Now from the spectre's paley cheek
The flesh began to waste away ;
The vaulted doors were heard to creak,
And dark became the summer day!
The spectre's eyes were sunk, but he
Seem'd with their sockets still to see!
The second bell is heard to ring:
Four barefoot monks of orders grey,
Again their holy service sing;
And round the chapel altar pray :
The lady counted o'er and o'er,
And shudder'd while she counted-four!
"Oh! fathers, who was he, so gay,
That stood beside the chapel door?
Oh! tell me, fathers, tell me pray."
The monks replied, "We fathers four,
Lady, no other have we seen,
Since in this holy place we've been!"
Now the merry bugle horn
Through the forest sounded far;
When on the lofty tower, forlorn,
The lady watcht the evening star;
The evening star that seem'd to be
Rising from the darken'd sea!
The summer sea was dark and still,
The sky was streakt with lines of gold,
The mist rose grey above the hill,
And low the clouds of amber roll'd:
The lady on the lofty tower
Watcht the calm and silent hour.
And, while she watcht, she saw advance
A ship, with painted streamers gay;
She saw it on the green wave dance,
And plunge amid the silver spray;
While from the forest's haunts, forlorn,
Again she heard the bugle horn.
The sails were full; the breezes rose;
The billows curl'd along the shore;
And now the day began to close ;-
The bugle horn was heard no more,
But, rising from the watery way,
"Watch no more the evening star;
Watch no more the billowy sea;
Lady, from the holy war
Thy lover hastes to comfort thee:
Lady, lady, cease to mourn;
Soon thy lover will return.'
Now the little bark she view'd,
Moor'd beside the flinty steep;
And now upon the foamy flood,
The tranquil breezes seem'd to sleep.
The moon arose; her silver ray
Seem'd on the silent deep to play.
Now music stole across the main :
It was a sweet but mournful tone!
It came a slow and dulcet strain ;
It came from where the pale moon shone :
And, while it pass'd across the sea,
More soft, and soft, it seem'd to be.
Now on the deck the lady stands;
The vessel steers across the main ;
It steers towards the holy land,
Never to return again;
Still the sailors cry, "We'll be
Your pilots o'er the stormy sea."
Now she hears a low voice say,
"Deeper, deeper, deeper still;
Hark! the black'ning billows play;
Hark! the waves the vessel fill:
Lower, lower, down we go;
All is dark and still below."
Now a flash of vivid light
On the rolling deep was seen!
And now the lady saw the knight,
With doublet rich of gold and green :
From the sockets of his eyes,
And now his form transparent stood,
Smiling with a ghastly mien ;-
And now the calm and boundless flood
Was like the emerald, bright and green;
And now 'twas of a troubled hue,
While, "Deeper, deeper," sang the crew.
Slow advanced the morning light,
Slow they plough'd the wavy tide;
When, on a cliff of dreadful height,
A castle's lofty towers they spied:
The lady heard the sailor-band
Cry, "Lady, this is holy land.
"Watch no more the glittering spray;
Watch no more the weedy sand;
Watch no more the star of day;
Lady, this is holy land:
This castle's lord shall welcome thee;
Then, lady, lady, cheerful be."
Now the castle gates they pass;
Now across the spacious square,
Cover'd high with dewy grass,
Trembling steals the lady fair:
And now the castle's lord was seen,
Clad in a doublet gold and green.
He led her through the gothic hall,
With bones and skulls encircled round;
"Oh, let not this thy soul appal!"
He cried, "for this is holy ground."
He led her through the chambers lone,
'Mid many a shriek and many a groan.
Now to the banquet-room they came:
Around a table of black stone
She markt a faint and vapoury flame;
Upon the horrid feast it shone-
And there, to close the maddening sight,
Unnumber'd spectres met the light.
Their teeth were like the brilliant, bright;
Their eyes were blue as sapphire clear
Their bones were of a polisht white;
Gigantic did their ribs appear !-
And now the knight the lady led,
And placed her at the table's nead!——
Just now the lady woke :-for she
Had slept upon the lofty tower,
And dreams of dreadful phantasie
Had fill'd the lonely moon-light hour;
Her pillow was the turret-stone,
And on her breast the pale moon shone.
But now a real voice she hears:
It was her lover's voice ;-for he, To calm her bosom's rending fears, That night had cross'd the stormy sea: "I come," said he, "from Palestine, To prove myself, sweet lady, thine."
[This second part of Hardyknute' was first published in the work mentioned in the note on page 478, entitled, Scottish Tragic Ballads,' London, 1781. The editor professed, in his Dissertation on the Tragic Ballad,' prefixed to the work, to be ' indebted, for most of the stanzas recovered, to the memory of a lady in Lanarkshire.' He subsequently however admitted that they were his own composition. To Mr. Pinkerton, therefore, the reader is indebted for a continuation," which, unlike the generality of such productions, is little, if at all, inferior to the original fragment.]
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