LITMIR.BIZ

         'Tis that precisely which displeases me!

         She shuns her sisters' gay companionship;

         Seeks out the desert mountains, leaves her couch

         Before the crowing of the morning cock,

         And in the dreadful hour, when men are wont

         Confidingly to seek their fellow-men,

         She, like the solitary bird, creeps forth,

         And in the fearful spirit-realm of night,

         To yon crossway repairs, and there alone

         Holds secret commune with the mountain wind.

         Wherefore this place precisely doth she choose?

         Why hither always doth she drive her flock?

         For hours together I have seen her sit

         In dreamy musing 'neath the Druid tree,

         Which every happy creature shuns with awe.

         For 'tis not holy there; an evil spirit

         Hath since the fearful pagan days of old

         Beneath its branches fixed his dread abode.

         The oldest of our villagers relate

         Strange tales of horror of the Druid tree;

         Mysterious voices of unearthly sound

         From its unhallowed shade oft meet the ear.

         Myself, when in the gloomy twilight hour

         My path once chanced to lead me near this tree,

         Beheld a spectral figure sitting there,

         Which slowly from its long and ample robe

         Stretched forth its withered hand, and beckoned me.

         But on I went with speed, nor looked behind,

         And to the care of God consigned my soul.

         Yon holy image of the Virgin blest,

         Whose presence heavenly peace diffuseth round,

         Not Satan's work, leadeth thy daughter here.

         No! not in vain hath it in fearful dreams

         And apparitions strange revealed itself.

         For three successive nights I have beheld

         Johanna sitting on the throne at Rheims,

         A sparkling diadem of seven stars

         Upon her brow, the sceptre in her hand,

         From which three lilies sprung, and I, her sire,

         With her two sisters, and the noble peers,

         The earls, archbishops, and the king himself,

         Bowed down before her. In my humble home

         How could this splendor enter my poor brain?

         Oh, 'tis the prelude to some fearful fall!

         This warning dream, in pictured show, reveals

         The vain and sinful longing of her heart.

         She looks with shame upon her lowly birth.

         Because with richer beauty God hath graced

         Her form, and dowered her with wondrous gifts

         Above the other maidens of this vale,

         She in her heart indulges sinful pride,

         And pride it is through which the angels fell,

         By which the fiend of hell seduces man.

         Who cherishes a purer, humbler mind

         Than doth thy pious daughter? Does she not

         With cheerful spirit work her sisters' will?

         She is more highly gifted far than they,

         Yet, like a servant maiden, it is she

         Who silently performs the humblest tasks.

         Beneath her guiding hands prosperity

         Attendeth still thy harvest and thy flocks;

         And around all she does there ceaseless flows

         A blessing, rare and unaccountable.

         Ah truly! Unaccountable indeed!

         Sad horror at this blessing seizes me!

         But now no more; henceforth I will be silent.

         Shall I accuse my own beloved child?

         I can do naught but warn and pray for her.

         Yet warn I must. Oh, shun the Druid tree!

         Stay not alone, and in the midnight hour

         Break not the ground for roots, no drinks prepare,

         No characters inscribe upon the sand!

         'Tis easy to unlock the realm of spirits;

         Listening each sound, beneath a film of earth

         They lay in wait, ready to rush aloft.

         Stay not alone, for in the wilderness

         The prince of darkness tempted e'en the Lord.

         Hush! here is Bertrand coming back from town;

         What bears he in his hand?

                       You look at me

         With wondering gaze; no doubt you are surprised

         To see this martial helm!

                       We are indeed!

         Come, tell us how you come by it? Why bring

         This fearful omen to our peaceful vale?

         I scarce can tell you how I came by it.

         I had procured some tools at Vaucouleurs;

         A crowd was gathered in the market-place,

         For fugitives were just arrived in haste

         From Orleans, bringing most disastrous news.

         In tumult all the town together flocked,

         And as I forced a passage through the crowds,

         A brown Bohemian woman, with this helm,

         Approached me, eyed me narrowly, and said:

         "Fellow, you seek a helm; I know it well.

         Take this one! For a trifle

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