Until they walked upon the earth,

Unshrouded, in a ghastly mirth,

And frightened men with soundless cries,
And hueless cheeks, and rayless eyes.
Such power there is!-if such be thine,
Why, make to-night that sound or sign;
And while the vapory sky looks mirk
In horror at our midnight work,
We two will sit on two green knolls,
And jest with unembodied souls,
And mock at every moody sprite
That wanders from his bed to-night."

The boy jumped up in vast surprise,
And rubbed his forehead and his eyes,
And quite unable to reflect,

Made answer much to this effect:
"Lady!-the saints befriend a sinner!
Lady!—she drank too much at dinner!
I know a rhyme, and-ghosts forsooth!
I used to sing it in my youth;

'Twas taught me-curse my foolish vanity!
By an old wizard-stark insanity!
Who came from Tunis-'tis the hock !
At a great age and--twelve o'clock!
He wore-oh, Lord!-a painted girdle,
For which they burnt him on a hurdle;
He had a charm, but-what the deuce!
It wasn't of the slightest use;
There's not a single ghost that cares
For-mercy on me! how she stares!"

And then again he sate him down,
For fiercer fell Clotilda's frown,
And played, abominably ill,
And horribly against his will.

"Spirits, that walk and wail to-night, I feel, I feel that ye are near; There is a mist upon my sight,

There is a murmur in mine ear.

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,
And tell me of your bliss or pain,
And let me see your shadowy shroud,
And colorless lip, and bloodless vein;
Where do ye dwell,

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

66

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;
And I would hear thy dull lips say,
Is it in sorrow, or in wrath,

That thou dost haunt my lonely way?
Ay! frown not! heaven may blast me now,
In this dark hour, in this cold spot;
And then-I can but be as thou,

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,
And thought it horribly absurd.
"Remember it ?—avenging power!

I ask no word, I need no sign,
To teach me of that withering hour,

That linked this wasted hand in thine!
He was not there!—I deemed him slain-
And thine the guilt-and mine the pain!
There are memorials of that day
Which time shall never blot away,
Unheeded prayer, unpardoned sin,
And smiles without, and flames within,

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 be― In 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
You might have counted duly o'er—
And then she laughed; so fierce and shrill

That laughter echoed o'er the hill,
That Vidal deemed the very ground

Did shake at its unearthly sound.