Fair Elanor

The bell struck one, and shook the silent tower;     The graves give up their dead: fair Elenor     Walk'd by the castle gate, and lookd in.     A hollow groan ran thro' the dreary vaults.     She shriek'd aloud, and sunk upon the steps,     On the cold stone her pale cheeks. Sickly smells     Of death issue as from a sepulchre,     And all is silent but the sighing vaults.     Chill Death withdraws his hand, and she revives;     Amaz'd, she finds herself upon her feet,     And, like a ghost, thro' narrow passages     Walking, feeling the cold walls with her hands.     Fancy returns, and now she thinks of bones     And grinning skulls, and corruptible death     Wrapp'd in his shroud; and now fancies she hears     Deep sighs, and sees pale sickly ghosts gliding.     At length, no fancy but reality     Distracts her. A rushing sound, and the feet     Of one that fled, approaches, Ellen stood     Like a dumb statue, froze to stone with fear.     The wretch approaches, crying: `The deed is done;     Take this, and send it by whom thou wilt send;     It is my life, send it to Elenor:     He's dead, and howling after me for blood!     `Take this,' he cried; and thrust into her arms     A wet napkin, wrapp'd about; then rush'd     Past, howling: she receiv'd into her arms     Pale death, and follow'd on the wings of fear.     They pass'd swift thro' the outer gate; the wretch,     Howling, leap'd o'er the wall into the moat,     Stifling in mud. Fair Ellen pass'd the bridge,     And heard a gloomy voice cry `Is it done?'     As the deer wounded, Ellen flew over     The pathless plain; as the arrows that fly     By night, destruction flies, and strikes in darkness.     She fled from fear, till at her house arriv'd.     Her maids await her; on her bed she falls,     That bed of joy, where erst her lord hath press'd:     `Ah, woman's fear!' she cried; `ah, cursd duke!     Ah, my dear lord! ah, wretched Elenor!     `My lord was like a flower upon the brows     Of lusty May! Ah, life as frail as flower!     O ghastly death! withdraw thy cruel hand,     Seek'st thou that flow'r to deck thy horrid temples?     `My lord was like a star in highest heav'n     Drawn down to earth by spells and wickedness;     My lord was like the opening eyes of day     When western winds creep softly o'er the flowers;     `But he is darken'd; like the summer's noon     Clouded; fall'n like the stately tree, cut down;     The breath of heaven dwelt among his leaves.     O Elenor, weak woman, fill'd with woe!'     Thus having spoke, she raisd up her head,     And saw the bloody napkin by her side,     Which in her arms she brought; and now, tenfold     More terrifid, saw it unfold itself.     Her eyes were fix'd; the bloody cloth unfolds,     Disclosing to her sight the murder'd head     Of her dear lord, all ghastly pale, clotted     With gory blood; it groan'd, and thus it spake:     `O Elenor, I am thy husband's head,     Who, sleeping on the stones of yonder tower,     Was 'reft of life by the accursd duke!     A hird villain turn'd my sleep to death!     `O Elenor, beware the cursd duke;     O give not him thy hand, now I am dead;     He seeks thy love; who, coward, in the night,     Hird a villain to bereave my life.'     She sat with dead cold limbs, stiffen'd to stone;     She took the gory head up in her arms;     She kiss'd the pale lips; she had no tears to shed;     She hugg'd it to her breast, and groan'd her last.