Classic Poem

  A. You said you wished to trust some secret to me?
  Y. Sit down, and let us talk. Is the door fast?
  A. 'Tis ne'er left open. I don't sleep o' nights,
With my throat bare for every knife that comes.
No: I know better.
  Y. Ay; you know there are some
Will knock a man o' the head for half a dollar;
And dream that night the merrier?
  A. No, not so:
Not for so little.
  Y. You interpret me
Too literally. I meant for some small sum:
A slight annuity, now?
  A. Ha!—well? what then?
  Y. Why nothing,—nothing. We've forgot the secret.
  A. I heard a noise.
  Y. 'Twas but the wind.—Now, listen.
—Some years ago, before I went abroad—
'Twas on a winter's night:—the storm that had vexed
The evening, now was hushed: The ground, late crisp
With frost, grew soft; and footsteps made no noise.
'Twas dark, pitch dark; and not a sound was heard;
Save when some murderer, struggling with his dreams,
Babbled of blood, or some child-robber groaned—
  A. S' Death, what's all this? Go to your tale at once.
  Y. Patience! On such a night, I lay awake,
Amidst the silence: Midnight might be past;
When you and your late wife—
  A. Your mother: well?
  Y. Crept nearer to the ashes, then nigh dead;
And, after words more stormy than the wind,
Fell talking of old times. You—(look at me!)
You spoke together, loosely, of some deed,
Done years before; of some rich man's desire
To jump into his elder brother's seat,
And lose some—reptile brat that troubled him.
And then you whispered, (whilst your wife peered round,
Shaking like Horror), ‘Safe, 'gainst all the world’!
You swore (I hear your hoarse words now) you had trod
The earth on ‘the body’, and made all things sure.
Then followed a strange fact (I had well nigh laughed
Right through the crevice, where I watched, unknown);
'Twas of a child, stolen from his home; brought up
In workhouse poverty; and taken, at last,
Into your house. Ha, ha!—I hurried back
Into my bed, and there laughed out my fill:
The tale was so like my own.
  A. Stay here, a moment.
  Y. No, by my soul; not I. You shall not pass.
Look! I have pistols in my belt. You know
I am not a man to trifle.
  A. Would you kill
Your father?
  Y. Ha, ha, ha! Am I a fool?
Did you not say ‘the child’ wore on its throat
A mark? Look!—What am I? I am the child:
And I will know my parentage.
  A. Be calm.
  Y. Dost think—had I not done a foolish thing,
That I 'd have slept so long upon this tale?
Not I, by Hell. I was compelled to starve
Ten years abroad, to cheat our cursed laws:
But time has run; and they who might have thrust me,
A culprit, out to the burning colonies,
Can do 't no more. Their power is dead: Dost mark?
And now I come upon you, and will ungrave
The bloody secret. I will know the worst.
If you speak fairly, all may still go well:
If not, I'll straight before some magistrate.
And make my oath against you.
  A. Ha, ha, ha!
You have been dreaming.
  Y. We will search—a field!
And we will know whose purse now feeds your wants.
You were not born to live on others' toil:
But, bred a servant,—what has raised you thus?
Look on me. Who am I? Do I not know
That creatures, whom some wrong (as damnable
As mine) hath crushed in youth, though hid in rags,
Have felt their spirits mount up to the clouds,
And forced their way to fortune:—So will I.
Confess; or I am gone.
  A. Give me a day.
  Y. I will not give an hour. This minute's thine,
To yield, or dare:—the next belongs to Fate.