Sister Helen (Princeton galley proofs, August 1869) Dante Gabriel Rossetti 1 Used with permission of Princeton University. From the Princeton University Library, Department of Rare Books and Special Collections. All rights reserved. Redistribution or republication in any medium requires express written consent from Princeton University Library. Permissions inquiries should be addressed to Associate University Librarian, Rare Books and Special Collections, Princeton University Library. Sister Helen Dante Gabriel Rossetti 1869 August 1 large sheet in 3 columns Princeton University Library Commentary
Introduction

This is the first of the proof materials that DGR had pulled in 1869 as he prepared for the eventual publication of his 1870 <hi rend="i">Poems</hi> . The proof was made in late July or early August.

Notable are the three numbers “1”, “2”, and “3” below each text column. Another surviving galley proof—for the ballad “Dennis Shand” —is similarly numbered, in that case “5”. What was on galley 4 is not known for certain, nor do we know whether any additional galleys were set in type. But other surviving fragments of galley proof strongly suggest that galley 4 contained the following, both of which survive in truncated documents that show they were part of this typesetting: “On the Site of a Mulberry-Tree; Planted by Wm Shakspeare; felled by the Rev. F. Gastrell” ; “After the French Liberation of Italy” . I suspect that the galley also contained “Autumn Song” . Along with “After the French Liberation of Italy” , this was one of the poems printed by T. J. Wise in his spurious 1881 printing of <hi rend="i">Verses</hi> . DGR himself referred to this galley printing in a letter of 25 February 1880 to Hall Caine (see <hi rend="i">Correspondence</hi> , 80.62 ). I also suspect that no more than 5 pages of this galley were printed.

