Analysis of The Hand Of Glory: The Nurse's Story



Malefica quaedam auguriatrix in Anglia fuit, quam demones horribiliter extraxerunt, et imponentes super equum terribilem, per aera rapuerunt; Clamoresque terribiles (ut ferunt) per quatuor ferme miliaria audiebantur.

On the lone bleak moor,
At the midnight hour,
Beneath the Gallows Tree,
Hand in hand
The Murderers stand
By one, by two, by three!
And the Moon that night
With a grey, cold light
Each baleful object tips;
One half of her form
Is seen through the storm,
The other half 's hid in Eclipse!
And the cold Wind howls,
And the Thunder growls,
And the Lightning is broad and bright;
And altogether
It 's very bad weather,
And an unpleasant sort of a night!
'Now mount who list,
And close by the wrist
Sever me quickly the Dead Man's fist!
Now climb who dare
Where he swings in air,
And pluck me five locks of the Dead Man's hair!'

There 's an old woman dwells upon Tappington Moor,
She hath years on her back at the least fourscore,
And some people fancy a great many more;
Her nose it is hook'd,
Her back it is crook'd,
Her eyes blear and red:
On the top of her head
Is a mutch, and on that
A shocking bad hat,
Extinguisher-shaped, the brim narrow and flat!
Then, My Gracious! her beard! it would sadly perplex
A spectator at first to distinguish her sex;
Nor, I'll venture to say, without scrutiny could be
Pronounce her, off-handed, a Punch or a Judy.
Did you see her, in short, that mud-hovel within,
With her knees to her nose, and her nose to her chin,
Leering up with that queer, indescribable grin,
You'd lift up your hands in amazement, and cry,
'Well! I never did see such a regular Guy!'

And now before
That old Woman's door,
Where nought that 's good may be,
Hand in hand
The Murderers stand
By one, by two, by three!

Oh! 'tis a horrible sight to view,
In that horrible hovel, that horrible crew,
By the pale blue glare of that flickering flame,
Doing the deed that hath never a name!
'Tis awful to hear
Those words of fear!
The prayer mutter'd backwards, and said with a sneer!
(Matthew Hopkins himself has assured us that when
A witch says her prayers, she begins with 'Amen.')
'Tis awful to see
On that Old Woman's knee
The dead, shrivell'd hand, as she clasps it with glee!

And now, with care,
The five locks of hair
From the skull of the Gentleman dangling up there,
With the grease and the fat
Of a black Tom Cat
She hastens to mix,
And to twist into wicks,
And one on the thumb, and each finger to fix.
(For another receipt the same charm to prepare,
Consult Mr Ainsworth and Petit Albert.)

'Now open lock
To the Dead Man's knock!
Fly bolt, and bar, and band!
Nor move, nor swerve
Joint, muscle, or nerve,
At the spell of the Dead Man's hand!
Sleep all who sleep! Wake all who wake!
But be as the Dead for the Dead Man's sake!!'

All is silent! all is still,
Save the ceaseless moan of the bubbling rill
As it wells from the bosom of Tappington Hill.
And in Tappington Hall
Great and Small,
Gentle and Simple, Squire and Groom,
Each one hath sought his separate room,
And sleep her dark mantle hath o'er them cast,
For the midnight hour hath long been past!

All is darksome in earth and sky,
Save, from yon casement, narrow and high,
A quivering beam
On the tiny stream
Plays, like some taper's fitful gleam
By one that is watching wearily.

Within that casement, narrow and high,
In his secret lair, where none may spy,
Sits one whose brow is wrinkled with care,
And the thin grey locks of his failing hair
Have left his little bald pate all bare;
For his full-bottom'd wig
Hangs, bushy and big,
On the top of his old-fashion'd, high-back'd chair.
Unbraced are his clothes,
Ungarter'd his hose,
His gown is bedizen'd with tulip and rose,
Flowers of remarkable size and hue,
Flowers such as Eden never knew;
And there, by many a sparkling heap
Of the good red gold,
The tale is told
What powerful spell avails to keep
That careworn man from his needful sleep!

Haply, he deems no eye can see
As he gloats on his treasure greedily,
The shining store
Of glittering ore,
The fair Rose-Noble, the bright Moidore,
And the broad Double-Joe from beyond the sea,
But there's one that watches as well as he;
For, wakeful and sly,
In a closet hard by
On his truckle bed lieth a little Foot-page,
A boy who 's uncommonly sharp of his age,
Like young Master Horner,
Who erst in a corner
Sat eating a Christmas pie:
And, while that Old Gentleman's counting his hoards,
Little Hugh peeps through a crack in the boards!

