How glare his angry eyes, and yet he's not awake: See! what cold drops upon his forehead stand, And how he clenches that broad bony hand." The Priest attending, found he spoke at times As one alluding to his fears and crimes; "It was the fall," he mutter'd, "I can show The manner how,--I never struck a blow:" - And then aloud,--"Unhand me, free my chain; On oath he fell--it struck him to the brain: - Why ask my father?--that old man will swear Against my life; besides, he wasn't there: What, all agreed?--Am I to die to-day? - My Lord, in mercy give me time to pray." Then as they watch'd him, calmer he became, And grew so weak he couldn't move his frame, But murmuring spake--while they could see and hear The start of terror and the groan of fear; See the large dew-beads on his forehead rise, And the cold death-drop glaze his sunken eyes: Nor yet he died, but with unwonted force Seem'd with some fancied being to discourse: He knew not us, or with accustom'd art He hid the knowledge, yet exposed his heart; 'Twas part confession and the rest defence, A madman's tale, with gleams of waking sense. "I'll tell you all," he said, "The very day When the old man first placed them in my way: My father's spirit--he who always tried To give me trouble, when he lived and died - When he was gone he could not be content To see my days in painful labour spent, But would appoint his meetings, and he made Me watch at these, and so neglect my trade. "'Twas one hot noon, all silent, still, serene, No living being had I lately seen; I paddled up and down and dipp'd my net, But (such his pleasure) I could nothing get, - A father's pleasure, when his toil was done, To plague and torture thus an only son! And so I sat and look'd upon the stream, How it ran on and felt as in a dream: But dream it was not: No!--I fix'd my eyes On the mid stream and saw the spirits rise: I saw my father on the water stand, And hold a thin pale boy in either hand; And there they glided ghastly on the top Of the salt flood, and never touch'd a drop: I would have struck them, but they knew th' intent, And smiled upon the oar, and down they went. "Now, from that day, whenever I began To dip my net, there stood the hard old man - He and those boys: I humbled me and pray'd They would be gone; they heeded not, but stay'd: Nor could I turn, nor would the boat go by, But, gazing on the spirits, there was I: They bade me leap to death, but I was loth to die: And every day, as sure as day arose, Would these three spirits meet me ere the close; To hear and mark them daily was my doom, And 'Come,' they said, with weak, sad voices, 'Come.' To row away, with all my strength I tried, But there were they hard by me in the tide, The three unbodied forms--and 'Come, still come,' they cried. "Fathers should pity--but this old man shook His hoary locks, and froze me by a look: Thrice when I struck them, through the water came A hollow groan, that weaken'd all my frame: