STAY, jailer, stay, and hear my woe! She is not mad who kneels to thee; For what I 'm now too well I know, And what I was, and what should be. I 'll rave no more in proud despair; My language shall be mild, though sad; But yet I firmly, truly swear, @3I am not mad, I am not mad!@1 My tyrant husband forged the tale Which chains me in this dismal cell; My fate unknown my friends bewail,— O jailer, haste that fate to tell! O, haste my father's heart to cheer! His heart at once't will grieve and glad To know, though kept a captive here, @3I am not mad, I am not mad!@1 He smiles in scorn, and turns the key; He quits the grate; I knelt in vain; His glimmering lamp still, still I see,— 'T is gone! and all is gloom again. Cold, bitter cold!—No warmth! no light! Life, all thy comforts once I had; Yet here I 'm chained, this freezing night, Although not @3mad; no, no,—not mad!@1 'T is sure some dream, some vision vain; What! @3I,@1 the child of rank and wealth,— Am @3I@1 the wretch who clanks this chain, Bereft of freedom, friends, and health? Ah! while I dwell on blessings fled, Which nevermore my heart must glad, How aches my heart, how burns my head; But 't is not @3mad; no, 't is not mad!@1 Hast thou, my child, forgot, ere this, A mother's face, a mother's tongue? She 'll ne'er forget your parting kiss, Nor round her neck how fast you clung; Nor how with her you sued to stay; Nor how that suit your sire forbade; Nor how—I 'll drive such thoughts away! They 'll @3make@1 me mad, they 'll @3make@1 me mad! His rosy lips, how sweet they smiled! His mild blue eyes, how bright they shone! None ever bore a lovelier child, And art thou now forever gone? And must I never see thee more, My pretty, pretty, pretty lad? I will be free! unbar the door! @3I am not mad; I am not mad!@1 O, hark! what mean those yells and cries? His chain some furious madman breaks; He comes,—I see his glaring eyes; Now, now, my dungeon-grate he shakes. @3Help! Help!@1—He 's gone!—O, fearful woe, Such screams to hear, such sights to see! My brain, my brain,—I know, I know I am @3not@1 mad, but soon @3shall@1 be. Yes, soon;—for, lo you! while I speak,— Mark how yon demon's eyeballs glare! He sees me; now, with dreadful shriek, He whirls a serpent high in air. Horror!—the reptile strikes his tooth Deep in my heart, so crushed and sad; Ay, laugh, ye fiends;—I feel the truth; Your task is done,—I 'M MAD! I 'M MAD! |