There 's a voice in the air,
There 's a step on the stair,
The old man starts in his cane-back'd chair;
At the first faint sound
He gazes around,
And holds up his dip of sixteen to the pound.
Then half arose
From beside his toes
His little pug-dog with his little pug nose,
But, ere he can vent one inquisitive sniff,
That little pug-dog stands stark and stiff,
For low, yet clear,
Now fall on the ear,
Where once pronounced for ever they dwell,
The unholy words of the Dead Man's spell!
'Open lock
To the Dead Man's knock!
Fly bolt, and bar, and band!
Nor move, nor swerve,
Joint, muscle, or nerve,
At the spell of the Dead Man's hand!
Sleep all who sleep! Wake all who wake!
But be as the Dead for the Dead Man's sake!'Now lock, nor bolt, nor bar avails,
Nor stout oak panel thick-studded with nails.
Heavy and harsh the hinges creak,
Though they had been oil'd in the course of the week,
The door opens wide as wide may be,
And there they stand,
That murderous band,
Lit by the light of the GLORIOUS HAND,
By one! by two! by three!

They have pass'd through the porch, they have pass'd through the hall,
Where the Porter sat snoring against the wall;
The very snore froze,
In his very snub nose,
You'd have verily deem'd he had snored his last
When the Glorious HAND by the side of him pass'd!
E'en the little wee mouse, as it ran o'er the mat
At the top of its speed to escape from the cat,
Though half dead with affright,
Paused in its flight;
And the cat that was chasing that little wee thing
Lay crouch'd as a statue in act to spring!
And now they are there,
On the head of the stair,
And the long crooked whittle is gleaming and bare,
I really don't think any money would bribe
Me the horrible scene that ensued to describe,
Or the wild, wild glare
Of that old man's eye,
His dumb despair,
And deep agony.
The kid from the pen, and the lamb from the fold,
Unmoved may the blade of the butcher behold;
They dream not    ah, happier they! that the knife,
Though uplifted, can menace their innocent life;
It falls; the frail thread of their being is riven,
They dread not, suspect not, the blow till 'tis given.
But, oh! what a thing 'tis to see and to know
That the bare knife is raised in the hand of the foe,
Without hope to repel, or to ward off the blow!
Enough! let 's pass over as fast as we can
The fate of that grey, that unhappy old man!

But fancy poor Hugh,
Aghast at the view,
Powerless alike to speak or to do!
In vain doth be try
To open the eye
That is shut, or close that which is clapt to the chink,
Though he'd give all the world to be able to wink!
No! for all that this world can give or refuse,
I would not be now in that little boy's shoes,
Or indeed any garment at all that is Hugh's!
'Tis lucky for him that the chink in the wall
He has peep'd through so long, is so narrow and small.

Wailing voices, sounds of woe
Such as follow departing friends,
That fatal night round Tappington go,
Its long-drawn roofs and its gable ends:
Ethereal Spirits, gentle and good,
Aye weep and lament o'er a deed of blood.

'Tis early dawn    the morn is grey,
And the clouds and the tempest have pass'd away,
And all things betoken a very fine day;

But, while the lark her carol is singing,
Shrieks and screams are through Tappington ringing!
Upstarting all,
Great and small
Each one who 's found within Tappington Hall,
Gentle and Simple, Squire or Groom,
All seek at once that old Gentleman's room;
And there, on the floor,
Drench'd in its gore,
A ghastly corpse lies exposed to the view,
Carotid and jugular both cut through!
And there, by its side,
'Mid the crimson tide,
Kneels a little Foot-page of tenderest years;
Adown his pale cheek the fast-falling tears
Are coursing each other round and big,
And he 's staunching the blood with a full-bottom'd wig!
Alas! and alack for his staunching!'tis plain,
As anatomists tell us, that never again
Shall life revisit the foully slain,
When once they've been cut through the jugular vein.

There's a hue and a cry through the County of Kent,
And in chase of the cut-throats a Constable's sent,
But no one can tell the man which way they went:
There's a little Foot-page with that Constable goes,
And a little pug-dog with a little pug nose.

In Rochester town,
At the sign of the Crown,
Three shabby-genteel men are just sitting down
To a fat stubble-goose, with potatoes done brown;
When a little Foot-page
Rushes in, in a rage,
Upsetting the apple-sauce, onions, and sage.
That little Foot-page takes the first by the throat,
And a little pug-dog takes the next by the coat,
And a Constable seizes the one more remote;
And fair rose-nobles and broad moidores,
The Waiter pulls out of their pockets by scores,
And the Boots and the Chambermaids run in and stare;
And the Constable says, with a dignified air,
'You're wanted, Gen'lemen, one and all,
For that 'ere precious lark at Tappington Hall!'

