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| XVII. |
| XVIII. |
 | Tales of wonder |  |
Black spirits and white,
Blue spirits and grey,
Mingle, mingle, mingle,
You that mingle may!
MACBETH.
Blue spirits and grey,
Mingle, mingle, mingle,
You that mingle may!
MACBETH.
1
No. I. BOTHWELL'S BONNY JANE.
ORIGINAL.—M. G. LEWIS.
[_]
Bothwell Castle is beautifully situated upon the Clyde, and fronts the ruins of Blantyre Priory. The estate of Bothwell has long been, and continues to be, in the possession of the Douglas family.
Loud roars the north round Bothwell's hall,
And fast descends the pattering rain:
But streams of tears still faster fall
From thy blue eyes, oh! bonny Jane!
And fast descends the pattering rain:
But streams of tears still faster fall
From thy blue eyes, oh! bonny Jane!
Hark! hark!—I hear, with mournful yell,
The wraiths of angry Clyde complain;
But sorrow bursts with louder swell
From thy fair breast, oh! bonny Jane!
The wraiths of angry Clyde complain;
But sorrow bursts with louder swell
From thy fair breast, oh! bonny Jane!
“Tap!—tap!”—who knocks?—the door unfolds;
The mourner lifts her melting eye,
And soon with joy and hope beholds
A reverend monk approaching nigh:
The mourner lifts her melting eye,
And soon with joy and hope beholds
A reverend monk approaching nigh:
2
His air is mild, his step is slow,
His hands across his breast are laid,
And soft he sighs, while bending low,
—“St. Bothan guard thee, gentle maid!”—
His hands across his breast are laid,
And soft he sighs, while bending low,
—“St. Bothan guard thee, gentle maid!”—
To meet the friar the damsel ran;
She kiss'd his hand, she clasp'd his knee.
—‘Now free me, free me, holy man,
‘Who com'st from Blantyre Prio-rie!”
She kiss'd his hand, she clasp'd his knee.
—‘Now free me, free me, holy man,
‘Who com'st from Blantyre Prio-rie!”
—“What mean these piteous cries, daughter?
“St. Bothan be thy speed!
“Why swim in tears thine eyes, daughter?
“From whom would'st thou be freed?”—
“St. Bothan be thy speed!
“Why swim in tears thine eyes, daughter?
“From whom would'st thou be freed?”—
—‘Oh! father, father! know, my sire,
‘Though long I knelt, and wept, and sigh'd,
‘Hath sworn, ere twice ten days expire,
‘His Jane shall be Lord Malcolm's bride!’—
‘Though long I knelt, and wept, and sigh'd,
‘Hath sworn, ere twice ten days expire,
‘His Jane shall be Lord Malcolm's bride!’—
“Lord Malcolm is rich and great, daughter,—
“And comes of an high degree;
“He's fit to be thy mate, daughter,
“So, Benedicite!”—
“And comes of an high degree;
“He's fit to be thy mate, daughter,
“So, Benedicite!”—
—‘Oh! father, father! say not so!
‘Though rich his halls, though fair his bowers,—
‘There stands an hut, where Tweed doth flow,
‘I prize beyond Lord Malcolm's towers:
‘Though rich his halls, though fair his bowers,—
‘There stands an hut, where Tweed doth flow,
‘I prize beyond Lord Malcolm's towers:
‘There dwells a youth where Tweed doth glide,
‘On whom nor rank, nor fortune smiles;
‘I'd rather be that peasant's bride,
‘Than reign o'er all Lord Malcolm's isles.’—
‘On whom nor rank, nor fortune smiles;
‘I'd rather be that peasant's bride,
‘Than reign o'er all Lord Malcolm's isles.’—
3
—“But should you flee away, daughter,
“And wed with a village clown,
“What would your father say, daughter?
“How would he fume and frown?”—
“And wed with a village clown,
“What would your father say, daughter?
“How would he fume and frown?”—
—‘Oh! he might frown and he might fume,
‘And Malcolm's heart might grieve and pine,
‘So Edgar's hut for me had room,
‘And Edgar's lips were press'd to mine!”—
‘And Malcolm's heart might grieve and pine,
‘So Edgar's hut for me had room,
‘And Edgar's lips were press'd to mine!”—
—“If at the castle gate, daughter,
“At night, thy love so true
“Should with a courser wait, daughter,.......
“What, daughter, would'st thou do?”—
“At night, thy love so true
“Should with a courser wait, daughter,.......
“What, daughter, would'st thou do?”—
—‘With noiseless step the stairs I'd press,
‘Unclose the gate, and mount with glee,
‘And ever, as on I sped, would bless
‘The abbot of Blantyre Prio-rie.”—
‘Unclose the gate, and mount with glee,
‘And ever, as on I sped, would bless
‘The abbot of Blantyre Prio-rie.”—
—“Then, daughter, dry those eyes so bright;
“I'll haste where flows Tweed's silver stream;
“And when thou see'st, at dead of night,
“A lamp in Blantyre's chapel gleam,
“I'll haste where flows Tweed's silver stream;
“And when thou see'st, at dead of night,
“A lamp in Blantyre's chapel gleam,
“With noiseless step the staircase press,
“For know thy lover there will be;
“Then mount his steed, haste on,—and bless
“The abbot of Blantyre Prio-rie!”—
“For know thy lover there will be;
“Then mount his steed, haste on,—and bless
“The abbot of Blantyre Prio-rie!”—
Then forth the friar he bent his way,
While lightly danc'd the damsel's heart;
Oh! how she chid the length of day,
How sigh'd to see the sun depart!
While lightly danc'd the damsel's heart;
Oh! how she chid the length of day,
How sigh'd to see the sun depart!
4
How joy'd she when eve's shadows came,
How swiftly gain'd her tower so high!—
—‘Does there in Blantyre shine a flame?—
‘Ah no!—the moon deceived mine eye!’—
How swiftly gain'd her tower so high!—
—‘Does there in Blantyre shine a flame?—
‘Ah no!—the moon deceived mine eye!’—
Again the shades of evening lour;
Again she hails the approach of night.
—‘Shines there a flame in Blantyre tower?—
‘Ah no!—'tis but the northern-light!’—
Again she hails the approach of night.
—‘Shines there a flame in Blantyre tower?—
‘Ah no!—'tis but the northern-light!’—
But when arriv'd All-hallow-E'en,
What time the night and morn divide,
The signal-lamp by Jane was seen
To glimmer on the waves of Clyde.
What time the night and morn divide,
The signal-lamp by Jane was seen
To glimmer on the waves of Clyde.
She cares not for her father's tears,
She feels not for her father's sighs;
No voice but headstrong Love's she hears,
And down the staircase swift she hies.
She feels not for her father's sighs;
No voice but headstrong Love's she hears,
And down the staircase swift she hies.
Though thrice the Brownie
shriek'd—“Beware!”—
Though thrice was heard a dying groan,
She op'd the castle gate.—Lo! there
She found the friendly monk alone.
Though thrice was heard a dying groan,
She op'd the castle gate.—Lo! there
She found the friendly monk alone.
—‘Oh! where is Edgar, father, say?’—
—“On! on!” the friendly monk replied;
“He fear'd his berry-brown steed should neigh,
“And waits us on the banks of Clyde.”—
—“On! on!” the friendly monk replied;
“He fear'd his berry-brown steed should neigh,
“And waits us on the banks of Clyde.”—
5
Then on they hurried, and on they hied,
Down Bothwell's slope so steep and green,
And soon they reach'd the river's side—
Alas! no Edgar yet was seen!
Down Bothwell's slope so steep and green,
And soon they reach'd the river's side—
Alas! no Edgar yet was seen!
Then, bonny Jane, thy spirits sunk;
Fill'd was thy heart with strange alarms!
—“Now thou art mine!” exclaim'd the monk,
And clasp'd her in his ruffian arms.
Fill'd was thy heart with strange alarms!
—“Now thou art mine!” exclaim'd the monk,
And clasp'd her in his ruffian arms.
“Know, yonder bark must bear thee straight,
“Where Blantyre owns my gay controul:
“There Love and Joy to greet thee wait,
“There Pleasure crowns for thee her bowl.
“Where Blantyre owns my gay controul:
“There Love and Joy to greet thee wait,
“There Pleasure crowns for thee her bowl.
“Long have I loved thee, bonny Jane,
“Long breathed to thee my secret vow!
“Come then, sweet maid!—nay, strife is vain;
“Not heaven itself can save thee now!”
“Long breathed to thee my secret vow!
“Come then, sweet maid!—nay, strife is vain;
“Not heaven itself can save thee now!”
The damsel shriek'd, and would have fled,
When lo! his poniard press'd her throat!
—“One cry, and 'tis your last!”—he said,
And bore her fainting tow'rds the boat.
When lo! his poniard press'd her throat!
—“One cry, and 'tis your last!”—he said,
And bore her fainting tow'rds the boat.
The moon shone bright; the winds were chain'd;
The boatman swiftly plied his oar;
But ere the river's midst was gain'd,
The tempest-fiend was heard to roar.
The boatman swiftly plied his oar;
But ere the river's midst was gain'd,
The tempest-fiend was heard to roar.
Rain fell in sheets; high swell'd the Clyde;
Blue flam'd the lightning's blasting brand!
—“Oh! lighten the bark!” the boatman cried,
“Or hope no more to reach the strand.
Blue flam'd the lightning's blasting brand!
—“Oh! lighten the bark!” the boatman cried,
“Or hope no more to reach the strand.
6
“E'en now we stand on danger's brink!
“E'en now the boat half fill'd I see!
“Oh! lighten it soon, or else we sink!
“Oh! lighten it of .... your gay la-die!”—
“E'en now the boat half fill'd I see!
“Oh! lighten it soon, or else we sink!
“Oh! lighten it of .... your gay la-die!”—
With shrieks the maid his counsel hears;
But vain are now her prayers and cries,
Who cared not for her father's tears,
Who felt not for her father's sighs.
But vain are now her prayers and cries,
Who cared not for her father's tears,
Who felt not for her father's sighs.
Fear conquer'd love!—In wild despair
The abbot view'd the watery grave,
Then seized his victim's golden hair,
And plunged her in the foaming wave!
The abbot view'd the watery grave,
Then seized his victim's golden hair,
And plunged her in the foaming wave!
She screams!—she sinks!—“Row, boatman, row!
“The bark is light!” the abbot cries,
“Row, boatman, row to land!”—When lo!
Gigantic grew the boatman's size!
“The bark is light!” the abbot cries,
“Row, boatman, row to land!”—When lo!
Gigantic grew the boatman's size!
With burning steel his temples bound
Throbb'd quick and high with fiery pangs;
He roll'd his blood-shot eyeballs round,
And furious gnash'd his iron fangs:
Throbb'd quick and high with fiery pangs;
He roll'd his blood-shot eyeballs round,
And furious gnash'd his iron fangs:
His hands two gore-fed scorpions grasp'd;
His eyes fell joy and spite express'd.
—“Thy cup is full!”—he said, and clasp'd
The abbot to his burning breast.
His eyes fell joy and spite express'd.
—“Thy cup is full!”—he said, and clasp'd
The abbot to his burning breast.
With hideous yell down sinks the boat,
And straight the warring winds subside;
Moon-silver'd clouds through æther float,
And gently murmuring flows the Clyde.
And straight the warring winds subside;
Moon-silver'd clouds through æther float,
And gently murmuring flows the Clyde.
