With swelling heart and eager feet
Young Edmund gained the church,
And chose his solitary seat
Within the dreadful porch.
Thick threatening clouds assembling soon,
Their dragon wings display'd;
Eclips'd the slow retiring moon,
And quench'd the stars in shade.
Amid the dark abyss of gloom
ray of beauty smiled,
Save glistening o'er some haunted tomb, The glowworm's lustre wild.
The village watch-dogs bay'd around,
The long grass whistled drear,
The steeple trembled to the ground,
Ev'n Edmund quaked with fear.
All on a sudden died the blast,
Dumb horror chill'd the air,
While nature seem'd to pause aghast,
In uttermost despair.
Twelve times the midnight herald toll'd,
As oft did Edmund start;
For every stroke fell dead and cold
Upon his fainting heart.
Then glaring through the ghastly gloom,
Along the church-yard green,
The destined victims of the tomb
In winding sheets were seen.
In that strange moment Edmund stood,
Sick with severe surprise;
While creeping horror drank his blood,
And fixed his flinty eyes.
He saw the secrets of the grave!
He saw the face of death!
No pitying power appeared to save—
He gasped away his breath!
Yet still the scene his soul beguil❜d,
And every spectre cast
A look unutterably wild
On Edmund as they pass'd.
All on the ground entranc'd he lay;
At length the vision broke !
When lo! a kiss as cold as clay,
The slumbering youth awoke.
That moment, through a rifted cloud,
The darting moon display'd,
Rob'd in a melancholy shroud,
The image of a maid.
Her dusky veil aside she threw,
And show'd a face most fair;
To clasp his Ella, Edmund flew,
And rush'd through empty air!
"Ha! who art thou!" his cheek grew pale : A well known voice replied,
To win his neck, her airy arms
The pallid phantom spread;
Recoiling from her blasted charms,
The affrighted lover fled.
To shun the visionary maid
His speed outstript the wind;
But though unseen to move, the shade
Was evermore behind!
So death's unerring arrows glide,
Yet seem'd suspended still :
Nor pause, nor shrink, nor turn aside,
But smite, subdue, and kill.
O'er many a mountain, moor and vale,
On that tremendous night,
The ghost of Ella, wild and pale,
Pursued her lover's flight.
But when the dawn began to gleam,
Ere yet the morning shone,
She vanish'd like a night-mare dream,
And Edmund stood alone.
Three days, bewilder'd and forlorn,
He sought his home in vain;
At length he hail'd the hoary thorn
That crown'd his native plain.
'Twas evening :-All the air was balm,
The Heavens serenely clear:
When the soft music of a psalm
Came pensive o'er his ear.
Then sunk his heart; a strange surmise
Made all his blood run cold;
He flew,—a funeral met his eyes!
He paused, a death-bell toll'd.
""Tis she! 'tis she!" He burst away;
And bending o'er the spot
Where all that once was Ella lay,
He all beside forgot!
A maniac now, in dumb despair,
With love bewildered mien,
He wanders, weeps and watches there,
Among the hillocks green.
And every eve of pale St. Mark,
As village hinds relate,
He walks with Ella in the dark,
And reads the rolls of fate!
Is she not beautiful, although so pale?
The first May flowers are not more colourless
Than her white cheek; yet I recall the time
When she was call'd the rose-bud of our village.
There was a blush, half modesty, half health,
Upon her cheek fresh as the summer morn
With which she rose. A cloud of chesnut curls
Like twilight darken'd o'er her blue-vein'd brow;
And through their hazel curtains eyes whose light
Was like the violets when April skies
Have given their own pure colour to the leaves,
Shone sweet and silent as the twilight star.
And she was happy; innocence and hope
Make the young heart a paradise for love.
And she loved and was loved. The youth was one
That dwelt upon the waters. He had been
Where sweeps the blue Atlantic a wide world-
Had seen the sun light up the flowers like gems
In the bright Indian isles-had breathed the air
When sweet with cinnamon and gum and spice,
|