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And when the spell that stole my mind
On lips so pure as thine I see,
Will err again, and fly to thee!
WHEN Time, who steals our years away,
Shall steal our pleasures too, The memory of the past will stay,
And half our joys renew.
Then, Chloe, when thy beauty's flower
Shall feel the wintry air, Remembrance will recall the hour
When thou alone wert fair !
Then talk no more of future gloom ;
Our joys shall always last;
And memory gild the past.
Come, Chloe, fill the genial bowl,
I drink to love and thee : Thou never canst decay in soul,
Thou'lt still be young for me. And as thy lips the tear-drop chase,
Which on my cheek they find, So hope shall steal away the trace
Which sorrow leaves behind !
Then fill the bowl-away with gloom !
Our joys shall always last;
And memory gild the past !
When love shall lose its soul,
They mingle with my bowl !
Our loving life shall fleet;
The draught will still be sweet?
Our joys shall always last;
Aud memory gild the past !
Upon its marble finger then
He tried the ring to fit;
And, thinking it was safest there,
Thereon he fastened it.
Till they were wearied all,
And messengers announced to them And take her to his bed.
Their dinner in the hall. As soon as morn was in the sky,
Young Rupert for his wedding-ring The feast and sports began;
Unto the statue went; The men admired the happy maid,
But, oh ! how was he shocked to find The maids the happy man.
The marble finger bent!
The hand was closed upon the ring In many a sweet device of mirth
With firm and mighty clasp, The day was passed along ;
In vain he tried, and tried, and tried, And some the featly dance amused,
He could not loose the grasp ! And some the dulcet song.
How sore surprised was Rupert's The younger maids with Isabel
mind,Disported through the bowers, And decked her robe, and crowned her • I'll come,' quoth he, at night again,
As well his mind might be ; head
When none are here to see.' With notley bridal flowers.
He went unto the feast, and much The matrons all in rich attire,
He thought upon his ring; Within the castle walls,
And much he wondered what could Sat listening to the choral strains That echoed through the halls.
So very strange a thing ! Young Rupert and his friends repaired The feast was o'er, and to the court Unto a spacious court,
He went without delay, To strike the bounding tennis ball Resolved to break the marble hand, In feat and manly sport.
And force the ring away! The bridegroom on his finger liad But mark a stranger wonder still — The wedding-ring so bright,
The ring was there no more; Which was to grace the lily hand Yet was the marble hand ungrasped, . Of Isabel that night.
And open as before ! And fearing he might break the gem, He searched the base, and all the court, Or lose it in the play,
And nothing could he find, He looked around the court, to see But to the castle did return Where he the ring might lay.
With sore bewildered mind Now in the court a statue stood, Within he found them all in mirth,
Which there full long had been ; The night in dancing flew; It was a heathen goddess, or
The youth another ring procured, Perhaps a heathen quieen.
And none the adventure knew.
1 I should be sorry to think that my friend liad I find, by a note in the manuscript, that he any serious intentions of frightening the nursery met with this story in a German author, From. by this story: 1 rather hope-though the manner man upon Fascination, book iii. part vi. chap. of it leads me to doubt-that his design was to 18. On consulting, the work, I perceive thut ridicule that distempered taste which prefers Fromman quotes it from Beluacensis, among those monsters of the fancy to the speciosa many other stories equally diabolical and inte. miracula' of true poetic imagination.
And now the priest has joined their And all the night the demon lay hands,
Cold-chilling by his side, The hours of love advance !
And strained him with such dcadiy Rupert almost forgets to think
grasp Upon the morn's mischance.
He thought he should have died ! Within the bed fair Isabel
But when the dawn of day was ncar', In blushing sweetness lay,
The horrid phantom fled, Like flowers half-opened by the dawn, And left the affrighted youth to weep And waiting for the day.
By Isabel in bed. And Rupert, by her lovely side,
All, all that day a gloomy cloud In youthful beauty glows,
Was seen on Rupert's brows; Like Phoebus, when he bends to cast
Fair Isabel was likewise sad, His beams upon a rose !
