name was Bees. The stratagem by which she preserved her husband from the press-gang, is also true.

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