blue daylight's in the sky Or when the whirlwind's on the hill,
85 Or frosty air is keen and still, And wherefore does she cry??O wherefore? wherefore? tell me why Does she repeat that doleful cry?'
9 'I cannot tell; I wish I could;
90 For the true reason no one knows: But would you gladly view the spot, The spot to which she goes; The hillock like an infant's grave, The pond?and Thorn, so old and grey;
95 Pass by her door?'tis seldom shut?
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THE THORN / 255
And, if you see her in her hut? Then to the spot away! I never heard of such as dare Approach the spot when she is there.'
10 100 'But wherefore to the mountain-top Can this unhappy Woman go, Whatever star is in the skies, Whatever wind may blow?' 'Full twenty years are past and gone 105 Since she (her name is Martha Ray)3 Gave with a maiden's true good-will Her company to Stephen Hill; And she was blithe and gay, While friends and kindred all approved no Of him whom tenderly she loved.
11 'And they had fixed the wedding day, The morning that must wed them both; But Stephen to another Maid Had sworn another oath; 115 And, with this other Maid, to church Unthinking Stephen went? Poor Martha! on that woeful day A pang of pitiless dismay Into her soul was sent; 120 A fire was kindled in her breast, Which might not burn itself to rest.
12 'They say, full six months after this, While yet the summer leaves were green, She to the mountain-top would go,
125 And there was often seen. What could she seek??or wish to hide? Her state to any eye was plain; She was with child,0 and she was mad; pregnant Yet often was she sober sad
130 From her exceeding pain. O guilty Father?would that death Had saved him from that breach of faith!
'Sad case for such a brain to hold Communion with a stirring child! 135 Sad case, as you may think, for one Who had a brain so wild!
3. Wordsworth gives the woman the name of the driven to the deed by 'love's madness.' One of the victim at the center of one of the 18th century's illegitimate children whom this Martha Ray bore most famous murder trials. Martha Ray, mistress to the earl of Sandwich was Wordsworth's and to a nobleman, was murdered in 1779 by a rejected Coleridge's friend Basil Montagu. suitor, a clergyman who claimed he had been
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25 6 / WILLIAM WORDSWORTH
Last Christmas-eve we talked of this, And grey-haired Wilfred of the glen Held that the unborn infant wrought
uo About its mother's heart, and brought Her senses back again: And, when at last her time drew near, Her looks were calm, her senses clear.
14 'More know I not, I wish I did,
145 And it should all be told to you; For what became of this poor child No mortal ever knew; Nay?if a child to her was born No earthly tongue could ever tell;
150 And if 'twas born alive or dead, Far less could this with proof be said; But some remember well, That Martha Ray about this time Would up the mountain often climb.
'5
155 'And all that winter, when at night The wind blew from the mountain-peak, Twas worth your while, though in the dark, The churchyard path to seek: For many a time and oft were heard
160 Cries coming from the mountain head: Some plainly living voices were; And others, I've heard many swear, Were voices of the dead: I cannot think, whate'er they say,
165 They had to do with Martha Ray.
16
'But that she goes to this old Thorn, The Thorn which I described to you, And there sits in a scarlet cloak, I will be sworn is true.
170 For one day with my telescope, To view the ocean wide and bright, When to this country first I came, Ere I had heard of Martha's name, I climbed the mountain's height:?
175 A storm came on, and I could see No object higher than my knee.
17 ' 'Twas mist and rain, and storm and rain: No screen, no fence could I discover; And then the wind! in sooth, it was
180 A wind full ten times over. I looked around, I thought I saw A jutting crag,?and off I ran,
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TH E THOR N / 25 7 185Head-foremost, through the driving rain, The shelter of the crag to gain; And, as I am a man, Instead of jutting crag, I found A Woman seated on the ground. 18 190195'I did not speak?I saw her face; Her face!?it was enough for me; I turned about and heard her cry, 'Oh misery! oh misery!' And there she sits, until the moon Through half the clear blue sky will go; And, when the little breezes make The waters of the pond to shake, As all the country know, She shudders, and you hear her cry, 'Oh misery! oh misery!' ' 19 200'But what's the Thorn? and what the pond? And what the hill of moss to her? 205And what the creeping breeze that comes The little pond to stir?' 'I cannot tell; but some will say She hanged her baby on the tree; Some say she drowned it in the pond, Which is a little step beyond: But all and each agree, The little Babe was buried there,
