"Come back, come hack," he cried in grief, Across this stormy water: "And I'll forgive your Highland chief, "My daughter,-Oh my daughter!" 'Twas vain: the loud waves lash'd the shore, Return or aid preventing: The waters wild, went o'er his child- THE TURKISH LADY. 'TWAS the hour when rites unholy Call'd each Paynim voice to pray'r, And the star that faded slowly Left to dews the freshen'd air. Day her sultry fires had wasted, Calm and sweet the moon-light rose; E'en a captive's spirit tasted Half oblivion of his woes. Then 'twas from an Emir's palace Came an Eastern Lady bright: She, in spite of tyrants jealous, Saw and lov'd an English knight. "Tell me, captive, why in anguish "Foes have dragg'd thee here to dwell, "Where poor Christians, as they languish, "Hear no sound of sabbath bell ?" ""Twas on Transylvania's Bannat "When the crescent shone afar, "Like a pale disast'rous planet, "In that day of desolation, "Lady, I was captive made; Captive, could the brightest jewel, "Say, fair Princess, would it grieve thee, Now in heaven's blue expansion, "Fly we then, while none discover, Clasp'd his blooming Eastern bride. ALONZO THE BRAVE AND FAIR LEWIS. A WARRIOR so bold and a virgin so bright, They gaz'd on each other with tender delight; "And, oh !" said the youth," since to-morrow I go "To fight in a far distant land, "Your tears for my absence soon ceasing to flow, "Some other will court you, and you will bestow "On a wealthier suitor your hand! "Oh! hush these suspicions," fair Imogine said, "Offensive to love and to me: "For, if you be living, or if you be dead, "I swear by the Virgin, that none in your stead "Shall husband of Imogine be. "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, To Palestine hasten'd the hero so bold; But scarce had a twelvemonth elaps'd, when, behold! His treasures, his presents, his spacious domain, He dazzled her eyes, he bewilder'd her brain! And now had the marriage been blest by the priest; The tables they groan'd with the weight of the feast, Then first with amazement fair Imogine found His air was terrific; he utter'd no sound! He spake not, he mov'd not, he look'd not aroundBut earnestly gaz'd on the bride! His vizor was clos'd, and gigantic his height; His armour was sable to view : All pleasure and laughter were hush'd at his sight; The dogs, as they ey'd him, drew back in affright; The lights in the chamber burn'd blue! M His presence all bosoms appear'd to dismay; At length spake the Bride, while she trembled, “ I 66 pray, "Sir Knight, that your helmet aside you would lay, "And deign to partake of our cheer!" The lady is silent; the stranger complies; Oh, God! what a sight met Fair Imegine's eyes! All present then utter'd a terrify'd shout, The worms they crept in, and the worms they crept out, And sported his eyes and his temples about, "Behold me, thou false one, behold me!" he cry'd; "Remember Alonzo the Brave! "God grants, that, to punish thy falshood and pride, "My ghost at thy marriage should sit by thy side; "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, Then sunk with his prey thro' the wide-yawning ground! Nor ever again was fair Imogine found, Or the spectre that bore her away! Not long liv'd the baron; and none, since that time, For chronicles tell, that, by order sublime, At midnight, four times in each year, does her sprite, Array'd in her bridal apparel of white, While they drink out of skulls newly torn from the grave, Dancing round them the spectres are seen: Their liquor is blood, and this horrible stave They howl-"To the health of Alonzo the Brave, "And his consort, the Fair Imogine!" POOR MARY, THE MAID OF THE INN. SOUTHEY. WHO is she, the poor maniac, whose wildly-fix'd ey es Seem a heart overcharg'd to express?She weeps not, yet often and deeply she sighs; She never complains-but her silence implies The composure of settled distress. No aid, no compassion the maniac will seek ; Thro' the rags do the winds of the winter blow bleak Yet cheerful and happy (nor distant the day) The trav'ller remembers, who journey'd this way, As Mary, the maid of the inn. |