7
Since then full many a winter's powers
In chains of ice the earth have bound;
And many a spring, with blushing flowers
And herbage gay, has robed the ground:
In chains of ice the earth have bound;
And many a spring, with blushing flowers
And herbage gay, has robed the ground:
Yet legends say, at Hallow-E'en,
When Silence holds her deepest reign,
That still the ferryman-fiend is seen
To waft the monk and bonny Jane:
When Silence holds her deepest reign,
That still the ferryman-fiend is seen
To waft the monk and bonny Jane:
And still does Blantyre's wreck display
The signal-lamp at midnight hour;
And still to watch its fatal ray,
The phantom-fair haunts Bothwell Tower;
The signal-lamp at midnight hour;
And still to watch its fatal ray,
The phantom-fair haunts Bothwell Tower;
Still tunes her lute to Edgar's name,
Still chides the hours which stay her flight;
Still sings,—“In Blantyre shines the flame?
“Ah! no!—'tis but the northern-light!”—
Still chides the hours which stay her flight;
Still sings,—“In Blantyre shines the flame?
“Ah! no!—'tis but the northern-light!”—
On this night, witches, devils, &c. are thought, by the Scotch, to be abroad on their baneful errands. See Burn's Poem, under the title of “Hallow-E'en.”
The Brownie is a domestic spirit, whose voice is always heard lamenting, when any accident is about to befal the family to which she has attached herself.
8
No. II. OSRIC THE LION.
ORIGINAL.—M. G. LEWIS.
[_]
Since writing this Ballad, I have seen a French one, entitled “La Veillée de la Bonne Mère,” which has some resemblance with it.
Swift roll the Rhine's billows, and water the plains,
Where Falkenstein Castle's majestic remains
Their moss-cover'd turrets still rear:
Oft loves the gaunt wolf midst the ruins to prowl,
What time from the battlements pours the lone owl
Her plaints in the passenger's ear.
Where Falkenstein Castle's majestic remains
Their moss-cover'd turrets still rear:
Oft loves the gaunt wolf midst the ruins to prowl,
What time from the battlements pours the lone owl
Her plaints in the passenger's ear.
No longer resound through the vaults of yon hall
The song of the minstrel, and mirth of the ball;
Those pleasures for ever are fled:
There now dwells the bat with her light-shunning brood,
There ravens and vultures now clamour for food,
And all is dark, silent, and dread!
The song of the minstrel, and mirth of the ball;
Those pleasures for ever are fled:
There now dwells the bat with her light-shunning brood,
There ravens and vultures now clamour for food,
And all is dark, silent, and dread!
9
Ha! dost thou not see, by the moon's trembling light
Directing his steps, where advances a knight,
His eye big with vengeance and fate?
'Tis Osric the Lion his nephew who leads,
And swift up the crackling old staircase proceeds,
Gains the hall, and quick closes the gate.
Directing his steps, where advances a knight,
His eye big with vengeance and fate?
'Tis Osric the Lion his nephew who leads,
And swift up the crackling old staircase proceeds,
Gains the hall, and quick closes the gate.
Now round him young Carloman casting his eyes,
Surveys the sad scene with dismay and surprise,
And fear steals the rose from his cheeks.
His spirits forsake him, his courage is flown;
The hand of Sir Osric he clasps in his own,
And while his voice faulters he speaks.
Surveys the sad scene with dismay and surprise,
And fear steals the rose from his cheeks.
His spirits forsake him, his courage is flown;
The hand of Sir Osric he clasps in his own,
And while his voice faulters he speaks.
—“Dear uncle,” he murmurs, “why linger we here?
“'Tis late, and these chambers are damp and are drear,
“Keen blows through the ruins the blast!
“Oh let us away and our journey pursue:
“Fair Blumenberg's Castle will rise on our view,
“Soon as Falkenstein forest is pass'd.
“'Tis late, and these chambers are damp and are drear,
“Keen blows through the ruins the blast!
“Oh let us away and our journey pursue:
“Fair Blumenberg's Castle will rise on our view,
“Soon as Falkenstein forest is pass'd.
“Why roll thus your eveballs? why glare they so wild?
“Oh! chide not my weakness, nor frown, that a child
“Should view these apartments with dread;
“For know, that full oft have I heard from my nurse,
“There still on this castle has rested a curse,
“Since innocent blood here was shed.
“Oh! chide not my weakness, nor frown, that a child
“Should view these apartments with dread;
“For know, that full oft have I heard from my nurse,
“There still on this castle has rested a curse,
“Since innocent blood here was shed.
“She said, too, bad spirits, and ghosts all in white,
“Here use to resort at the dead time of night,
“Nor vanish till breaking of day;
“And still at their coming is heard the deep tone
“Of a bell loud and awful—hark! hark! 'twas a groan!
“Good uncle, oh! let us away!”—
“Here use to resort at the dead time of night,
“Nor vanish till breaking of day;
“And still at their coming is heard the deep tone
“Of a bell loud and awful—hark! hark! 'twas a groan!
“Good uncle, oh! let us away!”—
10
—“Peace, serpent!” thus Osric the Lion replies,
While rage and malignity gloom in his eyes;
“Thy journey and life here must close:
“Thy castle's proud turrets no more shalt thou see;
“No more betwixt Blumenberg's lordship and me
“Shalt thou stand, and my greatness oppose.
While rage and malignity gloom in his eyes;
“Thy journey and life here must close:
“Thy castle's proud turrets no more shalt thou see;
“No more betwixt Blumenberg's lordship and me
“Shalt thou stand, and my greatness oppose.
“My brother lies breathless on Palestine's plains,
“And thou once remov'd, to his noble domains
“My right can no rival deny:
“Then, stripling, prepare on my dagger to bleed;
“No succour is near, and thy fate is decreed,
“Commend thee to Jesus, and die!”—
“And thou once remov'd, to his noble domains
“My right can no rival deny:
“Then, stripling, prepare on my dagger to bleed;
“No succour is near, and thy fate is decreed,
“Commend thee to Jesus, and die!”—
Thus saying, he seizes the boy by the arm,
Whose grief rends the vaulted hall's roof, while alarm
His heart of all fortitude robs;
His limbs sink beneath him; distracted with fears,
He falls at his uncle's feet, bathes them with tears,
And—“spare me! oh spare me!”—he sobs.
Whose grief rends the vaulted hall's roof, while alarm
His heart of all fortitude robs;
His limbs sink beneath him; distracted with fears,
He falls at his uncle's feet, bathes them with tears,
And—“spare me! oh spare me!”—he sobs.
But vainly the miscreant he strives to appease;
And vainly he clings in despair round his knees,
And sues in soft accents for life;
Unmov'd by his sorrow, unmov'd by his prayer,
Fierce Osric has twisted his hand in his hair,
And aims at his bosom a knife.
And vainly he clings in despair round his knees,
And sues in soft accents for life;
Unmov'd by his sorrow, unmov'd by his prayer,
Fierce Osric has twisted his hand in his hair,
And aims at his bosom a knife.
But ere the steel blushes with blood, strange to tell!
Self-struck, does the tongue of the hollow-toned bell
The presence of midnight declare:
And while with amazement his hair bristles high,
Hears Osric a voice, loud and terrible cry,
In sounds heart-appalling—“Forbear!”
Self-struck, does the tongue of the hollow-toned bell
The presence of midnight declare:
And while with amazement his hair bristles high,
Hears Osric a voice, loud and terrible cry,
In sounds heart-appalling—“Forbear!”
11
Straight curses and shrieks through the chambers resound,
Shrieks mingled with laughter: the walls shake around;
The groaning roof threatens to fall:
Loud bellows the thunder, blue lightnings still flash;
The casements they clatter; chains rattle; doors clash,
And flames spread their waves through the hall.
Shrieks mingled with laughter: the walls shake around;
The groaning roof threatens to fall:
Loud bellows the thunder, blue lightnings still flash;
The casements they clatter; chains rattle; doors clash,
And flames spread their waves through the hall.
The clamour increases, the portals expand!—
O'er the pavement's black marble now rushes a band
Of dæmons all dropping with gore,
In visage so grim, and so monstrous in height,
That Carloman screams, as they burst on his sight,
And sinks without sense on the floor.
O'er the pavement's black marble now rushes a band
Of dæmons all dropping with gore,
In visage so grim, and so monstrous in height,
That Carloman screams, as they burst on his sight,
And sinks without sense on the floor.
Not so his fell uncle:—he sees, that the throng
Impels, wildly shrieking, a female along,
And well the sad spectre he knows!
The dæmons with curses her steps onwards urge;
Her shoulders, with whips form'd of serpents, they scourge,
And fast from her wounds the blood flows.
Impels, wildly shrieking, a female along,
And well the sad spectre he knows!
The dæmons with curses her steps onwards urge;
Her shoulders, with whips form'd of serpents, they scourge,
And fast from her wounds the blood flows.
“Oh! welcome!” she cried, and her voice spoke despair;
“Oh! welcome, Sir Osric, the torments to share,
“Of which thou hast made me the prey.
“Twelve years have I languish'd thy coming to see;
“Ulrilda, who perish'd dishonour'd by thee,
“Now calls thee to anguish away!
“Oh! welcome, Sir Osric, the torments to share,
“Of which thou hast made me the prey.
“Twelve years have I languish'd thy coming to see;
“Ulrilda, who perish'd dishonour'd by thee,
“Now calls thee to anguish away!
“Thy passion once sated, thy love became hate;
“Thy hand gave the draught which consign'd me to fate,
“Nor thought I death lurk'd in the bowl:
“Unfit for the grave, stain'd with lust, swell'd with pride,
“Unbless'd, unabsolv'd, unrepenting, I died,
“And dæmons straight seiz'd on my soul.
“Thy hand gave the draught which consign'd me to fate,
“Nor thought I death lurk'd in the bowl:
“Unfit for the grave, stain'd with lust, swell'd with pride,
“Unbless'd, unabsolv'd, unrepenting, I died,
“And dæmons straight seiz'd on my soul.
12
“Thou com'st, and with transport I feel my breast swell;
“Full long have I suffer'd the torments of hell,
“And now shall its pleasures be mine!
“See, see how the fiends are athirst for thy blood!
“Twelve years has my panting heart furnish'd their food,
“Come, wretch, let them feast upon thine!—
“Full long have I suffer'd the torments of hell,
“And now shall its pleasures be mine!
“See, see how the fiends are athirst for thy blood!
“Twelve years has my panting heart furnish'd their food,
“Come, wretch, let them feast upon thine!—
She said, and the daemons their prey flock'd around;
They dash'd him, with horrible yell, on the ground,
And blood down his limbs trickled fast.
His eyes from their sockets with fury they tore;
They fed on his entrails, all reeking with gore,
And his heart was Ulrilda's repast.
They dash'd him, with horrible yell, on the ground,
And blood down his limbs trickled fast.
His eyes from their sockets with fury they tore;
They fed on his entrails, all reeking with gore,
And his heart was Ulrilda's repast.
But now the grey cock told the coming of day!
The fiends with their victim straight vanish'd away,
And Carloman's heart throbb'd again;
With terror recalling the deeds of the night,
He rose, and from Falkenstein speeding his flight,
Soon reach'd his paternal domain.
The fiends with their victim straight vanish'd away,
And Carloman's heart throbb'd again;
With terror recalling the deeds of the night,
He rose, and from Falkenstein speeding his flight,
Soon reach'd his paternal domain.
Since then, all with horror the ruins behold;
No shepherd, though stray'd be a lamb from his fold,
No mother, though lost be her child,
The fugitive dares in these chambers to seek,
Where fiends nightly revel, and guilty ghosts shriek
In accents most fearful and wild!
No shepherd, though stray'd be a lamb from his fold,
No mother, though lost be her child,
The fugitive dares in these chambers to seek,
Where fiends nightly revel, and guilty ghosts shriek
In accents most fearful and wild!
Oh! shun them, ye pilgrims! though late be the hour,
Though loud howl the tempest, and fast fall the shower;
From Falkenstein Castle begone!
There still their sad banquet hell's denizens share;
There Osric the Lion still raves in despair:
Breathe a prayer for his soul, and pass on!
Though loud howl the tempest, and fast fall the shower;
From Falkenstein Castle begone!
