Transcriptions from Tales of Wonder:  Info on Lewis and the composition of the Tales (a must read!)

 

An x = faulty margins (poems are not to be centered but typed to resemble exactly the indents of originals)

 

I.  BOTHWELL’S BONNY JANE (Slade) x

II.  OSRIC THE LION (Dykes)

III.  SIR HENGIST (Wooten)

IV.  ALONZO THE BRAVE, AND FAIR IMOGENE x

V.  GILES JOLLUP THE GRAVE, AND BROWN SALLY GREEN x

IX. THE ERL-KING (Turnquist)

X.  THE ERL-KING’S DAUGHTER (Turnquist)

XI. THE WATER-KING (Maxwell)
XII.  THE FIRE KING (Maxwell)
XIII. THE CLOUD KING (Pate and Hammock) x

XVII.  THE GAY GOLD RING (Demmons)

XVIII.THE GRIM WHITE WOMAN (Kurka)

 

THE BLEEDING NUN (Agosto):  originally placed in the second volume of the first, two volume edition of Wonder; for the second, one volume edition, the poem was placed as No. XXVI

 

 
 

 

BOTHWELL’S BONNY JANE.

 

M.G. Lewis

 

 

Bothwell Castle is beautifully situated upon the Clyde, and fronts the ruins of Blantyre Priory.  The estate of Bothwell has long been, and continues to be, in the possession of the Douglas family.

 

 

Loud roars the north round Bothwel’s hall;

And fast descends the pattering rain:

But streams of tears still faster fall

From thy blues eyes, oh! bonny Jane!

 

Hark! Hark!—I hear, with mournful yell,

The wraiths of angry Clyde complain

But sorrow burst with louder swell

From thy fair breast, oh! bonny Jane!

 

“Tap! tap—who knows?—the door unfolds;

The  mourner lifts her melting eye,

And soon with joy and hope beholds

A revered monk approaching night:

 

His air is mild, his step is slow,

His hands across his breast are laid,

And soft he sighs, while bending low,

--“St. Bothan guard thee, gentle maid!”—

 

To meet the friar the damsel ran;

She kiss’d his hand, she clasp’d his knee.

--‘Now free me, free me, holy man,

‘Who com’st from Blantyre Prio-rie!’—

 

“—What mean these piteous cries, daughter?

“St. Bothan be thy speed!

“Why swim in tears thine eyes, daughter?

“From whom would’st thou be freed?”—

 

--‘Oh! father, father! Know, my sire,

‘Though long I knelt, and wept, and sigh’d,

‘Hath sworn, ere twice ten days expire,

‘His Jane shall be Lord Malcom’s bride!’—

 

 

 

“Lord Malcom in rich and great, daughter,--

“And comes of an high degree;

“He’s fit to be thy mate, daughter,

“So, Benedicite!”

 

--‘Oh! father, father! Say not so!

‘Though rich his halls, though fair his bowers,--

‘Ther stands an hut, where Tweed doth flow,

‘I prize beyond Lord Malcolm’s towers:

 

‘There dwells a youth where Tweed doth glide,

‘On whom nor rank, nor fortune smiles;

‘I’d rather be that peasant’s bride,

‘Than reign o’er all Lord Malcolm’s isles.’—

 

--“But should you flee away, daughter,

“And wed with a village clown,

“What would your father say, daughter?

“How would he fume and from?”—

 

--Oh! he might frown and he might fume,

‘And Malcolm’s heart might grieve and pine,

‘So Edgar’s hut for me had room,

‘And Edgar’s lips were press’d to mine!’—

 

--“If at the castle gate, daughter,

“At night, thy love so true

“Should with a courser wait, daughter,…..

“What, daughter, would’st thou do?”—

 

--With noiseless step the stairs I’d press,

‘Unclose the gate, and mount with glee,

‘And ever, as on I sped, would bless

‘The abbot of Blantyre Prio-rie!”—

 

--Then, daughter, dry those eyes so bright;

“I’ll haste where flows Tweed’s silver stream;

“And when thou see’st, at dead of night,

“A lamp in Blantyre’s chapel gleam,

 

“With noiseless step the staircase press,

“For know, thy lover there will be;

“Then mount his steed, haste on,--and bless

“The abbot of Blantyre Prio-rie!”—

 

 

Then forth the friar he bent his way,

While lightly danc’d the damsel’s heart;

Oh! how she chid the length of day,

How sigh’d to see the sun depart!

 

How joy’d when eve’s shadows came,

How swiftly gain’d her tower so high!

--‘Does there in Blantyre shine a flame?—

‘Ah no!—the moon deceiv’d mine eye!’—

 

Again the shades of evening lour;

Again she hails the approach of night.

--‘Sines there a flame in Blantyre tower?—

‘Ah no!—‘tis but the northern-light!’—

 

But when arriv’d All-hollow E’en,

What time the night and morn divide,

The signal-lamp by Jane was seen

To glimmer on the waves of Clyde.

 

She cares not for her father’s tears,

She feels not for her father’s sighs;

No voice but headstrong Love’s she hears,

And down the staircase swift she hies.

 

Though thrice the Brownie shirck’d—“Beware!”

Though thrice was heard a dying groan,

She op’d the castle gate.—Lo! There

She found the friendly monk alone.

 

--‘Oh! where is Edgar, father, say?’—

--“On! On!” the friendly monk replied;

“He fear’d his berry-brown steed should neigh,

“And waits us on the banks of Clyde.”—

 

Then on they hurried, and on they hied,

Down Bothwell’s slope so step and green,

And soon they reach’d the river’s side—

Alas! No Egar yet was seen!

 

Then, bonny Jane, thy spirits sunk;

Fill’d was thy heart with strange alarms!

--“Now thou art mine!” exclaim’d the monk,

And clasp’d her in his ruffian arms.

 

 

“Know, yonder bark must bear thee straight,

“Where Blantyre owns my gay controul:

“There Love and Joy to greet thee wait,

“There Pleasure crowns for the her bowl.

 

“Long have Ioved thee, bonny Jane,

“Long breathed to thee my secret vow!

“Come then, sweet maid!—nay, strife is vain;

“Not ehaven itself can save thee now!”—

 

The damsel shriek’d, and would have fled,

When low! His poniard press’d her throat!

--“One cry and ‘tis your last!”—he said,

And bore her fainting tow’rds the boat.

 

The moon shone bright; the winds were chain’d;

The boatman swiftly plied his oar;

But erred the river’s midst was gain’d,

The tempest-fiend was heard to roar.

 

Rain fell in sheets; high swell’d the Clyde;

Blue flam’d the lightning’s blasting brand!

--“Oh! lighten the bark!” the boatman cried,

“Or hope no more to reach the strand.

 

“E’en now we stand on danger’s brink!

“E’en now the boat half fill’d I see!

“Oh! lighten it soon, or else we sink!

“Oh! lighten it of…your gay la-die!”—

 

With shrieks the maid his counsel hears;

But vain are now her prayers and cries,

Who cared not for her father’s tears,

Who felt not for her father’s sighs!

 

Fear conquer’d love!—In wild despair

The abbot view’d the watery grave,

Then seized his victim’s golden hair,

And plunged her in the foaming wave!

 

She screams!—she sinks!—“Row, boatman, row!

“The abrk is light!” The abbot cries;

“Row, boartman, row to land!” When low!

Gigantic grew the boatman’s size!

 

 

With burning steel his temples bound

Throbb’d quick and high with fiery pangs;

He roll’d his blood-shot eyeballs round,

And furious gnash’d his iron fangs:

 

His hands tow-gore-fed scorpions grasp’d;

His eyes fell joy and spite express’d.

--“Thy cp is full!”—he said, and clas’d

The abbot to his burning breast.

 

With hideous yell down sinks the boat,

And straight the warring winds subside;

Moon-silver’d clouds through aether float,

And gently murmuring flows the Clyde.

 

Since then full many a winter’s powers

In chains of ice the earth have bound;

And many a spring, with blushing flowers

And herbage gay, has robed the ground:

 

Yet legends say, at Hallow-E’en,

When Silence holds her deepest reign,

That still the ferryman-fiend is seen

To waft the monk and bonny Hane:

 

And still does Blantyre’s wreck display

The signal-lamp at midnight hour;

And still to watch its fatal ray,

The phantom-fair haunts Bothwell Tower;

 

Still tunes lute to Edgar’s name,

Still chides the hours which stay her flight;

Still sings,--“In Blantyre shines the  flame?

“Ah! No! ‘tis but the northern-light!”—

 

 

OSRIC THE LION

 

Original—M.G. Lewis

 

 

 

Swift roll the Rhine’s billows, and water the plains,

Where Falkenstein Castle’s majestic remains

    Their moss-cover’d turrets still rear:

Oft loves the gaunt wolf midst the ruins to prowl,

What time from the battlements pours the lone owl                                                      5

    Her plaints in the passenger ear.

 

No longer resound through the vaults of yon hall

The song of the minstrel, and mirth of the ball;

    Those pleasures for ever are fled:

There now dwells the bat with her light-shunning brood,

There ravens and vultures now clamour for food,                                                         10

    And all is dark, silent, and dead!

 

Ha! Dost thou not see, by the moon’s trembling light

Directing his steps, where advances a knight,

    His eye big with vengeance and fate?

‘Tis Osric the Lion his nephew who leads,

And swift up the crackling old staircase proceeds,                                                       15

    Gains the hall, and quick closes the gate.

 

Now round him young Carloman casting his eyes,

Surveys the sad scene with dismay and surprise,

    And fear steals the rose from his cheeks.

His spirits forsake him, his courage is flown;

The hand of Sir Osric he clasps in his own,                                                                    20

    And while his voice faulters he speaks.                                                                      

 

-- “Dear uncle,” he murmers, “why linger we here?

