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VIII. “ Now wherefore thus, by day and night, “ In rain, in tempest, and in snow “ Thus to the dreary mountain-top “ Does this poor woman go? “ And why sits she beside the thorn “ When the blue day-light's in the sky, « Or when the whirlwind's on the hill, -“ Or frosty air is keen and still, “ And wherefore does she cry. “ Oh wherefore? wherefore ? tell me why " Does she repeat that doleful cry?".
I cannot tell ; I wish I could;
The pond-and thorn, so old and grey,
~ But wherefore to the mountain-top, “ Can this unhappy woman go, - Whatever star is in the skies, “ Whatever wind may blow?" Nay rack your brain-'tis all in vain, I'll tell you every thing I know; But to the thorn and to the pond Which is a little step beyond, I wish that
would Perhaps when you are at the place You something of her tale may trace.
l'N give you the best help I can : Before
you up the mountain go, Up to the dreary mountain-top, I'll tell you all I know. 'Tis now some two and twenty years, Since she (her name is Martha Ray) Gave with a maiden's true good will Her company to Stephen Hill ; And she was blithe and gay, And she was happy, happy still Whene'er she thought of Stephen Hill.
And they had fix'd the wedding-day,
Unthinking Stephen went-
XII. They say, full six months after this, While yet the summer leaves were green, She to the mountain-top would go, And there was often seen. 'Tis said, a child was in her womb,. As now to any eye was plain ; She was with child, and she was mad, Yet often she was sober sad From her exceeding pain. Oh me! ten thousand times I'd rather, That he had died, that cruel father!
XIV. Sad case for such a brain to hold Communion with a stirring child! Sad case, as you may think, for one Who had a brain so wild ! Last Christmas when we talked of this, Old Farmer Simpson did maintain, That in her wornb the infant wrought About its mother's heart, and brought Her senses back again : And when at last her time drew near, Her looks were calma, her senses clear.
No more I know, I wish I did,