"I bade thee with a father's love

My orphan Edmund guard; . .

Well, William, hast thou kept thy charge! Take now thy due reward."

He started up, each limb convulsed

With agonizing fear;

He only heard the storm of night, . . 'Twas music to his ear.

When lo! the voice of loud alarm
His inmost soul appals;

"What ho! Lord William, rise in haste! The water saps thy walls!"

He rose in haste, beneath the walls
He saw the flood appear;

It hemm'd him round, 't was midnight now,
No human aid was near.

He heard a shout of joy, for now
A boat approach'd the wall,
And eager to the welcome aid
They crowd for safety all.

66

My boat is small," the boatman cried, "'T will bear but one away; Come in, Lord William, and do

ye

In God's protection stay."

Strange feeling fill'd them at his voice,
Even in that hour of woe,

That, save their Lord, there was not one
Who wish'd with him to go.

But William leapt into the boat,

His terror was so sore;

"Thou shalt have half my gold," he cried, “Haste.. haste to yonder shore."

The boatman plied the oar, the boat
Went light along the stream;
Sudden Lord William heard a cry
Like Edmund's drowning scream.

The boatman paused, "Methought I heard
A child's distressful cry!'

""T

was but the howling wind of night," Lord William made reply.

"Haste.. haste.. ply swift and strong the oar ;

"Haste.. haste across the stream! !"

Again Lord William heard a cry

Like Edmund's drowning scream.

"I heard a child's distressful voice," The boatman cried again.

Nay, hasten on . . the night is dark..
And we should search in vain."

"O God! Lord William, dost thou know

How dreadful 't is to die?

And canst thou without pity hear
A child's expiring cry?

"How horrible it is to sink

Beneath the closing stream,

To stretch the powerless arms in vain,
In vain for help to scream!"

The shriek again was heard: it came
More deep, more piercing loud;
That instant o'er the flood the moon
Shone through a broken cloud;

And near them they beheld a child ;
Upon a crag he stood,

A little crag, and all around

Was spread the rising flood.

The boatman plied the oar, the boat
Approach'd his resting-place;
The moon-beam shone upon the child,

And show'd how pale his face.

"Now reach thine hand!" the boatman cried, “Lord William, reach and save!"

The child stretch'd forth his little hands

Το grasp the hand he gave.

Then William shriek'd; the hands he felt
Were cold and damp and dead!
He held young Edmund in his arms
A heavier weight than lead.

The boat sunk down, the murderer sunk
Beneath the avenging stream;

He rose, he shriek'd, no human ear
Heard William's drowning scream.

Westbury, 1798.

ST. PATRICK'S PURGATORY.

THIS Ballad was published (1801) in the Tales of Wonder, by Mr. Lewis, who found it among the wefts and strays of the Press. He never knew that it was mine; but after his death I bestowed some pains in recomposing it, because he had thought it worth preserving.

It is founded upon the abridged extract which M. le Grand has given in his Fabliaux of a Metrical legend, by Marie de France.

1.

"ENTER, Sir Knight," the Warden cried,
"And trust in Heaven whate'er betide,
Since you have reach'd this bourn;

But first receive refreshment due,
'T will then be time to welcome you
If ever you return.”

2.

Three sops were brought of bread and wine;

Well might Sir Owen then divine

The mystic warning given,

That he against our ghostly Foe
Must soon to mortal combat go,

And put his trust in Heaven.