“’Tis late, and these chambers are damp and are drear,

    “Keen blows through the ruins the blast!

“Oh let us away and our journey pursue:

“Fair Blumenberg’s Castle will rise on our view,                                                            25

    Soon as Falkenstein forest is pass’d.

 

“Why roll thus your eyeballs? Why glare they so wild?

“Oh? Chide not my weakness, nor frown, that a child

    “Should view these apartments with dread;

“For know, that full oft have I heard from my nurse,

“There still on this castle has rested a curse,                                                                  30

    “Since innocent blood here was shed.

 

“She said, too, bad spirits, and ghost all in white,

“Here use to resort at the dead time of night,

    “Nor vanish till breaking of day;

“And still at their coming is heard the deep tone

“Of a bell loud and awful----hark! hark! ‘twas a groan!                                 35

    “Good uncle, oh! Let us away!”----

 

----“Peace, serpent!” thus Osric the Lion replies,

While rage and malignity gloom in his eyes:

    “Thy journey and life here must close:

“Thy castle’s proud turrets no more shalt thou see;

“No more betwixt Blumenberg’s lordship and me                                                          40

    “Shalt thou stand, and my greatness oppose.

 

“My brother lies breathless on Palestine’s plains,

“And thou once remov’d, to his noble domains

    “My right can no rival deny:

“Then, stripling, prepare on my dagger to bleed;

“No succour is near, and thy fate is decreed,                                                                 45

    “Commend thee to Jesus, and die!” ----

 

Thus saying, he seized the boy by the arm,

Whose grief rends the vaulted hall’s roof, while alarm

    His heart of all fortitude robs;

His limbs sink beneath him; distracted with fears,

He falls at his uncle’s feet, bathes them with tears,                                                       50

    And---“spare me! Oh spare me!” ---he sobs.

 

But vainly the miscreant he strives to appease;

And vainly he clings in despair round his knees,

    And sues in soft accents for life;

Unmov’d by his sorrow, unmov’d by his prayer,

Fierce Osric has twisted his hand in his hair,                                                                  55

    And aims at his bosom a knife.

 

 But ere the steel blushes with blood, strange to tell!

Self-struck, does the tongue of the hollow-toned bell

    The presence of midnight declare:

And while with amazement his hair bristles high,

Hears Osric a voice, loud and terrible cry,                                                                       60

    In sounds heart-appaling----“Forbear!”---

 

Straight curses and shrieks through the chambers resound,

Shrieks mingled with laughter; the walls shake around;

    The groaning roof threatens to fall;

Loud bellows the thunder, blue lightning’s still flash

The casements they clatter; chains rattle; doors clash,                                                65

    And flames spread their waves through the hall.

 

The clamour increases, the portals expand!---

O’er the pavement’s black marble now rushes a band

    Of demons all dropping with gore,

In visage so grim, and so monstrous in height,

That Carloman screams, as they burst on his sight,                                                      70

    And sinks without sense on the floor.

 

Not so his fell uncle:---he sees, that the throng

Impels, wildly shrieking, a female along,

    And will the sad spectre he knows!

The demons with curses her steps onwards urge;

Her shoulders, with whips form’d of serpents, they scourge,                                      75

    And fast from her wounds the blood flows.

 

“Oh! welcome! “ she cried, and her voice spoke despair;

“Oh! welcome!, Sir Osric , the torments to share,

    “Of which thou hast made me the prey.

“Twelve years have I languish’d thy coming to see;

“Ulrilda, who perish’d dishonour’d by thee,                                                                   80

    “Now calls thee to anguish away!

 

“Thy passion once sated, thy love became hate;

“Thy hand gave the draught which consign’d me to fate,

    “Nor thought I death lurk’d in the bowl:

“Unfit for the grave, stain’d with lust, swell’d with pride,

“Unbless’d, unabsolv’d, unrepenting, I died,                                                                 85

    “And demons straight seiz’d on my soul.

 

“Thou com’st, and with transport I feel my breast swell:

“Full long have I suffer’d the torments of hell,

    “And now shall its pleasures be mine!

“See, see how the fiends are athirst for thy blood!

“Twelve years has my panting heart furnish’d their food,                                           90

    “Come, wretch, let them feast upon thine!”------

 

She said, and the demons their prey flock’d around;

They dash’d him, with horrible yell, on the ground,

    And blood down his limbs trickled fast;

His eyes from their sockets with fury they tore;

They fed on his entrails, all reeking with gore,                                                               95

    And his heart was Ulrilda’s repast.

 

But now the grey cock told the coming of day!

The fiends with their victim straight vanish’d away,

    And Carloman’s heart throbb’d again;

With terror recalling the deeds of the night,

He rose, and from Falkenstein speeding his flight,                                                        100

    Soon reach’d his paternal domain.

 

Since then, all with horror the ruins behold;

No shepherd, though stray’d be a lamb from his fold,

    No mother, though lost be her child,

The fugitive dares in these chambers to seek,

Where fiends nightly revel, and guilty ghosts shriek                                                    105

    In accents most fearful and wild!

 

Oh! shun them, ye pilgrims! Though late be the hour,

Though loud howl the tempest, and fast fall the shower;

    From Falkenstein Castle begone!

There still their sad banquet hell’s denizens share;

There Osric the Lion still raves in despair:                                                                      110

    Breathe a prayer for his soul, and pass on! 

 
 
 






 
 

Sir Hengist

[Matthew G. Lewis.  “Tales of Wonder” No. III.  January, 1801.  Bulmer and Bell]

 

Herman, or Arminius, is the favorite hero of Germany, whose liberty

 he defended against the oppression of Rome: Flavus, his brother,

 sided with the Romans, and in consequence his memory is as much

detested by his countrymen, as that of Arminius is beloved–I forget

where I met with the original of this Ballad.

 

 

 

            Where rolls the Weser’s golden sand,

                Did erst Sir Hengist castle stand,

                    A warrior brave and good;

                His lands extend far and widw,

5          Where stream’d full many a plenteous tide,

                   Where frown’d full many a wood.

 

                It chanced, that homewards from the chace

                Sir Hengist urged his courser’s pace,

                    The shadowy dales among,

10        While all was still, and late the hour,

                And far off, in the castle tower,

                    The bell of midnight rung.

 

                Sudden, a piercing shriek resounds

                Throughout the forest’s ample bounds;

15             A wildly dreadful yell;

                The dogs, by trembling, own their fear,

                As if they scent some bad thing near,

                     Some soul enlarged from hell !

 

                ---”See, father!” cried the young Egbert; “see

20        “Beneath the shade of yonder tree

                      “What fearful form is spread !

                “How fire around his temple glows !

                “How from his lance and finders flows

                     “The stream of bloody red !”---

 

25         —“ Stay here !”  Said Hengist, then with speed

                Towards the stranger spurred his steed;

                     “What bring thee here,  Sir Knight,

                “Who dar’st in my domains to bear

                “A lance, and by thy haughty air

30            “Seem’st to demand the fight?”---

 

                –“Lomg has my arm forgot to wield

                “The sword, and raise the massy shield,”

                    Replied the stranger drear:

                “Peace to this brown oak’s hallow’d shade!

35        “Peace to the bones which which here are laid,

 

 

                   “And which we both revere!

 

                “Know’st thou not Siegmar, Herman’s sire,

                “That arm of steel, that soul of fire?

                    “Here is his grave.–My name

40        “Is Flavus—at that sound the woods

                “With curses ring, and Weser’s floods

                   “My infamy proclaim!

 

                “For such is vengeful Odin’s will

            “And doom that traitor-curses still

45          “Thick on my head shall be,

                “Till from the blood of brethren slain,

                “My gory hands and lance again

                    “I pure and spotless see.

 

                “Still then, when midnight hours permit

50        “Pale spectres Hela’s realm to quit,

                   “I seek this hallow’d place;

                “With tears bedew these crimson blots,

                “And strive to wash away the spots

                     “No pains can now efface!”---

 

55        He ceased; when Odin’s eagle came,

                By Odin’s arm’d with blasting flame,

                    And seized the phantom knight:

                Loud shrieks the spectre’s pangs reveal’d,

                And soon a cloud his form conceal’d

60            From awe-struck Hengist’s sight.

 

                –“ Son!”  Said the chief, with horror chill’d,

                While down his brows cold dews distill’d

                   “Now take your sowrd in hand,

                “And swear with me, each drop of gore,

65        “That swells your veins, well pleased to pour

                    “To guard your native land!”-- 

 
 
 
 






 
 
 
 
ALONZO THE BRAVE, AND FAIR IMOGINE
 
[First published in The Monk (London: J. Bell, 1796) and included in all of the many editions of the novel thereafter;
also appearing in Tales of Wonder, edited and collected by Matthew Gregory Lewis, with some poems by 
him (London: William Bulmer for J. Bell, 1801).]
 
A Warrior so bold, and a Virgin so bright    
Conversed, as They sat on the green:  
They gazed on each other with tender delight; 
Alonzo the Brave was the name of the Knight,
The Maid's was the Fair Imogine.                                                                                    5
 
“And Oh!” said the Youth, “since to-morrow I go    
To fight in a far distant land,    
Your tears for my absence soon leaving to flow,  
Some Other will court you, and you will bestow    
On a wealthier Suitor your hand.”                                                                                   10
 
“Oh! hush these suspicions,” Fair Imogine said,    
“Offensive to Love and to me!  
For if ye be living, or if ye be dead,  
I swear by the Virgin, that none in your stead    
Shall Husband of Imogine be.                                                                                                               15
 
“If e'er I by lust or by wealth led aside    
Forget my Alonzo the Brave,  
God grant, that to punish my falsehood and pride 
Your Ghost at the Marriage may sit by my side,  
May tax me with perjury, claim me as Bride,                                                                  20   
And bear me away to the Grave!”
 

[“And if e’er for another my heart should decide,

“Forgetting Alonzo the Brave,

“God grant, that, to punish my falsehood and pride,

“Your ghost at the marriage may sit by my side,

“May tax me with perjury, claim me as bride,

“And bear me away to the grave!”—]

                                                                                                      
 
To Palestine hastened the Hero so bold;    
His Love, She lamented him sore:  
But scarce had a twelve-month elapsed, when behold,  
A Baron all covered with jewels and gold                                                                      25   
Arrived at Fair Imogine's door.                                                                                        
 
His treasure, his presents, his spacious domain    
Soon made her untrue to her vows:  
He dazzled her eyes; He bewildered her brain;  
He caught her affections so light and so vain,                                                                                  30 
And carried her home as his Spouse.
                                                                                                      
And now had the Marriage been blest by the Priest;    
The revelry now was begun:  
The Tables, they groaned with the weight of the Feast;  
Nor yet had the laughter and merriment ceased,                                                                               35 
When the Bell of the Castle told,--“One!'”
                                                                                

Then first with amazement Fair Imogine found

That a stranger was placed by her side:

His air was terrific; he utter’d no sound;

He spoke not, he moved not, he look’d not around,                                                      40

But earnestly gazed on the bride.                                                                                      

                                                                                 
His vizor was closed, and gigantic his height;    
His armour was sable to view:  
All pleasure and laughter were hushed at his sight;  
The Dogs as They eyed him drew back in affright,                                                                           45    
The Lights in the chamber burned blue!
                                                                          
His presence all bosoms appeared to dismay;    
The Guests sat in silence and fear.  
At length spoke the Bride, while She trembled;
'I pray,  Sir Knight, that your Helmet aside you would lay,                                                              50
And deign to partake of our chear.'                                                                                                     
 
The Lady is silent:  The Stranger complies.    
His vizor lie slowly unclosed:  
Oh! God! what a sight met Fair Imogine's eyes! 
What words can express her dismay and surprize,                                                       55   
When a Skeleton's head was exposed.                                                                                                
 
All present then uttered a terrified shout;    
All turned with disgust from the scene.  
The worms, They crept in, and the worms, They crept out,  
And sported his eyes and his temples about,                                                               60  
While the Spectre addressed Imogine.                                                                                                
 
“Behold me, Thou false one! Behold me!” He cried;    
“Remember Alonzo the Brave!  
God grants, that to punish thy falsehood and pride  
My Ghost at thy marriage should sit by thy side,                                                                             65  
Should tax thee with perjury, claim thee as Bride    
And bear thee away to the Grave!”                                                                                                     
 
Thus saying, his arms round the Lady He wound,    
While loudly She shrieked in dismay;  
Then sank with his prey through the wide-yawning ground:                                                          70 
Nor ever again was Fair Imogine found,   
Or the Spectre who bore her away.                                                                                                      
 
Not long lived the Baron; and none since that time    
To inhabit the Castle presume:                                                                                        75 
For Chronicles tell, that by order sublime 
There Imogine suffers the pain of her crime,    
And mourns her deplorable doom.                                                                                                      
 
At midnight four times in each year does her Spright    
When Mortals in slumber are bound,                                                                                                  80
Arrayed in her bridal apparel of white,  
Appear in the Hall with the Skeleton-Knight,   
And shriek, as He whirls her around.                                                                                                  
 
While They drink out of skulls newly torn from the grave,   
Dancing round them the Spectres are seen:                                                                  85 
Their liquor is blood, and this horrible Stave  
They howl.—“To the health of Alonzo the Brave,    
And his Consort, the False Imogine!”                                                                                                 
 

 

GILES JOLLUP THE GRAVE, AND BROWN SALLY GREEN

 

This is a Parody upon the foregoing Ballad [Alonzo the Brave and Fair Imogine]. I must

acknowledge, however, that the lines printed in italics, and the idea of making an apothecary of

the knight, and a brewer of the baron, are taken from a parody which appeared in one of the

news-papers, under the title of “Pil-Garlic the Brave and Brown Celestine.” [M. G. Lewis]

 

 

A Doctor so prim and a sempstress so tight

Hob-a-nobb’d in some right marasquin;

They suck’d up the cordial with truest delight:

Giles Jollup the Grave was just five feet in height,

And four feet the brown Sally Green.

 

—“And as,” said Giles Jollup, “to-morrow I go

“To physic a feverish land,

“At some sixpenny hop, or perhaps the Mayor’s show,

“You’ll tumble in love with some smart city beau,

“And with him share your shop in the Strand.”—

 

—“Lord! how can you think so?” brown Sally Green said;

“You must know mighty little of me;

“For if you be living, or if you be dead,

“I swear, ’pon my honour, that none in your stead

“Shall husband of Sally Green be.

 

“And if e’er for another my heart should decide,

“False to you and the faith which I gave,

“God grant that, at dinner too amply supplied,

“Over-eating may give me a pain in my side;

“May your ghost then bring rhubarb to physic the bride,

“And send her well-dosed to the grave!”—

 

Away went poor Giles, to what place is not told:

Sally wept, till she blew her nose sore!

But scarce had a twelvemonth elapsed, when behold!

A brewer, quite stylish, his gig that way roll’d,

And stopp’d it at Sally Green’s door.

 

His wealth, his pot-belly, and whisky of cane,

Soon made her untrue to her vows;

The steam of strong beer now bewildering her brain,

He caught her while tipsy! denials were vain,

So he carried her home as his spouse.

 

And now the roast beef had been bless’d by the priest,

To cram now the guests had begun:

Tooth and nail like a wolf fell the bride on the feast;

Nor yet had the clash of her knife and fork ceased,

When a bell—(’twas a dustman’s)—toll’d—“one!”

 

Then first with amazement brown Sally Green found

That a stranger was stuck by her side:

His cravat and his ruffles with snuff were embrown’d;

He ate not, he drank not, but, turning him round,

Sent some pudding away to be fried!!!

 

His wig was turn’d forwards, and short was his height;

His apron was dirty to view:

The women (oh! wondrous) were hush’d at his sight:

The cats, as they eyed him, drew back (well they might),

For his body was pea-green and blue!

 

Now, as all wish’d to speak, but none knew what to say,

They look’d mighty foolish and queer:

At length spoke the bride, while she trembled—“I pray,

“Dear Sir, your peruke that aside you would lay,

“And partake of some strong or small beer!”—

 

The sempstress is silent; the stranger complies,

And his wig from his phiz deigns to pull.

Adzooks! what a squall Sally gave through surprise!

Like a pig that is stuck how she open’d her eyes,

When she recognized Jollup’s bare skull!

 

Each miss then exclaim’d, while she tum’d up her snout,

—“Sir, your head isn’t fit to be seen!”—

The pot-boys ran in, and the pot-boys ran out,

And couldn’t conceive what the noise was about,

While the Doctor address’d Sally Green:

 

—“Behold me, thou jilt-flirt! behold me!” he cried;

“You’ve broken the faith which you gave!

God grants, that, to punish your falsehood and pride,

Over-eating should give you a pain in your side:

Come, swallow this rhubarb! I’ll physic the bride,

And send her well-dosed to the grave!” —

 

Thus saying, the physic her throat he forced down,

In spite of whate’er she could say;

Then bore to his chariot the damsel so brown;

Nor ever again was she seen in that town,

Or the Doctor who whisk’d her away.

 

Not long liv’d the Brewer: and none since that time

To make use of the brewhouse presume;

For ’tis firmly believed, that, by order sublime,

There Sally Green suffers the pain of her crime,

And bawls to get out of the room.

 

At midnight four times in each year does her sprite

With shrieks make the chamber resound:

—“I won’t take the rhubarb!” she squalls in affright,

While, a cup in his left hand, a draught in his right,

Giles Jollup pursues her around!

 

With wigs so well powder’d, their fees while they crave,

Dancing round them twelve doctors are seen:

They drink chicken-broth, while this horrible stave

Is twang’d through each nose—“To Giles Jollup the Grave,

And his patient, the sick Sally Green!”—

 

 

 

THE ERL-KING.

 

Who is it that rides through the forest so fast,

While night frowns around him, while shrill roars the blast ?

The father, who holds his young son in his arm,

And close in his mantle has wrapp’d him up warm.

 

--“ Why trembles my darling?  why shrinks he with fear?”—                                            5

--“ Oh, father!  my father!  the Erl-King is near!

“ The Erl-King, with his crown and his beard long and white!”

--“ Oh!  your eyes are deceived by the vapours of night.”—

 

--“ Come, baby, sweet baby, with me go away !

“ Fine clothes you shall wear, we will play a fine play;                                                    10

“ Fine flowers are growing, white, scarlet, and blue,

“ On the banks of yon river, all are for you.”—

 

--“ Oh!  father!  my father!  and dost thou not hear,

“ What words the Erl-King whispers low in mine ear?”—

--“ Now hush thee, my darling, thy terrors appease;                                                         15

“ Thou hear’st, ‘mid the branches, where murmers the breeze.”

 

--“ Oh!  baby, sweet baby, with me go away!

“ My daughter shall nurse you, so fair and so gay ;

“ My daughter, in purple and gold who is dress’d,

“ Shall tend you, and kiss you, and sing you to rest!”                                                      20

 

--“ Oh!  father!  my father!  and dost thou not see

“ The Erl-King and his daughter are waiting for me?”—

--“ Oh!  shame thee, my darling, ‘tis fear makes thee blind ;

“ Thou see’st the dark willows which wave in the wind.”—

 

--“ I love thee!  I doat on thy face so divine!                                                                     25

“ I must and will have thee, and force makes thee mine!”—

--“ My father!  my father!  oh!  hold me now fast!

