Poems (Southey)/Volume 2/A Ballad shewing how an old woman rode double and who rode before her
A.D. 852. Circa dies istos, mulier quædam malefica, in villa quæ Berkeleia dicitur degens, gulæ amatrix ac petulantiæ, flagitiis modum usque in senium et auguriis non ponens, usque ad mortem impudica permansit. Hæc die quadam cum sederet ad prandium, cornicula quam pro delitiis pascebat, nescio quid garrire cœpit; quo audito, mulieris cultellus de manu excidit, simul ct facies pallescere cœpit, et emisso rugitu, hodie, inquit, accipiam grande incommodum, hodieque ad sulcum ultimum meum pervenit aratrum. quo dicto, nuncius doloris intravit; muliere vero percunctatâ ad quid veniret, affero, inquit, tibi filii tui obitum & totius familiæ ejus ex subitâ ruinâ interitum. Hoc quoque dolore mulier permota, lecto protinus decubuit graviter infirmata; sentiensque morbum subrepere ad vitalia, liberos quos habuit superstites, monachum videlicet et monacham, per epistolam invitavit; advenientes autem voce singultiente alloquitur. Ego, inquit, o pueri, meo miserabili fato dæmoniacis semper artibus inservivi; ego omnium vitiorum sentina, ego illecebrarum omnium fui vestræ religionis, quæ meam solidaret animam desperatam; vos expectabam propugnatores contra dæmones, tutores contra sævissimes hostes. Nunc igitur quoniam ad finem vitæ perveni, rogo vos per materna ubera, ut mea tentatis alleviare tormenta. Insuite me defunctam in corio cervino, ac deinde in sarcophago lapideo supponite, operculumque ferro et plumbo constringite, ac demum lapidem tribus cathenis ferreis et fortissimis circundantes, clericos quinquaginta psalmorum cantores, et tot per tres dies presbyteros missarum celebratores applicate, qui feroces lenigent adversariorum incursus. Ita si tribus noctibus secura jacuero, quartâ die me infodite humo.
Factumque est ut præceperat illis. Sed, proh dolor! nil preces, nil lacrymæ, nil demum valuere catenæ. Primis enim duabus noctibus, cum chori psallentium corpori assistabant, advenientes Dæmones ostium ecclesiæ confregerunt ingenti obice clausum, extremasque cathenas negotio levi dirumpunt: media autem quæ fortior erat, illibata manebat. Tertiâ autem nocte, circa gallicinium, strepitu hostium adventantium, omne monasterium visum est a fundamento moveri. Unus ergo dæmonum, et vultu cæteris terribilior & staturâ eminentior, januas Ecclesiæ impetu violento concussas in fragmenta dejecit. Divexerunt clerici cum laicis, metu steterunt omnium capilli, et psalmorum concentus defecit. Dæmon ergo gestu ut videbatur arroganti ad sepulchrum accedens, & nomen mulieris modicum ingeminans, surgere imperavit. Quâ respondente, quod nequiret pro vinculis, jam malo tuo, inquit, solveris; et protinus cathenam quæ cæterorum ferociam dæmonum deluserat, velut stuppeum vinculum rumpebat. Operculum etiam sepulchri pede depellens, mulierem palam omnibus ab ecclesiâ extraxit, ubi præ foribus niger equus superbe hinniens videbatur, uncis ferreis et clavis undique confixus, super quem misera mulier projecta, ab oculis assistentium evanuit. Audiebantur tamen clamores per quatuor fere miliaria horribiles, auxilium postulantes.
Ista itaque quæ retuli incredibilia non erunt, si legatur beati Gregorii dialogus, in quo refert, hominem in ecclesiâ sepultam, a dæmonibus foras ejectum. Et apud Francos Carolus Martellus insignis vir fortudinis, qui Saracenos Galliam ingressos, Hispaniam redire compulit, exactis vitæ suæ diebus, in Ecclesiâ beati Dionysii legitur fuisse sepultus. Sed quia patrimonia, cum decimis omnium fere ecclesiarum Galliæ. pro stipendio commilitonum suorum mutilaverat, miserabiliter a malignis spiritibus de sepulchro corporaliter avulsus, usque in hodiernum diem nusquam onmparuit.
Matthew of Westminster.
This story is also related by Olaus Magnus, and in the Nuremberg Chronicle, from which the wooden cut is taken.
