All blushing to her bridal bed, "

Like some shy maid in convent bred;
While linnet, lark, and blackbird gay,
Sing forth her nuptial roundelay.

XVII.

'Twas sweetly sung that roundelay;
That summer morn shone blithe and gay;
But morning beam, and wild-bird's call,
Awaked not Mortham's silent hall. •
No porter, by the low-brow'd gate,
Took in the wonted niche his seat;
To the paved court no peasant drew;
Waked to their toil no menial crew;
The maiden's carol was not heard,
As to her morning task she fared :
In the void offices around,
Rung not a hoof, nor bay'd a hound;
Nor eager steed, with shrilling neigh,
Accused the lagging groom's delay;
Untrimm'd, undress'd, neglected now,
Was alley'd walk and orchard bough;
All spoke the master's absent care,
All spoke neglect and disrepair.
South of the gate, an arrow flight,
Two mighty elms their limbs unite,
As if a canopy to spread

O'er the lone dwelling of the dead;
For their huge bows in arches bent
Above a massive monument,
Carved o'er in ancient Gothic wise,

With many a scutcheon and device:

3

There, spent with toil and sunk in gloom,
Bertram stood pondering by the tomb.

XVIII.

"It vanish'd, like a flitting ghost!

Behind this tomb," he said, "'twas lost

2

[MS." As some fair maid in cloister bred,

Is blushing to her bridal led."]

[The beautiful prospect commanded by that eminence, seen under the cheerful light of a summer's morning, is finely contrasted with the silence and solitude of the place." -Critical Review.]

This tomb, where oft I deem'd lies stored
Of Mortham's Indian wealth the hoard.
'Tis true, the aged servants said
Here his lamented wife is laid;'
But weightier reasons may be guess'd
For their lord's strict and stern behest,
That none should on his steps intrude,
Whene'er he sought this solitude.--
An ancient mariner I knew,

What time I sail'd with Morgan's crew,
Who oft, 'mid our carousals, spake
Of Raleigh, Forbisher, and Drake;
Adventurous hearts! who barter'd, bold,
Their English steel for Spanish gold.
Trust not, would his experience say,
Captain or comrade with your prey;
But seek some charnel, when, at› full,'
The moon gilds skeleton and skull:
There dig, and tomb your precious heap;
And bid the dead your treasure keep;
Sure stewards they, if fitting spell
Their service to the task compel.

Lacks there such charnel?-kill a slave,?
Or prisoner, on the treasure-grave;
And bid his discontented ghost

Stalk nightly on his lonely post.—

Such was his tale. Its truth, I ween,

Is in my morning vision seen.

XIX.

Wilfrid, who scorn'd the legend wild,
In mingled mirth and pity smiled,

Close by the gate, an arch combined,
Two haughty elms their branches twined."]

[MS. "Here lies the partner of his bed;

But weighfier reasons should appear

For all his moonlight wanderings bere,

And for the sharp rebuke they got,

That pried around his favourite spot."]

If time did not permit the Bucaniers to lavish away their plunder in their usual debaucheries. they were wont to hide it, with many superstitious solemnities, in the desert islands and keys which they frequented, and where much treasure, whose lawless owners perished without reclaiming it, is still supposed to be concealed. The most cruel of mankind are often the most superstitious; and these pirates are said to have had recourse to a horrid ritual, in order to secure an unearthly guardian to their treasures. They killed a Negro or Spaniard, and buried him with the treasure, believing that his spirit would haunt the spot, and terrify away all intruders. I cannot produce any other authority on which this custom is ascribed to them than that of maritime tradition, which is, however, amply sufficient for the purposes of poetry.

3

[MS.

Lacks there such charnel-vault?-a slave,

Or prisoner, slaughter on the grave." ]

Much marvelling that a breast so bold
In such fond tale belief should hold; '
But yet of Bertram sought to know
The apparition's form and show.—
The power within the guilty breast,
Oft vanquish'd, never quite suppress'd,
That unsubdued and lurking lies
To take the felon by surprise,
And force him, as by magic spell,
In his despite his guilt to tell,-

That power in Bertram's breast awoke;
Scarce conscious he was heard, he spoke ;
""Twas Mortham's form, from foot to head!
His morion, with the plume of red,

His shape, his mien-'twas Mortham, right
As when I slew him in the fight. "-

"Thou slay him?-thou ? "-With conscious start

He heard, then mann'd his haughty heart

"I slew him?-I!-I had forgot

Thou, stripling, knew'st not of the plot.

But it is spoken-nor will I

Deed done, or spoken word, deny.

