Classic Poem

M IDNIGHT'S solemn peal had rung;
My drowsy spirit listless hung
Between the certain and unreal,
When visioned forms and shapes ideal
Come floating from the dreamy cells
Where vagrant fancy ever dwells.
And thus, half-conscious, in my ear
A wailing voice I seemed to hear;
Its tones were thrilling, sad, and wild,
Like mother's anguish o'er her child.
Methought my casement opened wide,
A female form, that seemed to glide
On air, within my chamber stood
I knew her by the plaid and snood
That bound her streaming golden hair,
With rainbow hues all checker'd fair.
Her flowing robe around her fell;
Entranced I lay, as if a spell
Had bound me. On her mournful face
Love, sorrow, majesty, and grace
Were blended: she the silence broke;
My heart leaped up, 'twas Scotia spoke.
" Where shall I hide my world-wide shame? "
She cried; " Ye jewels of my fame,
My virtuous maidens, fair and bright,
Come forth and bless your Scotia's sight —
Come dressed in virtue's spotless charms,
To honour, grace, and bless the arms
Of wedded love. The wound is deep
That pains my heart; I mourn and weep
That pains my heart; I mourn and weep
This sad reproach above all others,
My nameless babes and unwed mothers.
This plague-sore eats away my life;
Stand up and answer, mother, wife —
Have you by teaching, watching, prayer,
By fair example, ceaseless care,
Trained up your child that she should go
In Virtue's path — say, is it so?
Let conscience speak, the roll of time
Is black with shame and red with crime. "
She paused, my bosom heaved and thrilled.
When next she spoke, her eyes were filled
With burning tears of grief and shame.
" Lost is the prestige of my name;
My daughters, modest, pure, and good —
What hand shall save from ruin's flood
The fair frail barks it soon would whelm?
Mothers, good mothers, at the helm! "
She ceased, she vanished, and my room
Seemed wrapt in sadder, deeper gloom.