The poetical works of William Nicholson With a memoir by Malcolm M'L. Harper ... Fourth edition |
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A TALE OF TERROR. |
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 | The poetical works of William Nicholson |  |
A TALE OF TERROR.
Yestreen, as I staw by yon auld ruined wa',
Where heroes lie mouldering and rotten,
There the chieftain of fame, and the fair peerless dame,
Lie low in their mansion, forgotten.
Where heroes lie mouldering and rotten,
There the chieftain of fame, and the fair peerless dame,
Lie low in their mansion, forgotten.
Below yon grey stanes lie the friar's haly banes,
And the nun's in yon mouldering cloister,
That lived their chaste lives without husbands or wives,
Wi' pains and wi' penance right àustere.
And the nun's in yon mouldering cloister,
That lived their chaste lives without husbands or wives,
Wi' pains and wi' penance right àustere.
Now lowly ye rest; but your sauls they are blest;
For honour and truth was your treasure:
And ye holy few, that, secluded frae view,
Despising each wordly pleasure.
For honour and truth was your treasure:
And ye holy few, that, secluded frae view,
Despising each wordly pleasure.
Thus musing I strode o'er the green grassy sod,
And thought on the frailties o' nature,
How man's like a flower, that's cut down in an hour:
A weak, thoughtless, short-sighted creature.
And thought on the frailties o' nature,
How man's like a flower, that's cut down in an hour:
A weak, thoughtless, short-sighted creature.
Midnight came soon, and the pale waning moon
O'er the verge her last shred was declining;
Dark clouds gathered roun' with a dismal like gloom,
As if spirits o' darkness were joining.
O'er the verge her last shred was declining;
Dark clouds gathered roun' with a dismal like gloom,
As if spirits o' darkness were joining.
110
The ominous note frae the raven's hoarse throat,
Was joined by the far-flying heron;
Thro' the vaults the wind sang, and the untouched bell rang,
Chorused up by the owl's screeching clarion.
Was joined by the far-flying heron;
Thro' the vaults the wind sang, and the untouched bell rang,
Chorused up by the owl's screeching clarion.
Loud the rain lashed frae the wings o' the blast,
And louder the thunder did bellow;
The lightning's rude dash o'er the ruins did flash,
While demons of darkness did follow.
And louder the thunder did bellow;
The lightning's rude dash o'er the ruins did flash,
While demons of darkness did follow.
When lo! to the west, where the ivy had prest,
Rose the moanings of misery and horror;
The fire-ba's they fell, like red bolts shot frae hell,
Spreading fear, devastation, and terror.
Rose the moanings of misery and horror;
The fire-ba's they fell, like red bolts shot frae hell,
Spreading fear, devastation, and terror.
When near to yon bust raise twa knights frae the dust,
Wha's looks teemed wi' terror and vengeance:
Said, “Through fervent zeal we've our souls sent to hell,
Beings of kings and of devils the engines.
Wha's looks teemed wi' terror and vengeance:
Said, “Through fervent zeal we've our souls sent to hell,
Beings of kings and of devils the engines.
“Our arms we have strained for what fate ne'er ordained;
For the tomb and yon temple sae bonny,
To clear Jewish parks frae Saracens and Turks,
And become a Jerusalem Johnny.
For the tomb and yon temple sae bonny,
To clear Jewish parks frae Saracens and Turks,
And become a Jerusalem Johnny.
“Thro' the fray we have dash'd till our feet have been washed
Wi' blood o' the innocent Persian;
But never yet deemed, while their bodies we seamed,
That we from our duties were swerving.
Wi' blood o' the innocent Persian;
But never yet deemed, while their bodies we seamed,
That we from our duties were swerving.
111
“In our demon-like grup we have women ripped up,
Though the child in the womb has been starting;
While the sum of our gains, and reward of our pains,
Was the gift of a green or blue garten.”
Though the child in the womb has been starting;
While the sum of our gains, and reward of our pains,
Was the gift of a green or blue garten.”
Then neist frae the groun', raise a friar and a nun,
Twa spectres wi' horrible grinnin',
They wildly accused, and each ither abused,
For secretly tempting to sinnin'.
Twa spectres wi' horrible grinnin',
They wildly accused, and each ither abused,
For secretly tempting to sinnin'.
“From the rich,” says the monk, “I have eaten and drunk,
And paid with a Pope's toleration;
I have taught them a lie, for which I now fry,
And soothed o'er their souls to damnation.
And paid with a Pope's toleration;
I have taught them a lie, for which I now fry,
And soothed o'er their souls to damnation.
“The poor I have racked till their heart-strings have cracked,
Stained their daughters with guilt and infection:
I have lain with men's wives, challenged, then ta'en their lives,
And all without dread of detection.
Stained their daughters with guilt and infection:
I have lain with men's wives, challenged, then ta'en their lives,
And all without dread of detection.
“Made religion a cloak, real piety a joke,
And hatchèd conspiracy and treason;
And in prosperous days we made faggots to blaze,
And curbed every dawning of reason.”
And hatchèd conspiracy and treason;
And in prosperous days we made faggots to blaze,
And curbed every dawning of reason.”
“And me,” said the nun, “you've for ever undone,
By your lewd and your lawless caresses;
You strangled my child, though the innocent smiled;
And laughed at a mother's distresses.”
By your lewd and your lawless caresses;
You strangled my child, though the innocent smiled;
And laughed at a mother's distresses.”
112
“You lie!” said the priest, anger swelled in his breast,
“Thy child had a convent of fathers;
'Twas far other aims than confessing your sins,
Made you twine round our bodies like adders.
“Thy child had a convent of fathers;
'Twas far other aims than confessing your sins,
Made you twine round our bodies like adders.
“Thy dark hollow soul, with hypocrisy foul,
Thou varlet—thou base lying Vandal!
What fiend ever matched ye false women debauched ye
You caused me, to save you from scandal.”
Thou varlet—thou base lying Vandal!
What fiend ever matched ye false women debauched ye
You caused me, to save you from scandal.”
But the morning bell strook, when I backward did look,
To muse on these prospects sae dreary;
There was nought I could view but the dark waving yew;
Through the turrets the wind whistled eerie.
To muse on these prospects sae dreary;
There was nought I could view but the dark waving yew;
Through the turrets the wind whistled eerie.
| The poetical works of William Nicholson | |