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THE

QUEEN'S WAKE.

NIGHT THE SECOND.

H

THE

QUEEN'S WAKE.

NIGHT THE SECOND.

SCARCE fled the dawning's dubious gray,

So transient was that dismal day.
The lurid vapours, dense and stern,
Unpierced save by the crusted cairn,
In tenfold shroud the heavens deform;
While far within the brooding storm,
Travelled the sun in lonely blue,

And noontide wore a twilight hue.

The sprites that through the welkin wing,

That light and shade alternate bring,

That wrap the eve in dusky veil,

And weave the morning's purple rail;

From pendent clouds of deepest grain,
Shed that dull twilight o'er the main.
Each spire, each tower, and cliff sublime,
Were hooded in the wreathy rime;
And all, ere fell the murk of even,
Were lost within the folds of heaven.
It seemed as if the welkin's breast
Had bowed upon the world to rest;
As heaven and earth to close began,
And seal the destiny of man.

The supper bell at Court had

rung;

The mass was said, the vesper sung;
In true devotion's sweetest mood,

Beauty had kneeled before the rood;
But all was done in secret guise,

Close from the zealot's searching eyes.

Then burst the bugle's lordly peal Along the earth's incumbent veil;

Swam on the cloud and lingering shower,

To festive hall and lady's bower;
And found its way, with rapid boom,
To rocks far curtained in the gloom,
And waked their viewless bugle's strain,
That sung the softened notes again.

Upsprung the maid from her love-dream;

The matron from her silken seam;

The abbot from his holy shrine;

The chiefs and warriors from their wine:

For aye the bugle seemed to say,

"The Wake's begun! away, away

Fast poured they in, all fair and boon,
Till crowded was the grand saloon;
And scarce was left a little ring,

In which the rival bards might sing.

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