IN seventeen hundred and eighty-three, To Lannion came dole and misery. Mignon an orphan, as good as fair, Served in the little hostelry there. One darkling night, when the hour was late, Two travellers rang at the outer gate. "Quick, hostess! supper, red wine, and food; We have money to pay, so that all be good." When they had drunken enough, and more, "Here is white money to pay the score. "And now shall your little servingmaid come, With her lantern lighted, to guide us home." "Gentles, in all our wide Brittany There is no man would harm her, so let it be." Forth went the maid, full of innocent pride, Fearless and free, with her light by her side. * * * * When they were far on their lonely way, They began to whisper, and mutter, and say, "Little maid, your face is as fair and bright As the foam on the wave in the morning light." "Gentles, I pray you, flatter me not: It is as God made it -- no other, God wot; "And were it fairer, I tell you true -- Ay, a hundred times fairer -- 'twere nought to you." "To judge, little maid, by your sober speech, You know all the good priests at the school can teach; "To judge from your accents, discreet and mild, You were bred in the convent cloister, my child." "No teacher had I, neither priest nor nun; There was no one to teach me on earth, not one. "But while by my father's poor hearth I wrought, God filled me with many a holy thought." "Set down your lantern and put out the light. Here is gold: none can help you, 'tis dead of night.' "Good sirs! for my brother the young priest's sake; If he heard such sayings his heart would break." * * * * "Oh, plunge me down fathoms deep in the sea, Of your mercy, rather than this thing be! "Rather than this -- 'twere a lighter doom -- Oh bury me quick in a living tomb!" * * * * The motherly hostess, sore afraid, Waited in vain for her little maid. She watched by the chill hearth's flickering light Till the bell tolled twice through the black dead night. Then cried, "Up, serving-men, sleep no more! Help! -- little maid Mignon lies drowned in gore." * * * * By the cross she lay dead, in the dead cold night, But beside her her lantern was still alight! | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...MEDITATION ON A JUNE EVENING by CONRAD AIKEN TWENTY-FOUR HOKKU ON A MODERN THEME by AMY LOWELL MADMAN OF THE SOUTH SIDE by CLARENCE MAJOR SURFACES AND MASKS; 1 by CLARENCE MAJOR SPOON RIVER ANTHOLOGY: DOW BRITT by EDGAR LEE MASTERS |