The Complete Poems of Sir Thomas Moore Part 33

He started up, and then returned, But found the phantom still; In vain he shrunk, it clipt him round, With damp and deadly chill!

And when he bent, the earthy lips A kiss of horror gave; 'Twas like the smell from charnel vaults, Or from the mouldering grave!

Ill-fated Rupert!--wild and loud Then cried he to his wife, "Oh! save me from this horrid fiend, "My Isabel! my life!"

But Isabel had nothing seen, She looked around in vain; And much she mourned the mad conceit That racked her Rupert's brain.

At length from this invisible These words to Rupert came: (Oh G.o.d! while he did hear the words What terrors shook his frame!)

"Husband, husband, I've the ring "Thou gavest to-day to me; "And thou'rt to me for ever wed, "As I am wed to thee!"

And all the night the demon lay Cold-chilling by his side, And strained him with such deadly grasp, He thought he should have died.

But when the dawn of day was near, The horrid phantom fled, And left the affrighted youth to weep By Isabel in bed.

And all that day a gloomy cloud Was seen on Rupert's brows; Fair Isabel was likewise sad, But strove to cheer her spouse.

And, as the day advanced, he thought Of coming night with fear: Alas, that he should dread to view The bed that should be dear!

At length the second night arrived, Again their couch they prest; Poor Rupert hoped that all was o'er, And looked for love and rest.

But oh! when midnight came, again The fiend was at his side, And, as it strained him in its grasp, With howl exulting cried:--

"Husband, husband, I've the ring, "The ring thou gavest to me; "And thou'rt to me for ever wed, "As I am wed to thee!",

In agony of wild despair, He started from the bed; And thus to his bewildered wife The trembling Rupert said;

"Oh Isabel! dost thou not see "A shape of horrors here, "That strains me to its deadly kiss, "And keeps me from my dear?"

"No, no, my love! my Rupert, I "No shape of horrors see; "And much I mourn the fantasy "That keeps my dear from me."

This night, just like the night before, In terrors past away.

Nor did the demon vanish thence Before the dawn of day.

Said Rupert then, "My Isabel, "Dear partner of my woe.

"To Father Austin's holy cave "This instant will I go."

Now Austin was a reverend man, Who acted wonders maint-- Whom all the country round believed A devil or a saint!

To Father Austin's holy cave Then Rupert straightway went; And told him all, and asked him how These horrors to prevent.

The father heard the youth, and then Retired awhile to pray: And, having prayed for half an hour Thus to the youth did say:

"There is a place where four roads meet, "Which I will tell to thee; "Be there this eve, at fall of night, "And list what thou shalt see.

"Thou'lt see a group of figures pa.s.s "In strange disordered crowd, "Travelling by torchlight through the roads, "With noises strange and loud.

"And one that's high above the rest, "Terrific towering o'er, "Will make thee know him at a glance, "So I need say no more.

"To him from me these tablets give, "They'll quick be understood; "Thou need'st not fear, but give them straight, "I've scrawled them with my blood!"

The night-fall came, and Rupert all In pale amazement went To where the cross-roads met, as he Was by the Father sent.

And lo! a group of figures came In strange disordered crowd.

Travelling by torchlight through the roads, With noises strange and loud.

And, as the gloomy train advanced, Rupert beheld from far A female form of wanton mien High seated on a car.

And Rupert, as he gazed upon The loosely-vested dame, Thought of the marble statue's look, For hers was just the same.

Behind her walked a hideous form, With eyeb.a.l.l.s flashing death; Whene'er he breathed, a sulphured smoke Came burning in his breath.

He seemed the first of all the crowd, Terrific towering o'er; "Yes, yes," said Rupert, "this is he, "And I need ask no more."

Then slow he went, and to this fiend The tablets trembling gave, Who looked and read them with a yell That would disturb the grave.

And when he saw the blood-scrawled name, His eyes with fury shine; "I thought," cries he, "his time was out, "But he must soon be mine!"

Then darting at the youth a look Which rent his soul with fear, He went unto the female fiend, And whispered in her ear.

The female fiend no sooner heard Than, with reluctant look, The very ring that Rupert lost, She from her finger took.

And, giving it unto the youth, With eyes that breathed of h.e.l.l, She said, in that tremendous voice, Which he remembered well:

"In Austin's name take back the ring, "The ring thou gavest to me; "And thou'rt to me no longer wed, "Nor longer I to thee."

He took the ring, the rabble past.

He home returned again; His wife was then the happiest fair, The happiest he of men.

[1] I should be sorry to think that my friend had any serious intentions of frightening the nursery by this story; I rather hope--though the manner of it leads me to doubt--that his design was to ridicule that distempered taste which prefers those monsters of the fancy to the _"speciosa miracula"_ of true poetic imagination.

TO .... ....

ON SEEING HER WITH A WHITE VEIL AND A RICH GIRDLE.

Put off the vestal Veil, nor, oh!

Let weeping angels View it; Your cheeks belie its virgin snow.

And blush repenting through it.

Put off the fatal zone you wear; The shining pearls around it Are tears, that fell from Virtue there, The hour when Love unbound it.