But strove to cheer her spouse. And here my song should leave them both,
And, as the day advanced, he thought Nor let the rest be told,
Of coming night with fear :
Ah! that he must with terror view But for the horrid, horrid tale
The bed that should be dear!
Again their couch they pressed ; He saw it not, but thought he felt Poor Rupert hoped that all was o'er, Its arms embrace him round.
And looked for love and rest. He started up, and then returned, But oh ! when midnight came, again But found the phantom still ;
The fiend was at his side, In vain he shrunk, it clipped him round, And, as it strained him in its grasp, With damp and deadly chill !
With howl exulting cried, And when he bent, the earthy lips Husband ! husband ! I've the ring,
A kiss of horror gave ;
The ring thou gav'st to me;
In agony of wild despair,
He started from the bed ; “Oh! save me from this horrid fiend,
And thus to his bewildered wife
The trembling Rupert said :
Oh Isabel! dost thou not see
A shape of horrors here, ceit
That strains me to the deadly kiss, That racked her Rupert's brain.
And keeps me from my dear?' At length from this iuvisible
No, no, my love! my Rupert, I These words to Rupert came ;
No shape of horrors see; (Oh God! while he did hear the words, And much I mourn the phantasy
What terrors shook his frame !) That keeps my dear from me!' 'Husband ! husband ! I've the ring This night, just like the night before, Thou gav`st to-day to me;
In terrors passed away,
Before the dawn of day.
Says Rupert then, 'My Isabel,
A female form of wanton mien
Seated upon a car.
And Rupert, as he gazed upon
The loosely-vested dame,
For hers was just the same.
Behind her walked a hideous form,
With eyeballs flashing death ; To Father Austin's holy cave
Whene'er he breathed, a sulphureil Then Rupert went full straight,
smoke And told him all, and asked him how Came burning in his breath ! To remedy his fate.
He seemed the first of all the crowd The father heard the youth, and then Terrific towering o'er; Retired awhile to pray;
'Yes, yes,' said Rupert, this is he, And, having prayed for half an hour, And I need ask no more.' Returned, and thus did say :
Then slow he went, and to this fiend “There is a place where four roads meet, The tablets trembling gave, Which I will tell to thee;
Who looked and read them with a yell Be there this eve, at fall of night, That would disturb the grave. And list what thou shalt see.
And when he saw the blood-scrawled Thou'lt see a group of figures pass
name, In strange disordered crowd,
His eyes with fury shine, Travelling by torchlight through the I thought, cries he, his time was out, roads,
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. So I need say no more.
The female fiend no sooner hearii,
Than, with reluctant look,
She from her finger took ;
And, giving it unto the youth,
With The nightfall came, and Rupert all
eyes that breathed of hell,
'She said in that tenendous voice In pale amazement went To where the cross-roads met, and he
Which he remembered well : Was by the father sent.
'In Austin's name take back the ring, And lo! a group of figures came
The ring thou gav'st to me;
He took the ring, the rabble passed,
He bome returned again; And as the gloomy train advanced, His wife was then the happiest fair, Rupert beheld from far
The happiest he of men.
THINK on that look of humid ray,
Which for a moment mixed with mine, And for that moment seemed to say,
I dare not, or I would be thine !
Think, think on every smile and glance,
On all thou hast to charm and move; And then forgive my bosom’s trance,
And tell me 'tis not sin to love !
Ob ! not to love thee were the sin;
For sure, if Heaven's decrees be done, Thou, thou art destined still to win,
As I was destined to be won.
Fly from the world, O Bessy! to me,
Thou'lt never find any sincerer ;
I can never meet any that's dearer !
That our loves will be censured by many ;
That ours is the sweetest of any!
When your lip has met mine, in abandonment sweet,
Have we felt as if virtue forbid it?
No, rather 'twas Heaven that did it!
So little of guilt is there in it,
And I'd kiss them away in a minute !
Then come to your lover, oh ! fly to his shed,
From a world which I know thou despisest;
As e'er on the couch of the wisest!
And thou, pretty innocent! fearest,
'Tis only our lullaby, dearest!
And, oh! when we lie on our death-bed, my love !
Looking back on the scene of our errors,
And Death be disarmed of his terrors !