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212
THE PROUD BARON.
'T was a Baron bold
In the days of old,
Who lived in his grand estate,
While his menials bowed,
And the rich and proud
Swept in at his castle-gate.
In the days of old,
Who lived in his grand estate,
While his menials bowed,
And the rich and proud
Swept in at his castle-gate.
And around his hearth
There were songs and mirth,
And revelry, night and day;
And over his board
Was the red wine poured,
Where the sumptuous banquet lay.
There were songs and mirth,
And revelry, night and day;
And over his board
Was the red wine poured,
Where the sumptuous banquet lay.
For they did not think,
In those days of drink,
How the gift of the generous vine
Might be oft misused,
And the mind abused,
Or drowned, with the sparkling wine.
In those days of drink,
How the gift of the generous vine
Might be oft misused,
And the mind abused,
Or drowned, with the sparkling wine.
And the laughter rung,
As from tongue to tongue
The story or jest went round,
Till the stern old walls
Of the spacious halls
Were echoing back the sound.
As from tongue to tongue
The story or jest went round,
Till the stern old walls
Of the spacious halls
Were echoing back the sound.
213
'T was a dark, cold night,
But the halls were light,
And the feast on the board was warm,
When there came that way,
With his locks of gray,
A wanderer 'mid the storm.
But the halls were light,
And the feast on the board was warm,
When there came that way,
With his locks of gray,
A wanderer 'mid the storm.
Then he stood before
The old, lofty door,
And mournfully asked for bread,—
By the fire a seat,
But to warm his feet,
And a pillow to rest his head.
The old, lofty door,
And mournfully asked for bread,—
By the fire a seat,
But to warm his feet,
And a pillow to rest his head.
But the menial came
In the lordling's name,
With a pitiless air and tone,
And, hastening straight
From his master's gate,
He bade the old man begone!
In the lordling's name,
With a pitiless air and tone,
And, hastening straight
From his master's gate,
He bade the old man begone!
Thus cruelly spurned,
The wanderer turned,
Away from the guarded door,
With a tearful eye,
And a heart swelled high,
That soon was to ache no more.
The wanderer turned,
Away from the guarded door,
With a tearful eye,
And a heart swelled high,
That soon was to ache no more.
And he feebly went
Till his numbed limbs bent,
And he fell by the highway-side.
When the morning shone
He was cold as stone,
Where, houseless and lone, he died.
Till his numbed limbs bent,
And he fell by the highway-side.
When the morning shone
He was cold as stone,
Where, houseless and lone, he died.
214
When the death was told
To that Baron bold,
With horror, from conscious guilt,
A quivering came
O'er his haughty frame,
As if branded with blood he 'd spilt.
To that Baron bold,
With horror, from conscious guilt,
A quivering came
O'er his haughty frame,
As if branded with blood he 'd spilt.
His pride and his power,
From the selfsame hour,
Seemed doomed to a swift decay;
And the angry Eye,
That looked from on high,
To wither them all away.
From the selfsame hour,
Seemed doomed to a swift decay;
And the angry Eye,
That looked from on high,
To wither them all away.
His splendor and wealth,
His spirit and health,
Were suddenly undermined;
Then reason had flown
From her tottering throne,
And ruins were left behind.
His spirit and health,
Were suddenly undermined;
Then reason had flown
From her tottering throne,
And ruins were left behind.
He straggled around,
On the stranger's ground,
And oft in the wintry storm,
When his tall old plume
Gave an air of gloom
To his shrunk and shivering form.
On the stranger's ground,
And oft in the wintry storm,
When his tall old plume
Gave an air of gloom
To his shrunk and shivering form.
At times he would start,
And his strength depart,
When a corse seemed across his way,
That he could not pass,
While its eyes of glass
Looked up from an old man's clay.
And his strength depart,
When a corse seemed across his way,
That he could not pass,
While its eyes of glass
Looked up from an old man's clay.
215
'T was seldom he spoke,
But in wrapping his cloak
To muffle him in its fold;
When, lowering his head,
And shrugging, he said,
“Poor Baron! he 's faint and cold.
But in wrapping his cloak
To muffle him in its fold;
When, lowering his head,
And shrugging, he said,
“Poor Baron! he 's faint and cold.
“But I can't escape
From that fearful shape,
Nor shun it, nor pass it by;
Wherever I go,
From his shroud of snow,
I'm watched by a dead man's eye!”
From that fearful shape,
Nor shun it, nor pass it by;
Wherever I go,
From his shroud of snow,
I'm watched by a dead man's eye!”
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