While the billow mournful rolls,
And the mermaid's song condoles,
Singing glory to the souls
'Twas Allsouls' Eve, and Surrey's heart beat high,
He heard the midnight bell with anxious start,
Which told the mystic hour approaching nigh,
When wise Cornelius promised by his art
To shew to him the lady of his heart;
Albeit between them roared the ocean grim,
Yet so the sage had height to play his part,
That he should see her form in life and limb,
And mark if still she loved, if still she thought of him.
Dark was the vaulted room of granarye
To which the wizard led the gallant Knight,
Save that before a mirror huge and high
A hallowed taper shed a trembling light,
On mystic implements of magic might,
On cross, and character, and talisman,
And almagest and altar, nothing bright;
For fitful was the lustre, pale and wan,
As watchlight by the bed of some departing man.
But soon within that mirror huge and high,
Was seen a self-emitted light to gleam;
And forms upon its breast the Earl 'gan spy,
Cloudy and indistinct as feverish dream,
Till slow, arranging and defined, they seem To form a lordly and a lofty room,
Part lighted by a lamp with silver beam,
Placed by a couch of Agra's silken loom,
And part by moonshine pale, and part was hid in gloom.
Fair all the pageant, but how passing fair
The slender form that lay on couch of Ind; O'er her white bosom strayed her hazel hair, Pale her dear cheek, as if for love she pined; All in her night-robe loose she lay reclined, And pensive read from tablet eburnine
Some strain that seemed her inmost soul to find; That favoured strain was Surrey's raptured line, That fair and lovely form the Lady Geraldine.
Slow rolled the clouds upon the lovely form,
And swept the goodly vision all away—
So royal envy rolled the murky storm
O'er my beloved Master's glorious day.
Thou jealous, ruthless tyrant! heaven repay
On thee and on thy children's latest line
The wild caprice of thy despotic sway,—
The gory bridal bed, the plundered shrine,
The murdered Surrey's blood, the tears of Geraldine !
FROM my slumber I woke, at the dead of the night,
And down to the ocean I sped;
The moon on the billows was trembling and bright
As it rosé o'er the pyramid's head.
Its beams lent a magic far dearer than sleep,
As I trod my lone course on the sand,
And dear was the blast as it blew o'er the deep,
For it came from my native land.
The battle had ceased with the sweet setting sun,
But I heard its dread tumult again;
I paused-it was nought but the answering gun
Of the watchman afar on the plain.
I thought of the woe and the carnage again—
I look'd o'er the wave's distant foam;
And the tear that had started at sight of the slain,
I shed for the friends of my home.
Oh! pleasant it is, on a far foreign shore
To think on the days that are past;
It awakes the dull spirit that slumbered before,
Like the rain 'mid the burning waste.
Was it hope or illusion my bosom that warmed,
When I thought on the birch of the grove?
Like a wretch half bewilder'd with magic that charmed,
I heard the sweet voice of my love.
To the spot, O for ever be fettered my sight,
With the sound ever charmed let me be;
Even this corse-covered strand is a couch of delight,
When such visions my fancy can see.
A SOLEMN gloom pervades the fretting deep;
Wild o'er its bosom ruffling breezes sweep:
There comes a dread sound from the wave, that rolls
Like the last deep groan of departing souls!
The vollied thunder, bursting through the sky,
Rolls deadly on; the hills-the rocks reply ;
While forked lightning through the gloom is flashing,
And foaming billows on the shore are dashing,
And frighted echoes leap from rock to rock,
While heaven and earth are trembling with the shock!
The fiery bolt from heaven's high arch is rent!
Flames break from porch and tower, and battlement !
Torn arches crash;-the burning columns fall;
Loud shrieks are heard from ballium and from hall;
And there is one despairing, dreadful cry,
Heard wildly echoing in the blazing sky.
Lo!-where the tower is rending!-there!-with hands
Stretched out in flames, the trembling Anna stands !
The livid fire uprears its forky crest,
Sears her loose robe, and fixes on her breast;
Flames rage above,-hot fragments lie beneath!
To fall, is ruin, and to stay, is—death!
Who swiftly bounds o'er broken arch and tower?-
He springs aloft with more than mortal power,
Through flames, which hearts less brave would fear or fly.
See! he hath gained the turret, blazing high,
Where Anna leans upon a tottering peak,
That shakes, as though 'twould in a moment break
To distant earth—with e'en the gentle weight
Of one so pale-so faint-so desolate!
A giddy frenzy seized her brain,-her form
Shook like a reed, when ruffled by the storm-
And, as her nerveless fingers lost the power
To grasp the fragments of the shattered tower,
Her trembling feet forsook the slippery stone
On which she stood-despairing- and alone!
Dark yawned the chasm the rending base gave way—
And Anna sank-no time to weep-to pray!
For death was near her when the brave one came,
And snatched her, wildly, from devouring flame!
Then, as he marked her pallid cheek, his sight
Was fixed in sweet, ineffable delight;
Though cold that cheek-enraptured by the gaze,
He heeded not the desolating blaze
Of circling fire, that burned beneath his tread,
And hissed in spiry columns o'er his head!
Unconscious Anna, now from peril borne,
Still breathed the sigh that tells the heart forlorn,
That long, deep sigh of anguish, which might seem
The last, to wake us from our earthly dream!
She spoke not yet, although her eye expressed
The greatful homage of her throbbing breast;
Till o'er that eye, in languid dimness, stole
The mingling shadows of the fainting soul !
Her bloodless lips refused her thought to tell ;-
Again her spirits sank-her white arm fell
So cold upon his neck, that, all aghast,
He marked the paleness on her features cast;
And, o'er her slender form, in speechless woe,
Bent, like a cypress, o'er a wreath of snow!
She wakes to life, but wakes to new alarms,——
Oh! now she breathes, she lives in Machin's arms!
Alas!-she will not-cannot-may not dare,
One moment more to sigh, or linger there!
"Oh! leave me leave me, Machin!-haste away !
Go!—if thou love me, break this fond delay!
Yet I would thank thee for thy tender care,
But that I breathe, a captive to despair!
Oh!-hadst thou seen me perish in the flame,
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