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Let's see Brahms's 'Wiegenlied. Cradle-song, eh? A little premature; that's coming later. Eh? Found it, by Jove! Here we are, the March itself, so help me! Shall I play it now?" "Not yet, Allan. Here, see what I've found!" She handed him a record as they sat there together in a broad ribbon of mid-morning sunlight that flooded down through one of the clearstory windows.
I still sometimes hear in fancy her cradle-song humming in my own Old Indian ear as I am falling asleep although many a long year has passed since I heard it in reality, and many a long league is now between me and the land of the dear, good, black, comical, kindly ayah.
Pushing through a swarm into the cot, Fleetwood saw Carinthia on a knee beside a girl's lap, where the stripped child lay. Its mother held a basin for the dabbing at raw red spots. A sting of pain touched the memory of its fright, and brought further screams, then the sobs. Carinthia hummed a Styrian cradle-song as the wailing lulled.
"A lady once asked me if I did not think Walter Scott's Rock-a-by was a 'sweet thing. At first I supposed she was alluding to some cradle-song with which I was not familiar, and it was sometime before I discovered that she meant Rokeby." "I have often been puzzled myself with the names of books," said Aunt Faith. "Years ago there was a book published called Ivar or the Skujts-boy?
He looked so happy as he talked of that Divine love, changeless throughout all time, throughout all eternity a love that never forsakes, that lulls the weary like a cradle-song, a love that satisfies even the secret longings!
"I will play again for you alone to-morrow," added Joyselle. Then he went and stood near the fire, the red light flashing on him, and played. The first thing, plainly for Tommy, was a Norman cradle-song, very slow and monotonous, and full of strange harmonies. When it was over, Tommy quietly withdrew. To-morrow was to be his day.
Miss Gueldmar, would soothe the most weary soul that ever dwelt in clay." She glanced round at him, surprised at his sad tone. "Ah, you are very, very tired, Mr. Lorimer, I am sure! I will sing you a Norse cradle-song to make you go to sleep. You will not understand the words though will that matter?" "Not in the least!" answered Lorimer, with a smile.
And there was one that went on crying whether the mother was at home or at work. Her milk had failed her. From somewhere down in the cellars the sleepy tones of a cradle-song rose up through the shaft; it was only "Grete with the child," who was singing her rag-doll asleep. The real mothers did not sing.
And now there stole upon her ear a low, gentle, distant murmur, so soft that it seemed almost to mingle with the sound of her own breathing, but so steady, so uniform, that it soothed her to sleep, as if it were the old cradle-song the ocean used to sing to her, or the lullaby of her fair young mother.
Once she began to sing softly what might have been a cradle-song, but stopped short, as if fearing to disturb Fiddy, and composed herself to perfect stillness. Then Master Rowland heard Mistress Fiddy question Mistress Betty in her weak, timid voice, on Fiddy's own concerns. "You said you had seen these fits before, madam? May I be so bold as to ask, did the sufferer recover?"
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