There still their sad banquet hell's denizens share;
There Osric the Lion still raves in despair:
Breathe a prayer for his soul, and pass on!
16
No. IV. ALONZO THE BRAVE AND FAIR IMOGINE.
ORIGINAL.—M. G. LEWis.
A warrior so bold and a virgin so bright
Conversed, as they sat on the green;
They gazed on each other with tender delight:
Alonzo the Brave was the name of the knight,
The maid's was the fair Imogine.
Conversed, as they sat on the green;
They gazed on each other with tender delight:
Alonzo the Brave was the name of the knight,
The maid's was the fair Imogine.
—“And, oh!” said the youth, “since to-morrow I go
“To fight in a far-distant land,
“Your tears for my absence soon leaving to flow,
“Some other will court you, and you will bestow
“On a wealthier suitor your hand.”—
“To fight in a far-distant land,
“Your tears for my absence soon leaving to flow,
“Some other will court you, and you will bestow
“On a wealthier suitor your hand.”—
—“Oh! hush these suspicions,” Fair Imogine said,
“Offensive to love and to me!
“For, if you be living, or if you be dead,
“I swear by the Virgin, that none in your stead
“Shall husband of Imogine be.
“Offensive to love and to me!
“For, if you be living, or if you be dead,
“I swear by the Virgin, that none in your stead
“Shall husband of Imogine be.
17
“And if e'er for another my heart should decide,
“Forgetting Alonzo the Brave,
“God grant, that, to punish my falsehood and pride,
“Your ghost at the marriage may sit by my side,
“May tax me with perjury, claim me as bride,
“And bear me away to the grave!”—
“Forgetting Alonzo the Brave,
“God grant, that, to punish my falsehood and pride,
“Your ghost at the marriage may sit by my side,
“May tax me with perjury, claim me as bride,
“And bear me away to the grave!”—
To Palestine hasten'd the hero so bold;
His love she lamented him sore:
But scarce had a twelvemonth elapsed, when behold,
A Baron all cover'd with jewels and gold
Arrived at Fair Imogine's door.
His love she lamented him sore:
But scarce had a twelvemonth elapsed, when behold,
A Baron all cover'd with jewels and gold
Arrived at Fair Imogine's door.
His treasure, his presents, his spacious domain,
Soon made her untrue to her vows:
He dazzled her eyes; he bewilder'd her brain;
He caught her affections so light and so vain,
And carried her home as his spouse.
Soon made her untrue to her vows:
He dazzled her eyes; he bewilder'd her brain;
He caught her affections so light and so vain,
And carried her home as his spouse.
And now had the marriage been bless'd by the priest;
The revelry now was begun:
The tables they groan'd with the weight of the feast;
Nor yet had the laughter and merriment ceased,
When the bell of the castle toll'd—“one!”
The revelry now was begun:
The tables they groan'd with the weight of the feast;
Nor yet had the laughter and merriment ceased,
When the bell of the castle toll'd—“one!”
Then first with amazement Fair Imogine found,
That a stranger was placed by her side:
His air was terrific; he utter'd no sound;
He spoke not, he moved not, he look'd not around,
But earnestly gazed on the bride.
That a stranger was placed by her side:
His air was terrific; he utter'd no sound;
He spoke not, he moved not, he look'd not around,
But earnestly gazed on the bride.
His vizor was closed, and gigantic his height;
His armour was sable to view:
All pleasure and laughter were hush'd at his sight;
The dogs, as they eyed him, drew back in affright;
The lights in the chamber burnt blue!
His armour was sable to view:
All pleasure and laughter were hush'd at his sight;
The dogs, as they eyed him, drew back in affright;
The lights in the chamber burnt blue!
18
His presence all bosoms appear'd to dismay;
The guests sat in silence and fear:
At length spoke the bride, while she trembled:—“I pray,
“Sir Knight, that your helmet aside you would lay,
“And deign to partake of our cheer.”—
The guests sat in silence and fear:
At length spoke the bride, while she trembled:—“I pray,
“Sir Knight, that your helmet aside you would lay,
“And deign to partake of our cheer.”—
The lady is silent: the stranger complies,
His vizor he slowly unclosed:
Oh! then what a sight met Fair Imogine's eyes!
What words can express her dismay and surprise,
When a skeleton's head was exposed!
His vizor he slowly unclosed:
Oh! then what a sight met Fair Imogine's eyes!
What words can express her dismay and surprise,
When a skeleton's head was exposed!
All present then utter'd a terrified shout;
All turn'd with disgust from the scene.
The worms they crept in, and the worms they crept out,
And sported his eyes and his temples about,
While the spectre address'd Imogine:
All turn'd with disgust from the scene.
The worms they crept in, and the worms they crept out,
And sported his eyes and his temples about,
While the spectre address'd Imogine:
“Behold me, thou false one! behold me!” he cried;
“Remember Alonzo the Brave!
“God grants, that, to punish thy falsehood and pride,
“My ghost at thy marriage should sit by thy side,
“Should tax thee with perjury, claim thee as bride,
“And bear thee away to the grave!”
“Remember Alonzo the Brave!
“God grants, that, to punish thy falsehood and pride,
“My ghost at thy marriage should sit by thy side,
“Should tax thee with perjury, claim thee as bride,
“And bear thee away to the grave!”
Thus saying, his arms round the lady he wound,
While loudly she shriek'd in dismay;
Then sank with his prey through the wide-yawning ground:
Nor ever again was Fair Imogine found,
Or the spectre who bore her away.
While loudly she shriek'd in dismay;
Then sank with his prey through the wide-yawning ground:
Nor ever again was Fair Imogine found,
Or the spectre who bore her away.
Not long lived the Baron: and none since that time
To inhabit the castle presume;
For chronicles tell, that, by order sublime,
There Imogine suffers the pain of her crime,
And mourns her deplorable doom.
To inhabit the castle presume;
For chronicles tell, that, by order sublime,
There Imogine suffers the pain of her crime,
And mourns her deplorable doom.
19
At midnight four times in each year does her sprite,
When mortals in slumber are bound,
Array'd in her bridal apparel of white,
Appear in the hall with the skeleton-knight,
And shriek as he whirls her around.
When mortals in slumber are bound,
Array'd in her bridal apparel of white,
Appear in the hall with the skeleton-knight,
And shriek as he whirls her around.
While they drink out of skulls newly torn from the grave,
Dancing round them pale spectres are seen:
Their liquor is blood, and this horrible stave
They howl:—“To the health of Alonzo the Brave,
“And his consort, the False Imogine!”
Dancing round them pale spectres are seen:
Their liquor is blood, and this horrible stave
They howl:—“To the health of Alonzo the Brave,
“And his consort, the False Imogine!”
20
No. V. GILES JOLLUP THE GRAVE, AND BROWN SALLY GREEN.
ORIGINAL.—M. G. LEWIS.
[_]
This is a Parody upon the foregoing Ballad. I must acknowledge, however, that the lines printed in italics, and the idea of making an apothecary of the knight, and a brewer of the baron, are taken from a parody which appeared in one of the news-papers, under the title of “Pil-Garlic the Brave and Brown Celestine.”
A Doctor so prim and a sempstress so tight
Hob-a-nobb'd in some right marasquin;
They suck'd up the cordial with truest delight:
Giles Jollup the Grave was just five feet in height,
And four feet the brown Sally Green.
Hob-a-nobb'd in some right marasquin;
They suck'd up the cordial with truest delight:
Giles Jollup the Grave was just five feet in height,
And four feet the brown Sally Green.
—“And as,” said Giles Jollup, “to-morrow I go
“To physic a feverish land,
“At some sixpenny hop, or perhaps the Mayor's show,
“You'll tumble in love with some smart city beau,
“And with him share your shop in the Strand.”—
“To physic a feverish land,
“At some sixpenny hop, or perhaps the Mayor's show,
“You'll tumble in love with some smart city beau,
“And with him share your shop in the Strand.”—
21
—“Lord! how can you think so?” brown Sally Green said;
“You must know mighty little of me;
“For if you be living, or if you be dead,
“I swear, 'pon my honour that none in your stead
“Shall husband of Sally Green be.
“You must know mighty little of me;
“For if you be living, or if you be dead,
“I swear, 'pon my honour that none in your stead
“Shall husband of Sally Green be.
“And if e'er for another my heart should decide,
“False to you and the faith which I gave,
“God grant that, at dinner too amply supplied,
“Over-eating may give me a pain in the side;
“May your ghost then bring rhubarb to physic the bride,
“And send her well dosed to the grave!”—
“False to you and the faith which I gave,
“God grant that, at dinner too amply supplied,
“Over-eating may give me a pain in the side;
“May your ghost then bring rhubarb to physic the bride,
“And send her well dosed to the grave!”—
Away went poor Giles, to what place is not told:
Sally wept, till she blew her nose sore!
But scarce had a twelvemonth elapsed, when behold!
A brewer, quite stylish, his gig that way roll'd,
And stopp'd it at Sally Green's door.
Sally wept, till she blew her nose sore!
But scarce had a twelvemonth elapsed, when behold!
A brewer, quite stylish, his gig that way roll'd,
And stopp'd it at Sally Green's door.
His wealth, his pot-belly, and whisky of cane,
Soon made her untrue to her vows;
The steam of strong beer now bewildering her brain,
He caught her while tipsy! denials were vain,
So he carried her home as his spouse.
Soon made her untrue to her vows;
The steam of strong beer now bewildering her brain,
He caught her while tipsy! denials were vain,
So he carried her home as his spouse.
And now the roast beef had been bless'd by the priest,
To cram now the guests had begun:
Tooth and nail like a wolf fell the bride on the feast;
Nor yet had the clash of her knife and fork ceased,
When a bell—('twas a dustman's)—toll'd—“one!”
To cram now the guests had begun:
Tooth and nail like a wolf fell the bride on the feast;
Nor yet had the clash of her knife and fork ceased,
When a bell—('twas a dustman's)—toll'd—“one!”
Then first with amazement brown Sally Green found
That a stranger was stuck by her side:
His cravat and his ruffles with snuff were embrown'd;
He ate not, he drank not, but, turning him round,
Sent some pudding away to be fried!!!
That a stranger was stuck by her side:
His cravat and his ruffles with snuff were embrown'd;
He ate not, he drank not, but, turning him round,
Sent some pudding away to be fried!!!
22
His wig was turn'd forwards, and short was his height;
His apron was dirty to view:
The women (oh! wondrous) were hush'd at his sight:
The cats, as they eyed him, drew back (well they might),
For his body was pea-green and blue!
His apron was dirty to view:
The women (oh! wondrous) were hush'd at his sight:
The cats, as they eyed him, drew back (well they might),
For his body was pea-green and blue!
Now, as all wish'd to speak, but none knew what to say,
They look'd mighty foolish and queer:
At length spoke the bride, while she trembled—“I pray,
“Dear Sir, your peruke that aside you would lay,
“And partake of some strong or small beer!”—
They look'd mighty foolish and queer:
At length spoke the bride, while she trembled—“I pray,
“Dear Sir, your peruke that aside you would lay,
“And partake of some strong or small beer!”—
The sempstress is silent; the stranger complies,
And his wig from his phiz deigns to pull.
Adzooks! what a squall Sally gave through surprize!
Like a pig that is stuck how she open'd her eyes,
When she recognized Jollup's bare skull!
And his wig from his phiz deigns to pull.
Adzooks! what a squall Sally gave through surprize!
Like a pig that is stuck how she open'd her eyes,
When she recognized Jollup's bare skull!
Each miss then exclaim'd, while she turn'd up her snout,
—“Sir, your head isn't fit be seen!”—
The pot-boys ran in, and the pot-boys ran out,
And couldn't conceive what the noise was about,
While the Doctor address'd Sally Green:
—“Sir, your head isn't fit be seen!”—
The pot-boys ran in, and the pot-boys ran out,
And couldn't conceive what the noise was about,
While the Doctor address'd Sally Green:
—“Behold me, thou jilt-flirt! behold me!” he cried;
“You've broken the faith which you gave!
“God grants, that, to punish your falsehood and pride,
“Over-eating should give you a pain in your side:
“Come, swallow this rhubarb! I'll physic the bride,
“And send her well-dosed to the grave!”—
“You've broken the faith which you gave!
“God grants, that, to punish your falsehood and pride,
“Over-eating should give you a pain in your side:
“Come, swallow this rhubarb! I'll physic the bride,
“And send her well-dosed to the grave!”—
Thus saying, the physic her throat he forced down,
In spite of whate'er she could say;
Then bore to his chariot the damsel so brown;
Nor ever again was she seen in that town,
Or the Doctor who whisk'd her away.
In spite of whate'er she could say;
Then bore to his chariot the damsel so brown;
Nor ever again was she seen in that town,
Or the Doctor who whisk'd her away.
23
Not long liv'd the Brewer: and none since that time
To make use of the brewhouse presume;
For 'tis firmly believed, that, by order sublime,
There Sally Green suffers the pain of her crime,
And bawls to get out of the room.
To make use of the brewhouse presume;
For 'tis firmly believed, that, by order sublime,
There Sally Green suffers the pain of her crime,
And bawls to get out of the room.
At midnight four times in each year does her sprite
With shrieks make the chamber resound:
—“I won't take the rhubarb!” she squalls in affright,
While, a cup in his left hand, a draught in his right,
Giles Jollup pursues her around!
With shrieks make the chamber resound:
—“I won't take the rhubarb!” she squalls in affright,
While, a cup in his left hand, a draught in his right,
Giles Jollup pursues her around!
With wigs so well powder'd, their fees while they crave,
Dancing round them twelve doctors are seen:
They drink chicken-broth, while this horrible stave
Is twang'd through each nose—“To Giles Jollup the Grave,
“And his patient, the sick Sally Green!”
Dancing round them twelve doctors are seen:
They drink chicken-broth, while this horrible stave
Is twang'd through each nose—“To Giles Jollup the Grave,
“And his patient, the sick Sally Green!”
57
No. XIII. THE CLOUD-KING.
ADJECTIVES HAVE BUT THREE DEGREES OF COMPARISON, THE
POSITIVE, COMPARATIVE, AND SUPERLATIVE.”
English Grammar.
ORIGINAL.—M. G. LEWIS.
Why how now, Sir Pilgrim? why shake you with dread?
Why brave you the winds of night, cutting and cold?
Full warm was your chamber, full soft was your bed,
And scarce by the castle-bell twelve has been toll'd.
Why brave you the winds of night, cutting and cold?
Full warm was your chamber, full soft was your bed,
And scarce by the castle-bell twelve has been toll'd.
—“Oh! hear you not, Warder, with anxious dismay,
“How rages the tempest, how patters the rain?
“While loud howls the whirlwind, and threatens, ere day,
“To strow these old turrets in heaps on the plain!”—
“How rages the tempest, how patters the rain?
“While loud howls the whirlwind, and threatens, ere day,
“To strow these old turrets in heaps on the plain!”—
Now calm thee, Sir Pilgrim! thy fears to remove,
Know, yearly, this morning is destin'd to bring
Such storms, which declare that resentment and love
Still gnaw the proud heart of the cruel Cloud-King.
Know, yearly, this morning is destin'd to bring
Such storms, which declare that resentment and love
Still gnaw the proud heart of the cruel Cloud-King.
58
One morning, as borne on the wings of the blast,
The fiend over Denmark directed his flight;
A glance upon Rosenhall's turrets he cast,
And gazed on its lady with wanton delight:
The fiend over Denmark directed his flight;
A glance upon Rosenhall's turrets he cast,
And gazed on its lady with wanton delight:
Yet proud was her eye, and her cheek flush'd with rage,
Her lips with disdain and reproaches were fraught;
And lo! at her feet knelt a lovely young page,
And thus in soft accents compassion besought.
Her lips with disdain and reproaches were fraught;
And lo! at her feet knelt a lovely young page,
And thus in soft accents compassion besought.
—“O drive not, dear beauty, a wretch to despair,
“Whose fault is so venial, a fault if it be;
“For who could have eyes, and not see thou art fair?
“Or who have an heart, and not give it to thee?
“Whose fault is so venial, a fault if it be;
“For who could have eyes, and not see thou art fair?
“Or who have an heart, and not give it to thee?
“I own I adore you! I own you have been
“Long the dream of my night, long the thought of my day;
“But no hope had my heart that its idolized queen
“Would ever with passion my passion repay.
“Long the dream of my night, long the thought of my day;
“But no hope had my heart that its idolized queen
“Would ever with passion my passion repay.
“When insects delight in the blaze of the sun,
“They harbour no wish in his glory to share:
“When kneels at the cross of her Saviour the nun,
“He scorns not the praises she breathes in her prayer.
“They harbour no wish in his glory to share:
“When kneels at the cross of her Saviour the nun,
“He scorns not the praises she breathes in her prayer.
“When the pilgrim repairs to St. Hermegild's shrine,
“And claims of her relics a kiss as his fee,
“His passion is humble, is pure, is divine,
“And such is the passion I cherish for thee!”—
“And claims of her relics a kiss as his fee,
“His passion is humble, is pure, is divine,
“And such is the passion I cherish for thee!”—
—“Rash youth! how presum'st thou with insolent love,”
Thus answered the lady, “her ears to profane,
“Whom the monarchs of Norway and Jutland, to move
“Their passion to pity attempted in vain?
Thus answered the lady, “her ears to profane,
“Whom the monarchs of Norway and Jutland, to move
“Their passion to pity attempted in vain?
59
“Fly, fly from my sight, to some far distant land!
“That wretch must not breathe, where Romilda resides,
“Whose lips, while she slept, stole a kiss from that hand,
“No mortal is worthy to press as a bride's.
“That wretch must not breathe, where Romilda resides,
“Whose lips, while she slept, stole a kiss from that hand,
“No mortal is worthy to press as a bride's.
“Nor e'er will I wed till some prince of the air,
“His heart at the throne of my beauty shall lay,
“And the two first commands which I give him, shall swear,
“(Though hard should the task be enjoin'd) to obey.”—
“His heart at the throne of my beauty shall lay,
“And the two first commands which I give him, shall swear,
“(Though hard should the task be enjoin'd) to obey.”—
She said.—Straight the castle of Rosenhall rocks
With an earthquake, and thunders announce the Cloud-King.
A crown of red lightnings confined his fair locks,
And high o'er each arm waved an huge sable wing.
With an earthquake, and thunders announce the Cloud-King.
A crown of red lightnings confined his fair locks,
And high o'er each arm waved an huge sable wing.
His sandals were meteors; his blue eye reveal'd
The firmament's lustre, and light scatter'd round;
While his robe, a bright tissue of rain-drops congeal'd,
Reflected the lightnings his temples that bound.
The firmament's lustre, and light scatter'd round;
While his robe, a bright tissue of rain-drops congeal'd,
Reflected the lightnings his temples that bound.
—“Romilda!” he thundered, “thy charms and thy pride
“Have drawn down a spirit; thy fears now dismiss;
“For no mortal shall call thee, proud beauty, his bride;
“The Cloud-Monarch comes to demand thee for his.
“Have drawn down a spirit; thy fears now dismiss;
“For no mortal shall call thee, proud beauty, his bride;
“The Cloud-Monarch comes to demand thee for his.
“My eyes furnish lightnings, my wings cloud the air,
“My hand guides the thunder, my breath wakes the storm;
“And the two first commands which you give me, I swear,
“(Though hard should the task be enjoin'd) to perform.”—
“My hand guides the thunder, my breath wakes the storm;
“And the two first commands which you give me, I swear,
“(Though hard should the task be enjoin'd) to perform.”—
60
He said, and he seized her; then urging his flight,
Swift bore her away, while she struggled in vain;
Yet long in her ears rang the shrieks of affright,
Which pour'd for her danger the page Amorayn.
Swift bore her away, while she struggled in vain;
Yet long in her ears rang the shrieks of affright,
Which pour'd for her danger the page Amorayn.
At the Palace of Clouds soon Romilda arrived,
When the Fiend, with a smile which her terrors increas'd,
Exclaim'd—“I must warn my three brothers I'm wived,
“And bid them prepare for my wedding the feast.”—
When the Fiend, with a smile which her terrors increas'd,
Exclaim'd—“I must warn my three brothers I'm wived,
“And bid them prepare for my wedding the feast.”—
Than lightning then swifter thrice round did he turn,
Thrice bitterly curs'd he the parent of good,
And next in a chafing-dish hasten'd to burn
Three locks of his hair, and three drops of his blood:
Thrice bitterly curs'd he the parent of good,
And next in a chafing-dish hasten'd to burn
Three locks of his hair, and three drops of his blood:
And quickly Romilda, with anxious affright,
Heard the tramp of a steed, and beheld at the gate
A youth in white arms—'twas the false Water-Spright,
And behind him his mother, the sorceress, sate.
Heard the tramp of a steed, and beheld at the gate
A youth in white arms—'twas the false Water-Spright,
And behind him his mother, the sorceress, sate.
The youth he was comely, and fair to behold,
The hag was the foulest eye ever survey'd;
Each placed on the table a goblet of gold,
While thus to Romilda the Water-King said:—
The hag was the foulest eye ever survey'd;
Each placed on the table a goblet of gold,
While thus to Romilda the Water-King said:—
—“Hail, Queen of the Clouds! lo! we bring thee for drink
“The blood of a damsel, both lovely and rich,
“Whom I tempted, and left 'midst the billows to sink,
“Where she died by the hands of my mother, the witch.
“The blood of a damsel, both lovely and rich,
“Whom I tempted, and left 'midst the billows to sink,
“Where she died by the hands of my mother, the witch.
“But see'st thou yon chariot, which speeds from afar?
“The Erl-King with his daughter it brings, while a throng
“Of wood-fiends and succubi sports round the car,
“And goads on the night-mares that whirl it along.”—
“The Erl-King with his daughter it brings, while a throng
“Of wood-fiends and succubi sports round the car,
“And goads on the night-mares that whirl it along.”—
61
The maid, while her eyes tears of agony pour'd,
Beheld the Erl-King and his daughter draw near:
A charger of silver each placed on the board,
While the fiend of the forests thus greeted her ear.
Beheld the Erl-King and his daughter draw near:
A charger of silver each placed on the board,
While the fiend of the forests thus greeted her ear.
—“With the heart of a warrior, Cloud Queen, for thy food,
“The head of a child on thy table we place;
“She spell-struck the knight as he stray'd through the wood;
“I strangled the child in his father's embrace.”—
“The head of a child on thy table we place;
“She spell-struck the knight as he stray'd through the wood;
“I strangled the child in his father's embrace.”—
The roof now divided.—By fogs half conceal'd,
Suck'd from marshes, infecting the air as he came,
And blasting the verdure of forest and field,
On a dragon descended the Giant of Flame.
Suck'd from marshes, infecting the air as he came,
And blasting the verdure of forest and field,
On a dragon descended the Giant of Flame.
Fire seem'd from his eyes and his nostrils to pour;
His breath was a volume of sulphurous smoke;
He brandish'd a sabre still dropping with gore,
And his voice shook the palace when silence he broke.
His breath was a volume of sulphurous smoke;
He brandish'd a sabre still dropping with gore,
And his voice shook the palace when silence he broke.
—“Feast, Queen of the Clouds! the repast do not scorn;
“Feast, Queen of the Clouds! I perceive thou hast food!
“To-morrow I feast in my turn, for at morn
“Shall I feed on thy flesh, shall I drink of thy blood!
“Feast, Queen of the Clouds! I perceive thou hast food!
“To-morrow I feast in my turn, for at morn
“Shall I feed on thy flesh, shall I drink of thy blood!
“Lo! I bring for a present this magical brand,
“The bowels of Christians have dyed it with red;
“This once flamed in Albert the renegade's hand,
“And is destined to-morrow to strike off thy head.”—
“The bowels of Christians have dyed it with red;
“This once flamed in Albert the renegade's hand,
“And is destined to-morrow to strike off thy head.”—
Then paler than marble Romilda she grew,
While tears of regret blamed her folly and pride.
—“Oh! tell me, Cloud-King, if the giant said true,
“And wilt thou not save from his sabre thy bride?”—
While tears of regret blamed her folly and pride.
—“Oh! tell me, Cloud-King, if the giant said true,
“And wilt thou not save from his sabre thy bride?”—
62
—“'Tis in vain, my fair lady, those hands that you wring,
“The bond is completed, the dye it is cast;
“For she who at night weds an element-king,
“Next morning must serve for his brother's repast.”—
“The bond is completed, the dye it is cast;
“For she who at night weds an element-king,
“Next morning must serve for his brother's repast.”—
—“Yet save me, Cloud-King! by that love you profess'd,
“Bear me back to the place whence you tore me away.”—
—“Fair lady! yon fiends, should I grant your request,
“Instead of to-morrow, would eat you to-day.”—
“Bear me back to the place whence you tore me away.”—
—“Fair lady! yon fiends, should I grant your request,
“Instead of to-morrow, would eat you to-day.”—
—“Yet mark me, Cloud-King! spread in vain is your snare,
“For my bond must be void, and escap'd is your prey,
“The two first commands which I give you, howe'er
“The task should be wondrous, unless you obey.”—
“For my bond must be void, and escap'd is your prey,
“The two first commands which I give you, howe'er
“The task should be wondrous, unless you obey.”—
—“Well say'st thou, Romilda; thy will, then, impart,
“But hope not to vanquish the King of the Storm,
“Or baffle his skill by invention or art;
“Thou canst not command what I cannot perform!”—
“But hope not to vanquish the King of the Storm,
“Or baffle his skill by invention or art;
“Thou canst not command what I cannot perform!”—
Then clasping her hands, to the Virgin she pray'd,
While in curses the wicked ones vented their rage.
—“Now show me the truest of lovers!”—she said,
And lo! by her side stood the lovely young Page.
While in curses the wicked ones vented their rage.
—“Now show me the truest of lovers!”—she said,
And lo! by her side stood the lovely young Page.
His mind was all wonder, her heart all alarms;
She sank on his breast as he sank at her knee.
—“The truest of lovers I fold in my arms,
“Than the truest, now show me a truer!”—said she.
She sank on his breast as he sank at her knee.
—“The truest of lovers I fold in my arms,
“Than the truest, now show me a truer!”—said she.
63
Then loud yell'd the dæmons! the cloud-fashion'd halls
Dissolved, thunder bellow'd, and heavy rains beat;
Again stood the Fair midst her own castle walls,
And still knelt the lovely young Page at her feet.
Dissolved, thunder bellow'd, and heavy rains beat;
Again stood the Fair midst her own castle walls,
And still knelt the lovely young Page at her feet.
And soon for her own, and for Rosenhall's lord,
Did Romilda the truest of lovers declare,
Nor e'er on his bosom one sigh could afford,
That for him she had quitted the Monarch of Air.
Did Romilda the truest of lovers declare,
Nor e'er on his bosom one sigh could afford,
That for him she had quitted the Monarch of Air.
Full long yonder chapel has shelter'd their urns,
Long ceased has the tear on their ashes to fall;
Yet still, when October the twentieth returns,
Roars the fiend round these turrets, and shakes Rosenhall.
Long ceased has the tear on their ashes to fall;
Yet still, when October the twentieth returns,
Roars the fiend round these turrets, and shakes Rosenhall.
Oh! Pilgrim, thy fears let these annals remove,
For day to the skies will tranquillity bring;
This storm but declares that resentment and love
Still gnaw the proud heart of the cruel Cloud-King.
For day to the skies will tranquillity bring;
This storm but declares that resentment and love
Still gnaw the proud heart of the cruel Cloud-King.
Lest my readers should mistake the drift of the foregoing tale, and suppose its moral to rest upon the danger in which Romilda was involved by her insolence and presumption, I think it necessary to explain, that my object in writing this story, was to shew young ladies that it might possibly, now and then, be of use to understand a little grammar; and it must be clear to every one, that my heroine would infallibly have been devoured by the dæmons, if she had not luckily understood the difference between the comparative and superlative degrees.
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No. XV. THE SAILOR'S TALE.
ORIGINAL.—M. G. LEWIS.
Landlord, another bowl of punch, and comrades fili your glasses!
First in another bumper toast our pretty absent lasses,
Then hear how sad and strange a sight my chance it was to see,
While lately, in the ‘Lovely Nan,’ returning from Goree!
First in another bumper toast our pretty absent lasses,
Then hear how sad and strange a sight my chance it was to see,
While lately, in the ‘Lovely Nan,’ returning from Goree!
As all alone at dead of night along the deck I wander'd,
And now I whistled, now on home and Polly Parsons ponder'd,
Sudden a ghastly form appear'd, in dripping trowsers rigg'd,
And soon, with strange surprise and fear, Jack Tackle's ghost I twigg'd.
And now I whistled, now on home and Polly Parsons ponder'd,
Sudden a ghastly form appear'd, in dripping trowsers rigg'd,
And soon, with strange surprise and fear, Jack Tackle's ghost I twigg'd.
—“Dear Tom,” quoth he, “I hither come a doleful tale to tell ye!
“A monstrous fish has safely stow'd your comrade in his belly;
“Groggy last night, my luck was such, that overboard I slid,
“When a shark snapp'd and chew'd me, just as now you chew that quid.
“A monstrous fish has safely stow'd your comrade in his belly;
“Groggy last night, my luck was such, that overboard I slid,
“When a shark snapp'd and chew'd me, just as now you chew that quid.
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“Old Nick, who seem'd confounded glad to catch my soul a napping,
“Straight tax'd me with that buxom dame, the tailor's wife at Wapping;
“In vain I begg'd, and swore, and jaw'd; Nick no excuse would hear;
“Quoth he,—‘You lubber, make your will, and dam'me, downwards steer.’—
“Straight tax'd me with that buxom dame, the tailor's wife at Wapping;
“In vain I begg'd, and swore, and jaw'd; Nick no excuse would hear;
“Quoth he,—‘You lubber, make your will, and dam'me, downwards steer.’—
“Tom, to the 'foresaid tailor's wife I leave my worldly riches,
“But keep yourself, my faithful friend, my bran-new linen breeches;
“Then, when you wear them, sometime give one thought to Jack that's dead,
“Nor leave those galligaskins off while there remains one thread.”—
“But keep yourself, my faithful friend, my bran-new linen breeches;
“Then, when you wear them, sometime give one thought to Jack that's dead,
“Nor leave those galligaskins off while there remains one thread.”—
At hearing Jack's sad tale, my heart, you well may think, was bleeding;
The spirit well perceived my grief, and seem'd to be proceeding,
But here, it so fell out, he sneez'd:—Says I—“God bless you Jack!”—
And poor Jack Tackle's grimly ghost was vanish'd in a crack!
The spirit well perceived my grief, and seem'd to be proceeding,
But here, it so fell out, he sneez'd:—Says I—“God bless you Jack!”—
And poor Jack Tackle's grimly ghost was vanish'd in a crack!
Now comrades, timely warning take, and landlord fill the bowl;
Jack Tackle, for the tailor's wife, has damn'd his precious soul;
Old Nick's a devilish dab, it seems, at snapping up a sailor's,
So if you kiss your neighbour's wife, be sure she's not a tailor's.
Jack Tackle, for the tailor's wife, has damn'd his precious soul;
Old Nick's a devilish dab, it seems, at snapping up a sailor's,
So if you kiss your neighbour's wife, be sure she's not a tailor's.
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No. XVI. THE PRINCESS AND THE SLAVE.
ORIGINAL.—M. G. LEWIS.
Where fragrant breezes sigh'd through orange bowers,
And springing fountains cool'd the air with showers,
From pomp retired, and noon-tide's burning ray,
The fair, the royal Nouronihar lay.
The cups of roses, newly-cropp'd, were spread
Her lovely limbs beneath, and o'er her head
Imprison'd nightingales attuned their throats,
And lull'd the princess with melodious notes.
Here roll'd a lucid stream its gentle wave
With scarce heard murmur; while a Georgian slave
Placed near the couch with feathers in her hand,
The lady's panting breast in silence fann'd,
And chased the insects, who presumed to seek
Their banquet on the beauty's glowing cheek.
This slave, a mild and simple maid was she,
Of common form, and born of low degree,
Whose only charms were smiles, devoid of art,
Whose only wealth, a gentle feeling heart.
And springing fountains cool'd the air with showers,
From pomp retired, and noon-tide's burning ray,
The fair, the royal Nouronihar lay.
The cups of roses, newly-cropp'd, were spread
Her lovely limbs beneath, and o'er her head
Imprison'd nightingales attuned their throats,
And lull'd the princess with melodious notes.
Here roll'd a lucid stream its gentle wave
With scarce heard murmur; while a Georgian slave
Placed near the couch with feathers in her hand,
The lady's panting breast in silence fann'd,
And chased the insects, who presumed to seek
Their banquet on the beauty's glowing cheek.
This slave, a mild and simple maid was she,
Of common form, and born of low degree,
Whose only charms were smiles, devoid of art,
Whose only wealth, a gentle feeling heart.
While thus within her secret loved retreat,
Half sleeping, half awake, oppress'd with heat,
The princess slumber'd; near her, shrill, yet faint,
Rose the sad tones of suppliant sorrow's plaint.
She starts, and angry gazes round: when lo!
A wretched female, bent with age and woe,
Drags her unsteady feet the arbour nigh,
While every step is number'd by a sigh.
Meagre and wan her form, her cheek is pale;
Her tatter'd garments scarce her limbs can veil;
Yet still, through want and grief, her air betrays
Grandeur's remains, and gleams of better days.
Soon as to Nouronihar's couch she came,
Low on the ground her weak and trembling frame
Exhausted sank; and then, with gasping breast,
She thus in plaintive tones the fair address'd.
—“If e'er compassion's tear your cheek could stain,
Half sleeping, half awake, oppress'd with heat,
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Rose the sad tones of suppliant sorrow's plaint.
She starts, and angry gazes round: when lo!
A wretched female, bent with age and woe,
Drags her unsteady feet the arbour nigh,
While every step is number'd by a sigh.
Meagre and wan her form, her cheek is pale;
Her tatter'd garments scarce her limbs can veil;
Yet still, through want and grief, her air betrays
Grandeur's remains, and gleams of better days.
Soon as to Nouronihar's couch she came,
Low on the ground her weak and trembling frame
Exhausted sank; and then, with gasping breast,
She thus in plaintive tones the fair address'd.
“If e'er you languish'd in disease and pain,
“If e'er you sympathized with age's groan,
“Hear, noble lady, hear a suppliant's moan!
“Broken by days of want, and nights of tears,
“By sickness wasted, and oppress'd by years,
“Beneath our sacred Mithra's scorching fire
“I sink enfeebled, and with thirst expire.
“Yon stream is near: oh! list a sufferer's cry,
“And reach one draught of water, lest I die!”—
—“What means this bold intrusion?” cried the fair,
With peevish tone, and discontented air;
“What daring voice, with wearying plaint, infests
“The sacred grove where Persia's princess rests?
“Beggar begone, and let these clamours cease!
“This buys at once your absence, and my peace.”—
Thus said the princess, and indignant frown'd,
Then cast her precious bracelet on the ground,
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The fainting stranger saw the jewel lie:
When lo! kind Selima (the Georgian's name),
Softly with water from the fountain came;
And while, with gentle grace, she gave the bowl,
Thus sweetly sad her feeling accents stole.
—“Humble and poor, I nothing can bestow,
“Except these tears of pity for your woe:
“'Tis all I have; but yet that all receive
“From one who fain your sorrows would relieve,
“From one who weeps to view such mournful scenes,
“And would give more, but that her hand lacks means.
“Drink, mother! drink! the wave is cool and clear,
“But drink in silence, lest the princess hear!”—
Scarce are these words pronounc'd, when, bless'd surprize!
The stranger's age-bowed figure swells its size!
No more the stamp of years deforms her face;
Her tatter'd shreds to sparkling robes give place;
Her breath perfumes the air with odours sweet;
Fresh roses spring wherever tread her feet,
And from her eyes, where reign delight and love,
Unusual splendour glitters through the grove!
Her silver wand, her form of heavenly mould,
Her white and shining robes, her wings of gold,
Her port majestic, and superior height,
Announce a daughter of the world of light!
The princess, whom her slave's delighted cries
Compell'd once more to ope her sleep-bound eyes,
With wonder mix'd with awe the scene survey'd,
While thus the Peri cheer'd the captive maid.
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“I seek my darling son's predestined bride,
“And here I find her: here are found alone,
“Feelings as kind, as gracious as his own.
“For you, fair princess, in whose eyes of blue,
“The strife of envy, shame, and grief, I view,
“Observe, and profit by this scene! you gave,
“But oh! how far less nobly than your slave!
“Your bitter speech, proud glance, and peevish tone,
“Too plain declared, your gift was meant alone
“Your own repose and silence to secure,
“And hush the beggar, not relieve the poor!
“Oh! royal lady, let this lesson prove,
“Smiles, more than presents, win a suppliant's love;
“And when your mandates rule some distant land,
“Where all expect their blessings from your hand,
“Remember, with ill-will and frowns bestow'd,
“Favours offend, and gifts become a load!”—
She ceased, and touching with her silver wand
Her destined daughter, straight two wings expand
Their purple plumes, and wave o'er either arm;
Next to her person spreads the powerful charm:
And soon the enraptured wondering maid combined
A faultless person with a faultless mind.
Then, while with joy divine their hearts beat high,
Swift as the lightning of a jealous eye
The Peries spread their wings, and soar'd away
To the bless'd regions of eternal day.
Stung with regret, the princess saw too plain,
Lost by her fault what tears could ne'er regain!
Long on the tablets of her humbled breast
The Peri's parting words remain'd impress'd.
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And subject realms her mild behests obey'd,
The just reproof her conscious ear still heard;
Still she remember'd, with ill grace conferr'd,
Crowns, to a feeling mind, less joy impart,
Than trifles, offer'd with a willing heart.
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No. XVII. THE GAY GOLD RING.
ORIGINAL.—M. G. LEWIS.
—“There is a thing, there is a thing,
“Which I fain would have from thee!
“I fain would have thy gay gold ring;
“O! warrior, give it me?”—
“Which I fain would have from thee!
“I fain would have thy gay gold ring;
“O! warrior, give it me?”—
He lifts his head;
Lo! near his bed
Stands a maid as fair as day;
Cold is the night,
Yet her garment is light,
For her shift is her only array.
Lo! near his bed
Stands a maid as fair as day;
Cold is the night,
Yet her garment is light,
For her shift is her only array.
—“Come you from east,
“Or come you from west,
“Or dost from the Saracens flee?
“Cold is the night,
“And your garment is light,
“Come, sweetheart, and warm you by me!”—
“Or come you from west,
“Or dost from the Saracens flee?
“Cold is the night,
“And your garment is light,
“Come, sweetheart, and warm you by me!”—
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—“My garment is light,
“And cold is the night,
“And I would that my limbs were as cold:
“Groan must I ever,
“Sleep can I never,
“Knight, till you give me your gay ring of gold!
“And cold is the night,
“And I would that my limbs were as cold:
“Groan must I ever,
“Sleep can I never,
“Knight, till you give me your gay ring of gold!
“For that is a thing, a thing, a thing,
“Which I fain would have from thee!
“I fain would have thy gay gold ring;
“O! warrior, give it me!”—
“Which I fain would have from thee!
“I fain would have thy gay gold ring;
“O! warrior, give it me!”—
—“That ring Lord Brooke
“From his daughter took;
“He gave it to me and he swore,
“That fair la-dye
“My bride should be,
“When this crusade were o'er.
“From his daughter took;
“He gave it to me and he swore,
“That fair la-dye
“My bride should be,
“When this crusade were o'er.
“Ne'er did mine eyes that lady view,
“Bright Emmeline by name:
“But if fame say true,
“Search Britain through,
“You'll find no fairer dame.
“Bright Emmeline by name:
“But if fame say true,
“Search Britain through,
“You'll find no fairer dame.
“But though she be fair,
“She cannot compare,
“I wot, sweet lass, with thee;
“Then pass by my side
“Three nights as my bride,
“And thy guerdon the ring shall be!”—
“She cannot compare,
“I wot, sweet lass, with thee;
“Then pass by my side
“Three nights as my bride,
“And thy guerdon the ring shall be!”—
In silence the maid
The knight obey'd;
Low on his pillow her head she laid:
But soon as by hers his hand was press'd,
Changed to ice was the heart in his breast;
And his limbs were fetter'd in frozen chains,
And turn'd to snow was the blood in his veins.
The knight obey'd;
Low on his pillow her head she laid:
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Changed to ice was the heart in his breast;
And his limbs were fetter'd in frozen chains,
And turn'd to snow was the blood in his veins.
The cock now crows!
The damsel goes
Forth from the tent; and the blood which she froze,
Again through the veins of Lord Elmerick flows,
And again his heart with passion glows.
The damsel goes
Forth from the tent; and the blood which she froze,
Again through the veins of Lord Elmerick flows,
And again his heart with passion glows.
Donned the knight
His armour bright;
Full wroth was he, I trow!
—“Beshrew me!” he said,
“If thus, fair maid,
“From my tent to-morrow you go!”—
His armour bright;
Full wroth was he, I trow!
—“Beshrew me!” he said,
“If thus, fair maid,
“From my tent to-morrow you go!”—
Gone was light!
Come was night!
The sand-glass told, 'twas three;
And again stood there
The stranger fair,
And murmur again did she.
Come was night!
The sand-glass told, 'twas three;
And again stood there
The stranger fair,
And murmur again did she.
—“There is a thing, there is a thing,
“Which I fain would have from thee!
“I fain would have thy gay gold ring;
“O! warrior, give it me!”—
“Which I fain would have from thee!
“I fain would have thy gay gold ring;
“O! warrior, give it me!”—
—“One night by my side
“Hast thou pass'd as my bride,
“Two yet remain behind:
“Three must be pass'd,
“Ere thy finger fast
“The gay gold ring shall bind.”—
“Hast thou pass'd as my bride,
“Two yet remain behind:
“Three must be pass'd,
“Ere thy finger fast
“The gay gold ring shall bind.”—
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Again the maid
The knight obey'd;
Again on his pillow her head she laid;
And again, when by hers his hand was press'd,
Changed to ice was the heart in his breast:
And his limbs were fetter'd in frozen chains,
And turn'd to snow was the blood in his veins!
The knight obey'd;
Again on his pillow her head she laid;
And again, when by hers his hand was press'd,
Changed to ice was the heart in his breast:
And his limbs were fetter'd in frozen chains,
And turn'd to snow was the blood in his veins!
Three days were gone, two nights were spent;
Still came the maid, when the glass told “three;”
How she came, or whither she went,
None could say, and none could see;
But the warrior heard,
When night the third
Was gone, thus claim'd his plighted word.
Still came the maid, when the glass told “three;”
How she came, or whither she went,
None could say, and none could see;
But the warrior heard,
When night the third
Was gone, thus claim'd his plighted word.
—“Once!—twice!—thrice by your side
“Have I lain as your bride;
“Sir Knight! Sir Knight, beware you!
“Your ring I'll crave!
“Your ring I'll have,
“Or limb from limb I'll tear you!”—
“Have I lain as your bride;
“Sir Knight! Sir Knight, beware you!
“Your ring I'll crave!
“Your ring I'll have,
“Or limb from limb I'll tear you!”—
She drew from his hand the ring so gay;
No limb could he move, and no word could he say.
—“See, Arthur, I bring
“To my grave, thy ring,”—
Murmur'd the maiden, and hied her away.
No limb could he move, and no word could he say.
—“See, Arthur, I bring
“To my grave, thy ring,”—
Murmur'd the maiden, and hied her away.
Then sprang so light
From his couch the knight;
With shame his cheek was red:
And, filled with rage,
His little foot page
He call'd from beneath the bed.
From his couch the knight;
With shame his cheek was red:
And, filled with rage,
His little foot page
He call'd from beneath the bed.
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—“Come, hither, come hither,
“My lad so lither;
“While under my bed you lay,
“What did you see,
“And what maiden was she,
“Who left me at breaking of day?”—
“My lad so lither;
“While under my bed you lay,
“What did you see,
“And what maiden was she,
“Who left me at breaking of day?”—
—“Oh! master, I
“No maid could spy,
“As I've a soul to save;
“But when the cock crew,
“The lamp burn'd blue,
“And the tent smell'd like a grave!
“No maid could spy,
“As I've a soul to save;
“But when the cock crew,
“The lamp burn'd blue,
“And the tent smell'd like a grave!
“And I heard a voice in anguish moan,
“And a bell seem'd four to tell;
“And the voice was like a dying groan,
“And the bell like a passing bell!”—
“And a bell seem'd four to tell;
“And the voice was like a dying groan,
“And the bell like a passing bell!”—
Lord Brooke look'd up, Lord Brooke look'd down,
Lord Brooke look'd over the plain;
He saw come riding tow'rds the town,
Of knights a jolly train:
Lord Brooke look'd over the plain;
He saw come riding tow'rds the town,
Of knights a jolly train:
“Is it the king of Scottish land,
“Or the prince of some far coun-trye,
“That hither leads yon goodly band
“To feast awhile with me?”—
“Or the prince of some far coun-trye,
“That hither leads yon goodly band
“To feast awhile with me?”—
—“Oh! it's not the prince of some far coun-trye,
“Nor the King of Scottish land:
“It's Elmerick come from beyond the sea,
“To claim Lady Emmeline's hand.”
“Nor the King of Scottish land:
“It's Elmerick come from beyond the sea,
“To claim Lady Emmeline's hand.”
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Then down Lord Brooke's grey beard was seen
A stream of tears to pour;
—“Oh! death my daughter's spouse has been
“These seven long years and more!
A stream of tears to pour;
—“Oh! death my daughter's spouse has been
“These seven long years and more!
“Remorseful guilt and self-despite,
“Destroy'd that beauteous flower,
“For that her falsehood kill'd a knight;
“'Twas Arthur of the Bower.
“Destroy'd that beauteous flower,
“For that her falsehood kill'd a knight;
“'Twas Arthur of the Bower.
“Sir Arthur gave her his heart to have,
“And he gave her his troth to hold;
“And he gave her his ring, so fair and brave,
“Was all of the good red gold:
“And he gave her his troth to hold;
“And he gave her his ring, so fair and brave,
“Was all of the good red gold:
“And she gave him her word, that only he
“Should kiss her as a bride;
“And she gave him her oath, that ring should be
“On her hand the day she died.
“Should kiss her as a bride;
“And she gave him her oath, that ring should be
“On her hand the day she died.
“But when she heard of Lord Elmerick's fame,
“His wealth, and princely state;
“And when she heard, that Lord Elmerick's name
“Was praised by low and great,
“His wealth, and princely state;
“And when she heard, that Lord Elmerick's name
“Was praised by low and great,
“Did vanity full lightly bring
“My child to break her oath,
“And to you she sent Sir Arthur's ring,
“And to him sent back his troth.
“My child to break her oath,
“And to you she sent Sir Arthur's ring,
“And to him sent back his troth.
“Oh! when he heard,
“That her plighted word
“His false love meant to break,
“The youth grew sad,
“And the youth grew mad,
“And his sword he sprang to take:
“That her plighted word
“His false love meant to break,
“The youth grew sad,
“And the youth grew mad,
“And his sword he sprang to take:
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“He set the point against his side,
“The hilt against the floor;
“I wot, he made a wound so wide,
“He never a word spake more.
“The hilt against the floor;
“I wot, he made a wound so wide,
“He never a word spake more.
“And now, too late, my child began
“Remorseless tears to shed;
“Her heart grew faint, her cheek grew wan,
“And she sicken'd, and took to her bed.
“Remorseless tears to shed;
“Her heart grew faint, her cheek grew wan,
“And she sicken'd, and took to her bed.
“The Leech then said,
“And shook his head,
“She ne'er could health recover;
“Yet long in pain
“Did the wretch remain,
“Sorrowing for her lover.
“And shook his head,
“She ne'er could health recover;
“Yet long in pain
“Did the wretch remain,
“Sorrowing for her lover.
“And sure 'twas a piteous sight to see,
“How she pray'd to die, but it might not be;
“And when the morning bell told three,
“Still in hollow voice cried she,
“How she pray'd to die, but it might not be;
“And when the morning bell told three,
“Still in hollow voice cried she,
—“There is a thing, there is a thing,
“Which I fain would have from thee!
“I fain would have thy gay gold ring;
“Oh! warrior, give it me!”—
“Which I fain would have from thee!
“I fain would have thy gay gold ring;
“Oh! warrior, give it me!”—
Now who than ice was colder then,
And who more pale than snow?
And who was the saddest of all sad men?
Lord Elmerick, I trow!
And who more pale than snow?
And who was the saddest of all sad men?
Lord Elmerick, I trow!
—“Oh! lead me, lead me to the place
“Where Emmeline's tomb doth stand,
“For I must look on that lady's face,
“And touch that lady's hand!”—
“Where Emmeline's tomb doth stand,
“For I must look on that lady's face,
“And touch that lady's hand!”—
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Then all who heard him stood aghast,
But not a word was said,
While through the chapel's yard they pass'd,
And up the chancel sped.
But not a word was said,
While through the chapel's yard they pass'd,
And up the chancel sped.
They burst the tomb, so fair and sheen,
Where Emmeline's corse inclosed had been;
And lo! on the skeleton's finger so lean,
Lord Elmerick's gay gold ring was seen!
Where Emmeline's corse inclosed had been;
And lo! on the skeleton's finger so lean,
Lord Elmerick's gay gold ring was seen!
Damsels! damsels; mark aright
The doleful tale I sing!
Keep your vows, and heed your plight,
And go to no warrior's tent by night,
To ask for a gay gold ring.
The doleful tale I sing!
Keep your vows, and heed your plight,
And go to no warrior's tent by night,
To ask for a gay gold ring.
I once read in some Grecian author, whose name I have forgotten, the story which suggested to me the outline of the foregoing ballad. It was as follows: a young man arriving at the house of a friend, to whose daughter he was betrothed, was informed, that some weeks had passed since death had deprived him of his intended bride. Never having seen her, he soon reconciled himself to her loss, especially as, during his stay at his friend's house, a young lady was kind enough to visit him every night in his chamber, whence she retired at day-break, always carrying with her some valuable present from her lover. This inter-course continued till accident shewed the young man the picture of his deceased bride, and he recognized, with horror, the features of his nocturnal visitor. The young lady's tomb being opened, he found in it the various presents which his liberality had bestowed on his unknown inamorata.
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No. XVIII. THE GRIM WHITE WOMAN.
ORIGINAL.—M. G. LEWIS.
Lord Ronald was handsome, Lord Ronald was young;
The green wood he traversed, and gaily he sung;
His bosom was light, and he spurr'd on amain,
When lo! a fair lass caught his steed by the rein.
The green wood he traversed, and gaily he sung;
His bosom was light, and he spurr'd on amain,
When lo! a fair lass caught his steed by the rein.
She caught by the rein, and she sank on her knee;
—“Now stay thee, Lord Ronald, and listen to me!”—
She sank on her knee, and her tears gan to flow,
—“Now stay thee, Lord Ronald, and pity my woe!”—
—“Now stay thee, Lord Ronald, and listen to me!”—
She sank on her knee, and her tears gan to flow,
—“Now stay thee, Lord Ronald, and pity my woe!”—
—“Nay, Janet, fair Janet, I needs must away;
“I speed to my mother, who chides my delay.”—
—“Oh! heed not her chiding; though bitter it be,
“Thy falsehood and scorn are more bitter to me.”—
“I speed to my mother, who chides my delay.”—
—“Oh! heed not her chiding; though bitter it be,
“Thy falsehood and scorn are more bitter to me.”—
—“Nay, Janet, fair Janet, I needs must depart;
“My brother stays for me to hunt the wild hart.”—
—“Oh! let the hart live, and thy purpose forego,
“To sooth, with compassion and kindness my woe.
“My brother stays for me to hunt the wild hart.”—
—“Oh! let the hart live, and thy purpose forego,
“To sooth, with compassion and kindness my woe.
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—“Nay, Janet, fair Janet, delay me no more;
“You please me no longer, my passion is o'er:
“A leman more lovely waits down in yon dell,
“So Janet, fair Janet, for ever farewell!”—
“You please me no longer, my passion is o'er:
“A leman more lovely waits down in yon dell,
“So Janet, fair Janet, for ever farewell!”—
No longer the damsel's entreaties he heard;
His dapple-grey horse through the forest he spurr'd;
And ever, as onwards the foaming steed flew,
Did Janet with curses the false one pursue.
His dapple-grey horse through the forest he spurr'd;
And ever, as onwards the foaming steed flew,
Did Janet with curses the false one pursue.
—“Oh! curs'd be the day,” in distraction she cries,
“When first did thy features look fair in my eyes!
“And curs'd the false lips, which beguiled me of fame;
“And curs'd the hard heart, which resigns me to shame!
“When first did thy features look fair in my eyes!
“And curs'd the false lips, which beguiled me of fame;
“And curs'd the hard heart, which resigns me to shame!
“The wanton, whom now you forsake me to please—
“May her kisses be poison, her touch be disease!
“When you wed, may your couch be a stranger to joy,
“And the Fiend of the Forest your offspring destroy!
“May her kisses be poison, her touch be disease!
“When you wed, may your couch be a stranger to joy,
“And the Fiend of the Forest your offspring destroy!
“May the Grim White Woman, who haunts this wood,
“The Grim White Woman, who feasts on blood,
“As soon as they number twelve months and a day,
“Tear the hearts of your babes from their bosoms away.”—
“The Grim White Woman, who feasts on blood,
“As soon as they number twelve months and a day,
“Tear the hearts of your babes from their bosoms away.”—
Then frantic with love and remorse home she sped,
Lock'd the door of her chamber, and sank on her bed;
Nor yet with complaints and with tears had she done,
When the clock in St. Christopher's church struck—“one!”—
Lock'd the door of her chamber, and sank on her bed;
Nor yet with complaints and with tears had she done,
When the clock in St. Christopher's church struck—“one!”—
Her blood, why she knew not, ran cold at the sound;
She lifted her head; she gazed fearfully round!
When, lo! near the hearth, by a cauldron's blue light,
She saw the tall form of a female in white.
She lifted her head; she gazed fearfully round!
When, lo! near the hearth, by a cauldron's blue light,
She saw the tall form of a female in white.
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Her eye, fix'd and glassy, no passions express'd;
No blood fill'd her veins, and no heart warm'd her breast!
She seem'd like a corse newly torn from the tomb,
And her breath spread the chillness of death through the room.
No blood fill'd her veins, and no heart warm'd her breast!
She seem'd like a corse newly torn from the tomb,
And her breath spread the chillness of death through the room.
Her arms, and her feet, and her bosom were bare;
A shroud wrapp'd her limbs, and a snake bound her hair.
This spectre, the Grim White Woman was she,
And the Grim White Woman was fearful to see!
A shroud wrapp'd her limbs, and a snake bound her hair.
This spectre, the Grim White Woman was she,
And the Grim White Woman was fearful to see!
And ever, the cauldron as over she bent,
She mutter'd strange words of mysterious intent:
A toad still alive, in the liquor she threw,
And loud shriek'd the toad, as in pieces it flew!
She mutter'd strange words of mysterious intent:
A toad still alive, in the liquor she threw,
And loud shriek'd the toad, as in pieces it flew!
To heighten the charm, in the flames next she flung
A viper, a rat, and a mad tiger's tongue;
The heart of a wretch, on the rack newly dead,
And an eye, she had torn from a parricide's head.
A viper, a rat, and a mad tiger's tongue;
The heart of a wretch, on the rack newly dead,
And an eye, she had torn from a parricide's head.
The flames now divided; the charm was complete;
Her spells the White Spectre forbore to repeat;
To Janet their produce she hasten'd to bring,
And placed on her finger a little jet ring!
Her spells the White Spectre forbore to repeat;
To Janet their produce she hasten'd to bring,
And placed on her finger a little jet ring!
—“From the Grim White Woman,” she murmur'd, receive
“A gift, which your treasure, now lost, will retrieve.
“Remember, 'twas she who relieved your despair,
“And when you next see her, remember your prayer!”—
“A gift, which your treasure, now lost, will retrieve.
“Remember, 'twas she who relieved your despair,
“And when you next see her, remember your prayer!”—
This said, the Fiend vanish'd! no longer around
Pour'd the cauldron its beams; all was darkness profound;
Till the gay beams of morning illumined the skies,
And gay as the morning did Ronald arise.
Pour'd the cauldron its beams; all was darkness profound;
Till the gay beams of morning illumined the skies,
And gay as the morning did Ronald arise.
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With hawks and with hounds to the forest rode he:
—“Trallira! trallara! from Janet I'm free!
“Trallira! trallara, my old love, adieu!
“Trallira! trallara! I'll get me a new!”—
—“Trallira! trallara! from Janet I'm free!
“Trallira! trallara, my old love, adieu!
“Trallira! trallara! I'll get me a new!”—
But while he thus caroll'd in bachelor's pride,
A damsel appear'd by the rivulet's side:
He rein'd in his courser, and soon was aware,
That never was damsel more comely and fair.
A damsel appear'd by the rivulet's side:
He rein'd in his courser, and soon was aware,
That never was damsel more comely and fair.
He felt at her sight, what no words can impart;
She gave him a look, and he proffer'd his heart:
Her air, while she listen'd, was modest and bland:
She gave him a smile, and he proffer'd his hand.
She gave him a look, and he proffer'd his heart:
Her air, while she listen'd, was modest and bland:
She gave him a smile, and he proffer'd his hand.
Lord Ronald was handsome, Lord Ronald was young,
And soon on his bosom sweet Ellinor hung;
And soon to St. Christopher's chapel they ride,
And soon does Lord Ronald call Ellen his bride.
And soon on his bosom sweet Ellinor hung;
And soon to St. Christopher's chapel they ride,
And soon does Lord Ronald call Ellen his bride.
Days, weeks, and months fly.—“Ding-a-ding! ding-a-ding!”—
Hark! hark! in the air how the castle-bells ring!
—“And why do the castle-bells ring in the air?”—
Sweet Ellen hath borne to Lord Ronald an heir.
Hark! hark! in the air how the castle-bells ring!
—“And why do the castle-bells ring in the air?”—
Sweet Ellen hath borne to Lord Ronald an heir.
