I have prosed with a reckless bard, who rehearses Every day a thousand verses;

But oh! more marvellous twenty times

Than the bully's lies, or the blockhead's rhymes,
Were the scurrilous tales, which Scandal told
Of Winifrede's loves in the days of old!

The Abbess lifted up her eye,
And laid her rosary down,
And sigh'd a melancholy sigh,

And frown'd an angry frown.
"There's a cell in the dark cold ground,
Where sinful passions wither:
Vapory dews lie damp around,
And merriment of sight or sound
Can work no passage thither:
Other scene is there, I trow,

Than suits a love-sick maiden's vow;
For a death-watch makes a weary tune,
And a glimmering lamp is a joyless moon,
And a couch of stone is a dismal rest,
And an aching heart is a bitter guest!
Maiden of the bosom light,

There shall thy dwelling be to-night;
Mourn and meditate, fast and pray,
And drive the evil one away.

Axe and cord were fitter doom,

Desolate grave and mouldering tomb;

But the merciful faith that speaks the sentence,

Joys in the dawn of a soul's repentance,

And the eyes may shed sweet tears for them,

Whom the hands chastise, and the lips condemn!"
I have set my foot on the hallowed spot,
Where the dungeon of trampled France is not;
I have heard men talk of Mr. Peel;

I have seen men walk on the Bixton wheel;
And 'twere better to feed on frogs and fears,
Guarded by griefs and grenadiers,

And 'twere better to tread all day and night,

With a rogue on the left, and a rogue on the right, Than lend our persons or our purses

To that old lady's tender mercies!

"Ay! work your will!" the young girl said; And as she spoke she raised her head,

And for a moment turned aside,

To check the tear she could not hide;"Ay! work your will! I know you all, Your holy aims and pious arts,

And how you love to fling a pall

On fading joys, and blighted hearts;
And if these quivering lips could tell
The story of our bliss and wo,
And how we loved-Oh! loved, as well
As ever mortals loved below-

And how in purity and truth

The flower of early joy was nurst, Till sadness nipp'd its blushing youth, And holy mummery call'd it curst

You would but watch my sobs and sighs,
With shaking head, and silent sneers,
And deck with smiles those soulless eyes,
When mine should swell with bitter tears!
But work your will! Oh! life and limb
May wither in that house of dread,
Where horrid shapes and shadows dim

Walk nightly round the slumberer's head;
The sight may sink, the tongue may fail,
The shuddering spirit long for day,
And fear may make these features pale,
And turn these boasted ringlets gray;
But not for this, oh! not for this,

The heart will lose its dream of gladness;
And the fond thought of that last kiss

Will live in torture-yea! in madness!

And look! I will not fear or feel
The all your hate may dare or do;
And, if I ever pray and kneel,

I will not kneel and pray to you!"

If you had seen that tender cheek,
Those eyes of melting blue,

You would not have thought in a thing so weak,

Such a fiery spirit grew.

But the trees which summer's breezes shake,

Are shivered in winter's gale;

And a meek girl's heart will bear to break,

When a proud man's truth would fail.

Never a word she uttered more;

They have led her down the stair,
And left her on the dungeon floor,
To find repentance there;

And naught have they set beside her bed,
Within that chamber dull,

But a lonely lamp, and a loaf of bread,
A rosary and skull.

The breast is bold that grows not cold,
With a strong convulsive twinge,
As the slow door creeps to its sullen hold,
Upon its mouldering hinge.

That door was made by the cunning hand.
Of an artist from a foreign land;

Human skill and heavenly thunder
Shall not win its wards asunder.
The chain is fix'd, and the bolt is fast,
And the kind old Abbess lingers last,
To mutter a prayer on her bended knee,
And clasp to her girdle the iron key.

But then, oh then began to run

Horrible whispers from nun to nun: "Sister Amelia,"-" Sister Anne,"

"Do tell us how it all began;"

"The youth was a handsome youth, that's certain, For Bertha peeped from behind the curtain:"

"As sure as I have human eyes,

It was the devil in disguise;

His hair hanging down like threads of wire

'And his mouth breathing smoke, like a haystack on fire

And the ground beneath his footstep rocking," "Lord! Isabel, how very shocking!"

"Poor Violette! she was so merry;
I'm very sorry for her!-very!"
"Well! it was worth a silver tester,

To see how she frown'd when the Abbess bless'd

her;"

"Was Father Anselm there to shrive?

For I'm sure she'll never come out alive!"

"Dear Elgitha, don't frighten us so !"
"It's just a hundred years ago,

Since Father Peter was put in the cell
For forgetting to ring the vesper bell;
Let us keep ourselves from mortal sin!
He went out as he went in !"

"No! and he lives there still, they say,

In his cloak of black, and his cowl of gray, Weeping, and wailing, and walking about, With an endless grief, and an endless gout, And wiping his eyes with a kerchief of lawn, And ringing his bell from dusk to dawn!" "Let us pray to be saved from love and spectres!""From the haunted cell !"-"And the abbess's lectures!"

The garish sun has gone away,

And taken with him the toils of day;

Foul ambition's hollow schemes,

Busy labor's golden dreams,