"Yes, yes, when a spirit shall toll the great bell

Of the mouldering abbey, your Reuben shall rise!"

Twice, thrice he repeated, "Your Reuben shall rise!"
And Rose felt a moment's release from her pain;
She wiped, while she listen'd, the tears from her eyes,
And she hoped she might yet see her hero again!
Her hero could smile at the terrors of death,

When he felt that he died for the sire of his Rose;
To the Oder he flew, and there plunging beneath,
In the lapse of the billows soon found his repose.
How strangely the order of destiny falls !—

Not long in the waters the warrior lay,
When a sunbeam was seen to glance over the walls,
And the castle of Willumberg bask'd in the ray!
All, all but the soul of the maid was in light-
There sorrow and terror lay gloomy and blank;
Two days did she wander, and all the long night,
In quest of her love, on the wide river's bank.

Oft, oft did she pause for the toll of the bell,

And she heard but the breathings of night in the air; Long, long did she gaze on the watery swell,

And she saw but the foam of the white billow there.

And often as midnight its veil would undraw,

As she look'd at the light of the moon in the stream, She thought 'twas his helmet of silver she saw,

As the curl of the surge glitter'd high in the beam.

And now the third night was begemming the sky,
Poor Rose on the cold dewy margent reclined,
There wept till the tear almost froze in her eye,

When,-hark!-'twas the bell that came deep in the wind.

She startled, and saw, through the glimmering shade,
A form o'er the waters in majesty glide;

She knew 'twas her love, though his cheek was decay'd,
And his helmet of silver was wash'd by the tide.

Was this what the seer of the cave had foretold !—

Dim, dim through the phantom the moon shot a gleam; 'Twas Reuben, but ah! he was deathly and cold,

And fleeted away like the spell of a dream!

Twice, thrice did he rise, and as often she thought

From the bank to embrace him, but never, ah! never;

Then springing beneath, at a billow she caught,
And sunk to repose on its bosom for ever!

THE RING.

A TALE.

THE happy day at length arrived
When Rupert was to wed
The fairest maid in Saxony,

And take her to his bed.

As soon as morn was in the sky,
The feast and sports began;
The men admired the happy maid,
The maids the happy man.

In many a sweet device of mirth
The day was pass'd along ;
And some the featly dance amused,
And some the dulcet song.

The younger maids with Isabel

Disported through the bowers,

And deck'd her robe, and crown'd her head
With motley bridal flowers.

The matrons all in rich attire,
Within the castle walls,

Sat listening to the choral strains
That echo'd through the halls.

Young Rupert and his friend repair'd
Unto a spacious court,

To strike the bounding tennis-ball
In feat and manly sport.

The bridegroom on his finger had
The wedding-ring so bright,
Which was to grace the lily hand
Of Isabel that night.

And fearing he might break the gem,
Or lose it in the play,

He look'd around the court, to see
Where he the ring might lay.

Now in the court a statue stood,
Which there full long had been:

It was a heathen goddess, or
Perhaps a heathen queen.

Upon its marble finger then
He tried the ring to fit;
And, thinking it was safest there,
Thereon he fasten'd it.

And now the tennis sports went on,.
Till they were wearied all,

And messengers announced to them
Their dinner in the hall.

Young Rupert for his wedding-ring
Unto the statue went;

But, oh! how was he shock'd to find
The marble finger bent!

The hand was closed upon the ring
With firm and mighty clasp;

In vain he tried, and tried, and tried-
He could not loose the grasp !

How sore surprised was Rupert's mind,--
As well his mind might be;

"I'll come," quoth he, "at night again, When none are here to see.'

"

He went unto the feast, and much
He thought upon his ring;

And much he wonder'd what could mean

So very strange a thing!

The feast was o'er, and to the court
He went without delay,

Resolved to break the marble hand,
And force the ring away!

But mark a stranger wonder still—
The ring was there no more;
Yet was the marble hand ungrasp'd,
And open as before!

He search'd the base, and all the court,
And nothing could he find,

But to the castle did return

With sore bewilder'd mind.

Within he found them all in mirth,
The night in dancing flew ;

The youth another ring procured,

And none the adventure knew.

And now the priest has join'd their hands The hours of night advance!

Rupert almost forgets to think

Upon the morn's mischance.

And here my song should leave them both, Nor let the rest be told,

But for the horrid, horrid tale

It yet has to unfold!

Soon Rupert, 'twixt his bride and him,
A death-cold carcase found;

He saw it not, but thought he felt
Its arms embrace him round.

He started up, and then return'd,
But found the phantom still;
In vain he shrunk, it clasp'd 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 mould'ring grave!

Ill-fated Rupert, wild and loud

Thou criedst to thy wife,

"Oh! save me from this horrid fiend,

My Isabel! my life!"

But Isabel had nothing seen,

She look'd around in vain;

And much she mourn'd the mad conceit

That rack'd her Rupert's brain.

At length from this invisible

These words to Rupert came-
(And oh ! while he did hear the words,
What terrors shook his frame!)—
"Husband! husband! I've the ring
Thou gav'st 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 strain'd 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.

All, all that day a gloomy cloud

Was seen on Rupert's brows;

Fair Isabel was likewise sad,

But strove to cheer her spouse.

At length the second night arrived,
Again their couch they press'd;
Poor Rupert hoped that all was o'er,
And look'd for peace and rest.

But oh! when midnight came, again

The fiend was at his side,

And as it strain'd him in its grasp,
With howl exulting cried,—
"Husband! husband! I've the ring,
The ring thou gav'st 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 bewilder'd wife
The trembling Rupert said-

"O Isabel! dost thou not see
A shape of horrors here,
That strains me with a deadly kiss,
And claims me as its dear?"

"No, no, my love, my Rupert, I
No shape of horrors see;

And much I mourn such phantasy
Should e'er be thought by thee!"

This night, just like the night before,
In terrors pass'd away;

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

Says 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 went full straight,

And told him all, and ask'd him how

To remedy his fate.

The father heard the youth, and then
Retired a while to pray;

And having pray'd for half-an-hour,
Return'd, and thus 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.