“ He pulls me!  he hurts, and will have me at last!”—

 

The father he trembled, he doubled his speed;

O’er hills and through forests he spurr’d his black steed;                                                 30

But when he arrived at his own castle door,

Life throbb’d in the sweet baby’s bosom no more.

 

 

 

 

THE ERL-KING’S DAUGHTER.

 

O’er mountains, through vallies, Sir Oluf he wends

To bid to his wedding relations and friends ;

‘Tis night, and arriving where sports the elf band,

The Erl-King’s proud daughter presents him her hand.

 

--“ Now welcome, Sir Oluf!  oh!  welcome to me!                                                             5

“ Come, enter our circle my partner to be.”—

--“ Fair lady, nor can I dance with you, nor may ;

“ To-morrow I marry, to-night must away.”—

 

--“ Now listen, Sir Oluf!  oh!  listen to me!

“ Two spurs of fine silver thy guerdon shall be;                                                                10

“ A shirt too of silk will I give thee as a boon,

“ Which my queen-mother bleach’d in the beams of the moon.

 

“ Then yield thee, Sir Oluf!  oh!  yield thee to me!

“ And enter our circle my partner to be!”—

--“ Fair lady, nor can I dance with you, nor may ;                                                             15

“ To-morrow I marry, to-night must away.”—

 

--“ Now listen, Sir Oluf;  oh!  listen to me!

“ An helmet of gold will I give unto thee!”—

--“ An helmet of gold would I willingly take,

“ But I will not dance with you, for Urgela’s sake.”—                                                      20

 

--“ And deigns not Sir Oluf my partner to be?

“ The curses and sickness I give unto thee ;

“ Then curses and sickness thy steps shall pursue :

“ Now ride to thy lady, thou lover so true.”—

 

Thus said she, and laid her charm’d hand on his heart ;--

Sir Oluf, he never had felt such a smart ;                                                                           25

Swift spurr’d he his steed till he reach’d his own door,

And there stood his mother his castle before.

 

--“ Now riddle me, Sir Oluf, and riddle me right :

“ Why look’st thou, my dearest, so wan and so white?”—

--“ How should I not, mother, look so wan and so white?                                                 30

“ I have seen the Erl-King’s cruel daughter to-night.

 

“ She cursed me!  her hand to my bosom she press’d ;

“ Death follow’d the touch, and now freezes my breast!

“ She cursed me, and said, “ To your lady now ride ;”

“ Oh!  ne’er shall my lips press the lips of my bride.”—                                                   35

 

--“ Now riddle me, Oluf, and what shall I say,

“ When here comes the lady, so fair and so gay?”—

--“ Oh!  say, I am gone for awhile in to the wood,

“ To prove if my hounds and my coursers are good.”—

 

Scarce dead was Sir Oluf, and scarce shone the day,                                                        40

When in came the lady, so fair and so gay ;

And in came her father, and in came each guest,

Whom the hapless Sir Oluf had bade to the feast.

 

They drank the red wine, and they ate the good cheer;

--“ Oh!  where is Sir Oluf!  oh, where is my dear?”—                                                      45

--“ Sir Oluf is gone for awhile to the wood,

“ To prove if his hounds and his coursers are good.”—

 

Sore trembled the lady, so fair and so gay ;

She eyed the red curtain;  she drew it away ;

But soon from her bosom for ever life fled,                                                                       50

For there lay Sir Oluf, cold, breathless, and dead.

 

 

 

THE WATER-KING
 
Lewis, M.G. The Water King. London: Bulmer & Bell
 
1801. Vol I of The Tales of Wonder
 
With gentle murmur flow’d the tide,
While by it’s fragrant flowery side
The lovely maid, with carols gay,
To Mary’s church pursued her way.
 
The Water-Fiend’s malignant eye                      5
Along the banks beheld her hie;
Straight to his mother-witch he sped,
And thus in suppliant accents said:
 
--“Oh ! mother! mother! now advise,
“How I may yonder maid surprise:                                          10
“Oh! mother! mother! now explain,
“How I may yonder maid obtain.”--
 
The witch she gave him armour white;
She form’d him like a gallant knight:
Of water clear next he made her hand                                    15
A steed, whose housings were of sand.
 
The Water-King then swift he went;
To Mary’s church his steps he bent:
He bound his courser to the door,
And paced the churchyard three times four.                        20
 
His courser to the door bound he,
And paced the churchyard four times three;
Then hasten’d up the aisle, where all
The people flock’d, both great and small.
 
The priest said, as the knight drew neat,                                                   25
--“And wherefore comes the white chief here?”—
The lovely maid she smiled aside;
-- “Oh! would I were the white chief’s bride!”--
 
He stepp’d o’er benches one and two;
--“Oh! lovely maid, I die for you!”—                                                          30
He stepp’d o’er benches two and three;
--“Oh! lovely maiden, go with me!”--
 
Then sweetly smiled the lovely maid;
And while she gave her hand, she said,
--“Betide me joy, betide me woe,                                             35
“O’er hill, o’er dale, with thee I go.”--
 
The priest their hands together joins;
They dance, while clear the moon-beam shines;
And little thinks the maiden bright,
Her partner is the Water-Spright                                             40
 
Oh! had some spirit deign’d to sing,
--“Your bridegroom is the Water-King!”—
The maid had fear and hate confess’d,
And cursed the hand which then she press’d.
 
But nothing giving cause to think                                          45
How near she stray’d to danger’s brink,
Still on she went, and hand in hand
The lovers reach’d the yellow sand.
 
---“ Ascend this steed with me my dear!
“We needs must cross the streamlet here                             50
“Ride boldly in; it is not deep;
“The winds are hush’d, the billows sleep.”
 
Thus spoke the Water-King. The maid
Her traitor-bridegroom’s wish obey’d:
And soon she saw the courser lave                                                           55
Delighted in his parent wave.
 
---“Stop! stop! my love! The waters blue
“E’en now my shrinking foot bedew.”--
---“Oh! lay aside your fears, sweet heart!
“We now have reach’d the deepest part.”--                         60
 
--“Stop! Stop! for God’s sake, stop! for oh!
“The waters o’er my bosom flow!”
Scarce was the word pronounced, when knight
And courser vanish’d from her sight.
 
She shrieks, but shrieks in vain; for high                                                   65
The wild winds rising, dull the cry;
The fiend exults; the billows dash,
And o’er their hapless victim wash.
 
Three times, while struggling with the stream,
The lovely maid was heard to scream;                                                       70
But when the tempest’s rage was o’er,
The lovely maid was seen no more.
 
Warn’d by this tale, ye damsels fair,
To whom you give your love beware!
Believe not every handsome knight,                                                          75
And dance not with the Water-Spright!
 
 
 
 
 
 






 
 
 
 

THE FIRE KING

 

Scott, Walter. The Fire King. London: Bulmer & Bell

 

1801. Vol I of The Tales of Wonder

 

 

Bold knights and fair dames, to my harp give an ear,

Of love, and of war, and of wonder to hear,

And you haply may sigh in the midst of your glee

At the tale of Count Albert[i] and fair Rosalie[ii].                                                                

 

O see you that castle, so strong and so high?                                                                                5

And see you that lady, the tear in her eye?

And see you that palmer[iii], from Palestine’s land,

The shell on his hat, and that staff in his hand?                                                            

 

--“Now palmer, grey palmer, O tell unto me

“What news bring you home from the Holy Countrie;                                  10

“And how goes the warfare by Gallilee’s strand,

“And how fare our nobles, the flower of the land?”                                                     

 

--“O well goes the warfare by Gallilee’s wave,

“For Gilead[iv], and Nablous, and Ramah[v] we have,

“And well fare our nobles by Mount Libanon,                                                               15

“For the Heathen have lost, and the Christians have won.”                                       

 

A rich chain of gold mid her ringlets there hung;

That Chain o’er the palmer’s grey locks has she flung;

“—Oh! palmer, grey palmer, this chain be thy fee,

“For the news thou hast brought from the East Countrie.                                            20

 

“And palmer, good palmer, by Gallilee’s wave,

“O saw ye Count Albert, the gentle and brave?

“When the Crescent went back, and the Red-cross[vi] rush’d on,

“O saw ye him foremost on Mount Libanon?”—                                                          

 

--“O lady, fair lady, the tree green it grows,                                                                     25

“O lady, fair lady, the stream pure it flows,

“Your castle stands strong, and your hopes soar on high,

“But lady, fair lady, all blossoms to die.

 

“The green boughs they wither, the thunderbolt falls,

“It leaves of your castle but Levin-scorched walls,                                                       30

“The pure stream runs muddy, the gay hope is gone,

“Count Albert is taken on Mount Libanon.”                                                                 

 

O she’s ta’en a horse should be fleet at her speed,

And she’s ta’en a sword should be sharp at her need,

And she has ta’en shipping for Palestine’s land,                                                           35

To ransom Count Albert from Soldanrie’s hand.                                                           

 

Small thought had Count Albert on fair Rosalie,

Small thought on his faith, or his knighthood had he;

A heathenish damsel his light heart had won,

The Soldan’s fair daughter of Mount Libanon.                                                              40

 

--“Oh! Christian, brave Christian, my love would’st thou be?

“Three things must thou do ere I hearken to thee—

“Our laws and our worship on thee shalt thou take,

“And this thou shalt do first for Zulema’s sake.                                                           

 

“And next in the cavern, where burns evermore                                                            45

“The mystical flame which the Curdmans adore,

“Alone and in silence three nights shall thou wake,

“And this thou shalt next do for Zulema’s sake.                                                           

 

“And last, thou shalt aid us with council and hand,

“To drive the Frank robbers from Palestine’s land;                                                       50

“For my lord and my love then Count Albert I’ll take,

“When all this is accomplish’d for Zulema’s sake.”                                                     

 

He has thrown by his helmet and cross-handled sword,

Renouncing his knighthood, denying his Lord;

He has ta’en the green caftan, and turban put on,                                                         55

For the love of the maiden of fair Libanon.                                                                     

 

And in the dread cavern, deep deep under ground,

Which fifty steel gates and steel portals surround,

He has watch’d until day break, but sight saw he none,

Save the flame burning bright on its altar of stone.                                                       60

 

Amazed was the princess, the Soldan amazed,

Sore murmur‘d the priests as on Albert they gazed;

They search’d all his garments, and under his weeds,

They found, and took from him, his rosary beads.

