Until they walked upon the earth, Unshrouded, in a ghastly mirth, And frightened men with soundless cries, The boy jumped up in vast surprise, Made answer much to this effect: 'Twas taught me—curse my foolish vanity! By an old wizard-stark insanity! Who came from Tunis-'tis the hock! And then again he sate him down, "Spirits, that walk and wail to-night, And a dark, dark dread Of the lonely dead, Creeps through the whispering atmosphere! "Ye hover o'er the hoary trees, And the old oaks stand bereft and bare; Ye hover o'er the moonlight seas, And the tall masts rot in the poisoned air; And the ban-dog shivers in silence there. "Come hither to me upon your cloud, In heaven or hell, And why do ye wander on earth again? "Tell to me where and how ye died, Fell ye in darkness, or fell ye in day, On lorn hill-side, or roaring tide, In gorgeous feast, or rushing fray? By bowl or blow, From friend or foe, Hurried your angry souls away? "Mute ye come, and mute ye pass, Your tale untold, your shrift unshriven; But ye have blighted the pale grass, And scared the ghastly stars from heaven; And guilt hath known Your voiceless moan, And felt that the blood is unforgiven !" He paused; for silently and slow The lady left his side; It seemed her blood had ceased to flow, For her cheek was as white as the morning snow, And the light of her eyes had died. She gazed upon some form of fright— But it was not seen of Vidal's sight; She drank some sound of hate or fear-. But it was not heard of Vidal's ear; "Look! look!" she said; and Vidal spoke"Why! zounds! it's nothing but an oak!" "Valence!" she muttered, "I will rise; Ay! turn not those dead orbs on mine; Fearless to-night are these worn eyes, And nerveless is that arm of thine. Thrice hast thou fleeted o'er my path; That thou dost haunt my lonely way? And hate thee still, and fear thee not!" She strode two steps, and stretched her hand, In attitude of stern command; The tremor of her voice and tread Had more of passion than of dread, The net had parted from her hair, The locks fell down in the powerless air, Her frame with strange convulsion rocked— ¦ And Vidal was intensely shocked. The lady drew a long low sigh, As if some voice had made reply, Though Vidal could not catch a word, I ask no word, I need no sign, That linked this wasted hand in thine! And broken heart, and ruined fame, And glutted hate, and dreaded shame, And late remorse, and dreams, and fears, And bitter and enduring tears!" She listened there another space, And stirred no feature of her face, Though big drops, ere she spoke again, Fell from her clammy brow like rain: At last she glanced a wilder stare, And stamped her foot, and tore her hair. "False fiend! thou liest, thou hast lied! He was, what thou couldst never beIn anguish true, in danger tried Their friend to all-my god to me! He loved as thou couldst never loveLong years—and not, till then, in guilt; Nay! point not to the wailing grove, I know by whom the blood was spilt, I saw the tomb, and heard the knell And life to me was lorn and blighted, He died—and vengeance watches well! He died-and thou wert well requited!" Again she listened :-full five score That laughter echoed o'er the hill, Did shake at its unearthly sound. |