Wild she arraigns the eternal doom, She beat her breast, she wrung her hands, Till sun and day were o'er, And through the glimmering lattice shone The twinkling of the star. Then, crash! the heavy drawbridge fell The clank of echoing steel was heard And slowly on the winding stair And hark! and hark! a knock-tap! tap! A rustling stifled noise; Door-latch and tinkling staples ring; At length a whispering voice : 'Awake, awake, arise, my love! How, Helen, dost thou fare? Wak'st thou, or sleep'st? laugh'st thou, or weep'st? Hast thought on me, my fair?' My love! my love !-so late by night! I waked, I wept for thee: Much have I borne since dawn of morn; 'We saddle late-from Hungary 'O rest this night within my arms, My love is deadly cold.' Tramp! tramp along the land they rode, Splash! splash! along the sea; The scourge is wight, the spur is bright, The flashing pebbles flee. Fled past on right and left how fast Each forest, grove, and bower! On right and left fled past how fast Each city, town, and tower! 'Dost fear? dost fear? The moon shines clear, Dost fear to ride with me? Hurrah! hurrah! the dead can ride!' 'O William, let them be! 'Dost fear? dost fear? The moon shines clear. And well the dead can ride; Does faithful Helen fear for them?' 'O leave in peace the dead!' 'Barb! barb! methinks I hear the cock; Tramp tramp! along the land they Splash! splash! along the sea; The scourge is red, the spur drops blood, The flashing pebbles flee. 'See there, see there! What yonder Hurrah! hurrah! well ride the dead; swings, And creaks 'mid whistling rain?' 'Gibbet and steel, th' accursed wheel; A murderer in his chain. 'Hollo! thou felon, follow here: To bridal bed we ride; And thou shalt prance a fetter dance And, hurry! hurry! clash! clash! The wasted form descends; The bride, the bride is come; And soon we reach the bridal bed, For, Helen, here's my home.' Reluctant on its rusty hinge Revolved an iron door, With many a shriek and cry, whiz round The birds of midnight, scared; O'er many a tomb and tombstone pale Tramp! tramp! along the land they Till sudden at an open grave rode, Splash! splash! along the sea; The scourge is red, the spur drops blood, The flashing pebbles flee. How fled what moonshine faintly How fled what darkness hid! He check'd the wondrous course. The falling gauntlet quits the rein, The eyes desert the naked skull, The mould'ring flesh the bone, The furious barb snorts fire and foam, The right-hand Horseman, young and fair, His smile was like the morn of May; The left, from eye of tawny glare, Shot midnight lightning's lurid ray. He waved his huntsman's cap on high, Cried, 'Welcome, welcome, noble lord! What sport can earth, or sea, or sky, To match the princely chase, afford?' 'Cease thy loud bugle's clanging knell,' Cried the fair youth, with silver voice; 'And for devotion's choral swell, Exchange the rude unhallow'd noise. 'To-day, the ill-omen'd chase forbear, Yon bell yet summons to the fane; To-day the Warning Spirit hear, To-morrow thou mayst mourn in vain.' 'Away, and sweep the glades along!' The Sable Hunter hoarse replies; 'Tomuttering monks leave matin-song, And bells, and books, and mysteries.' The Wildgrave spurr'd his ardent steed, And, launching forward with a Upsprings, from yonder tangled thorn, A stag more white than mountain snow; And louder rung the Wildgrave's horn, 'Hark forward, forward! holla, ho!' A heedless wretch has cross'd the way; He gasps the thundering hoofs below ; But, live who can, or die who may, Still, forward, forward!' on they go. See, where yon simple fences meet, A field with Autumn's blessings crown'd: See, prostrate at the Wildgrave's feet, A husbandman with toil embrown'd: 'O mercy, mercy, noble lord! Spare the poor's pittance,' was his cry, 'Earn'd by the sweat these brows have pour'd, In scorching hour of fierce July.' Earnest the right-hand Stranger pleads, The left still cheering to the prey; The impetuous Earl no warning heeds, But furious holds the onward way. 'Away, thou hound! so basely born, Or dread the scourge's echoing blow!' Then loudly rung his bugle-horn, Hark forward, forward! holla, ho!' So said, so done: A single bound Clears the poor labourer's humble pale; Wild follows man, and horse, and hound, Like dark December's stormy gale. And man and horse, and hound and horn, Destructive sweep the field along; While, joying o'er the wasted corn, Fell Famine marks the maddening throng. |