THE BANSHEE.
"Who sits upon the heath forlorn,
With robe so free and tresses torn?
Anon she pours a harrowing strain,
And then-she sits all mute again!-
Now peals the wild funeral cry -
And now - it sinks into a sigh."
Ourawns
LEGENDS OF THE BANSHEE.
XII.
The Reverend Charles Bunworth was rector of
Buttevant, in the county of Cork, about the middle
of the last century. He was a man of unaffected
piety, and of sound learning; pure in heart, and
benevolent in intention. By the rich he was re--
spected, and by the poor beloved; nor did a dif--
ference of creed prevent their looking up to "the
minister" (so was Mr. Bunworth called by them)
in matters of difficulty and in seasons of distress,
confident of receiving from him the advice and
assistance that a father would afford to his chil-
dren. He was the friend and the benefactor of
the surrounding country-to him, from the neigh-
bouring town of Newmarket, came both Curran
and Yelverton for advice and instruction, previous
to their entrance at Dublin College. Young, in-
digent and inexperienced, these afterwards emi-
nent men received from him, in addition to the
advice they sought, pecuniary aid; and the bril-
liant career which was theirs, justified the dis-
crimination of the giver.
But what extended the fame of Mr. Bunworth
far beyond the limits of the parishes adjacent to
his own, was his performance on the Irish harp
and his hospitable reception and entertainment of
the poor harpers who travelled from house to
house about the country. Grateful to their
patron, these itinerant minstrels sang his praises
to the tingling accompaniment of their harps, in-,
voking in return for his bounty abundant bless-
ings on his white head, and celebrating in their
rude verses the blooming charms of his daughters,
Elizabeth and Mary It was all these poor fel-
lows could do; but who can doubt that their
gratitude was sincere, when, at the time of Mr.
Bunworth's death, no less than fifteen harps were
deposited on the loft of his granary, bequeathed
to him by the last members of a race which has
now ceased to exist. Trifling, no doubt, in in-
trinsic value were these relics, yet there is some-
thing in gifts of the heart that merits preservation;
and it is to be regretted that, when he died, these
harps were broken up one after the other, and used
as fire-wood by an ignorant follower of the family,
who, on their removal to Cork for a temporary
change of scene, was left in charge of the house.
The circumstances attending the death of Mr.
Bunworth may be doubted by some; but there
are still living credible witnesses who declare
their authenticity, and who can be produced to
attest most, if not all of the following particulars.
About a week previous to his dissolution, and
early in the evening, a noise was heard at the
hall-door resembling the shearing of sheep; but
at the time no particular attention was paid to it.
It was nearly eleven o'clock the same night, when
Kavanagh, the herdsman, returned from Mallow
whither he had been sent in the afternoon
some medicine; and was observed by Miss Bun-
worth, to whom he delivered the parcel, to be
much agitated. At this time, it must be ob-
served, her father was by no means considered in
danger.
"what is the matter, Kavanagh?" asked Miss
Bunworth : but the poor fellow, with a bewildered
look, only uttered, " The master, Miss - the
master - he is going from us;" and, overcome
with real grief, he burst into a flood of tears.
Miss Bunworth, who was a woman of strong
nerve, enquired if any thing he had learned in
Mallow induced him to suppose that her father
was worse.
"No, Miss," said Kavanagh; "it was not in
Mallow - "
"Kavanagh," said Miss Bunworth, with that
stateliness of manner for which she is said to have
been remarkable, "I fear you have been drink-
ing, which, I must say, I did not expect at such a
time as the present, when it was your duty to
have kept yourself sober ; - I thought you might
have been trusted: - what should we have done
if you had broken the medicine bottle, or lost it?
for the doctor said it was of the greatest con-
sequence that your master should take the medi-
cine to-night. But I will speak to you in the
morning when you are in a fitter state to under-
stand what I say."
Kavanagh looked up with a stupidity of aspect
which did not serve to remove the impression of
his being drunk, as his eyes appeared heavy and
dull after the flood of tears ; - but his voice was
not that of an intoxicated person.
