The Demon of the Gibbet by Fitz James O’Brien (Poem)
“The Demon of the Gibbet” was first published in 1881, in The Poems and Stories of Fitz-James O’Brien. It has since been included in several mixed-author anthologies including Dark of the Moon: Poems of Fantasy and the Macabre (1947), Brother Theodore’s Chamber of Horrors (1975), and Masterpieces of Terror and the Supernatural (1985).
About Fitz James O’Brien
Fitz James O’Brien was an Irish-American writer of fantasy and science fiction stories. Born in County Cork, Ireland and, after a stint living in England, sailed to the USA amid rumors of an affair with a married woman.
During his teenage years, while still living in Ireland, O’Brien took up writing, publishing six of his poems in The Nation, a weekly newspaper founded to promote Irish nationalism.
In 1849, while living in London, O’Brien began his professional writing career when he was paid, for the first time. All his previous publication credits only rewarded him with bragging rights.
In 1851, he became editor of The Parlour Magazine, providing original articles alongside translation of French literary works.
After he arrived in the USA. O’Brien continued to write and took a position with a comedic publication called The Lantern. Then, in 1858, already influenced by Edgar Allan Poe and no stranger to writing speculative fiction, he began to shift his writing focus to horror stories and weird fiction. “What Was It?” and “The Wondersmith” rank among his most famous stories, both of which are now considered classic works of horror and science fiction.
The Demon of the Gibbet
By Fitz James O’Brien
(Online Text)
There was no west, there was no east,
No star abroad for eyes to see;
And Norman spurred his jaded beast
Hard by the terrible gallows-tree.
“O, Norman, haste across this waste,—
For something seems to follow me!”
“Cheer up, dear Maud, for, thanked be God,
We nigh have passed the gallows tree!”
He kissed her lip: then—spur and whip!
And fast they fled across the lea.
But vain the heel, the rowel steel,—
For something leaped from the gallows-tree!
“Give me your cloak, your knightly cloak,
That wrapped you oft beyond the sea!
The wind is bold, my bones are old,
And I am cold on the gallows-tree!”
“O holy God! O dearest Maud,
Quick, quick, some prayers—the best that be!
A bony hand my neck has spanned,
And tears my knightly cloak from me!”
“Give me your wine,—the red, red wine,
That in a flask hangs by your knee!
Ten summers burst on me accurst,
And I am athirst on the gallows-tree!”
“O Maud, my life, my loving wife!
Have you no prayer to set us free?
My belt unclasps,—a demon grasps,
And drags my wine-flask from my knee!”
“Give me your bride, your bonnie bride,
That left her nest with you to flee!
O she hath flown to be my own,
For I’m alone on the gallows-tree!”
“Cling closer, Maud, and trust in God!
Cling close!—Ah, heaven, she slips from me!”
A prayer, a groan, and he alone
Rode on that night from the gallows-tree.