The Dream of Eugene Aram.

The Dream of Eugene Aram.

BY THOMAS HOOD.

27

The late Admiral Burney went to school at an establishment where the unhappy Eugene Aram was usher subsequent to his crime. The Admiral stated that Aram was generally liked by the boys; and that he used to discourse to them about murder in somewhat of the spirit which is attributed to him in

this poem.

'TWAS

in the prime of summer time,

An evening calm and cool,

And four-and-twenty happy boys

Came bounding out of school:

There were some that ran and some that leapt,

Like troutlets in a pool.

Away they sped with gamesome minds,
And souls untouch'd by sin;

To a level mead they came, and there
They drave the wickets in:
Pleasantly shone the setting sun
Over the town of Lynn.

Like sportive deer they coursed about,
And shouted as they ran,

Turning to mirth all things of earth
As only boyhood can;

But the Usher sat remote from all,
A melancholy man!

His hat was off, his vest apart,

To catch heaven's blessed breeze;

For a burning thought was in his brow,

And his bosom ill at ease:

So he lean'd his head on his hands, and read
The book between his knees.

Leaf after leaf he turn'd it o'er,

Nor ever glanced aside;

For the peace of his soul he read that book

In the golden eventide :

Much study had made him very lean,
And pale, and leaden-eyed.

At last he shut the ponderous tome;
With a fast and fervent grasp
He strain'd the dusky covers close,
And fix'd the brazen hasp:
"O God, could I so close my mind,
And clasp it with a clasp !"

Then leaping on his feet upright,
Some moody turns he took,—
Now up the mead, then down the mead,
And past a shady nook,—

And, lo! he saw a little boy

That pored upon a book!

"My gentle lad, what is't

Romance or fairy fable?

Or is it some historic page,

you read

Of kings and crowns unstable?"

The young boy gave an upward glance,— "It is "The Death of Abel.""

The Usher took six hasty strides,
As smit with sudden pain,-
Six hasty strides beyond the place,
Then slowly back again;

And down he sat beside the lad,

And talk'd with him of Cain;

The Dream of Eugene Aram.

And, long since then, of bloody men,

Whose deeds tradition saves;
Of lonely folk cut off unseen,
And hid in sudden graves;
Of horrid stabs in groves forlorn,
And murders done in caves;

And how the sprites of injured men
Shriek upward from the sod,—
Ay, how the ghostly hand will point
To show the burial clod;

And unknown facts of guilty acts
Are seen in dreams from God!

He told how murderers walk'd the earth
Beneath the curse of Cain,

With crimson clouds before their eyes,
And flames about their brain;
For blood has left upon their souls
Its everlasting stain!

"And well," quoth he, "I know, for truth,

Their pangs must be extreme

Woe, woe, unutterable woe

Who spill life's sacred stream.

For why? Methought, last night, I wrought
A murder in a dream!

"One that had never done me wrong,

A feeble man, and old;

I led him to a lonely field,

The moon shone clear and cold: Now here, said I, this man shall die, And I will have his gold.

29

"Two sudden blows with a ragged stick

And one with a heavy stone,

One hurried gash with a hasty knife,
And then the deed was done :
There was nothing lying at my foot,
But lifeless flesh and bone.

"Nothing but lifeless flesh and bone,
That could not do me ill;

And yet I fear'd him all the more
For lying there so still :

There was a manhood in his look
That murder could not kill.

66

And, lo! the universal air

Seem'd lit with ghastly flame-
Ten thousand thousand dreadful eyes
Were looking down in blame;
I took the dead man by the hand,
And call'd upon his name.

"O God, it made me quake to see
Such sense within the slain !
But when I touch'd the lifeless clay,
The blood gush'd out amain:
For every clot a burning spot
Was scorching in my brain.

"My head was like an ardent coal,
My heart as solid ice;

My wretched, wretched soul, I knew,
Was at the devil's price:

A dozen times I groan'd; the dead

Had never groan'd but twice.

The Dream of Eugene Aram.

"And now from forth the frowning sky, From the heaven's topmost height,

I heard a voice-the awful voice

Of the blood-avenging sprite'Thou guilty man, take up thy dead, And hide it from my sight!'

"I took the dreary body up,
And cast it in a stream,
A sluggish water, black as ink,
The depth was so extreme.
My gentle boy, remember this
Is nothing but a dream.

"Down went the corse with a hollow plunge,

And vanish'd in the pool;

Anon I cleansed my bloody hands,

And wash'd my forehead cool,

And sat among the urchins young

"O Heaven, to think of their white souls,
And mine so black and grim!

I could not share in childish prayer,
Nor join in evening hymn:

Like a devil of the pit I seem'd

'Mid holy cherubim.

"And peace went with them one and all,
And each calm pillow spread;

But Guilt was my grim chamberlain
That lighted me to bed,

And drew my midnight curtains round

With fingers bloody red.

31