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(From Prologue to Giles Corey of the Salem Farms)
DELUSIONS of the days that once have been, | |
| Witchcraft and wonders of the world unseen, | |
| Phantoms of air, and necromantic arts | |
| That crushed the weak and awed the stoutest hearts,— | |
| These are our theme to-night; and vaguely here, | 5 |
| Through the dim mists that crowd the atmosphere, | |
| We draw the outlines of weird figures cast | |
| In shadow on the background of the Past. | |
| Who would believe that in the quiet town | |
| Of Salem, and amid the woods that crown | 10 |
| The neighboring hillsides, and the sunny farms | |
| That fold it safe in their paternal arms,— | |
| Who would believe that in those peaceful streets, | |
| Where the great elms shut out the summer heats, | |
| Where quiet reigns, and breathes through brain and breast | 15 |
| The benediction of unbroken rest,— | |
| Who would believe such deeds could find a place | |
| As these whose tragic history we retrace? | |
| ’T was but a village then: the goodman ploughed | |
| His ample acres under sun or cloud; | 20 |
| The goodwife at her doorstep sat and spun, | |
| And gossiped with her neighbors in the sun; | |
| The only men of dignity and state | |
| Were then the Minister and the Magistrate, | |
| Who ruled their little realm with iron rod, | 25 |
| Less in the love than in the fear of God; | |
| And who believed devoutly in the Powers | |
| Of Darkness, working in this world of ours, | |
| In spells of Witchcraft, incantations dread, | |
| And shrouded apparitions of the dead. | 30 |
| Upon this simple folk “with fire and flame,” | |
| Saith the old Chronicle, “the Devil came; | |
| Scattering his firebrands and his poisonous darts, | |
| To set on fire of Hell all tongues and hearts! | |
| And ’t is no wonder; for, with all his host, | 35 |
| There most he rages where he hateth most, | |
| And is most hated; so on us he brings | |
| All these stupendous and portentous things!” | |
| Something of this our scene to-night will show; | |
| And ye who listen to the Tale of Woe, | 40 |
| Be not too swift in casting the first stone, | |
| Nor think New England bears the guilt alone. | |
| This sudden burst of wickedness and crime | |
| Was but the common madness of the time, | |
| When in all lands, that lie within the sound | 45 |
| Of Sabbath bells, a Witch was burned or drowned. | |
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