I.

ALONG Crane River's sunny slopes Blew warm the winds of May, And over Naumkeag's ancient oaks The green outgrew the gray.

The grass was green on Rial-side, The early birds at will Waked up the violet in its dell, The wind-flower on its hill.

"Where go you, in your Sunday coat, Son Andrew, tell me, pray." For striped perch in Wenham Lake I go to fish to-day."

"Unharmed of thee in Wenham Lake The mottled perch shall be A blue-eyed witch sits on the bank And weaves her net for thee.

"She weaves her golden hair; she sings Her spell-song low and faint; The wickedest witch in Salem jail Is to that girl a saint."

"Nay, mother, hold thy cruel tongue; God knows," the young man cried, "He never made a whiter soul Than hers by Wenham side.

"She tends her mother sick and blind, And every want supplies; To her above the blessed Book She lends her soft blue eyes.

"Her voice is glad with holy songs, Her lips are sweet with prayer; Go where you will, in ten miles round Is none more good and fair."

"Son Andrew, for the love of God And of thy mother, stay!" She clasped her hands, she wept aloud, But Andrew rode away.

"O reverend sir, my Andrew's soul The Wenham witch has caught; She holds him with the curled gold Whereof her snare is wrought.

"She charms him with her great blue eyes, She binds him with her hair; Oh, break the spell with holy words, Unbind him with a prayer!"

"Take heart," the painful preacher said, "This mischief shall not be; The witch shall perish in her sins And Andrew shall go free.

"Our poor Ann Putnam testifies She saw her weave a spell, Bare-armed, loose-haired, at full of moon, Around a dried-up well.

"'Spring up, O well!' she softly sang The Hebrew's old refrain (For Satan uses Bible words), Till water flowed a-main.

"And many a goodwife heard her speak By Wenham water words That made the buttercups take wings And turn to yellow birds.

"They say that swarming wild bees seek The hive at her command; And fishes swim to take their food From out her dainty hand.

"Meek as she sits in meeting-time, The godly minister Notes well the spell that doth compel The young men's eyes to her.

"The mole upon her dimpled chin Is Satan's seal and sign; Her lips are red with evil bread And stain of unblest wine.

"For Tituba, my Indian, saith At Quasycung she took The Black Man's godless sacrament And signed his dreadful book.

"Last night my sore-afflicted child Against the young witch cried. To take her Marshal Herrick rides Even now to Wenham side."

The marshal in his saddle sat, His daughter at his knee; "I go to fetch that arrant witch, Thy fair playmate," quoth he.

"Her spectre walks the parsonage, And haunts both hall and stair; They know her by the great blue eyes And floating gold of hair."

"They lie, they lie, my father dear! No foul old witch is she, But sweet and good and crystal-pure As Wenham waters be."

"I tell thee, child, the Lord hath set Before us good and ill, And woe to all whose carnal loves Oppose His righteous will.

"Between Him and the powers of hell Choose thou, my child, to-day No sparing hand, no pitying eye, When God commands to slay!"

He went his way; the old wives shook With fear as he drew nigh; The children in the dooryards held Their breath as he passed by.

Too well they knew the gaunt gray horse The grim witch-hunter rode The pale Apocalyptic beast By grisly Death bestrode.