 

Again in the cavern, deep deep under ground,                                                              65

He watch’d the lone night, while the winds whistled round;

Far off was their murmur, it came not more nigh,

 The flame burn’d unmoved, and nought else did he spy.                                           

 

Lord murmur’d the priests, and amazed was the king,

While many dark spells of their witchcraft they sing;                                                   70

They search’d Albert’s body, and lo! on his breast

Was the sign of the Cross, by his father impress’d.                                                     

 

The priests they eraze it with care and with pain,

And the recreant return’d to the cavern again;

But as he descended a whisper there fell!—                                                                   75

--It was his good angel, who bade him farewell!—                                                       

 

High bristled his hair, his heart flutter’d and beat,

And he turn’d him five steps, half resolved to retreat;

But his heart it was harden’d, his purpose was gone,

When he thought of the maiden of fair Libanon.                                                           80

 

Scarce pass’d he the archway, the threshold scarce trod,

When the winds from the four points of heaven were abroad;

They made each steel portal to rattle and ring,

And, borne on the blast, came the dread Fire-King.                                                     

 

Full sore rock’d the cavern whene’er he drew nigh,                                                      85

The fire on the altar blazed blickering and high;

In volcanic explosions the mountains proclaim

The dreadful approach of the Monarch of Flame.                                                         

 

Unmeasured in height, undistinguish’d in form,

His breath it was lightning, his voice it was a storm,                                                     90

I ween the stout heart of Count Albert was tame,

When he saw in his terrors the Monarch of Flame.                                                      

 

In his hand a broad faulchion blue-glimmer’d through smoke,

And Mount Libanon shook as the Monarch he spoke;--

--“With this brand shalt thou conquer, thus long, and no more,                                 95

“Till thou bend to the Cross, and the Virgin adore.”--                                  

 

The cloud-shrouded arm gives the weapon – and see!

The recreant receives the charm’s gift on his knee.

The thunders growl distant, and faint gleam the fires

As, born on his whirlwind, the phantom retires.                                                             100

 

Count Albert has arm’d him the Paynim[vii] among,

Though his heart it was false, yet his arm it was strong;

And the Red-cross wax’d faint, and the Crescent came on,

From the day he commanded on Mount Libanon.                                                        

 

From Libanon’s forests to Gallilee’s wave,                                                                      105

The sands of Samaar drank the blood of the brave,

Till the Knights of the Temple[viii], and the Knights of Saint John,[ix]

With Salem’s King Baldwin[x], against him came on.                                                      

 

The war-cymbals clatter’d, the trumpets replied,

The lances[xi] were couch’d, and they closed on each side;                                           110

And horsemen and horses Count Albert o’erthrew,

Till he pierced the thick tumult King Baldwin unto.                                                      

 

Against the charm’d blade which Count Albert did wield,

The fence had been vain of the King’s Red-cross shield;

But a page thrust him forward the monarch before,                                                       115

And cleft the proud turban the renegade wore.                                                             

 

So fell was the dint, that Count Albert stoop’d low

Before the cross’d shield, to his steel saddle-bow;

And scarce had he bent to the Red-cross his head—

-- “Bonne grace, notre Dame,”—he unwittingly said.                                  120

 

Sore sigh’d the charm’s sword, for its virtue was o’er,

It sprung from his grasp, and was never seen more;

But true men have said, that the lightning’s red wing

Did waft back the brand to the dread Fire-King.                                                            

 

He clench’d his set teeth, and his gauntletted hand,                                                     125

He stretch’d with one buffet that page on the strand;

As back from the strippling the broken casque roll’d,

You might see the blue eyes, and the ringlets of gold!                                

 

Short time had Count Albert in horror to stare

On those death-swimming eye-balls and blood-clotted hair,                                       130

For down came the Templars, like Cedron in flood,

And dyed their long lances in Saracen[xii]in blood.                                                                         

 

The Saracens, Curdmans, and Ishmaelites[xiii] yield

To the scallop, the saltier, and crosletted shield,

And the eagles were gorged with the infidel dead                                                         135

From Bethsaida’s[xiv] fountains to Naphthali’s head.      

 

The battle is over on Bethsaida’s plain—

Oh! who is yon Paynim lies stretch’d mid the slain?

And who is yon page lying cold at his knee?

Oh! who but Count Albert and fair Rosalie.                                                                    140

 

The lady was buried in Salem’s bless’d bound,

The Count left to the vulture and hound;

Her soul to high mercy our lady did bring,

His went on the blast to the dread Fire-King.                                                                

 

Yet many a minstrel in harping can tell                                                                             145

How the Red-cross it conquer’d, the Crescent it fell;

And lords and gay ladies have sigh’d, mid their glee,

At the Tale of Count Albert and fair Rosalie.  

 
 
 
 
 






 
 
 
 
 
 
 

THE CLOUD-KING.

 “ADJECTIVES HAVE BUT THREE DEGREES OF COMPARISON,

THE POSITIVE, COMPARATIVE, AND SUPERLATIVE.”

                                                                                                English Grammar. 

ORIGINAL -------------- M.G. LEWIS.

 

Why how now, Sir Pilgrim? why shake you with dread?

Why brave you the winds of night, cutting and cold?

Full warm was you chamber, full soft was your bed,

And scarce by the castle-bell twelve has been toll’d.

 

--- “Oh! hear you not, Warder, with anxious dismay,

“How rages the tempest, how patters the rain?

“While loud howls the whirlwind, and threatens, ere day,

                “To strow these old turrets in heaps on the plain!” ---

 

Now calm thee, Sir Pligrim!  thy fears to remove,

Know, yearly, this morning is destin’d to bring

Such storms, which declare that resentment and love

Still gnaw the proud heart of the cruel Cloud-King.

 

One morning, as borne on the wings of the blast,

The fiend over Denmark directed his flight,

A glance upon Rosenhall’s turrets he cast,

And gazed on its lady with wanton delight:

 

Yet proud was her eye, and her cheek flush’d with rage,

Her lips with disdain and reproaches were fraught;

And lo!  at her feet knelt a lovely young page,

And thus in soft accents compassion besought.

 

--- “Oh drive not, dear beauty, a wretch to despair,

“Whose fault is so venial, a fault if it be;

“For who could have eyes, and not see thou art fair?

“Or who have an heart, and not give it to thee?

 

 

 

 

“I own I adore you!  I own you have been

“Long the dream of my night, long the thought of my day;

“But no hope had my heart that its idolized queen

“Would ever with passion my passion repay.

 

“When insects delight in the blaze of the sun,

“They harbour no wish in his glory to share:

“When kneels at the cross of her Savior, the nun,

“He scorns not the praises she breathes in her prayer.

 

“When the pilgrim repairs to St. Hermegild’s shrine,

“And claims of her relics a kiss as his fee,

“His passion is humble, is pure, is divine,

“And such is the passion I cherish for thee!” ---

 

--- “Rash youth!  how presumest thou with insolent love,”

Thus answered the lady, “her ears to profane,

“Whom the monarchs of Norway and Jutland, to move

“Their passion to pity attempted in vain?

 

“Fly, fly from my sight, to some far distant land!

“That wretch must not breathe, where Romilda resides,

“Whose lips, while she slept, stole a kiss from that hand,

“No mortal is worthy to press as a bride’s.

 

“Nor e’er will I wed till some prince of the air,

“His heart at the throne of my beauty shall lay,

“And the two first commands which I give him, shall swear,

“ (Though hard should the task be enjoin’d) to obey.” ---

 

She said.---Straight the castle of Rosenhall rocks

With an earthquake, and thunders announce the Cloud-King.

A crown of red lightnings confined his fair locks,

And high o’er each arm waved an huge sable wing.

 

His sandals were meteors; his blue eye reveal’d 

The firmament’s luster, and light scatter’d round;

While his robe, a bright tissue, of rain-drops congeal’d,

Reflected the lightnings his temples that bound.

 

---“Romilda!” he thundered, “thy charms and thy pride

 “Have drawn down a spirit; thy fears now dismiss,

“For no mortal shall call thee, proud beauty, his bride;

“The Cloud-Monarch comes to demand thee for his.

 

 

“My eyes furnish lightnings, my wings cloud the air,

 “My hand guides the thunder, my breath wakes the storm;

“And the two first commands which you give me, I swear,

“ (Though hard should the task be enjoin’d) to perform.”---

 

He said, and he seized her; then urging his flight,

Swift bore her away, while she struggled in vain;

Yet long in her ears rang the shrieks of affright,

Which pour’d for her danger the page Amorayn.

 

At the Palace of Clouds soon Romilda arrived,

When the Fiend, with a smile which her terrors increased,

Exclaim’d --- “I must warn my three brothers I’m wived,

“And bid them prepare for my wedding the feast.” ---

 

Than lightning then swifter thrice round did he turn,

Thrice bitterly cursed he the parent of good,

And next in a chafing-dish hasten’d to burn

Three locks of his hair, and three drops of his blood:

 

And quickly Romilda, with anxious affright,

Hears the tramp of a steed, and beheld at the gate

A youth in white arms --- ‘twas the false Water-Spright,

And behind him his mother, the sorceress, sate.

