So weak and silent as she lay,
Her warm hands clasped in prayer,
A sudden knocking at the door
Came on her unaware.
And as she turned her hoary head,
Beside her chair there stood
Four grim and grisly Puritans—
No visitants for good.
They came upon her like a host,
And bade her speak and tell
Why she had sworn a wicked oath
To serve the powers of hell;
To work the works of darkness
On children of the light,
A witch they might not suffer here
Who read the Word aright.
Like one who sees her fireside yawn,
A pit of black despair,
Or one who wakes from quiet dreams
Within a lion's lair,
She glared at them with starting eyes,
Her voice essayed no sound;
She gasped like any hunted deer
The eager dogs surround.
"Answer us!" hoarse and loud they cry;
She looked from side to side—
No human help—"Oh, gracious God!"
In agony she cried.
Then, calling back her feeble life,
The white lips uttered slow,
"I am as pure as babe unborn
From this foul thing, ye know.
"If God doth visit me for sin,
Beneath His rod I bend,"
But pitiless and wroth were they,
And bent upon their end.
They tortured her with taunt and jeer,
They vexed her night and day—
No husband's arm nor sister's tears
Availed their rage to stay.