Part 8 (1/2)
_Who let him through the gates of my garden, Where stronger bolts have never been?
'Twas the father of the fair little lady You drove to her grave so green._
_And who let him pa.s.s through the court-yard, By loosening the bar and chain?
Oh, who but the brother of your mistress Who lies in the cold and the rain!_
_Then who drew the bolts at the portal And into my house bade him go?
She, the mother of the poor little colleen Who lies in her youth so low._
_Who stands that he dare not enter The door of my chamber between?
Oh, the ghost of the fair little lady Who lies in the church-yard green._
Now, when the evil one saw the spirit of the young bride at the door, her arms spread out in the form of a cross, he did not know what to do. And had not Black Roderick, in his joy and desire, sprung from his bed on hearing the voice of his mistress bidding him fear not, all perchance had gone well.
But Roderick, sick and eager for the sight of his bride, flung open the door, and was seized by the evil one and carried away. Now, the spirit of the little bride followed the horrible coach that contained her love, even to the flaming gates of h.e.l.l, and there the evil one stopped and looked upon her with desire.
”Better,” quoth he, ”a thousand times to let go this wretched fellow, who will surely return to me later, if I can gain this soul who hath come even out of the kingdom of heaven.”
And, turning to the poor little bride, he said: ”Give thou thyself to me, and I will let this love of thine return to the world to work out his redemption.”
But the little soul, weeping, saith:
”Nay, my soul belongeth to Christ in heaven, and I must not give it to thee; but for seven years shall I be thy slave if thou givest this dear one to me at the end.”
So the evil one thought to himself: ”Would I could steal this white soul from heaven to be the greatest gem in my crown of triumph, and to serve me seven years. At the end of that time her heart will incline to evil, and she will become mine.”
And again she spoke to him, and of what she said I shall sing thee, lest thou grow weary of my prose:
_If you will let his young soul go free, I will serve you true and well, For seven long years to be your slave In the bitterest place of h.e.l.l._
_”Seven long years if you be my slave I will let his soul go free.”
The stranger drew her then by the hand, And into the night went he._
_Seven long years did she serve him true By the blazing gates of h.e.l.l, And on every soul that entered in The tears of her sorrow fell._
_Seven long years did she keep the place To open the doors accurst, And every soul that her tear-drops knew, It would neither burn nor thirst._
_And once she let in her father dear, And once her brother through.
Once came a friend she had loved full well: Oh, bitter it was to do!_
Now, no toil in the great halls of the evil one could have been more bitter to endure than to unbar the door for the lost souls; for her sweet tenderness was tortured most of all by the despairing ghosts that pa.s.sed to their eternal perdition, and her hands felt guilty at letting them go through.
But of all the sorrows none was so great as for her eyes to see the tortures of Black Roderick, who stood beside her in his anguish, for the tears that fell upon him from her eyes gave him no relief, since he had injured her on earth. She held her hands to hold the fiery waters that fell upon him, and her tender body strove to stand between him and his tortures in vain. Seeing her so endeavoring, the evil one spoke, saying:
”What hast thou about thee, little soul, that thou art free from my fire and torments?”
Then the little bride remembered the tears she had hidden in her heart, that had fallen upon her in heaven from the angel's eyes, and she drew them forth.
And the tears spoke to her, saying: