His visor was clos'd, gigantic his height, His armour was sable to view; All laughter and pleasure were hush'd at his sight- His presence all bosoms appeared to dismay, At length spoke the bride, while she trembled-"I pray And deign to partake of our cheer." The lady is silent-the stranger complies, All present then utter'd a terrific shout, And turned with disgust from the scene; The worms they crept in, and the worms they crept out, "Behold me, thou false one!-behold me!" he cried, God grants that to punish thy falsehood and pride, This saying, his arms round the lady he wound, Then sunk with his prey through the wide yawning ground, Or the spectre that bore her away. Not long liv'd 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. At midnight four times in each year does her sprite, Array'd in her bridal apparel of white, Appear in the hall with her spectral knight, H 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 A NIGHT'S ADVENTURE. It was a fearful night; pale lightning quivered at intervals through the clouds, and the wind rose through the neighbouring wood in strange fitful blasts, which were followed only by a mysterious stillness augmenting the terrors of the hour. I knew not how got there; enough-I found myself in a dark gloomy dungeon, a torch burning at the further end was the only thing visible. In the centre of this scene of desolation, methought I saw a young female of exquisite beauty, whose luxurious hair hung in natural ringlets over a graceful and well moulded shoulder. Her form, too, was such as a statuary might have chosen for a model. In her hand was a wand, with which she beckoned me; I had scarcely advanced a few steps, when an icy coldness seized me, and by the livid effulgence of the torch, I beheld skulls scattered over the floor, and heads, severed from their bodies, laughing with grim insensibility. Claps of distant thunder now shook the building, but my own beating heart soon overpowered every other sound. A thrill of horror seized me, all the frightful recollections of my youth flashed across my brain, and I fell senseless on the ground! When my senses returned, the morn had burst forth in all its splendour of fullness, and the chequered rays of the sun penetrated through a small aperture into this dismal abyss. The same loathsome objects were around me, looking more hideous than before; in the place of the lovely and beauteous creature, was an old withered hag, whose hollow cheeks and bloodshot eyes presented an appearance truly horrible. She held a dagger which she brandished with a ghastly smile. Her black brows were knitted together, and anger darted from her eyes as she pronounc ed, like the croaking of the raven, "Child of guilt, thy hour is come." By a supernatural effort I sprang upon my legs, and seized a skull as a weapon of defence, but her bony hand had already encircled my throat; I felt a choking thirst come over me! I was paralyzed with fear; a preternatural giddiness took possession of my head, large drops of perspiration rolled down my forehead; I uttered a shrill and piercing cry, the noise of which startled me. I awoke, and found I was grasping--the bed-post. THE STILTON CHEESE. THERE'S many in this wondrous city As by the way, It might have chanc'd to any other swell, Had kept his fast from over night, Therefore his appetite Was wondrous nice you'll say for one whose bowels Were pinch'd by hunger's sharp and pointed rowels, For hunting round, he from the farthest nook Of his capacious pocket took Three-halfpence forth, his hunger to appease ; But with some folks the more they get they want. And so he set his wits to work to strive, And make three-halfpence do the work of five. He stepp'd into a grocer's shop hard by, That with its rich look caught his longing eye, With face drawn out quite serious and profound, The while the obsequious shopman bow'd his head, 'I'm something of a connoisseur,' he said, 'In cheese; The better thus their rich strong taste to try, As 'tis not everything my fancy pleases, I test my cheese, before I choose, with bread.' Till at a piece of fine old Cheshire That he must taste; He smack'd his lips with undisguis'd delight, 'Aye, sir, aye, that, that's the cheese. It has the right rich racy touch for me, MARY THE MAID OF THE INN. A favourite Recitation. WHO is she, the poor maniac, whose wildly fix'd eyes She weeps not, yet often and deeply she sighs; No aid, no compassion, the maniac will seek, Cold and hunger awake not her care; Thro' the rags do the winds of the winter blow bleak, On her poor wither'd bosom, half bare, and her cheek Has the deadly pale hue of despair. Yet cheerful and happy (nor distant the day) Poor Mary the maniac has been : The trav❜ller remembers, who journey'd this way, As Mary, the Maid of the Inn. Her cheerful address fill'd the guests with delight, She lov'd-and young Richard had settled the day- But Richard was idle and worthless; and they That she was too good for his wife. 'Twas in Autumn, and stormy and dark was the night, And fast were the windows and door; Two guests sat enjoying the fire that burnt bright, They listen'd to hear the wind roar.' "'Tis pleasant," cried one, "seated by the fire-side, To hear the wind whistle without:" "A fine night for the Abbey," his comrade reply'd: "I myself like a school-boy, should tremble to hear "I'll wager a dinner," the other one cried, "That Mary would venture there now;" "Then wager and lose," with a sneer he replied, "I'll warrant she'd fancy a ghost by her side, And faint if she saw a white cow." "Will Mary this charge on her courage allow?" His companion exclaim'd with a smile; "I shall win, for I know she will venture there now, And earn a new bonnet by bringing a bough From the alder that grows in the aisle." With fearless good humour did Mary comply, The night it was gloomy, the wind it was high, O'er the path so well known, still proceeded the maid, Through the gateway she enter'd, she felt not afraid, All around her was silent, save when the rude blast Over weed-cover'd fragments still fearless she pass'd, Where the alder-tree grew in the aisle. Well pleas'd did she reach it, and quickly drew near, When the sound of a voice seem'd to raise on her ear- And her heart panted fearfully now. The wind blew, the hoarse ivy shook over her head ; She listen'd;-nought else could she hear: The wind ceas'd, her heart sunk in her bosom with dread, For she heard in the ruins distinctly the tread Of footsteps approaching her near. |