And dismal trains arise From the unpeopled tombs. Spirits, I pray ye, let them sleep SONNET. TO DECEMBER. DARK-visaged visitor! who comest here [feet) (While glooms and chilling rains enwrap thy The solemn requiem of the dying year; Not undelightful to my list'ning ear [seat, Sound thy dull showers, as o'er my woodland Dismal, and drear, the leafless trees they beat: Not undelightful, in their wild career, Is the wild music of thy howling blasts, [Time Sweeping the groves' long aisle, while sullen Thy stormy mantle o'er his shoulder casts, And, rock'd upon his throne, with chant sublime, Joins the full-pealing dirge, and winter weaves Her dark sepulchral wreath of faded leaves. THE FAIR MAID OF CLIFTON. A NEW BALLAD IN THE OLD STYLE. THE night it was dark, and the winds were high, And mournfully waved the wood, As Bateman met his Margaret By Trent's majestic flood. He press'd the maiden to his breast, And his heart it was rack'd with fear, For he knew, that again, 't was a deadly chance If ever he press'd her there. "Oh! Margaret, wilt thou bear me true," He said, "while I am far away, For to-morrow I go to a foreign land, And the maid she vow'd she would bear him true, And thereto she plighted her troth; And she pray'd the fiend might fetch her away, When she forgot her oath. And the night-owl scream'd, as again she swore, And Bateman's heart within him sunk, And shortly he went with Clifton, his Lord, And Margaret she forgot her oath, And she gave to another her hand. Her husband was rich, but old, and crabb❜d, And wish'd that ere she broke her vow, And now return'd, her Bateman came And when he heard the dreadful news, But his stiffen'd corse, ere the morn, was seen And Margaret, all night, in her bed, She dreamed hideous dreams; And oft upon the moaning wind Were heard her frightful screams. [fate, And when she knew of her lover's death, But the Lord He is just, and the guilty alone His justice, she knew, would spare her awhile The hour approach'd, and she view'd it with fear And she tried to pray to Almighty God, To expiate her crime. And she begg'd her relations would come at the day, And she begg'd they would bar the windows so strong, And put a new lock to the door; And sprinkle with holy water the house, And over her chamber-floor. And they barr'd with iron the windows so strong, And they put a new lock on the door; And the parson he came, and he carefully strew'd With holy water the floor. And her kindred came to see the dame, And midnight came, and shortly the dame And then she did pray, that they would stay, And pass with her the night. And she begg'd they would sing the penitent hymn, For sadly I fear, the fiend will be here, And now without, a stormy rout, With howls, the guests did hear; And the parson he pray'd, for he was afraid And Marg❜ret pray'd the Almighty's aid, And every guest, his soul he bless'd, And the fair again, she pray'd of the men And they did sing, till the house did ring, But now their song, it died on their tongue, And Marg❜ret scream'd, and bid them not sleep, |