"And, lo! the universal air
Seem'd lit with ghastly flame;-
Ten thousand thousand dreadful eyes
Were looking down in blame;

I took the dead man by his hand,
And call'd upon his name!

Two sudden blows with a ragged stick,
And one with a heavy stone.

"Oh, God! it made me quake to see
Such sense within the slain!

But when I touch'd the lifeless clay,
The blood gushed out amain!
For every clot, a burning spot
Was scorching in my brain!

"My head was like an ardent coal,
My heart as solid ice;

My wretched, wretched soul, I knew,

Was at the Devil's price:

A dozen times I groan'd; the dead

Had never groan'd but twice!

"And now, from forth the frowning sky
From the Heaven's topmost height,
I heard a voice-the awful voice
Of the blood-avenging sprite :-
Thou guilty man! take up thy dead
And hide it from my sight!'

"I took the dreary body up,
And cast it in a stream,-
A sluggish water, black as ink,
The depth was so extreme :-
My gentle Boy, remember this
Is nothing but a dream!

Down went the corse with a hollow plunge

And vanish'd in the pool;

So I cleans'd my bloody hands,

And wash'd my forehead cool,
That among the urchins young,

In evening in the school.

"Oh, Heaven to think of their white souls,

And mine so black and grim!

I could not share in childish prayer,

Nor join in Evening Hymn:

Like a Devil of the Pit I seem'd,

'Mid holy Cherubim!

"And peace went with them, one and all,

And each calm pillow spread;

But guilt was my grim Chamberlain

That lighted me to bed;

And drew my midnight curtains round,

With fingers bloody red!

"All night I lay in agony,

In anguish dark and deep;

My fever'd eyes I dared not close,
But stared aghast at Sleep:
For sin had rendered unto her
The keys of Hell to keep!

"All night I lay in agony,
From weary chime to chime,
With one besetting horrid hiut,
That rack'd me all the time;
A mighty yearning, like the first
Fierce impulse unto crime!

"One stern tyrannic thought, that made
All other thoughts its slave;
Stronger and stronger every pulse
Did that temptation crave,—
Still urging me to go and see

The dead man in his grave!

66

For the faithless stream was dry!

Merrily rose the lark, and shook

The dew-drop from its wing;

But I never mark'd its morning flight,

I never heard it sing:

For I was stooping once again.

Under the horrid thing.

"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!

"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 !

The horrid thing pursues my soul,-
It stands before me now!

"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 !