Now nought was heard beneath the skies (The sounds of busy life were still), Save an unhappy lady's sighs 66 That issued from that lonely pile. Leicester," she cried, "is this thy love That thou so oft hath sworn to me, To leave me in this lonely grove, Immured in shameful privity? "No more thou com'st, with lover's speed, Thy once beloved bride to see; But be she alive, or be she dead, I fear, stern Earl's the same to thee. "Not so the usage I received When happy in my father's hall ; No faithless husband then me grieved, No chilling fears did me appal. "I rose up with the cheerful morn, No lark so blithe, no flower more gay; And, like the bird that haunts the thorn, So merrily sung the live-long day. "If that my beauty is but small, Among court ladies all despised, Why didst thou rend it from that hall, "And when you first to me made suit, "Yes! now neglected and despised, The rose is pale, the lily 's dead; But he that once their charms so prized, Is sure the cause those charms are fled. "For know, when sickening grief doth prey, And tender love 's repaid with scorn, The sweetest beauty will decay: What floweret can endure the storm? "At court, I'm told, is beauty's throne, "Then, Earl, why didst thou leave the beds Where roses and where lilies vie, To seek a primrose, whose pale shades "Mong rural beauties I was one; Among the fields wild flowers are fair; Some country swain might me have won, And thought my passing beauty rare. "But, Leicester (or I much am wrong), It is not beauty lures thy vows; Rather ambition's gilded crown Makes thee forget thy humble spouse. "Then, Leicester, why, again I plead (The injured surely may repine), Why didst thou wed a country maid, 66 When some fair princess might be thine? Why didst thou praise my humble charms, And, oh! then leave them to decay? Why didst thou win me to thy arms, Then leave me to mourn the live-long day. "The village maidens of the plain Salute me lowly as they go: Envious they mark my silken train, Nor think a countess can have woe. "The simple nymphs! they little know "Nor, cruel Earl! can I enjoy The humble charms of solitude; Countess, prepare-thy end is near.' "My spirits flag, my hopes decay; Still that dread death-bell smites my ear; And many a body seems to say, 'Countess, prepare-thy end is near."" Thus sore and sad that lady grieved And ere the dawn of day appear'd, In Cumnor Hall so lone and drear, Full many a piercing scream was heard, And many a cry of mortal fear. The death-bell thrice was heard to ring, The mastiff howl'd at village door, Among the groves of Cumnor Hall. And pensive wept the Countess' fall, As wandering onwards they've espied The haunted towers of Cumnor Hall. |