'Who ventures the deed, and fails to succeed, Perforce must join the crew.' 'Then brief declare,' said the brave St. Clair, A deed that a Knight may do.' 'Mid the sleet and the rain thou must here remain By the haunted greensward ring, Till the dance wax slow, and the song faint and low, 'Then right at the time of the matin chime, • And next must thou pass the rank green grass To the tables of ezlar red; And the goblet clear away must thou bear, 'And ever anon as thou tread'st upon For the charmed ground is all unsound, And the water fiend, there, with the fiend of air, Mid the sleet and the rain did St. Clair remain Till the evening star did rise; And the rout so gay did dwindle away To the elritch dwarfy size. When the moon beams pale fell through the white With a wan and a watery ray, Sad notes of woe seem'd round him to grow, [hail And right at the time of the matin chime His mystic pace began, And murmurs deep around him did creep, The matin bell was tolling farewell- For aye, at the knell of the matin bell, The sigh of the trees and the rush of the breeze And the frost of the dead clings round their head, The Knight took up the emerald cup, They inwardly mourn'd, and the thin blood return'd And each frozen eye, so cold and so dry, 'Gan roll with lustre dim. Then brave St. Clair did turn him there, To retrace the mystic track, He heard the sigh of his lady fair, He started quick and his heart beat thick, But the parting bell on his ear it fell, With panting breast, as he forward press'd, And the scull did scream, and the voice did seem The voice of his mother dead. He shuddering trod:-On the great name of God He thought-but he nought did say ; And the greensward did shrink, as about to sink, And loud laugh'd the Elfins gray. And loud did resound, o'er the unbless'd ground, And the ghostly crew to reach him flew, The morning was gray, and dying away And Sir Geoffry the Bold, on the unhallow'd mould, And he felt his limbs, like a dead man's, cold, And that cup so rare, which the brave St. Clair Was suddenly changed, from the emerald fair, To the ragged whinstone blue; And instead of the ale that mantled there Was the murky midnight dew. LEYDEN. SIR RALPH THE ROVER. No stir in the air, no stir in the sea, Without either sign, or sound of their shock, The abbot of Aberbrothok Had floated that bell on the Inchcape Rock; When the rock was hid by the tempest's swell, The sun in heaven shone so gay- The float of the Inchcape Bell was seen, His eye was on the bell and float- Down sunk the bell with a gurgling sound; Quoth Sir Ralph, the next who comes to the Rock Will not bless the priest of Aberbrothok. Sir Ralph the Rover sail'd away; He scour'd the seas for many a day; And now grown rich with plunder'd store, So thick a haze o'erspreads the sky, On the deck the Rover takes his stand; But I wish we could hear the Inchcape Bell. VOL. III. HH |