There 'a a black gibbet frowns upon Tappington Moor,
Where a former black gibbet has frown'd before:
It is as black as black may be,
And murderers there
Are dangling in air,
By one! by two! by three!

There 's a horrid old hag in a steeple-crown'd hat,
Round her neck they have tied to a hempen cravat
A Dead Man's hand, and a dead Tom Cat!
They have tied up her thumbs, they have tied up her toes,
They have tied up her eyes, they have tied up her limbs!
Into Tappington mill-dam souse she goes,
With a whoop and a halloo!'She swims! She swims!'
They have dragg'd her to land,
And every one's hand
Is grasping a faggot, a billet, or brand,
When a queer-looking horseman, drest all in black,
Snatches up that old harridan just like a sack
To the crupper behind him, puts spurs to his hack,
Makes a dash through the crowd, and is off in a crack!
No one can tell,
Though they guess pretty well,
Which way that grim rider and old woman go,
For all see he 's a sort of infernal Ducrow;
And she scream'd so, and cried,
We may fairly decide
That the old woman did not much relish her ride!


Scheme Text too long
Poetic Form
Metre 111010011111111011111111111111 10111 10110 010101 101 01001 111111 00111 10111 110101 11101 11101 010111001 00111 00101 00101101 0010 1110110 010101101 1111 01101 101100111 1111 11101 0111110111 11111010111 1111011011 01101001101 01111 011110 01101 101101 101011 01011 01001011001 111001111001 010011101001 1110110110011 010110011010 111001111001 101101001101 1111101001 11111001001 111011101001 0101 11101 1111111 101 01001 111111 110100111 011001011001 10111111001 1001111001 11011 1111 01101001101 101001101111 01101101101 11011 111101 0111111111 0111 01111 1011010010011 101001 10111 11011 011011 01101011011 101001011101 01101001010 1101 10111 110101 1111 11011 10110111 11111111 1110110111 1110111 10101101001 1111010111 0011 101 10010101 11111101 01011011011 101101111 1110101 11111001 01001 10101 1111101 111110100 01111001 011011111 111111011 0011111101 111101111 111101 11001 10111110111 1111 111 111111001 1010100101 101110101 011100101 10111 0111 11001111 11111101 1111111 1111110100 0101 11001 01110011 00110110101 1111101111 1101 001011 1111101011 01111001111 111010 110010 1100101 0111101011 1011101001 1101001 1101101 011101111 10111 11001 01111101101 1101 10111 11011111011 11111101001 110111101 1111 11101 110111011 0010110111 101 10111 110101 1111 11011 10110111 11111111 11101101111111111 1111011011 10010101 11111001101 011011111 0111 11001 1101101001 111111 111101111101 10101100101 01011 011011 111111111 101001101111 11010111111001 101111101101 11111 1011 001111011011 111010111 01111 101101 001101011001 11011101011 101001101101 10111 11111 1101 01100 01101001101 01101101001 11111001101 110011011001 110111110110 111011011110 11101111011 101111001101 011101111101 011111011111 01111101011 11011 01101 1000111111 01111 11001 111111111101 111101111011 11111111101 11111011011 101101011111 11011101001 111111111001 1010111 11100101 1101111 111101101 0100101001 11001100111 11010111 00100101101 011101011 1101010110 10111110 11 101 111110111 10010111 111111101 01101 1011 0101101101 0100100111 01111 10101 101011111 111101101 110110101 011101101101 01011111 111111001 11010011 11111101001 101001101011 0011011011 11111011111 101011111001 001011101011 0101 101101 11001111101 101101101011 101011 100001 01001011001 11011101101 001011101101 001001001101 01110011 01011111011 0010011001 00100110101 110110101 111101111 1001110111 1010111101 11111111 01001 110001 111111 1101011001011 10111110101 011100111 111101111101 111101111101 01111111 101001111 111011 010011 11001001011 10110101101 1011111101 10101111111 101101011001 1111 111101 11111001101 111110110101 011101 11101 101101111001
Closest metre Iambic tetrameter
Characters 10,181
Words 1,975
Sentences 82
Stanzas 21
Stanza Lengths 1, 24, 19, 6, 12, 10, 8, 9, 6, 18, 16, 31, 32, 12, 6, 3, 21, 5, 16, 6, 21
Lines Amount 282
Letters per line (avg) 28
Words per line (avg) 7
Letters per stanza (avg) 379
Words per stanza (avg) 93
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Submitted on August 03, 2020

Modified on March 05, 2023

10:09 min read
3

Richard Harris Barham

Richard Harris Barham was an English cleric of the Church of England, novelist, and humorous poet. more…

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    A figure of speech that compares two unlike things using "like" or "as" is called a _______.
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    B metaphor
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    D simile