University of Virginia Library

Fair Reader! have you ever been
Sauntering in meditative mood,
In some sequestered sunny scene,
Some perfect solitude serene,
Where tenantless a building stood—
Old ruined Castle, if you will—
Neglected Hall of later days,
Though fit for habitation still,
Long empty;—any place almost
Where human beings once have dwelt
And ceased to dwell;—but if your gaze,
On such deserted Mansion lone
Were fixed awhile, will you not own
How strong a fancy you have felt
That some still human visage—ghost
Or not—through one blank window less
Observed—or loophole's high recess—
With eyes in vague abstraction lost,
Not marking minding you at all—
Was looking out?—Did you not feel
As if you saw or soon would see
A lonely Figure, silently,
With features haply undiscerned
Because its back towards you was turned,
Across some empty courtyard steal—
Or glide beneath some ruined wall?—

As Ranolf leant there so distrest,
Once with a writhe of ill-represt
Impatient anguish at the tide
Of keen regrets which o'er his breast—
Remorseful, merciless, upheld
By that full moon of memory, swelled—
As wearily his head he raised,
His glance unconscious chanced to rest
Upon a distant cot—whose side
Of close-packed wisps of bulrush dried,
Stood half in brightness—half in gloom;
The sunbeam's glow still bright below—
Its upper part in clear deep shade
Beneath some palm-trees' tufts of bloom,
With a square opening in it made
For light—a window though unglazed.
Then suddenly he seemed aware
A wan pale face—how wan and fair,
Was in the square of blackness there;
With eyes unmoving—eyes all light—
So preternaturally bright—
Haggardly beautiful!—Amazed,
His very heart turned sick and faint;
Almost he could have fallen with fear—
That Spirit from the Dead—so near!—
He rallied quickly; for he knew
How fancy can send back again,
Some image from the heated brain,
And on the retina repaint
Such apparitions, till they seem
External, actual, and no dream.
He passed his hand across his eyes;
Sprang forward; shook himself to free
His fancy from such phantasies,
His brain from this delusion. There,
Framed in the blackness of that square,
Still showed the visage, haggard, fair,
And would not vanish into air!—
And then it changed before his sight;
A sudden gleam of wild delight
Illumed it; the next moment checked,
As from the vision seemed to come
A shriek that died off in a moan—
Painful, unnatural—as the tone
Wrung from the wretched deaf and dumb
Whom sudden pangs of passion stir.
Then to the hut—for nought he recked—
“What could it be?” he thought, “but her!”
He would have rushed; but yet once more
Those earnest gestures—looks—deter;
So vehemently they implore,
So unmistakably entreat
Silence—and that he should not greet—
Heed—recognize the vision then.
For the same moment might be seen
Behind him, close upon the fence,
What stifled as it rose that keen
Great cry of joy or pain intense;—
The inmates of the village—men
And women and a merry crowd
Of children; all with laughter loud
Returning from the plot where they
Within the woods not far away
Had been at pleasant work all day.