XXX

"With breathless speed, like a soul in chase,
I took him up and ran ;-
There was no time to dig a grave
Before the day began :

In a lonesome wood, with heaps of leaves,
I hid the murder'd man!

XXXI

"And all that day I read in school,

But my thought was other where ;
As soon as the mid-day task was done,
In secret I was there:

And a mighty wind had swept the leaves,
And still the corse was bare!

XXXII

"Then down I cast me on my face,
And first began to weep,

For I knew my secret then was one
That earth refused to keep:
Or land or sea, though he should be
Ten thousand fathoms deep.

XXXIII

"So wills the fierce avenging Sprite,
Till blood for blood atones!
Ay, though he's buried in a cave,

And trodden down with stones,

And years have rotted off his flesh,-
The world shall see his bones !

XXXIV

"Oh, God! that horrid, horrid dream Besets me now awake!

Again again, with dizzy brain,

The human life I take;

And my red right hand grows raging hot,
Like Cranmer's at the stake.

XXXV

“And still no peace for the restless clay
Will wave or mould allow ;

The horrid thing pursues my soul,-
It stands before me now!"
The fearful Boy look'd up, and saw
Huge drops upon his brow.

XXXVI

That very night, while gentle sleep
The urchin eyelids kiss'd,

Two stern-faced men set out from Lynn,
Through the cold and heavy mist;

And Eugene Aram walk'd between,
With gyves upon his wrist.

SONNET

FOR THE 14TH OF FEBRUARY

No popular respect will I omit

To do thee honour on this happy day,
When every loyal lover tasks his wit
His simple truth in studious rhymes to pay,
And to his mistress dear his hopes convey.
Rather thou knowest I would still outrun
All calendars with Love's,-whose date alway
Thy bright eyes govern better than the Sun,-
For with thy favour was my life begun ;
And still I reckon on from smiles to smiles,
And not by summers, for I thrive on none
But those thy cheerful countenance compiles :
Oh! if it be to choose and call thee mine,
Love, thou art every day my Valentine.

THE DREAM OF EUGENE ARAM

I

"TWAS in the prime of summer time,
An evening calm and cool,
And four-and-twenty happy boys

Came bounding out of school:

There were some that ran and some that leapt, Like troutlets in a pool.

II

Away they sped with gamesome minds,
And souls untouch'd by sin;

To a level mead they came, and there
They drave the wickets in:
Pleasantly shone the setting sun
Over the town of Lynn.

III

Like sportive deer they coursed about,
And shouted as they ran,

Turning to mirth all things of earth,
As only boyhood can ;

But the Usher sat remote from all,
A melancholy man !

IV

His hat was off, his vest apart,

To catch heaven's blessed breeze ; For a burning thought was in his brow, And his bosom ill at ease:

So he lean'd his head on his hands, and read The book between his knees!

V

Leaf after leaf he turn'd it o'er,

Nor ever glanced aside,

For the peace of his soul he read that book
In the golden eventide :
Much study had made him very lean,
And pale, and leaden-eyed.

VI

At last he shut the ponderous tome,
With a fast and fervent grasp
He strain'd the dusky covers close,
And fix'd the brazen hasp:
"Oh, God! could I so close my mind,
And clasp it with a clasp!"

VII

Then leaping on his feet upright,
Some moody turns he took,

Now up the mead, then down the mead,
And past a shady nook,-

And, lo he saw a little boy

That pored upon a book!

VIII

66 'My gentle lad, what is't you read— Romance or fairy fable?

Or is it some historic page,

Of kings and crowns unstable?" The young boy gave an upward glance,"It is The Death of Abel.'"

6

IX

The Usher took six hasty strides,

As smit with sudden pain,Six hasty strides beyond the place, Then slowly back again;

And down he sat beside the lad,

And talk'd with him of Cain;

M

X

And, long since then, of bloody men,
Whose deeds tradition saves;
Of lonely folk cut off unseen,
And hid in sudden graves ;
Of horrid stabs, in groves forlorn,
And murders done in caves;

ΧΙ

And how the sprites of injured men
Shriek upward from the sod,-
Ay, how the ghostly hand will point
To show the burial clod;
And unknown facts of guilty acts

Are seen in dreams from God!

XII

He told how murderers walk the earth
Beneath the curse of Cain,-

With crimson clouds before their eyes,
And flames about their brain:
For blood has left upon their souls
Its everlasting stain!

XIII

"And well," quoth he, "I know, for truth,

Their pangs must be extreme,—

Woe, woe, unutterable woe,

Who spill life's sacred stream !

For why? Methought, last night, I wrought A murder, in a dream!

XIV

"One that had never done me wrong

A feeble man, and old;

I led him to a lonely field,

The moon shone clear and cold: Now here, said I, this man shall die, And I will have his gold!