A BALLAD,
SHEWING HOW AN OLD WOMAN RODE DOUBLE,
AND WHO RODE BEFORE HER.
And the Old Woman knew what he said,
And she grew pale at the Raven's tale,
And sicken'd and went to her bed.
The Old Woman of Berkeley said,
The monk my son, and my daughter the nun
Bid them hasten or I shall be dead.
Their way to Berkeley went,
And they have brought with pious thought
The holy sacrament.
'Twas fearful her shrieks to hear,
Now take the sacrament away
For mercy, my children dear!
The sweat ran down her brow,
I have tortures in store for evermore,
Oh! spare me my children now!
The fit it left her weak,
She look'd at her children with ghastly eyes
And faintly struggled to speak.
And the judgment now must be,
But I secured my childrens souls,
Oh! pray my children for me.
The fiends have been my slaves,
I have nointed myself with infants fat,
And feasted on rifled graves.
My witchcrafts to atone,
And I who have rifled the dead man's grave
Shall never have rest in my own.
My children I beg of you!
And with holy water sprinkle my shroud
And sprinkle my coffin too.
And fasten it strong I implore
With iron bars, and let it be chain'd
With three chains to the church floor.
And let fifty priests stand round,
Who night and day the mass may say
Where I lie on the ground.
The funeral dirge to sing,
Who day and night by the taper's light
Their aid to me may bring.
Be toll'd by night and day,
To drive from thence the fiends who come
To bear my corpse away.
After the even song,
And I beseech you children dear
Let the bars and bolts be strong.
My wretched corpse to save,
Preserve me so long from the fiendish throng
And then I may rest in my grave.
And her eyes grew deadly dim,
Short came her breath and the struggle of death
Did loosen every limb.
With rites and prayers as due,
With holy water they sprinkled her shroud
And they sprinkled her coffin too.
And with iron barr'd it down,
And in the church with three strong chains
They chain'd it to the ground.
And fifty priests stood round,
By night and day the mass to say
Where she lay on the ground.
To sing the funeral song,
And a hallowed taper blazed in the hand
Of all the sacred throng.
It was a goodly sight,
Each holding, as it were a staff,
A taper burning bright.
Did toll so loud and long,
And they have barr'd the church door hard
After the even song.
Burnt steadily and clear.
But they without a hideous rout
Of angry fiends could hear;
Like a long thunder peal,
And the priests they pray'd and the choristers sung
Louder in fearful zeal.
The tapers they burnt bright,
The monk her son, and her daughter the nun
They told their beads all night.
The fiends from the herald of day,
And undisturb'd the choristers sing
And the fifty priests they pray.
Burnt dismally and blue,
And every one saw his neighbour's face
Like a dead man's face to view.
That the stoutest heart might shock,
And a deafening roaring like a cataract pouring
Over a mountain rock.
As fast as they could tell,
And aye as louder grew the noise
The faster went the bell.
As they trembled more and more,
And the fifty priests prayed to heaven for aid,
They never had prayed so before.
The fiends from the herald of day,
And undisturb'd the choristers sing
And the fifty priests they pray.
A hideous stench did make,
And they burnt as though they had been dipt
In the burning brimstone lake.
Grew momently more and more,
And strokes as of a battering ram
Did shake the strong church door.
Could toll the bell no longer,
And still as louder grew the strokes
Their fear it grew the stronger.
They fell on the ground dismay'd,
There was not a single saint in heaven
Whom they did not call to aid.
Grew a quaver of consternation,
For the church did rock as an earthquake shock
Uplifted its foundation.
That shall one day wake the dead,
The strong church door could bear no more
And the bolts and the bars they fled.
And the choristers faintly sung,
And the priests dismay'd, panted and prayed
Till fear froze every tongue.
The Fiend to fetch the dead,
And all the church with his presence glowed
Like a fiery furnace red.
And like flax they moulder'd asunder,
And the coffin lid that was barr'd so firm
He burst with his voice of thunder.
And come with her master away,
And the cold sweat stood on the cold cold corpse,
At the voice she was forced to obey.
Her dead flesh quivered with fear,
And a groan like that which the Old Woman gave
Never did mortal hear.
There stood a black horse there,
His breath was red like furnace smoke,
His eyes like a meteor's glare.
And he leapt up before,
And away like the lightning's speed they went
And she was seen no more.
For four miles round they could hear,
And children at rest at their mother's breast,
Started and screamed with fear.