 

The youth he was comely, and fair to behold,

The hag was the foulest eye ever survey’d;

Each placed on the table a goblet of gold,

While thus to Romilda the Water-King said.---

 

--- “Hail, Queen of the Clouds!  lo!  we bring thee for drink

“The blood of a damsel, both lovely and rich,

“Whom I tempted, and left ‘midst the billows to sink,

“Where she died by the hands of my mother, the witch.

 

“But see’st thou yon chariot, which speeds from afar?

“The Erl-King with his daughter it brings, while a throng

“Of wood-fiends and succcubi sports round the car,

“And goads on the night-mares that whirl it along.”---

 

The maid, while her eyes tears of agony pour’d,

Beheld the Erl-King and his daughter draw near:

A charger of silver each placed on the board,

While the fiend of the forests thus greeted her ear.

 

 

---“With the heart of a warrior, Cloud Queen, for they food,

“The head of a child on thy table we place:

“She spell-struck the knight as he stry’d through the wood;

“I strangled the child in his father’s embrace.” ---

 

The roof now divided. --- By fogs half conceal’d,

Suck’d from marshes, infecting the air as he came,

And blasting the verdure of forest and field,

On a dragon descended the Giant of Flame.

 

Fire seem’d from his eyes and his nostrils to pour;

His breath was a volume of sulphurous smoke;

He brandish’d a sabre still dropping with gore,

And his voice shook te palace when silence he broke.

 

--- “Feast, Queen of the Clouds!  the repast do not scorn;

“Feast, Queen of the Clouds!  I perceive thou hast food!

“To-morrow I feast in my turn, for at morn

“Shall I feed on thy flesh, shall I drink of thy blood!

 

“Lo!  I bring for a present this magical brand,

“The bowels of Christians have dyed it with red;

“This once flamed in Albert the renegade’s hand,

“And is destined to-morrow to strike off thy head.” ---

 

Then paler than marble Romilda she grew,

While tears of regret blamed her folly and pride,

--- “Oh!  tell me, Cloud-King, if the giant said true,

“And wilt thou not save from his sabre thy bride?” ---

 

--- “ ‘Tis in vain, my fair lady, those hands that you wring,

“The bond is completed, the dye it is cast;

“For she who at night weds an element-king,

“Next morning must serve for his brother’s repast.” ---

 

--- “Yet save me, Cloud-King!  by that love you profess’d

“Bear me back to the place whence you tore me away.” ---

--- “Fair lady!  yon fiends, should I grant your request,

“Instead of to-morrow, would eat you to day.” ---

 

--- “Yet mark me, Cloud-King!  spread in vain is your snare,

“For my bond must be void, and excap’d is your prey,

“The two first commands which I give you, howe’er

“The task should be wondrous, unless you obey,” ---

 

--- “Well say’st thou, Romilda; thy will, then, impart,

“But hope not to vanquish the King of the Storm,

“Or baffle his skill by invention or art;

“Thou can’st not command what I cannot perform?” ---

 

Then clasping her hands, to the Virgin she pray’d,

While in surses the wicked ones vented their rage.

--- “Now show me the truest of lovers!” --- she said,

And lo!  by her side stood the lovely young Page.

 

His mind was all wonder, her heart all alarms;

She sank on his breast as he sank at her knee.

--- “The truest of lovers I fold in my arms,

“Than the truest, now show me a truer!” --- said she.

 

Then loud yell’d the daemons!  the cloud-fashion’d halls

Dissolved, thunder bellow’d, and heavy rains beat;

Again stood the Fair midst her own castle walls,

And still knelt the lovely young page at her feet.

 

And soon for her own, and for Rosenhall’s lord,

Did Romilda the truest of lovers declare,

Nor e’er on his bosom one sigh could afford,

That for him she had quitted the Monarch of Air.

 

Full long younder chapel has shelter’d their urns,

Long ceased has the tear on their ashes to fall;

Yet still, when October the twentieth returns,

Roars the fiend round these turrets, and shakes Rosenhall.

 

Oh!  Pilgrim, thy fears let these annals remove,

For day to the skies will tranquility bring;

This storm but declares that resentment and love

Still gnaw the proud heart of the cruel Cloud-King.*

 

                *Lest my readers should mistake the drift of the foregoing talk, and suppose its moral to rest upon the danger in which Romilda was involved by her insolence and presumption, I think it necessary to explain, that my object in writing this story, was to show young ladies that it might possibly, now and then, be of use to understand a little grammar; and it must be clear to every one, that my heroine would infallibly have been devoured by the daemons, if she had not luckily understood the difference between the comparative and superlative degrees.

GAY GOLD RING

 

“ There is a thing, there is a thing.

“Which I fain would have from thee!

“I fain would have thy gay gold ring;

“O! warrior, give it me?”                                                        4

 

He lifts his head;

Lo! Near his bed

Stands a maid as fair as day;

Cold is the night,

Yet her garment is light,

For her shift is her only array.                                              10

 

“Come you from east,

“Or come you from west,

“Or dost from the Saracens flee?

“Cold is the night,

“And your garment is light,

“Come, sweetheart and warm you by me!”                            16

 

“My garment is light,

“And cold is the night,

“And I would that my limbs were as cold:

“Groan I must ever,

“Sleep I can never,

“Knight, till you give me your gay ring of gold!                     22

 

“For that is a thing, a thing, a thing,

“Which I fain would have from thee!

“I fain I would have thy gay gold ring;

“O! warrior, give it me?”                                                         24

 

“That ring Lord Brooke

“From his daughter took;

“He gave it to me, and he swore,

“That fair la-dye

“My bride should be,

“When this crusade were o’er.                                                28

 

“Ne’er did mine eyes that lady view,

“Bright Emmeline by name:

“But if fame say true,

“Search Britain through,

“You’ll find no fairer dame.                                                   33

“But though she be fair,

“She cannot compare,

“I wot, sweet lass, with thee;

“Then pass by my side

“Three nights as my bride,

“And thy guerdon the ring shall be!”                                     39

 

In silence the maid

The knight obey’d;

Low on his pillow her head she laid:

But soon as by hers his hand was press’d

Changed to ice was the heart in his breast;

And his limbs were fetter’d in frozen chains,

And turn’d to snow was the blood in his veins.                    46

 

The cock now crows!

The damsel goes

Forth from the tent; and the blood which she froze,

Again through the veins of Lord Elmerick flows,

And again his heart with passion glows.                                51

 

Donned the knight

His armour bright;

Full wroth was he, I trow!

“Beshrew me!” he said,

“If thus, fair maid,

“From my tent to-morrow you go!”                                      57

 

Gone was the light!

Come was night!

The sand-glass told, ‘twas three;

And again stood there

The stranger fair,

And murmur again did she.                                                    63

 

“There is a thing, there is a thing,

“Which I fain would have from thee!

“I fain I would have thy gay gold ring;

“O! warrior, give it me!”                                                        67

 

“One night by my side

“Hast thou pass’d as my bride;

“Two yet remain behind:

“Three must be pass’d

“Ere thy finger fast

“The gay gold ring shall bind.”                                             73

 

Again the maid

The knight obey’d;

Again on his pillow her head was laid;

And again, when by hers his hand was press’d,

Changed to ice was the heart in his breast:

And his limbs were fetter’d in frozen chains,

And turn’d to snow was the blood in his veins!               80

 

Three days were gone, two nights were spent;

Still came the maid when the glass told “three;”

How she came, or whither she went,

None could say, and none could see;

But the warrior heard,

When night the third

Was gone, thus claim’d his plighted word.                        87

 

“Once!-twice!-thrice by your side

“Have I lain as your bride;

“Sir Knight! Sir Knight, beware you!

“Your ring I crave!

“Your ring I’ll have,

“Or limb from limb I’ll tear you!”                                     93

 

She drew from his hand the ring so gay;

No limb could he move, and no word could he say.

“See, Arthur, I bring

“To my grave, thy ring,”

Murmur’d the maiden, and hied her away.                        98

 

Then sprang so light

From his couch the knight;

With shame his cheek was red:

And, filled with rage,

His little foot page

He call’d from beneath the bed.                                       104

 

“Come hither, come hither,

“My lad so lither;

“While under my bed you lay,

“What did you see,

“And what maiden was she,

“Who left me at breaking of day?”                                    110

 

“Oh! Master, I

“No maid could spy,

“As I’ve a soul to save;

“But when the cock crew,

“The lamp burn’d blue,

“And the tent smell’d like a grave!                                  116

 

“And I heard a voice in anguish moan,

“And a bell seem’d four to tell;

:And the vloice was like a dying groan,

“And the bell like a passing bell!”                                         120

 

Lord Brooke look’d up, Lord Brooke look’d down,

Lord Brooke look’d over the plain;

He was come riding tow’rds the town,

Of knights a jolly train :                                                            124                                    

 

“It is the king of Scottish land,

“Or the prince of some far coun-tyre,

“That hither lead yon goodly band

“To feast awhile with me?”                                                                     128

 

“Oh! It’s not the prince of some far coun-tyre,

 “Nor the king of Scottish land:

“It’s Elmerick come from beyond the sea,

“To claim Lady Emmeline’s hand.”                                        132

 

Then down Lord Brooke’s grey beard was seen

A stream of tears to pour;

“Oh! Death my daughter’s spouse has been

“These seven long years and more!                                      136

 

“Remorseful guilt and self-despite

“Destroy’d that beauteous flower,

“For that her falsehood kill’d a knight;

“Twas Arthur of the Bower.                                                                    140

 

“Sir Arthur gave her his heart to have,

“And he gave her his troth to hold;

“And he gave her his ring, so fair and brave,

“Was all of the good red gold:                                               144

 

“And she gave him her word, that only he

“Should kiss her as a bride;

“And she gave him her oath, that ring should be

“On her hand the day she died.                                              148

 

“But when she heard of Lord Elmerick’s fame,

“His wealth, and princely state;

“And when she heard, that Lord Elmerick’s name

“Was praised by low and great,                                             152

 

“Did vanity full lightly bring,

“My child to break her oath,

“And to you she sent Sir Arthur’s ring,

“And to him sent back his troth.                                            156

 

“Oh! When he heard,

“That her plighted word

“His false love meant to break,

“The youth grew sad,

“And the youth grew mad,

“And his sward he sprang to take:                                       162

 

“He set the point against his side,

“The hilt against the floor;

“I wot, he made a wound so wide,

“He never a word spake more.                                                166

 

“And now, too late, my child began

“Remorseful tears to shed;

“Her heart grew faint, her cheek grew wan,

“And she sicken’d, and took to her bed.                              170

 

“The Leech then said,

“And shook his head,

“She ne’er could health recover;

“Yet long in pain

“Did the wretch remain,

“Sorrowing for her lover.                                                        174

 

“And sure ‘twas a piteous sight to see,

“How she prayed to die, but it might not be;

“And when the morning bell told three,

“Still in hollow voice cried she,                                             178

 

“There is a thing, there is a thing,

“Which I fain would have from thee!