Days, weeks, and months fly.—“Ding-a-ding! ding-a-ding!
Again, hark! how gaily the castle-bells ring!
—“Why again do the castle-bells carol so gay?”
A daughter is born to Lord Ronald to-day.
Again, hark! how gaily the castle-bells ring!
—“Why again do the castle-bells carol so gay?”
A daughter is born to Lord Ronald to-day.
But see'st thou yon herald so swift hither bend?
Lord Ronald is summon'd his king to defend:
And see'st thou the tears of sweet Ellinor flow?
Lord Ronald has left her to combat the foe.
Lord Ronald is summon'd his king to defend:
And see'st thou the tears of sweet Ellinor flow?
Lord Ronald has left her to combat the foe.
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Where slumber her babies, her steps are address'd;
She presses in anguish her son to her breast;
Nor ceases she Annabell's cradle to rock,
Till—“one!”—is proclaim'd by the loud castle-clock.
She presses in anguish her son to her breast;
Nor ceases she Annabell's cradle to rock,
Till—“one!”—is proclaim'd by the loud castle-clock.
Her blood, why she knows not, runs cold at the sound!
She raises her head; she looks fearfully round;
And lo! near the hearth, by a cauldron's blue light,
She sees the tall form of a female in white!
She raises her head; she looks fearfully round;
And lo! near the hearth, by a cauldron's blue light,
She sees the tall form of a female in white!
The female with horror sweet Ellen beholds:
Still closer her son to her bosom she folds;
And cold tears of terror bedew her pale cheeks,
While nearer approaching, the Spectre thus speaks:—
Still closer her son to her bosom she folds;
And cold tears of terror bedew her pale cheeks,
While nearer approaching, the Spectre thus speaks:—
—“The Grim White Woman, who haunts yon wood,
—“The Grim White Woman, who feasts on blood,
“Since now he has number'd twelve months and a day,
“Claims the heart of your son, and is come for her prey.”—
—“The Grim White Woman, who feasts on blood,
“Since now he has number'd twelve months and a day,
“Claims the heart of your son, and is come for her prey.”—
—“Oh! Grim White Woman, my baby now spare!
“I'll give you these diamonds, so precious and fair!”—
—“Though fair be those diamonds, though precious they be,
“The blood of my babe is more precious to me!”—
“I'll give you these diamonds, so precious and fair!”—
—“Though fair be those diamonds, though precious they be,
“The blood of my babe is more precious to me!”—
—“Oh! Grim White Woman, now let my child live!
“This cross of red rubies in guerdon I'll give!”—
—“Though red be the flames from those rubies which dart,
“More red is the blood of thy little child's heart.”
“This cross of red rubies in guerdon I'll give!”—
—“Though red be the flames from those rubies which dart,
“More red is the blood of thy little child's heart.”
To soften the dæmon no pleading prevails;
The baby she wounds with her long crooked nails:
She tears from his bosom the heart as her prey!
—“'Tis mine!”—shriek'd the Spectre, and vanish'd away.
The baby she wounds with her long crooked nails:
She tears from his bosom the heart as her prey!
—“'Tis mine!”—shriek'd the Spectre, and vanish'd away.
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The foe is defeated, and ended the strife,
And Ronald speeds home to his children and wife.
Alas! on his castle a black banner flies,
And tears trickle fast from his fair lady's eyes.
And Ronald speeds home to his children and wife.
Alas! on his castle a black banner flies,
And tears trickle fast from his fair lady's eyes.
—“Say, why on my castle a black banner flies,
“And why trickle tears from my fair lady's eyes?”—
—“In your absence the Grim White Woman was here,
“And dead is your son, whom you valued so dear.”—
“And why trickle tears from my fair lady's eyes?”—
—“In your absence the Grim White Woman was here,
“And dead is your son, whom you valued so dear.”—
Deep sorrow'd Lord Ronald; but soon for his grief,
He found in the arms of sweet Ellen relief:
Her kisses could peace to his bosom restore,
And the more he beheld her, he loved her the more;
He found in the arms of sweet Ellen relief:
Her kisses could peace to his bosom restore,
And the more he beheld her, he loved her the more;
Till it chanced, that one night, when the tempest was loud,
And strong gusts of wind rock'd the turrets so proud,
As Ronald lay sleeping he heard a voice cry,
—“Dear father, arise, or your daughter must die!”—
And strong gusts of wind rock'd the turrets so proud,
As Ronald lay sleeping he heard a voice cry,
—“Dear father, arise, or your daughter must die!”—
He woke, gazed around, look'd below, look'd above;
—“Why trembles my Ronald? what ails thee, my love?”—
—“I dreamt, through the skies that I saw a hawk dart,
“Pounce a little white pigeon, and tear out its heart.”—
—“Why trembles my Ronald? what ails thee, my love?”—
—“I dreamt, through the skies that I saw a hawk dart,
“Pounce a little white pigeon, and tear out its heart.”—
—“Oh hush thee, my husband; thy vision was vain.”—
Lord Ronald resign'd him to slumber again:
But soon the same voice, which had rouzed him before,
Cried—“Father arise, or your daughter's no more!”—
Lord Ronald resign'd him to slumber again:
But soon the same voice, which had rouzed him before,
Cried—“Father arise, or your daughter's no more!”—
He woke, gazed around, look'd below, look'd above;
—“What fears now, my Ronald? what ails thee, my love?”—
—“I dreamt that a tigress with jaws open'd wide,
“Had fasten'd her fangs in a little lamb's side!”—
—“What fears now, my Ronald? what ails thee, my love?”—
—“I dreamt that a tigress with jaws open'd wide,
“Had fasten'd her fangs in a little lamb's side!”—
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—“Oh! hush thee, my husband; no tigress is here.”—
Again Ronald slept, and again in his ear
Soft murmur'd the voice,—“Oh! be warn'd by your son;
“Dear father, arise, for it soon will strike—“one!”
Again Ronald slept, and again in his ear
Soft murmur'd the voice,—“Oh! be warn'd by your son;
“Dear father, arise, for it soon will strike—“one!”
“Your wife, for a spell your affections to hold,
“To the Grim White Woman her children hath sold;
“E'en now is the Fiend at your babe's chamber door;
“Then father, arise, or your daughter's no more!”—
“To the Grim White Woman her children hath sold;
“E'en now is the Fiend at your babe's chamber door;
“Then father, arise, or your daughter's no more!”—
From his couch starts Lord Ronald, in doubt and dismay,
He seeks for his wife—but his wife is away!
He gazes around, looks below, looks above;
Lo! there sits on his pillow a little white dove!
He seeks for his wife—but his wife is away!
He gazes around, looks below, looks above;
Lo! there sits on his pillow a little white dove!
A mild lambent flame in its eyes seem'd to glow;
More pure was its plumage than still-falling snow,
Except where a scar could be seen on its side,
And three small drops of blood the white feathers had dyed.
More pure was its plumage than still-falling snow,
Except where a scar could be seen on its side,
And three small drops of blood the white feathers had dyed.
—“Explain, pretty pigeon, what art thou, explain?”—
—“The soul of thy son, by the White Dæmon slain;
“E'en now is the Fiend at your babe's chamber door,
“And thrice having warn'd you, I warn you no more!”—
—“The soul of thy son, by the White Dæmon slain;
“E'en now is the Fiend at your babe's chamber door,
“And thrice having warn'd you, I warn you no more!”—
The pigeon then vanish'd; and seizing his sword,
The way to his daughter Lord Ronald explored;
Distracted he sped to her chamber full fast,
And the clock it struck—“one!”—as the threshold he past.
The way to his daughter Lord Ronald explored;
Distracted he sped to her chamber full fast,
And the clock it struck—“one!”—as the threshold he past.
And straight near the hearth, by a cauldron's blue light,
He saw the tall form of a female in white;
Ellen wept, to her heart while her baby she press'd,
Whom the spectre approaching, thus fiercely address'd:
He saw the tall form of a female in white;
Ellen wept, to her heart while her baby she press'd,
Whom the spectre approaching, thus fiercely address'd:
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—“The Grim White Woman, who haunts yon wood,
“The Grim White Woman, who feasts on blood,
“Since now she has number'd twelve months and a day,
“Claims the heart of your daughter, and comes for her prey!”—
“The Grim White Woman, who feasts on blood,
“Since now she has number'd twelve months and a day,
“Claims the heart of your daughter, and comes for her prey!”—
This said, she her nails in the child would have fix'd;
Sore struggled the mother; when rushing betwixt,
Ronald struck at the Fiend with his ready-drawn brand,
And, glancing aside, his blow lopp'd his wife's hand!
Sore struggled the mother; when rushing betwixt,
Ronald struck at the Fiend with his ready-drawn brand,
And, glancing aside, his blow lopp'd his wife's hand!
Wild laughing, the Fiend caught the hand from the floor,
Releasing the babe, kiss'd the wound, drank the gore;
A little jet ring from the finger then drew,
Thrice shriek'd a loud shriek, and was borne from their view!
Releasing the babe, kiss'd the wound, drank the gore;
A little jet ring from the finger then drew,
Thrice shriek'd a loud shriek, and was borne from their view!
Lord Ronald, while horror still bristled his hair,
To Ellen now turn'd;—but no Ellen was there!
And lo! in her place, his surprise to complete,
Lay Janet, all cover'd with blood at his feet!
To Ellen now turn'd;—but no Ellen was there!
And lo! in her place, his surprise to complete,
Lay Janet, all cover'd with blood at his feet!
—“Yes, traitor, 'tis Janet!”—she cried;—“at my sight
“No more will your heart swell with love and delight;
“That little jet ring was the cause of your flame,
“And that little jet-ring from the Forest-Fiend came.
“No more will your heart swell with love and delight;
“That little jet ring was the cause of your flame,
“And that little jet-ring from the Forest-Fiend came.
“It endow'd me with beauty, your heart to regain;
“It fix'd your affections, so wavering and vain;
“But the spell is dissolv'd, and your eyes speak my fate,
“My falsehood is clear, and as clear is your hate.
“It fix'd your affections, so wavering and vain;
“But the spell is dissolv'd, and your eyes speak my fate,
“My falsehood is clear, and as clear is your hate.
“But what caused my falsehood?—your falsehood alone;
“What voice said—‘be guilty?’ seducer, you own!
“You vow'd truth for ever, the oath I believ'd,
“And had you not deceiv'd me, I had not deceiv'd.
“What voice said—‘be guilty?’ seducer, you own!
“You vow'd truth for ever, the oath I believ'd,
“And had you not deceiv'd me, I had not deceiv'd.
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“Remember my joy, when affection you swore!
“Remember my pangs, when your passion was o'er!
“A curse, in my rage, on your children was thrown,
“And alas! wretched mother, that curse struck my own!”—
“Remember my pangs, when your passion was o'er!
“A curse, in my rage, on your children was thrown,
“And alas! wretched mother, that curse struck my own!”—
And here her strength fail'd her!—the sad one to save
In vain the Leech labour'd; three days did she rave;
Death came on the fourth, and restored her to peace,
Nor Long did Lord Ronald survive her decease.
In vain the Leech labour'd; three days did she rave;
Death came on the fourth, and restored her to peace,
Nor Long did Lord Ronald survive her decease.
Despair fills his heart! he no longer can bear
His castle, for Ellen no longer is there:
From Scotland he hastens, all comfort disdains,
And soon his bones whiten on Palestine's plains.
His castle, for Ellen no longer is there:
From Scotland he hastens, all comfort disdains,
And soon his bones whiten on Palestine's plains.
If you bid me, fair damsels, my moral rehearse,
It is, that young ladies ought never to curse;
For no one will think her well-bred, or polite,
Who devotes little babes to Grim Women in White.
It is, that young ladies ought never to curse;
For no one will think her well-bred, or polite,
Who devotes little babes to Grim Women in White.
| Tales of wonder | |