XL. "What yonder rings? what yonder sings? Why shrieks the owlet grey?" "'Tis death-bells' clang, 'tis funeral song, The body to the clay. XLI. "With song and clang, at morrow's dawn, XLII. "Come with thy choir, thou coffin'd guest, To swell our nuptial song! Come, priest, to bless our marriage feast! XLIII. Ceased clang and song; down sunk the bier; XLIV. And, forward! forward! on they go ; XLV. "O, William, why this savage haste? And where thy bridal bed? " “”Tis distant far, low, damp, and chill, And narrow, trustless maid." XLVI. "No room for me?"-"Enough for both ;— XLVII. Tramp! tramp! along the land they rode, XLVIII. Fled past on right and left how fast XLIX. The moon shines clear, "Dost fear? dost fear? Dost fear to ride with me? Hurrah! hurrah! the dead can ride !" "O, William, let them be ! L. "See there, see there! What yonder swings And creaks 'mid whistling rain?""Gibbet and steel, th' accursed wheel; A murderer in his chain. LI. "Hollo! thou felon, follow here: And thou shall prance a fetter dance LII. And hurry! hurry! clash, clash, clash! And fleet as wind through hazel bush LIII. Tramp! tramp! along the land they rode, The scourge is red, the spur drops blood, LIV. How fled what moonshine faintly show'd! How fled the earth beneath their feet, LV. "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!"— LVI. "Barb! Barb! methinks I hear the cock; The sand will soon be run: Barb Barb! I smell the morning air; LVII. Tramp! tramp! along the land they rode; The scourge is red, the spur drops blood, LVIII. "Hurrah! hurrah! well ride the dead; LIX. Reluctant on its rusty hinge And by the pale moon's setting beam LX. With many a shriek and cry whiz round LXI. O'er many a tomb and tombstone pale Till sudden at an open grave He checked the wondrous course. LXII. The falling gauntlet quits the rein, LXIII. The eyes desert the naked skull, Till Helen's lily arms entwine LXIV. The furious barb snorts fire and foam, And leaves her on the ground. LXV. Half seen by fits, by fits half heard, Wheel round the maid in dismal dance, LXVI. "E'en when the heart's with anguish cleft, Revere the doom of Heaven. Her soul is from her bodg reft; Her spirit be forgiven !” THE WILD HUNTSMAN. (This is a translation, or rather an imitation, of the Wilde Jäger of the German poet Bürger.) THE Wildgrave winds his bugle horn, To horse, to horse! halloo, halloo ! His fiery courser snuffs the morn, And thronging serfs their lord pursue. The eager pack, from couples freed, Dash through the brush, the briar, the brake: While answering hound, and horn, and steed, The mountain echoes startling wake. |