THERE is an old tradition sacred held in Wexford town, | |
| That says: Upon St. Martins Eve no net shall be let down; | |
| No fisherman of Wexford shall, upon that holy day, | |
| Set sail or cast a line within the scope of Wexford Bay. | |
| The tongue that framed the order, or the time, no one could tell; | 5 |
| And no one ever questioned, but the people kept it well. | |
| And never in mans memory was fisher known to leave | |
| The little town of Wexford on the good St. Martins Eve. | |
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| Alas! alas for Wexford! once upon that holy day | |
| Came a wondrous shoal of herring to the waters of the Bay. | 10 |
| The fishers and their families stood out upon the beach, | |
| And all day watched with wistful eyes the wealth they might not reach. | |
| Such shoal was never seen before, and keen regrets went round | |
| Alas! alas for Wexford! Hark! what is that grating sound? | |
| The boats keel on the shingle! Mothers! wives! ye well may grieve, | 15 |
| The fishermen of Wexford mean to sail on Martins Eve! | |
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| Oh, stay ye! cried the women wild. Stay! cried the men white-haired; | |
| And dare ye not to do this thing your fathers never dared. | |
| No man can thrive who tempts the Lord! Away! they cried: the Lord | |
| Neer sent a shoal of fish but as a fishermans reward. | 20 |
| And scoffingly they said, To-night our net shall sweep the Bay, | |
| And take the saint who guards it, should he come across our way! | |
| The keels have touched the water, and the crews are in each boat; | |
| And on St. Martins Eve the Wexford fishers are afloat! | |
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| The moon is shining coldly on the sea and on the land, | 25 |
| On dark faces in the fishing-fleet and pale ones on the strand, | |
| As seaward go the daring boats, and heavenward the cries | |
| Of kneeling wives and mothers with uplifted hands and eyes. | |
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| Oh Holy Virgin! be their guard! the weeping women cried; | |
| The old men, sad and silent, watched the boats cleave through the tide, | 30 |
| As past the farthest headland, past the lighthouse, in a line | |
| The fishing-fleet went seaward through the phosphor-lighted brine. | |
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| Oh, pray, ye wives and mothers! All your prayers they sorely need | |
| To save them from the wrath theyve roused by their rebellious greed. | |
| Oh! white-haired men and little babes, and weeping sweethearts, pray | 35 |
| To God to spare the fishermen to-night in Wexford Bay! | |
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| The boats have reached good offing, and, as out the nets are thrown, | |
| The hearts ashore are chilled to hear the soughing sea-winds moan: | |
| Like to a human heart that loved, and hoped for some return, | |
| To find at last but hatred, so the sea-wind seemed to mourn. | 40 |
| But ah! the Wexford fishermen! their nets did scarcely sink | |
| One inch below the foam, when, lo! the daring boatmen shrink | |
| With sudden awe and whitened lips and glaring eyes agape, | |
| For breast-high, threatening, from the sea uprose a Human Shape! | |
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| Beyond them,in the moonlight,hand upraised and awful mien, | 45 |
| Waving back and pointing landward, breast-high in the sea twas seen. | |
| Thrice it waved and thrice it pointed,then, with clenchèd hand upraised, | |
| The awful shape went down before the fishers as they gazed! | |
| Gleaming whitely through the water, fathoms deep they saw its frown, | |
| They saw its white hand clenched above it,sinking slowly down! | 50 |
| And then there was a rushing neath the boats, and every soul | |
| Was thrilled with greed: they knew it was the seaward-going shoal! | |
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| Defying the dread warning, every face was sternly set, | |
| And wildly did they ply the oar and wildly haul the net. | |
| But two boats crews obeyed the sign,God-fearing men were they, | 55 |
| They cut their lines and left their nets, and homeward sped away; | |
| But darkly rising sternward did Gods wrath in tempest sweep, | |
| And they, of all the fishermen, that night escaped the deep. | |
| Oh, wives and mothers, sweethearts, sires! well might ye mourn next day; | |
| For seventy fishers corpses strewed the shores of Wexford Bay! | 60 |
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