And so despaire did rave and rage She hurlde her impious strains. She bet her breaste, and wrung her hands, From rise of morne till the pale stars When harke! abroade she hearde the trampe She hearde a knighte with clanke alighte, And soon she herde a tinkling hande, And through her door, that open'd not, 'What ho! what ho! thy dore undoe; My love, dost yet remember mee, Ah! William here so late at night! 'At midnight only we may ride; I come o'er land and sea : 'O William, enter first my bowre, The blasts athwarte the hawthorne hiss; Though blasts athwarte the hawthorne hiss, I may not harboure here; My spurre is sharpe, my courser pawes, My houre of flighte is nere. All as thou lyest upon thy couch, To-night we'le ride a thousand miles, How, ride to-night a thousand miles? Thy love thou dost bemocke; Eleven is the stroke that still Rings on within the clocke.' Looke up; the moone is bright, and we I'll take thee to the bridal bed, And where is, then, thy house and home; And where thy bridal bed?' ''Tis narrow, silent, chilly, dark; Far hence I rest my head.' And is there any room for mee, All as thou ly'st upon thy couch, The wedding guests thy coming waite, All in her sarke, as there she lay, Upon his horse she sprung; And with her lily hands so pale About her William clung. And hurry-skurry forth they goe, And horse and rider snort and blowe, How swift the flood, the mead, the wood, The bridges thunder as they pass, But earthlie sowne is none. Tramp, tramp, across the land they speed; Splash, splash, across the see: 'Hurrah! the dead can ride apace; Dost feare to ride with mee? 'The moone is bryghte, and blue the nyghte; 'How glumlie sownes yon dirgye song! 'It creeps, the swarthie funeral traine, Like croke of todes from lonely moores, 'Go, bear her corse when midnight's past, I've gott my wife, I take her home, My howre of wedlocke hayl. 'Lead forth, O clarke, the chaunting quire, To swell our nuptial song: Come, preaste, and reade the blessing soone; For bed, for bed we long.' They heede his calle, and husht the sowne; The biere was seene no more; Yet faster than before. Halloo! halloo! away they goe, And horse and rider snorte and blowe, How swifte the hill, how swifte the dale, By hedge and tree, by thorpe and towne, Tramp, tramp, across the land they speede; Dost fear to ride with me? 'Look up, look up, an airy crewe In roundel daunces reele: The moon is bryghte, and blue the nyghte, Mayst dimlie see them wheele. 'Come to, come to, ye gostlie crew, And daunce for us the wedding daunce, And brush, brush, brush, the gostlie crew And horse and rider snort and blowe, VOL. III. FF And all that in the moonshyne lay, Behynde them fled afar; And backward scudded overhead Tramp, tramp, across the land they speede; 6 Hurrah! the dead can ride apace; 'I weene the cock prepares to crowe; And lo! an yren-grated gate Soon biggens to their viewe: He crackte his whyppe; the clangynge boltes, The doores asunder flewe. They pass, and 'twas on graves they trode; And many a tombstone gostlie white And when hee from his steede alytte, His head became a naked skull; His body grew a skeleton, Whilome so blythe of blee.. |