NUMBER LIX.

Haste all, with heedful ears! while I recite
The strange adventure of a "faithless" knight.
WAY's Fableaux.

THE night was dark, the wild winds blew,
And shook the hollow dell,

And twelve times pausing, long and drear,
Was heard the village bell.

From high Rougellen's stately hall,
The fretted shafts between,
No more the taper's streaming lights,
Athwart the vale were seen.

For, fir'd with dreams of hast'ning bliss,
With mad ambition drunk,
On his soft couch, elate in thought,
Rougellen's Lord had sunk.

'Twas then, all thro' the massy keep,
Loud burst a deep'ning groan,

And something dreadful, sweeping on,
Was inly heard to moan.

Till, full before Rougellen's bed,

The ghastly phantom stood, A female fest'ring in her shroud, And dark her icy blood.

"Now Edwin, Edwin," shriek'd the sprite, "Thine eye to horror give,

"Look! cans't thou view this loathsome form, "Can'st view this form and live?

"Go forth, when glow the tints of morn, "Go forth the maid to meet,

"Yes go, oh perjur'd, joying go,

Thy promis'd bride to greet.

"But know, ere next the fiends of night, "Their gloomy sabbaoth hold, "Shalt thou, within thy shudd'ring arms, "Thy Mary's corse infold.

"Adieu, lost wretch! I go, I go
"To my unhallow'd home,
"To wait for thee, not distant far,
"Beneath the haunted dome."

Thus whilst she spoke convulsions dire,
His labouring bosom rend,

And wildly springing from the couch,
He rous'd his sleeping friend.

What ho!-Oh saw ye not pass by

Some fiend of hideous frame?-To me, e'en now, in depth of night, A ghastly spirit came!

Oh Henry, till this night accurs'd,
Hath run her troubl'd race,
Oh come, and from a mind perturb'd,
Its with ring visions chase.

Oh list! into thy wond'ring ear
I'll pour a mournful tale,
So sad, it shall thy ruddy cheek.
With mingling passion pale.

Nigh where the fretted waters dash,
And o'er their channel swell,
Where an ag'd oak, with headlong crash,
One stormy evening fell.

Nigh where it forms a rustic bridge

And bathes its moss-green boughs,

Thou know'st, for I have seen thee there, Fitzallen's cottage rose.

And oh, thou mays't remember too,

For who that once has seen,

The tender beauty, ere forgot

Her gentle air and mien,

Thou may'st remember that sweet girl, Fitzallen's daughter fair,

With eyne so blue, and bosom white, And darkly auburn hair.

I lov'd the Maid! and frequent strove To win her guileless heart, Wretch that I am! nor strove in vain, Yet play'd the villain's part!

'Twas when on Autumn's sweetest eve,
As slept the mountain gale,
When sinking fast behind the wood,
The sun yet warm'd the vale:

'Twas then, with all that tender hope That dews the melting eye, When love in every pulse doth beat, And breathes in every sigh,

'Twas then I caught the luckless Maid Alone, and bath'd in tears,

And mourning o'er the num'rous ills,

Which youth from passion bears:

A Minstrel's sweet yet simple strains.
Had struck her feeling breast,
Those strains which oft in times of old,
The ear of Pity blest.

Unseen I came, I saw unseen,
My soft foot stealing nigh,
The maiden read, and, pausing deep,
The warm tear dim her eye.

I kindly press'd her to my heart,
Kiss'd off the falling dew-

"And is it, oh my gentle Love,

"Come, you shall hear this piteous tale, "Nor ever slight me more, "Shall hear how good young maidens were, "How young men lov'd of yore."

I sate me down, I heard the maid

Recite the lowly strain,

I heard how sad, how sweetly wild,
Can simple love complain.