"Miss said he, "as I hope to receive mercy
hereafter, neither bit nor sup has passed my lips
since I left this house : but the master - "
" Speak softly," said Miss Bunworth; "
sleeps, and is going on as well as we could ex-
pect."
Praise be to God for that, any way," replied
Kavanagh; " but oh! Miss, he is going from us
surely - we will lose him - the master - we will,
lose him, we will lose him!" and he wrung his
hands together.
"What is it you mean, Kavanagh?" asked
Miss Bunworth.
Is it mean?" said Kavanagh: "the Banshee
has come for him, Miss; and 'tis not I alone who
have heard her."
" 'Tis an idle superstition," said Miss Bun-
worth.
"May be so," replied Kavanagh, as if the
words ' idle superstition' only sounded upon his
ear without reaching his mind-" May be so," he
continued; " but as I came through the glen of
Ballybeg, she was along with me keening, and
screeching, and clapping her hands, by my side,
every step of the way, with her long white hair
falling about her shoulders, and I could hear her
repeat the master's name every now and then, as
plain as ever I heard it. When I came to the
old abbey, she parted from me there, and turned
into the pigeon-field next the berrin ground, and
folding her cloak about her, down she sat under
the tree that was struck by the lightning, and
began keening so bitterly, that it went through
one's heart to hear it."
" Kavanagh," said Miss Bunworth, who had
however, listened attentively to this remarkable
relation, "my father is, I believe, better; and I
hope will himself soon be up and able to convince
you that all this is but your own fancy; never-
theless, I charge you not to mention what you
have told me, for there is no occasion to frighten
your fellow-servants with the story."
Mr. Bunworth gradually declined ; but nothing
particular occurred until the night previous to
his death : that night both his daughters, ex-
hausted with continued attendance and watching,
were prevailed upon to seek some repose; and
an elderly lady, a near relative and friend of the
family, remained by the bedside of their father.
The old gentleman then lay in the parlour, where
he had been in the morning removed at his own
request, fancying the change would afford him
relief; and the head of his bed was placed close
to the window. In a room adjoining sat some
male friends, and, as usual on like occasions of
illness, in the kitchen many of the followers of
the family had assembled.
The night was serene and moonlight-the sick
man slept - and nothing broke the stillness of
their melancholy watch, when the little party in
the room adjoining the parlour, the door of which
stood open, was suddenly roused by a sound at
the window near the bed: a rose-tree grew out-
side the window, so close as to touch the glass;
this was forced aside with some noise, and a low
moaning was heard, accompanied by clapping of
hands, as if or a female in deep affliction. It
seemed as if the sound proceeded from a person
holding her mouth close to the window. The
lady who sat by the bedside of Mr. Bunworth
went into the adjoining room, and in the tone of
alarm, enquired of the gentlemen there, if they
had heard the Banshee? Sceptical of super-
natural appearances, two of them rose hastily and
went out to discover the cause of these sounds
which they also had distinctly heard. They
walked all round the house, examining every spot
of ground, particularly near the window from
whence the voice had proceeded; the bed of
earth beneath, in which the rose tree was planted
had been recently dug, and the print of a footstep
- if the tree bad been forced aside by mortal
hand - would have inevitably remained; but
they could perceive no such impression; and an
unbroken stillness reigned without. Hoping to
dispel the mystery, they continued their search
anxiously along the road, from the straightness
of which and the lightness of the night, they were
enabled to see some distance around them; but
all was silent and deserted, and they returned
surprised and disappointed. How much more
then were they astonished at learning that the
whole time of their absence, those who remained
within the house had heard the moaning and
clapping of hands even louder and more distinct
than before they had gone out; and no sooner
was the door of the room closed on them, than
they again heard the same mournful sounds !
Every succeeding hour the sick man became
worse, and as the first glimpse of the morning
appeared, Mr. Bunworth expired.