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The Poetical Works of Thomas Chatterton

with an essay on the Rowley poems by the Rev. Walter W. Skeat and a memoir by Edward Bell

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CXVI.

Scene, Bristol. Celmond, alone.
[Æl.]
The world is dark with night; the winds are still,
Faintly the moon her pallid light makes gleam,
The risen sprites the silent churchyard fill,
With elfin fairies joining in the dream;
The forest shineth with the silver leme;
Now may my love be sated in its treat;
Upon the brink of some swift running stream,
At the sweet banquet I will sweetly eat.
This is the house; quickly, ye hinds, appear.

Enter a Servant.
Cel.
Go tell to Bertha straight, a stranger waiteth here.

[Exit Servant. Soon after, enter Bertha.