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Poem by William Harrison Ainsworth
The Old Oak Coffin
Sic ego componi versus in ossa velim. – TIBULLUS.
1.
In a churchyard, upon the sward,
a coffin there was laid,
And leaning stood, beside the wood,
a sexton on his spade.
A coffin old and black it was,
and fashioned curiously,
With quaint device of carved oak,
in hideous fantasie.
2.
For here was wrought the sculptured thought
of a tormented face,
With serpents lithe that round it writhe,
in folded strict embrace.
Grim visages of grinning fiends
were at each corner set,
And emblematic scrolls, mort-heads,
and bones together met.
3.
“Ah, welladay!” that sexton grey
unto himself did cry,
“Beneath that lid much lieth hid –
much awful mysterie.
It is an ancient coffin from the abbey
that stood here;
Perchance it holds an abbot’s bones,
perchance those of a frere.
4.
“In digging deep, where monks do sleep,
beneath yon cloister shrined,
That coffin old, within the mould,
it was my chance to find;
The costly carvings of the lid
I scraped full carefully,
In hope to get at name or date,
yet nothing could I see.
5.
“With pick and spade I’ve plied my trade
for sixty years and more,
Yet never found, beneath the ground,
shell strange as that before;
Full many coffins have I seen –
have seen them deep or flat,
Fantastical in fashion –
none fantastical as that.”
6.
And saying so, with heavy blow,
the lid he shattered wide,
And, pale with fright, a ghastly sight
that sexton gray espied;
A miserable sight it was,
that loathsome corpse to see,
The last, last, dreary, darksome stage
of fall’n humanity.
7.
Though all was gone, save reeky bone,
a green and grisly heap,
With scarce a trace of fleshly face,
strange posture did it keep.
The hands were clenched, the teeth were wrenched,
as if the wretch had risen,
E’en after death had ta’en his breath,
to strive and burst his prison.
8.
The neck was bent, the nails were rent,
no limb or joint was straight;
Together glued, with blood imbued,
black and coagulate.
And, as the sexton stooped him down
to lift the coffin plank,
His fingers were defiled all o’er
with slimy substance dank.
9
“Ah, welladay!” that sexton grey
unto himself did cry,
“Full well I see how Fate’s decree
foredoomed this wretch to die;
A living man, a breathing man,
within the coffin thrust,
Alack! alack! the agony ere
he returned to dust!”
10.
A vision drear did then appear
unto that sexton’s eyes;
Like that poor wight before him straight
he in a coffin lies.
He lieth in a trance within
that coffin close and fast;
Yet though he sleepeth now, he feels
he shall awake at last.
11.
The coffin, then, by reverend men,
is borne with footsteps slow,
Where tapers shine before the shrine,
where breathes the requiem low;
And for the dead the prayer is said,
for the soul that is not flown –
Then all is drowned in hollow sound,
the earth is o’er him thrown!
12.
He draweth breath –he wakes from death
to life more horrible;
To agony! such agony!
no living tongue may tell.
Die! die he must, that wretched one!
he struggles – strives in vain;
No more Heaven’s light, nor sunshine bright,
shall he behold again.
13.
“Gramercy, Lord!” the sexton roared,
awakening suddenly,
“If this be dream, yet doth it seem
most dreadful so to die.
Oh, cast my body in the sea!
or hurl it on the shore!
But nail me not in coffin fast –
no grave will I dig more.”William Harrison Ainsworth
William Harrison Ainsworth's other poems:
- One Foot in the Stirrup, or Turpin's First Fling
- The Game of High Toby
- The Modern Greek
- The Legend of Valdez
- The Soul-Bell
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