“I fain would have thy gay gold ring;

“Oh! warrior, give it me!”                                                         182

 

Now who than ice was colder then,

And who more pale than snow?

And who was the saddest of all sad men?

Lord Elmerick, I trow!                                                               186

 

“Oh! lead me, lead me to the place,

“Where Emmeline’s tomb doth stand,

“For I must look on that lady’s face,

“And touch that lady’s hand!”                                              190

 

Then all who heard him, stood aghast,

But not a word was said,

While through the chapel’s yard they pass’d,

And up the chancel sped.                                                       194

 

They burst the tomb, so fair and sheen,

Where Emmenline’s corse inclosed had been;

And lo! On the skeleton’s finger so lean,

Lord Elmerick’s gay gold ring was seen!                              198

 

Damsels! Damsels! Mark aright

The doleful tale I sing!

Keep your vows, and heed your plight,

And go to no warrior’s tent by night,

To ask for a gay gold ring.                                                

 

 

THE GRIM WHITE WOMAN

 

Lord Ronald was handsome, Lord Ronald was young;

The green wood he traversed, and gaily he sung;

His bosom was light, and he spurr'd on amain,

When lo! a fair lass caught his steed by the rein.

 

She caught by the rein, and she sank on her knee;

--"Now stay thee, Lord Ronald, and listen to me!"--

She sank on her knee, and her tears 'gan to flow,

--"Now stay thee, Lord Ronald, and pity my woe!"--

 

--"Nay, Janet, fair Janet, I needs must away;

"I speed to my mother, who chides my delay."--

--"Oh! heed not her chiding; thought bitter it be,

"Thy falsehood and scorn are more bitter to me."--

 

--"Nay, Janet, fair Janet, I needs must depart;

"My bother stays for me to hunt the wild hart."--

--"Oh! let the hart live, and they purpose forego,

"To sooth with compassion and kindness my woe."--

 

--"Nay, Janet, fair Janet, delay me no more;

"You please me no longer, my passion is o'er:

"A leman more lovely waits down in yon dell,

"So, Janet, fair Janet, for ever farewell!"--

 

No longer the damsel's entreaties he heard;

His dapple-grey horse through the forest he spurr'd;

And ever, as onwards the foaming steed flew,

Did Janet with curses the false one pursue.

 

--"Oh! cursed be the day," in distraction she cries,

"When first did they features look fair in my eyes!

"And cursed the false lips, which beguiled me of fame;

"And cursed the hard heart, which resigns me to shame!

 

"The wanton, whom now you forsake me to please--

"May her kisses be poison, her touch be disease!

"When you wed, may your couch be a stranger to joy,

"And the Fiend of the Forest your offspring destroy!

 

"May the Grim White Woman, who haunts this wood,

"The Grim White Woman, who feasts on blood,

"As soon as they number twelve months and a day,

"Tear the hearts of your babes from their bosoms away."—

 

Then frantic with love and remorse home she sped,

Lock'd the door of her chamber, and sank on her bed;

Nor yet with complaints and with tears had she done,

When the clock in St. Christopher's church struck --"one!"--

 

Her blood, why she knew not, ran cold at the sound;

She lifted her head; she gazed fearfully round!

When, lo! near the hearth, by a cauldron's blue light,

She saw the tall form of a female in white.

 

Her eye, fix'd and glassy, no passions express'd;

No blood fill'd her veins, and no heart warm'd her breast!

She seem'd like a corse newly torn from the tomb,

And her breath spread the chillness of death through the room.

 

Her arms, and her feet, and her bosom were bare;

A shroud wrapp'd her limbs, and a snake bound her hair,

This spectre, the Grim White Woman was she,

And the Grim White Woman was fearful to see!

 

And ever, the cauldron as over she bent,

She mutter'd strange words of mysterious intent:

A toad, still alive, in the liquor she threw,

And loud shriek'd the toad, as in pieces it flew!

 

To heighten the charm, in the flames next she flung

A viper, a rat, and a mad tiger's tongue;

The heart of a wretch, on the rack newly dead,

And an eye, she had torn from a parricide's head.

 

The flames now divided; the charm was complete;

Her spells the White Spectre forbore to repeat;

To Janet their produce she hasten'd to bring,

And placed on her finger a little jet ring!

 

--"From the Grim White Woman," she murmur'd, "recieve

"A gift, which your treasure, now lost, will retrieve.

"Remember, 'twas she who relieved your despair,

"And when you next see her, remember your prayer!"--

 

This said, the Fiend vanish'd! no longer around

Pour'd the cauldron its beams; all was darness profound;

Till the gay beams of morning illumined the skies,

And gay as the morning did Ronald arise.

 

With hawks and with hounds to the forest rode he:

--"Trallira! trallara! from Janet I'm free!

"Trallira! trallara! my old love, adieu!

"Trallira! trallara! I'll get me a new!"--

 

But while he thus caroll'd in bachelor's pride,

A damsel appear'd by the rivulet's side:

He rein'd in his courser, and soon was aware,

That never was damsel more comely and fair.

 

He felt at her sight, what no words can impart;

She gave him a look, and he proffer'd his heart:

Her air, while she listen'd, was modest and bland:

She gave him a smile, and her proffer'd his hand.

 

Lord Ronald was handsome, Lord Ronald was young,

And soon on his bosom sweet Ellinor hung;

And soon to St. Christopher's chapel they ride,

And soon does Lord Ronald call Ellen his bride.

 

Days, weeks, and months fly. --"Ding -a -ding! ding-a-ding!"--

Hark! hark! in the air how the castle-bells ring!

--"And why do the castle-bells ring in the air?"--

Sweet Ellen hath borne to Lord Ronald an heir.

 

Days, weeks, and months fly. -- "Ding-a-ding! ding-a-ding!"--

Again, hark! how gaily the castle-bells ring?

--"Why again do the castle bells carol so gay?"--

A daughter is born to Lord Ronald to-day.

 

But see'st thou yon herald so swift hither bend?

Lord Ronald is summon'd his king to defend:

And see'st thou the tears of sweet Ellinor flow?

Lord Ronald has left to combat the foe.

 

Where slumber her babies, her steps are address'd;

She presses in anguish her son to her breast;

Nor ceases she Annabell's cradle to rock,

Till -- "one!" -- is proclaim'd by the loud castle-clock.

 

Her blood, why she knows not, runs cold at the sound!

She raises her head; she looks fearfully round;

And lo! near the hearth, by a cauldron's blue light,

She sees the tall form of a female in white!

 

The female with horror sweet Ellen beholds:

Still closer her son to her bosom she folds;

And cold tears of terror bedew her pale cheeks,

While, nearer approaching, the Spectre thus speaks.--

 

--"The Grim White Woman, who haunts yon wood,

"The Grim White Woman, who feasts on blood,

"Since now he has number'd twelve months and a day,

"Claims the heart of your son, and is come for her prey."--

 

--"Oh! Grim White Woman, my baby now spare!

"I'll give you these diamonds, so precious and fair!"--

--"Though fair be those diamonds, though precious they be,

"The blood of they babe is more precious to me!"--

 

--"Oh! Grim White Woman, now let my child live!

"This cross of red rubies in guerdon I'll give!"--

--"Though red be the flames from those rubies which dart,

"More red is the blood of they little child's heart."--

 

To soften the demon no pleading prevails;

The baby she wounds with her long crooked nails:

She tears from his bosom the heart as her prey!

--"'Tis mine!" --shriek'd the Spectre, and vanish'd away.

 

The foe is defeated, and ended the strife,

And Ronald speeds home to his children and wife.

Alas! on his castle a black banner flies,

And tears trickle fast from his fair lady's eyes.

 

--"Say, why on my castle a black banner flies,

"And why trickle tears from my fair lady's eyes?"--

--"In your absence the Grim White Woman was here,

"And dead is your son, whom you valued so dear."--

 

Deep sorrow'd Lord Ronald; but soon for his grief,

He found in the arms of sweet Ellen relief:

Her kisses could peace to his bosom restore,

And the more he beheld her, he loved her the more;

 

Till it chanced, that once night, when the tempest was loud,

And strong gusts of win rock'd the turrets so proud,

As Ronald lay sleeping he heard a voice cry,

--"Dear father, arise, or your daughter must die!"--

 

 

He woke, gazed around, look'd below, look'd above;

--"Why trembles my Ronald? what ails thee, my love?"--

--"I dreamt, through the skies that I saw a hawk dart,

"Pounce a little white pigeon, and tear out its heart."--

 

--"Oh hush thee, my husband; thy vision was vain."--

Lord Ronald resign'd him to slumber again:

But soon the same voice, which had rouzed him before,

Cried -- "Father, arise, or your daugher's no more!"--

 

He woke, gazed around, look'd below, look'd above;

--"What fears now, my Ronald? what ails thee, my love?"--

--" I dreamt that a tigress, with jaws open'd wide,

"Had fasten'd her fangs in a little lamb's side!"--

 

--"Oh! hush thee, my husband; no tigress is here."--

Again Ronald slept, and again in his ear

Soft murmur'd the voice, -- "Oh! be warn'd by your son;

"Dear father, arise, for it soon will strike--"one!"--

 

"Your wife, for a spell your affections to hold,

"To the Grim White Woman her children hath sold;l

"E'en now is the Fiend at your babe's chamber door;

"Then father, arise, or your daughter's no more!"--

 

From his couch starts Lord Ronald, in doubt and dismay,

He seeks for his wife--but his wife is away!

