XIV. Heard, have you? what? they have told you he never repented his sin. How do they know it? are they his mother? are you of his kin? Heard! have you ever heard, when the storm on the downs began, The wind that 'ill wail like a child and the sea that 'ill moan like a man?
XV. Election, Election and Reprobation—it's all very well. But I go to-night to my boy, and I shall not find him in Hell. For I cared so much for my boy that the Lord has looked into my care, And He means me I'm sure to be happy with Willy, I know not where.
XVI. And if he be lost—but to save my soul, that is all your desire: Do you think that I care for my soul if my boy be gone to the fire? I have been with God in the dark—go, go, you may leave me alone— You never have borne a child—you are just as hard as a stone.
XVII. Madam, I beg your pardon! I think that you mean to be kind, But I cannot hear what you say for my Willy's voice in the wind— The snow and the sky so bright—he used but to call in the dark, And he calls to me now from the church and not from the gibbet—for hark! Nay—you can hear it yourself—it is coming—shaking the walls— Willy—the moon's in a cloud—Good night. I am going. He calls.
ALFRED, LORD TENNYSON.
THE DREAM OF EUGENE ARAM.
'T was in the prime of summer time, An evening calm and cool, And four-and-twenty happy boys Came bounding out of school; There were some that ran, and some that leapt Like troutlets in a pool.
Away they sped with gamesome minds And souls untouched by sin; To a level mead they came, and there They drave the wickets in: Pleasantly shone the setting sun Over the town of Lynn.
Like sportive deer they coursed about, And shouted as they ran. Turning to mirth all things of earth As only boyhood can; But the usher sat remote from all, A melancholy man!
His hat was off, his vest apart, To catch heaven's blessèd breeze; For a burning thought was in his brow, And his bosom ill at ease; So he leaned his head on his hands, and read The book between his knees.