THE ENCHANTED MAID.
23
Before her mother’s house they stopped,
And struck a solemn strain.
It almost seemed a soul in pain,
That sang from out their harps:
“Oh, brave young men, I bid you go—
Your song, it is too full of woe,
Like some poor soul in pain;
And still it strikes me that I know
That tearful song again.”
The youths, they would not leave her side;
They played with wilder skill;
They sang, “Oh, mother, take thy fill
Of malediction now.”
And never from her human ears
Was hushed that song so full of fears
Until she dying lay.
And I have heard that devils came
And took her soul away.