He gazes around, looks below, looks above;

Lo! there sits on his pillow a little white dove!

 

A mild lambent flame in its eyes seem'd to glow;

More pure was its plumage than still-falling snow,

Except where a scare could be seen on its side,

And three small drops of blood the white feathers had dyed.

 

--"Explain, pretty pigeon, what art thou, explain?"--

--"The soul of they son, by the White Demon slain;

"E'en now is the Fiend at your babe's chamber door,

"And thrice having warn'd you, I warn you no more!"--

 

The pigeon then vanish'd; and seizing his sword,

The way to his daughter Lord Ronald explored;

Distracted he sped to her chamber full fast,

And the clock it struck--"one!"--as the threshold he past.

 

And straight near the hearth, by a cauldron's blue light,

He saw the tall form of a female in white;

Ellen wept, to her heart while her baby she press'd,

Whom the spectre approaching, thus fiercely address'd.

 

 --"The Grim White Woman, who haunts yon wood,

"The Grim White Woman, who feasts on blood,

"Since now she has number'd twelve months and a day,

"Claims the heart of your daughter, and comes for her prey!"--

 

This said, she her nails in the child would have fix'd;

Sore struggled the mother; when, rushing betwixt,

Ronald struck at the Fiend with his ready-drawn brand,

And, glancing aside, his blow lopp'd his wife's hand!

 

Wild laughing, the Fiend caught the hand from the floor,

Releasing the babe, kiss'd the wound, drank the gore;

A little jet ring from the finger then drew,

Thrice shriek'd a loud shriek, and was borne from their view!

 

Lord Ronald, while horror still bristled his hair,

To Ellen now turn'd;--but no Ellen was there!

And lo! in her place, his surprise to complete,

Lay Janet, all cover'd with blood, at his feet!

 

--"Yes, traitor, 'tis Janet!"--she cried;--"at my sight

"No more will your heart swell with love and delight;

"That little jet ring was the cause of your flame,

"And that little jet ring from the Forest-Fiend came.

 

"It endow'd me with beauty, your heart to regain;

"It fix'd your affections, so wavering and vain;

"But the spell is dissolved, and your eyes speak my fate,

"My falsehood is clear, and as clear is your hate.

 

"But what cause my falsehood?--your falsehood alone;

"What voice said--'be guilty?'--seducer, your own!

"You vow'd truth for ever, the oath I believed,

"And had you not deceived me, I had not deceived.

 

"Remember my joy, when affection you swore!

"Remember my pangs, when your passion was o'er!

"A curse, in my rage, on your children was thrown,

"And alas! wretched mother, that curse struck my own!"--

 

And here her strength fail'd her!--the sad one to save

In vain the Leech labour'd; three days did she rave;

Death came on the fourth, and restored her to peace,

Nor long did Lord Ronald survive her decease.

 

Despair fills his heart! he no longer can bear

His castle, for Ellen no longer is there:

From Scotland he hastens, all comfort disdains,

And soon his bones whiten on Palestine's plains.

 

If you bid me, fair damsels, my moral rehearse,

It is, that young ladies ought never to curse;

For no one will think her well-bred, or polite,

Who devotes little babes to Grim Women in White.

 

 

THE BLEEDING NUN

 

Where yon proud turrets crown the rock,

Seest thou a warrior stand?

He sighs to hear the castle clock

Say midnight is at hand.

 

It strikes, and now his lady fair

Comes tripping from her hall,

Her heart is rent by deep despair,

And tears in torrents fall.

 

“Ah! woe is me,” my love, she cried,

“What anguish wrings my heart:

“Ah! woe is me,” she said, and sigh’d,

“We must for ever part.

 

“Know, ere three days are past and flown,

“ (Tears choak the piteous tale!)

“A parents vow, till now unknown,

“Devotes me to the veil.” ---

 

---“Not so, my Agnes!” Raymond cried,

“For leave thee will I never;

“Thou art mine, and I am thine,

“Body and soul for ever!

 

“Then quit thy cruel father’s bower,

“And fly, my love, with me.”

---“Ah! how can I escape his power,

“Or who can set me free.

 

“I cannot leap yon wall so high,

“Nor swim the fosse with thee;

“I can but wring my hands, and sigh

“That none can see me free.”---

“Now list, my lady, list, my love,

“I pray thee list to me,

“For I can all your fears remove,

“And I can set you free.

 

“Oft have you heard old Ellinore,

“Your nurse, with horror tell,

“How, robed in white, and stain’d with gore,

“Appears a spectre fell,

 

“And each fifth year, at dead of night,

“Stalks through the castle gate,

“Which, by an ancient solemn rite,

“For her must open wait.

 

“Soon as to some far distant land,

“Retires to-morrow’s sun,

“With torch and dagger in her hand,

“Appears the Bleeding Nun.

 

“Now you shall play the bleeding Nun,

“Array’d in robes so white,

“And at the solemn hour of one,

“Stalk forth to meet your knight.

 

“Our steeds shall bear us far away,

“Beyond your father’s power,

“And Agnes, long ere break of day,

“Shall rest in Raymond’s bower.”---

 

---“My heard consents, it must be done,

---“Father, ‘tis your decree,---

“And I will play the Bleeding Nun,

“And fly, my love, with thee.

 

“For I am thine,” fair Agnes cried,

“And leave thee will I never;

“I am thine, and thou art mine,

“Body and soul for ever!”---

 

Fair Agnes sat within her bower,

Array’d in robes so white,

And waited the long wish’d-for hour,

When she should meet her knight.

 

And Raymond, as the clock struck one,

Before the castle stood;

And soon came forth his lovely Nun,

Her white robes stain’d in blood.

 

He bore her in his arms away,

And placed her on her steed;

And to the maid he thus did say,

As on they rode with speed:

 

---“Oh Agnes! Agnes! thou art mine,

“And leave thee will I never;

“Thou art mine, and I am thine,

“Body and soul for ever!”---

 

---“Oh Raymond! Raymond, I am thine,

“And leave thee will I never;

“I am thine, and thou art mine,

“Body and soul for ever!”---

 

At length, --- “We’re safe!” --- the warrior cried;

“Sweet love abate thy speed;” ---

But madly still she onwards hied

Nor seem’d his call to heed.

 

Through wood and wild, they speed their way,

Then sweep along the plain,

And Almost at the break of day,

The Danube’s banks they gain.

 

---“Now stop ye, Raymond, stop ye here,

“And view the farther side;

“Dismount, and say Sir Knight, do’st fear,

“With me to stem the tide.”---

 

Now on the utmost brink they stand,

And gaze upon the flood,

She seized Don Raymond by the hand,

Her grasp it froze his blood.

 

A whirling blast from off the stream

Threw back the maiden’s veil;

Don Raymond gave a hideous scream,

And felt his spirits fail.

 

Then down his limbs, in strange affright,

Cold dews to pour begun;

No Agnes met his shudd’ring sight,

---“God! ‘Tis the Bleeding Nun!”---

 

A form of more than mortal size,

All ghastly, pale, and dead,

Fix’d on the Knight her livid eyes,

And thus the Spectre said.

 

---“Oh Raymond! Raymond! I am thine,

“And leave thee will I never;

“I am thine, and thou art mine,

“Body and soul for ever!”---

 

Don Raymond shrieks, he faints; the blood

Ran cold in every vein,

He sank into the roaring flood,

And never rose again!

 

 

 

 

 
 
 
 
 

 

 


[i] Name means Bright Nobility.

Albert of Aix led part of the Crusades, and after became known as a deserter because he went home before it was over. Leaders were sometimes called Counts and this could be a reference to him.

[ii] Name origin is from Rosalia meaning Rose and in the 12th century, there was a Saint names Rosalie.

[iii] Originally denoted someone who had made a pilgrimage to the Holy Land and returned. Normally brought back a palm leaf to prove they had made the journey.

 

[iv] Is the ancient city of Palestine , East of Jordan. Also a place of refuge in the Bible.

[v] Town North East of Palestine, is on the border of Judah and Israel.

[vi] Was the symbol worn by The Knights of Templar, sewn onto their robes.

[vii] Means Non-Christians, refers to Muslims, heathens, and pagan

[viii] Were a Monatistic military order formed at the end of the First Crusade to protect the Christian Pilgrims on route to the Holy Land.

[ix] A military and religious order of the Hospital of St. John of Jerusalem who rivaled the Knights of Templar, Also took part in the Crusades between the Muslims and Christians.

 

 

[x] Latin King of Jerusalem(1100-1118), took part in the First Crusade

 

[xi] A long sword like weapon, made of steel with a wooden handle used in the Crusades

[xii] Term used by medieval Europeans to designate the Arabs and by extension in Muslims in general

 

[xiii] Decedents from Abraham who were cast out of the family. Joseph was also sold to this group in the Bible for twenty shekels of silver. 

[xiv] Ancient Palestine town on the Northwest Shore of the Sea of Galilee. In the New Testament, it was also visited by Jesus in his ministries.