Textual History: Composition

Textual History: Revision

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<hi rend="c">SISTER HELEN.</hi> “And if you have seethed your wax aright, Sister Helen, You'll let me play, for you said I might.’ ‘Be very still in your play to-night, Little brother.’ (O Mother, Mary Mother, Dark Wild night, to-night, between Hell and Heaven!) ‘You said it must melt ere vesper-bell, Sister Helen; If now it be molten, all is well.’ ‘Even so,—nay, peace! you cannot tell, Little brother.’ (O Mother, Mary Mother, O what is this, between Hell and Heaven?) ‘Oh the waxen knave was plump to-day, Sister Helen; How like dead folk he has dropped away!’ ‘Nay now, of the dead what can you say, Little brother?’ (O Mother, Mary Mother, What of the dead, between Hell and Heaven?) ‘See, see, the sunken pile of wood against the burning wood, Sister Helen, Shines through the thinned wax The thin wax shines as red as blood!’ ‘Nay now, when looked you yet on blood, Little brother?’ (O Mother, Mary Mother, How pale she is, between Hell and Heaven!) ‘Now close your eyes, for they're sick and sore, Sister Helen, And I'll play without the gallery door.’ ‘Aye, let me rest,—I'll lie on the floor, Little brother,’ (O Mother, Mary Mother, What rest to-night, between Hell and Heaven?) ‘Here high up in the balcony, Sister Helen, The moon flies face to face with me.’ ‘Aye, look and say whatever you see, Little brother.’ (O Mother, Mary Mother, What sight to-night between Hell and Heaven?) ‘Outside it's merry in the wind's wake, Sister Helen; In the shaken trees the chill stars shake.’ ‘Hush, heard you a horse-tread as you spake, Little brother?’ (O Mother, Mary Mother, What sound to-night between Hell and Heaven?) ‘I hear a horse-tread, and I see, Sister Helen, Three horsemen that ride terribly.’ ‘Little brother, whence come the three, Little brother?’ (O Mother, Mary Mother, Whence should they come, between Hell and Heaven?) ‘They come by the hill-verge from Boyne Bar, Sister Helen, And one draws nigh, but two are afar.’ ‘Look, look, do you know them who they are, Little brother?’ (O Mother, Mary Mother, Who should they be, between Hell and Heaven?) ‘Oh, it's Holm of East Holm rides so fast, Sister Helen, For I know the white mane on the blast.’ ‘The hour has come, has come at last, Little brother!’ (O Mother, Mary Mother, Her hour at last, between Hell and Heaven!) ‘He has made a sign and called Halloo! Sister Helen, And he says that he would speak with you.’ ‘Oh tell him I fear the frozen dew, Little brother.’ (O Mother, Mary Mother, Why laughs she thus, between Hell and Heaven?) ‘The wind is loud, but I hear him cry, Sister Helen, That Holm of Ewern's like to die.’ ‘And he and thou, and thou and I, Little brother.’ (O Mother, Mary Mother, And they and we, between Hell and Heaven!) “Since yesterday he lies sick abed, Sister Helen, And he prays in torment to be dead.’ ‘The thing may chance, if he have prayed, Little brother!’ (O Mother, Mary Mother, If he have prayed, between Hell and Heaven!) ‘But he has not ceased to cry all day, Sister Helen, That you should take your curse away.’ ‘My prayer was heard,—he need but pray, Little brother!’ (O Mother, Mary Mother, Shall God not hear What curse or prayer, between Hell and Heaven?) ‘He says, till you take back your ban, Sister Helen, His soul would pass, but but never can.’ ‘Nay then, shall I slay a living man, Little brother?’ (O Mother, Mary Mother, A living soul, between Hell and Heaven!) ‘Here's Holm of West Holm riding fast, Sister Helen, For I know the white plume on the blast.’ ‘The hour, the sweet hour I forecast, Little brother!’ (O Mother, Mary Mother, Is the hour sweet, between Hell and Heaven?) ‘He stops to speak, and he stills his horse, Sister Helen; But his words are drowned in the wind's course.’ ‘Nay hear, nay hear, you must hear perforce, Little brother;’ (O Mother, Mary Mother, A word ill heard between Hell and Heaven!) ‘Oh he says that Holm of Ewern's cry, Sister Helen, Is ever to see you ere he die.’ ‘He sees me in earth, in moon and sky, Little brother!’ (O Mother, Mary Mother, Earth, moon and sky, between Hell and Heaven!) ‘He sends a ring and a broken coin, Sister Helen, And bids you mind the banks of Boyne.’ ‘What else he broke will he ever join, Little brother?’ (O Mother, Mary Mother, Oh, never more, between Hell and Heaven!) ‘He yields you these and craves full fain, Sister Helen, You pardon him in his mortal pain.’ ‘What else he took will he give again, Little brother?’ (O Mother, Mary Mother, No more again, between Hell and Heaven!) ‘He calls your name in an agony, Sister Helen, That even dead Love must weep to see.’ ‘Hate, born of Love, is blind as he, Little brother.’ (O Mother, Mary Mother, Love turned to hate, between Hell and Heaven!) ‘Oh it's Holm of Holm now that rides fast, Sister Helen, For I know the white hair on the blast.’ ‘The short short hour will soon be past, Little brother!’ (O Mother, Mary Mother, Will soon be past, between Hell and Heaven!) ‘He looks at me and he tries to speak, Sister Helen, But oh! his voice is sad and weak!’ ‘What here should the mighty Baron seek, Little brother!’ (O Mother, Mary Mother, Oh vainly sought, between Hell and Heaven!) ‘Oh his son still cries, if you forgive, Sister Helen, The body dies but the soul shall live.’ ‘Fire shall forgive me as I forgive, Little brother!’ (O Mother, Mary Mother, Fire of the soul between Hell and Heaven!) ‘Oh he prays you, as his heart would rive, Sister Helen, To save his dear son's soul alive.’ ‘Nay, flame cannot slay it, it shall thrive, Little brother!’ (O Mother, Mary Mother, Alas, alas, between Hell and Heaven!) ‘He cries to you, kneeling in the road, Sister Helen, To go with him for the love of God!’ ‘The way is long to his son's abode, Little brother.’ (O Mother, Mary Mother, The way is long, between Hell and Heaven!) ‘O Sister Helen, you heard the bell, Sister Helen! More loud than the vesper-chime it fell.’ ‘No vesper-chime, but a dying knell, Little brother!’ (O Mother, Mary Mother, His dying knell, between Hell and Heaven!) ‘Alas! but I fear the heavy sound, Sister Helen; Is it in the sky or in the ground?’ ‘Say, have they turned their horses round, Little brother?’ (O Mother, Mary Mother, What would she more, between Hell and Heaven?) ‘They have raised the old man from his knee, Sister Helen, And they ride in silence hastily.’ ‘More fast the naked soul doth flee, Little brother!’ (O Mother, Mary Mother, The naked soul, between Hell and Heaven!) ‘Oh the wind is sad in the iron chill, Sister Helen, And weary sad they look by the hill.’ ‘But he they mourn is sadder still, Little brother!’ (O Mother, Mary Mother, Most sad of all, between Hell and Heaven!) ‘See, see, the wax has dropped from its place, Sister Helen, And the flames are winning up apace!’ ‘Yet here they burn but for a space, Little brother!’ (O Mother, Mary Mother, Here for a space, between Hell and Heaven!) ‘Ah! what white thing at the door has cross'd, Sister Helen? Ah! what is this that sighs in the frost?’ ‘A soul that's lost as mine is lost, Little brother!’ (O Mother, Mary Mother, Lost, lost, all lost, between Hell and Heaven!)