“Give me,” she said, “the silver
candlesticks
On either side of the great crucifix.
God well may spare them on His errands sped,
Or He can give you golden ones instead.”
Then spake Tritemius, “Even as thy word,
Woman, so be it! (Our most gracious Lord,
Who loveth mercy more than sacrifice,
Pardon me if a human soul I prize
Above the gifts upon his altar piled!
Take what thou askest, and redeem thy child.”
But his hand trembled as the holy alms
He placed within the beggar’s eager palms;
And as she vanished down the linden shade,
He bowed his head and for forgiveness prayed.
So the day passed, and when the twilight came
He woke to find the chapel all aflame,
And, dumb with grateful wonder, to behold
Upon the altar candlesticks of gold!
1857.
In the valuable and carefully prepared History of
Marblehead, published in 1879 by Samuel Roads, Jr.,
it is stated that the crew of Captain Ireson, rather
than himself, were responsible for the abandonment
of the disabled vessel. To screen themselves
they charged their captain with the crime. In
view of this the writer of the ballad addressed the
following letter to the historian:—
Oak Knoll, Danvers, 5 mo. 18, 1880.
My dear friend: I heartily thank
thee for a copy of thy History of Marblehead.
I have read it with great interest and think good use
has been made of the abundant material. No town
in Essex County has a record more honorable than Marblehead;
no one has done more to develop the industrial interests
of our New England seaboard, and certainly none have
given such evidence of self-sacrificing patriotism.
I am glad the story of it has been at last told, and
told so well. I have now no doubt that thy version
of Skipper Ireson’s ride is the correct one.
My verse was founded solely on a fragment of rhyme
which I heard from one of my early schoolmates, a
native of Marblehead. I supposed the story to
which it referred dated back at least a century.
I knew nothing of the participators, and the narrative
of the ballad was pure fancy. I am glad for the
sake of truth and justice that the real facts are given
in thy book. I certainly would not knowingly
do injustice to any one, dead or living.
I am very truly thy friend,
John G. Whittier.
Of all the rides since, the birth of time,
Told in story or sung in rhyme,—
On Apuleius’s Golden Ass,
Or one-eyed Calendar’s horse of brass;
Witch astride of a human back,
Islam’s prophet on Al-Borak,—
The strangest ride that ever was sped
Was Ireson’s, out from Marblehead!
Old Floyd Ireson, for his hard heart,
Tarred and feathered and carried in a cart
By the women of Marblehead!
Body of turkey, head of owl,
Wings a-droop like a rained-on fowl,
