XXVII

LENORA.

At break of day with frightful dreams,
Lenora struggled sore:

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My William, art thou slain," said she, "Or dost thou love no more?"

He went abroad with Richard's host,
The Paynim foes to quell;
But he no word to her had writ,
An he were sick or well.

With sound of trump, and beat of drum,
His fellow-soldiers come;

Their helms bedeckt with oaken boughs,
They seek their longed-for home.

And every road, and every lane,
Was full of old and young,

To gaze at the rejoicing band,

To hail with gladsome tongue.

“Thank God!" their wives and children said; "Welcome!"—the brides did say;

But greet or kiss Lenora gave

To none upon that day.

She asked of all the passing train,
For him she wished to see:
But none of all the passing train
Could tell if lived he.

And when the soldiers all were by
She tore her raven hair,
And cast herself upon the ground
In furious despair.

Her mother ran and lift her up,

And clasped her in her arm,

"My child, my child, what dost thou ail? God shield thy life from harm!"

"O mother, mother! William's gone!
What's all beside to me?
There is no mercy, sure, above,
All, all were spared but he."

And so despair did rave and rage
Athwart her boiling veins;
Against the providence of God

She hurled her impious strains.

She beat her breast, and wrung her hands, And rolled her tearless eye,

From rise of morn, till the pale stars

Again did freck the sky.

When hark! abroad she heard a tramp

Of nimble-hoofed steed;

She heard a knight with clank alight,
And climb the stair in speed.

And soon she heard a tinkling hand,
That twirled at the pin;

And through her door, that opened not,
These words were breathed in:

"What ho! what ho! thy door undo;
Art watching or asleep?

My love, dost yet remember me,
And dost thou laugh, or weep?

"Ah! William, here so late at night! Oh! I have watched and waked, Whence dost thou come? for thy return My heart has sorely ached."

"At midnight only we may ride;
I come o'er land and sea;
I mounted late, but soon I go,-
Arise, and come with me."

"O William, enter first my bower,
And give me one embrace:

The blasts athwart the hawthorn hiss,
Await a little space."-

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Though blasts athwart the hawthorn hiss

I

may not harbour here ;

My spur is sharp, my courser paws,

My hour of flight is near.

"All as thou liest upon thy couch,

Arise, and mount behind;

To-night we'll ride a thousand miles,

The bridal couch to find."

"How, ride to-night a thousand miles?

Thy love thou dost bemock,

Eleven is the stroke that still

Rings on within the clock."

"Look up, the moon is bright, and we Outstride the earthly men;

I'll take thee to the bridal couch,

And night shall end but then.".

"And where is, then, thy house and home, And bridal bed so meet?"

"'Tis narrow, silent, chilly, low;

Six planks, one milk-white sheet."

"And is there any room for me, Wherein that I may creep?"

"There's room enough for thee and me,

Wherein that we may sleep.

"All as thou liest upon thy couch,
Arise, no longer stop;

The wedding guests thy coming wait,
The chamber door is ope."-

All in her sark, as there she lay,
Upon his horse she sprung,
And with her lily hands so pale
About her William clung.

And hurry-skurry forth they go,

Unheeding wet or dry;

And horse and rider snort and blow,

And sparkling pebbles fly.

How swift the flood, the mead, the wood,

Aright, aleft are gone!

The bridges thunder as they pass,

But earthly sound is none.

Tramp, tramp, across the land they speed,

Splash, splash, across the sea: "Hurrah! the dead can ride apace;

Dost fear to ride with me?

"The moon is bright, and blue the night, Dost quake, the blast to stem?

Dost shudder, maid, to seek the dead?"but what of them?"

"No, no