Pre-Raphaelite and other Poets. Lafcadio Hearn

she makes the little brother act as messenger. So all that is said in the poem is said between the girl and the little boy. Even in the opening of the ballad there is a terrible pathos in the presence of this little baby brother. What does he know of horrible beliefs, hatred, lust, evil passion of any sort? He only sees that his sister has made a kind of wax-doll, and he thinks that it is a pretty doll, and would like to play with it. But his sister, instead of giving him the doll, begins to melt it before the fire, and he cannot understand why.

      One more preliminary observation. What is the meaning of the refrain? This refrain, in italics, always represents the secret thought of the girl, what she cannot say to the little brother, but what she thinks and suffers. The references to Mary refer to the Virgin Mary of course, but with the special mediæval sense. God would not forgive certain sins; but, during the Middle Ages at least, the Virgin Mary, the mother of God, was a refuge even for the despairing magician or witch. We could not expect one practising witchcraft to call upon the name of Christ. But the same person, in moments of intense pain, might very naturally ejaculate the name of Mary. And now we can begin the poem.

      SISTER HELEN

       "Why did you melt your waxen man,

       Sister Helen?

       To-day is the third since you began."

       "The time was long, yet the time ran,

       Little brother."

       (O Mother, Mary Mother, Three days to-day, between Hell and Heaven!) "But if you have done your work aright, Sister Helen, You'll let me play, for you said I might." "Be very still in your play to-night, Little brother." (O Mother, Mary Mother, Third night, to-night, between Hell and Heaven!) "You said it must melt ere vesper-bell, Sister Helen; If now it be molten, all is well." "Even so—nay, peace! you cannot tell, Little brother!" (O Mother, Mary Mother, O what is this, between Hell and Heaven?) "Oh, the waxen knave was plump to-day, Sister Helen; How like dead folk he has dropped away!" "Nay now, of the dead what can you say, Little brother?" (O Mother, Mary Mother, What of the dead, between Hell and Heaven?) "See, see, the sunken pile of wood, Sister Helen, Shines through the thinned wax red as blood!" "Nay now, when looked you yet on blood, Little brother?" (O Mother, Mary Mother, How pale she is, between Hell and Heaven!) "Now close your eyes, for they're sick and sore, Sister Helen, And I'll play without the gallery door." "Aye, let me rest—I'll lie on the floor, Little brother." (O Mother, Mary Mother, What rest to-night, between Hell and Heaven?) "Here high up in the balcony, Sister Helen, The moon flies face to face with me." "Aye, look and say whatever you see, Little brother." (O Mother, Mary Mother, What sight to-night, between Hell and Heaven?) "Outside, it's merry in the wind's wake, Sister Helen; In the shaken trees the chill stars shake." "Hush, heard you a horse-tread as you spake, Little brother?" (O Mother, Mary Mother, What sound to-night, between Hell and Heaven?) "I hear a horse-tread, and I see, Sister Helen, Three horsemen that ride terribly." "Little brother, whence come the three, Little brother?" (O Mother, Mary Mother, Whence should they come, between Hell and Heaven?)

      In this last stanza the repetition of the words "little brother" indicates intense eagerness. The girl has been expecting that the result of her enchantments would force the relatives of her victim to come and beg for mercy. The child's words therefore bring to her a shock of excitement.

      "They come by the hill-verge from Boyne Bar,

       Sister Helen,

       And one draws nigh, but two are afar."

       "Look, look, do you know them who they are,

       Little brother?"

       (O Mother, Mary Mother, Who should they he, between Hell and Heaven?) "Oh, it's Keith of Eastholm rides so fast, Sister Helen, For I know the white mane on the blast." "The hour has come, has come at last, Little brother!" (O Mother, Mary Mother, Her hour at last, between Hell and Heaven!)

      Those who come are knights, and the child can know them only by the crest or by the horses; as they are very far he can distinguish only the horses, but he knows the horse of Keith of Eastholm, because of its white mane, floating in the wind. From this point the poem becomes very terrible, because it shows us a play of terrible passion—passion all the more terrible because it is that of a woman.

      "He has made a sign and called Halloo!

       Sister Helen,

       And he says that he would speak with you."

       "Oh, tell him I fear the frozen dew

       Little brother."

       (O Mother, Mary Mother, Why laughs she thus, between Hell and Heaven?) "The wind is loud, but I hear him cry, Sister Helen, That Keith of Ewern's like to die." "And he and thou, and thou and I, Little brother," (O Mother, Mary Mother, And they and we, between Hell and Heaven!) "Three days ago, on his marriage-morn, Sister Helen, He sickened, and lies since then forlorn." "For bridegroom's side is the bride a thorn, Little brother?" (O Mother, Mary Mother, Cold bridal cheer, between Hell and Heaven!)

      We now can surmise the story from the girl's own lips. There are wrongs that a woman cannot forgive, unless she is of very weak character indeed. But this woman is no weakling; she can kill, and laugh while killing, because she is a daughter of warriors, and has been cruelly injured. Notice the bitter mockery of every word she utters, especially the exulting reference to the unhappy bride. We imagine that she might be sorry for killing a man whom she once loved; but we may be perfectly sure that she will feel no pity for the woman that he married.

      "Three days and nights he has lain abed,

       Sister Helen,

       And he prays in torment to be dead."

       "The thing may chance, if he have prayed,

       Little brother!"

       (O Mother, Mary Mother, If he have prayed, between Hell and Heaven!) "But he has not ceased to cry to-day, Sister Helen, That you should take your curse away." "My prayer was heard—he need but pray, Little brother!" (O Mother, Mary Mother,> Shall God not hear, between Hell and Heaven?) "But he says till you take back your ban, Sister Helen, His soul would pass, yet never can." "Nay then, shall I slay a living man, Little brother?" (O Mother, Mary Mother, A living soul, between Hell and Heaven!) "But he calls for ever on your name, Sister Helen, And says that he melts before a flame." "My heart for his pleasure fared the same, Little brother." (O Mother, Mary Mother, Fire at the heart, between Hell and Heaven!) "Here's Keith of Westholm riding fast, Sister Helen, For I know the white plume on the blast." "The hour, the sweet hour I forecast, Little brother!" (O Mother, Mary Mother, Is the hour sweet, between Hell and Heaven?) "He stops to speak, and he stills his horse, Sister Helen, But his words are drowned in the wind's course." "Nay hear, nay hear, you must hear perforce, Little brother!" (O Mother, Mary Mother, What word now heard, between Hell and Heaven?) "Oh, he says that Keith of Ewern's cry, Sister Helen, Is ever to see you ere he die." "In all that his soul sees, there am I, Little brother!" (O Mother, Mary Mother, The soul's one sight, between Hell and Heaven!) "He sends a ring and a broken coin, Sister Helen, And bids you mind the banks of Boyne." "What else he broke will he ever join, Little brother?" (O Mother, Mary Mother, No, never joined, between Hell and Heaven!)

      It was a custom, and in some parts of England still is a custom, for lovers not only to give each other rings, but also to divide something between them—such as a coin or a ring, for pledge and remembrance. Sometimes a ring would be cut in two, and each person would keep one-half. Sometimes a thin coin, gold or silver money, was broken into halves and each of the lovers would wear one-half round the neck fastened to a string. Such pledges would be always recognised, and were only to be sent back in time of terrible danger—in a matter of life and death. There are many references to this custom in the old ballads.

      "He yields you these, and craves full fain,

       Sister Helen,