Poetry of the Supernatural Part 2

=Joyce=, Patrick Weston. The Old Hermit's Story. (In Padric Gregory's Modern Anglo-Irish Verse.)

My curragh sailed on the western main, And I saw, as I viewed the sea, A withered old man upon a wave, And he fixed his eyes on me.

=Keats=, John. La Belle Dame sans Merci.

I saw pale kings, and princes too, Pale warriors, death-pale were they all; Who cry'd---"La belle dame sans merci Hath thee in thrall."

---- Lamia.

"A serpent!" echoed he; no sooner said, Than with a frightful scream she vanished: And Lycius' arms were empty of delight, As were his limbs of life, from that same night.

=Kingsley=, Charles. The Weird Lady.

The swevens came up round Harold the earl Like motes in the sunnes beam; And over him stood the Weird Lady In her charmed castle over the sea, Sang "Lie thou still and dream."

=Leconte de Lisle=, Charles. Les Elfes. (In The Oxford Book of French Verse.)

--Ne m'arrete pas, fantome odieux!

Je vais epouser ma belle aux doux yeux.

--O mon cher epoux, la tombe eternelle Sera notre lit de noce, dit-elle.

Je suis morte!--Et lui, la voyant ainsi, D'angoisse et d'amour tombe mort aussi.

=Lockhart=, Arthur John. The Waters of Carr. (In T. H. Rand's A Treasury of Canadian Verse.)

'Tis the Indian's babe, they say, Fairy stolen; changed a fay; And still I hear her calling, calling, calling, In the mossy woods of Carr!

=Longfellow=, Henry Wadsworth. The Ballad of Carmilhan.

For right ahead lay the Ship of the Dead The ghostly Carmilhan!

Her masts were stripped, her yards were bare, And on her bowsprit, poised in air, Sat the Klaboterman.

=Macdonald=, George. Janet. (In Linton and Stoddard's Ballads and Romances.)

The night was lown and the stars sat still A glintin' down the sky; And the souls crept out of their mouldy graves A' dank wi' lying by.

=McKay=, Charles. The Kelpie of Corrievreckan. (In Dugald Mitch.e.l.l's The Book of Highland Verse.)

And every year at Beltan E'en The Kelpie gallops across the green On a steed as fleet as the wintry wind, With Jessie's mournful ghost behind.

=Mackenzie=, Donald A. The Banshee. (In The Book of Highland Verse.)

The linen that would wrap the dead She beetled on a stone, She stood with dripping hands, blood-red, Low singing all alone-- "His linen robes are pure and white, For Fergus More must die tonight."

=Mallet=, David. William and Margaret. (In W. M. Dixon's The Edinburgh Book of Scottish Verse.)

The hungry worm my sister is, The winding sheet I wear.

And cold and weary lasts our night, Till that last morn appear.

=Moore=, Thomas. The Lake of the Dismal Swamp.

They made her a grave too cold and damp For a soul so warm and true; And she's gone to the Lake of the Dismal Swamp Where all night long, by a firefly lamp, She paddles her birch canoe.

=Morris=, William. The Tune of Seven Towers.

No one walks there now; Except in the white moonlight The white ghosts walk in a row, If one could see it, an awful sight.

"Listen!" said Fair Yolande of the flowers, "This is the tune of Seven Towers."

=osterling=, Anders. Meeting of Phantoms. (In Charles Wharton Stork's Anthology of Swedish Lyrics from 1750 to 1915.)

I in a vision Saw my lost sweetheart, Fearlessly toward me I saw her stray.

So pale! I thought then; She smiled her answer: "My heart, my spirit, I've kissed away."

=O'Sullivan=, Vincent. He Came on Holy Sat.u.r.day. (In Padric Gregory's Modern Anglo-Irish Verse.)

To-night on holy Sat.u.r.day The weary ghost came back, And laid his hand upon my brow, And whispered me, "Alack!

There sits no angel by the tomb, The Sepulchre is black."

=Poe=, Edgar Allan. The Conqueror Worm.

Through a circle that ever returneth in To the self-same spot, And much of Madness, and more of Sin, And Horror the soul of the plot.

---- Ulalume.

And we pa.s.sed to the end of a vista, But were stopped by the door of a tomb-- By the door of a legended tomb; And I said--"What is written, sweet sister, On the door of that legended tomb?"

She replied--"Ulalume--Ulalume-- 'Tis the vault of thy lost Ulalume."

=Rossetti=, Christina.

She never doubts but she always wonders. Again and again in imagination she crosses the bridge of death and explores the farther sh.o.r.e. Her ghosts come back with familiar forms, familiar sensations, and familiar words.--_Elisabeth Luther Cary._

---- A Chilly Night.

I looked and saw the ghosts Dotting plain and mound.