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The Poems of Winthrop Mackworth Praed

With a Memoir by the Rev. Derwent Coleridge. Fourth Edition. In Two Volumes

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X. DEATH-WATCH
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397

X. DEATH-WATCH

On the casement frame the wind beat high;
Never a star was in the sky;
All Kenneth Hold was wrapt in gloom,
And Sir Everard slept in the Haunted Room.
I sat and sang beside his bed;—
Never a single word I said,
Yet did I scare his slumber;
And a fitful light in his eyeball glistened,
And his cheek grew pale as he lay and listened,
For he thought or dreamt that Fiends and Fays
Were reckoning o'er his fleeting days
And telling out their number.
Was it my Second's ceaseless tone?
On my Second's hand he laid his own;
The hand that trembled in his grasp
Was crushed by his convulsive clasp.
Sir Everard did not fear my First;—
He had seen it in shapes that men deem worst,
In many a field and flood;

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Yet in the darkness of that dread
His tongue was parched and his reason fled,
And he watched, as the lamp burned low and dim,
To see some Phantom, gaunt and grim,
Come dabbled o'er with blood.
Sir Everard kneeled, and strove to pray;
He prayed for light, and he prayed for day,
Till terror checked his prayer;
And ever I muttered clear and well
“Click, click,” like a tolling bell,
Till, bound by Fancy's magic spell,
Sir Everard fainted there.
And oft, from that remembered night,
Around the taper's flickering light
The wrinkled beldames told,
Sir Everard had knowledge won
Of many a murder darkly done,
Of fearful sights, and fearful sounds,
And Ghosts that walk their midnight rounds
In the Tower of Kenneth Hold!
1822.