Tales of Terror :: :: University of Virginia Library

Lord Albert had titles, Lord Albert had power,
Lord Albert in gold and in jewels was clad;
Fair Josephine bloom'd like an opening flower,
But beauty and virtue were all that she had.

To rifle her treasure, with each wily art
Of studied seduction, Lord Albert essay'd;
Too well he succeeded! her innocent heart,
By virtue protected, by love was betray'd.

Full oft in her cot, at her casement, she'd sigh,
And gaze sad and silent on Werdendorff's walls;
Full oft gush'd the tear-drops in streams from her eyes,
When mirth reign'd triumphant in Werdendorff's halls.

When all in the castle were wrapt in repose,
Lord Albert would ponder on Josephine's charms;
Would leap the wide moat, and the portal unclose,
To hie him in haste to his Josephine's arms.

When the moon, hid in clouds, gave no tremulous ray,
O'er the moor dark and fenny to point out the road,
At her casement the maid would a taper display,
To guide her true love to her humble abode.

From the castle could Albert discern the loved spot,
When the bickering lustre gleam'd dim from afar,
Would speed him in safety to Josephine's cot,
And bless the kind beams of love's tutelar star.

Ah! maiden ill-fated! too soon wilt thou find,
That vows can be broken, that lovers betray;
That men, fickle men, are less true than the wind,
That love, if illicit, too soon will decay!

The night waned apace, and her taper shone bright,
—“He comes not!”—she murmur'd, all pale and forlorn;
Another night pass'd, but in vain gleam'd the light,
He came not, for Albert was false and forsworn!

Why stream the gay banners from Werdendorff's walls?
Why hastes to yon chapel the trimly-deck'd crowd?
A mistress to-day shall preside in our halls!
For Albert shall wed with Gumilda the proud!

To the winds the poor Josephine murmur'd her tale,
Each vision of fancy was faded and gone!
Each shout of loud revelry borne on the gale,
Said Albert was faithless, and she was undone!

With a tempest of maddening passions distress'd,
On the wings of despair to the castle she flew,
While love still'd the whirlwind that raged in her breast,
And whisper'd delusive, that Albert was true.

The portal she enter'd, the feasters among,
And mingled, unseen, in the revelling crowd;
But who were the gayest amid the gay throng?
Lord Albert the false, and Gumilda the proud!

Home sped the poor maid from her proud rival's door,
Her bosom with anguish unceasing was torn;
The wind shook the rushes that waved on the moor,
And all, like her fortune, was dark and forlorn!

—“Fall on, chilling mists! thou art cruel,” she said,
“But crueller far is Lord Albert to me!
“Blow on, thou bleak wind! o'er my woe-stricken head,
“Thou'rt cold, but Lord Albert is colder than thee!”—

'Twas midnight—alone at her casement she sigh'd,
When the low sound of footsteps struck faint on her ear,
And a voice in the accent of love softly cried,
—“My Josephine haste thee, thy true love is here!”—

—“Away to Gumilda!” indignant she cried,
“To revel in pleasures at Werdendorff go!
“Why leave you, false traitor, my proud rival's bed,
“To add, by new insults, to Josephine's woe?”—

—“Oh, hush thee, my true love, revoke that command,
“For why should Lord Albert and Josephine part?
“Gumilda the proud can claim nought but my hand,
“But Josephine lords it supreme o'er my heart.

“My father commanded, his frowns awed my soul,
“Forgive then the fault, nor impute it to me;
“As the mariner's needle still turns to the pole,
“My heart turns with fond adoration to thee.”—

With blandishments soft the deceiver essay'd,
With tones of affection, her bosom to move;
She smiled—but ye damsels forbear to upbraid,
Nor wonder that anger was vanquish'd by love.

Full soon on the board now the viands were spread,
The wine's luscious nectar in goblets shone bright;
The flower-footed hours, wing'd by extacy, fled,
And Josephine's eye beam'd with tender delight.

—Adieu! cried Lord Albert, “the first blush of morn
“Empurples the east, and the setting stars wane.”—
—“To Josephine when will Lord Albert return?”—
—“At midnight's dark hour will he clasp her again.”—

Lord Albert sped onwards, his bosom beat high,
—“Hurra! from a mistress detested I'm freed!
“Gumilda, thy vengeance proclaim'd she should die!
“Gumilda, my soul has not shrunk from the deed!

“Alas! hapless victim! thy fluttering breath,
“Full soon will expire amid agoniz'd pains;
“The cup that I gave thee was pregnant with death,
“And poison shall riot and boil in thy veins!

“At midnight's dark hour shall I clasp thee again?
“Fond maiden! that midnight thou never shalt see!
“Oblivion ere then shall thy senses enchain!
“Fond maiden ere then a pale corse shalt thou be!”—

The dawn-light's first blush had illumin'd the dell,
Lord Albert sped on, nor was cheer'd by the scene;
He sigh'd at each note of the iron-tongued bell,
That told the sad fate of the fair Josephine.

The smile of gay beauty, the blaze of the ball,
No peace to his bosom, no charm could impart;
He sigh'd 'mid the splendour of Werdendorff's hall,
For Conscience had wound her strong folds round his heart.

—“Arouse thee! my Lord,” cried Gumilda the proud,
“What fiend has possess'd thee, and maddens thy brain?”—

Anon would he shudder, and mutter aloud,
—“At midnight's dark hour wilt thou clasp me again?”—

His limbs, so athletic, were palsied by fear,
As midnight's dark hour was proclaim'd by the bell;
—“Full well,” he exclaim'd, “the dread summons I hear,
“Gumilda! it calls me, for ever farewel!”—

The battlements shook with the echoing storm,
The thunder's loud peals burst on Werdendorff's wall;
The tapers burnt dimly, as Josephine's form
Glided forth from the portal, and travers'd the hall!

All shrouded she was in the garb of the tomb!
Her lips they were livid, her face it was wan!
A death the most horrid had rifled her bloom,
And each charm of beauty was faded and gone!

—“Thy hand snapt my thread of existence,” she said,
“And shalt thou, unpunish'd, thou false one, remain?
“'Tis midnight's dark hour, I am come from the dead!
“Delay'st thou, my bridegroom, to clasp me again?”—

Thus saying, she dragg'd him perforce to her breast,
Imprinting a cold clammy kiss on his face!
Her lips, all so pale, to his forehead she press'd,
And clasp'd him full close in her noisome embrace.

Back started Lord Albert, entranced in surprise!
And, breathless with agony, sank on the floor;
Then raised to the spectre his frenzy-struck eyes,
Then closed them in darkness, to ope them no more!

Since then o'er the castle drear solitude reigns,
Its ramparts dismantled, are skirted with thorn;
The proud towers of Werdendorff scatter the plains,
The hall, once so festive, is drear and forlorn!

The traveller full often the tale will inquire,
And wanders the time-stricken ruins between;
The peasants full oft will encircle the fire,
And talk of Lord Albert and fair Josephine:

Will tell what grim spectres the wand'rer appal,
Whose feet so unhallow'd o'er Werdendorff rove!
How lights, more than mortal, illumine the hall,
While Albert is clasp'd by his skeleton love!

Full oft will the damsel, 'mid eve's sober gloom,
Review each sad spot of the desolate scene;
Will shuddering pass by the libertine's tomb,
And weep o'er the lovely, but frail Josephine!