 | The Dramatic and Poetical Works of Joanna Baillie |  |
XI.
Sad was his hiding-place, I ween,A fearful place, where sights had been,
Full oft, by the benighted rustic seen;
Ay, elrich forms in sheeted white,
Which, in the waning moonlight blast,
Pass by, nor shadow onward cast,
Like any earthly wight:
A place, where midnight lights had shone
Through charnel windows, and the glancing
Of wand'ring flame, on church-path lone,
Betray'd the hour when fiends and hags were dancing,
Or to their vigil foul with trooping haste advancing:
A place, whose gate with weeds o'ergrown,
Hemlock and dock of deep dull green,
That climbing rank the lintels screen,
What time the moon is riding high,
The very hounds went cowering by,
Or watch'd afar with howling moan;
For brutes, 'tis said, will see what meets no human eye.
| The Dramatic and Poetical Works of Joanna Baillie | |