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Gaston de Blondeville, or The court of Henry III

Keeping festival in Ardenne, a romance. St. Alban's Abbey, a metrical tale; With some poetical pieces. By Anne Radcliffe ... To which is prefixed: A memoir of the author, with extracts from her journals. In four volumes

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XII.

Sudden, from forth a darkened nook
A dreary voice spoke near, “Beware!”
Then paused, and seemed to say, “Prepare!”
It might have come from grave forsook,

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So strange, so thrilling was the tone.
He looked the way that warning came,
Low lying waved a dark red flame;
He saw that dusky torch alone,
Until it's lengthening gleam made known,
How thick the new-made graves were strewn
Beyond. He trembled at this sight,
Musing for whom these graves might wait;
What gallant comrades of the fight,
What friend, what kinsman, here this night
Might come unto his last estate!
The grave all still and patient lay,
As if it knew, though long their stay,
They might not cheat it of it's prey.
Sudden, Fitzharding thought, that here
Would rest, perchance, his father's bier!
With horror struck and deep dismay,
He turned him from this scene away.