Pre-Raphaelite and other Poets. Lafcadio Hearn

You pardon him in his mortal pain."

       "What else he took will he give again,

       Little brother?"

       (O Mother, Mary Mother, Not twice to give, between Hell and Heaven!) "He calls your name in an agony, Sister Helen, That even dead Love must weep to see." "Hate, born of Love, is blind as he, Little brother!" (O Mother, Mary Mother, Love turned to hate, between Hell and Heaven!) "Oh it's Keith of Keith now that rides fast, Sister Helen, For I know the white hair on the blast." "The short, short hour will soon be past, Little brother!" (O Mother, Mary Mother, Will soon be past, between Hell and Heaven!) "He looks at me and he tries to speak, Sister Helen, But oh! his voice is sad and weak!" "What here should the mighty Baron seek, Little brother?" (O Mother, Mary Mother, Is this the end, between Hell and Heaven?) "Oh his son still cries, if you forgive, Sister Helen, The body dies, but the soul shall live." "Fire shall forgive me as I forgive, Little brother!" (O Mother, Mary Mother, As she forgives, between Hell and Heaven!)

      This needs some explanation in reference to religious belief. The witch, you will observe, has the power to destroy the soul as well as the body, but on the condition of suffering the same loss herself. Yet how can this be? It could happen thus: if the dying man could make a confession before he dies, and sincerely repent of his sin before a priest, his soul might be saved; but while he remains in the agony of suffering caused by the enchantment, he cannot repent. Not to repent means to go to Hell for ever and ever. If the woman would forgive him, withdrawing the curse and pain for one instant, all might be well. But she answers, "Fire shall forgive me as I forgive"—she means, "The fire of Hell shall sooner forgive me when I go to Hell, than I shall forgive him in this world." There will be other references to this horrible belief later on. It was very common in the Middle Ages.

      "Oh he prays you, as his heart would rive,

       Sister Helen,

       To save his dear son's soul alive."

       "Fire cannot slay it, it shall thrive,

       Little brother!"

       (O Mother, Mary Mother, Alas, alas, between Hell and Heaven!)

      Rive is seldom used now in prose, though we have "riven" very often. To rive is to tear. The last line of this stanza is savage, for it refers to the belief that the black fire of Hell preserves the body of the damned person instead of consuming it.

      "He cries to you, kneeling in the road,

       Sister Helen,

       To go with him for the love of God!"

       "The way is long to his son's abode,

       Little brother!"

       (O Mother, Mary Mother, The way is long, between Hell and Heaven!) "A lady's here, by a dark steed brought, Sister Helen, So darkly clad, I saw her not." "See her now or never see aught, Little brother!" (O Mother, Mary Mother, What more to see, between Hell and Heaven?)

      As the horse was black and the lady was all dressed in black, the child could not at first notice either in the shadows of the road. On announcing that he had seen her at last, the excitement of the sister reaches its highest and wickedest; she says to him, "Nay, you will never be able to see anything in this world, unless you can see that woman's face and tell me all about it." For it is the other woman, who has made forgiveness impossible; it is the other woman, the object of her deepest hate.

      "Her hood falls back, and the moon shines fair,

       Sister Helen,

       On the Lady of Ewern's golden hair."

       "Blest hour of my power and her despair,

       Little brother!"

       (O Mother, Mary Mother, Hour blessed and bann'd, between Hell and Heaven!) "Pale, pale her cheeks, that in pride did glow, Sister Helen, 'Neath the bridal-wreath three days ago." "One morn for pride, and three days for woe. Little brother!" (O Mother, Mary Mother, Three days, three nights, between Hell and Heaven!) "Her clasped hands stretch from her bending head, Sister Helen; With the loud wind's wail her sobs are wed." "What wedding-strains hath her bridal bed, Little brother?" (O Mother, Mary Mother, What strain but death's, between Hell and Heaven?)

      You must remember that the word "strains" is, nearly always used in the sense of musical tones, and that "wedding-strains" means the joyful music played at a wedding. Thus the ferocity of Helen's mockery becomes apparent, for it was upon the bridal night that the bridegroom was first bewitched; and from the moment of his marriage, therefore, he has been screaming in agony.

      The climax of hatred is in the next stanza. After that the tone begins to reverse, and gradually passes away in the melancholy of eternal despair.

      "She may not speak, she sinks in a swoon,

       Sister Helen—

       She lifts her lips and gasps on the moon."

       "Oh! might I but hear her soul's blithe tune,

       Little brother!"

       (O Mother, Mary Mother, Her woe's dumb cry, between Hell and Heaven!)

      To "gasp" means to open the mouth in the effort to get breath, as one does in a fit of hysterics, or in time of great agony. "Gasps on the moon" means that she gasps with her face turned up toward the moon. In the last line we have the words "blithe tune" used in the same tone of terrible irony as that with which the word "wedding-strain" was used in the preceding stanza. "Blithe" means "merry." Helen is angry because the other woman has fainted; having fainted, she has become for the moment physically incapable of suffering. But Helen thinks that her soul must be conscious and suffering as much as ever; therefore she wishes that she could hear the suffering of the soul, since she cannot longer hear the outcries of the body.

      "They've caught her to Westholm's saddle-bow,

       Sister Helen,

       And her moonlit hair gleams white in its flow."

       "Let it turn whiter than winter-snow,

       Little brother!"

       (O Mother, Mary Mother, Woe-withered gold, between Hell and Heaven!)

      The allusion is to the physiological fact that intense moral pain, or terrible fear, sometimes turns the hair of a young person suddenly white.

      "O Sister Helen, you heard the bell,

       Sister Helen!

       More loud than the vesper-chime it fell."

       "No vesper-chime, but a dying knell,

       Little brother!"

       (O Mother, Mary Mother, His dying knell, between Hell and Heaven!) "Alas, but I fear the heavy sound, Sister Helen; Is it in the sky or in the ground?" "Say, have they turned their horses round, Little brother?" (O Mother, Mary Mother, What would she more, between Hell and Heaven?) "They have raised the old man from his knee, Sister Helen, And they ride in silence hastily." "More fast the naked soul doth flee, Little brother!" (O Mother, Mary Mother, The naked soul, between Hell and Heaven!) "Flank to flank are the three steeds gone, Sister Helen, But the lady's dark steed goes alone." "And lonely her bridegroom's soul hath flown, Little brother!" (O Mother, Mary Mother, The lonely ghost, between Hell and Heaven!) "Oh the wind is sad in the iron chill, Sister Helen, And weary sad they look by the hill." "But he and I are sadder still, Little brother!" (O Mother, Mary Mother, Most sad of all, between Hell and Heaven!) "See, see, the wax has dropped from its place, Sister Helen, And the flames are winning up apace!" "Yet here they burn but for a space, Little brother!" (O Mother, Mary Mother, Here for a space, between Hell and Heaven!) "Ah! what white thing at the door has cross'd, Sister Helen? Ah! what is this that sighs in the frost?" "A soul that's lost as mine is lost, Little brother!" (O Mother, Mary Mother, Lost, lost, all lost, between Hell and Heaven!)

      Notice how the action naturally dies off