I slew him; I! for thankless pride;

'Twas by this hand that Mortham died.

XX.

Wilfrid, of gentle hand and heart,

Averse to every active part,

But most averse to martial broil,

From danger shrunk, and turn'd from toil;

Yet the meek lover of the lyre

Nursed one brave spark of noble fire;

I

[MS.-"Should faith in such a fable hold."]

a All who are conversant with the administration of criminal justice, must remember many occasions in which malefactors appear to have conducted themselves with a species of infatuation, either by making unnecessary confidences respecting their guilt, or by sudden and involuntary allusions to circumstances by which it could not fail to be exposed. A remarkable instance occurred in the celebrated case of Eugene Aram. A skeleton being found near Knaresborough, was supposed, by the persons who gathered around the spot, to be the remains of one Clarke, who had disappeared some years before, under circumstances leading to a suspicion of his having been murdered. One Houseman, who had mingled in the crowd, suddenly said, while looking at the skeleton, and hearing the opinion which was buzzed around, "That is no more Dan Clarke's bone than it is mine!"-a sentiment expressed so positively, and with such peculiarity of manner, as to lead all who heard him to infer that he must necessarily know where the real body had been interred. Accordingly, being apprehended, he confessed having assisted Eugene Aram to murder Clarke, and to hide his body in Saint Robert's Cave. It happened to the author himself, while conversing with a person accused of an atrocious crime, for the purpose of rendering him professional assistance upon his trial, to hear the prisoner, after the most solemn and reiterated protestations that he was guiltless, suddenly, and, as it were, involuntarily, in the course of his communications, make such an admission as was altogether incompatible with innocence.

Against injustice, fraud, or wrong,

His blood beat high, his hand wax'd strong.
Not his the nerves that could sustain,
Unshaken, danger, toil, and pain;

But, when that spark blazed forth to flame, '
He rose superior to his frame..

And now it came, that generous mood;
And, in full current of his blood,
On Bertram he laid desperate hand,
Placed firm his foot, and drew his brand.
"Should every fiend, to whom thou'rt sold,
Rise in thine aid, I keep my hold.-
Arouse there, ho! take spear and sword!
Attach the murderer of your Lord!"

XXI.

A moment, fix'd as by a spell,
Stood Bertram-It seem'd miracle,
That one so feeble, soft, and tame,
Set grasp on warlike Risingham,'
But when he felt a feeble stroke,
The fiend within the ruffian woke!

To wrench the sword from Wilfrid's hand,
To dash him headlong on the sand,
Was but one moment's work,—one more
Had drench'd the blade in Wilfrid's gore;
But, in the instant it arose,

To end his life, his love, his woes,
A warlike form, that mark'd the scene,
Presents his rapier sheathed between,
Parries the fast-descending blow,
And steps 'twixt Wilfrid and his foe;
Nor then unscabbarded his brand,
But, sternly pointing with his hand,
With monarch's voice forbade the fight,
And motion'd Bertram from his sight.
"Go, and repent, "-he said, "while time
Is given thee; add not crime to crime.

2

[MS." But, when blazed forth that noble flame."]

["The sudden impression made on the mind of Wilfrid by this avowal, is one of the happiest touches of moral poetry. The effect which the unexpected burst of indignation and valour produces on Bertram, is as finely imagined."-Critical Review.-"This most animating scene is a worthy companion to the rencounter of Fitz-James and Roderick Dhu, in The Lady of the Lake."-Monthly Review.]

3

[MS.-"At length, at slight and feeble stroke,

XXII.

Mute, and uncertain, and amazed,
As on a vision Bertram gazed!.

'Twas Mortham's bearing, bold and high,'
His sinewy frame, his falcon eye,
His look and accent of command,
The martial gesture of his hand,
His stately form, spare-built and tall,
His war-bleach'd locks-'twas Mortham all.
Through Bertram's dizzy brain career*
A thousand thoughts, and all of fear;
His wavering faith received not quite
The form he saw as Mortham's sprite,
But more he fear'd it, if it stood
His lord, in living flesh and blood.-
What spectre can the charnel send,
So dreadful as an injured friend?
Then, too, the habit of command,
Used by the leader of the band,
When Risingham, for many a day,
Had march'd and fought beneath his sway,
Tamed him and, with reverted face,
Backwards he bore his sullen pace; 3
Oft stopp'd, and oft on Mortham stared,
And dark as rated mastiff glared;
But when the tramp of steeds was heard,
Plunged in the glen, and disappear'd,
Nor longer there the Warrior stood,
Retiring eastward through the wood;
But first to Wilfrid warning gives,
"Tell thou to none that Mortham lives."