"Alas! to think of their white souls, "And peace went with them, one and all, But guilt was my grim chamberlain, And drew my midnight curtains round, With fingers bloody red! "Heavily I rose up, as soon "Merrily rose the lark, and shook For I was stooping once again Under the horrid thing. "With breathless speed, like a soul in chase, I took him up and ran, There was no time to dig a grave Before the day began: In a lonesome wood, with heaps of leaves I hid the murder'd man! "And all that day I read in school, And a mighty wind had swept the leaves, "Then down I cast me on my face, For I knew my secret then was one Or land, or sea, though he should be "Oh boy! that horrid, horrid dream And my red right hand grows raging hot, "And still no peace for the restless clay The horrid thing pursues my soul, It stands before me now!" The fearful boy look'd up, and saw Two stern-faced men set out from Lynn, HOOD. 72. BRANKSOME HALL. [From THE LAY of the Last Minstrel] TINE-and-twenty knights of fame Hung their shields in Branksome Hall; Brought them their steeds from bower to stall; Waited, duteous, on them all: Ten of them were sheathed in steel, Pillow'd on buckler cold and hard; They carved at the meal With gloves of steel, And they drank the red wine through the helmet barr'd. Ten squires, ten yeomen, mail-clad men, Waited the beck of the warders ten; Such was the custom of Branksome Hall. Why do these steeds stand ready dight? From Warkworth, or Naworth, or merry Carlisle. SIR WALTER SCOTT. WE 73. THE ALDERMAN'S FUNERAL. Stranger. HOM are they ushering from the world, with all This pageantry and long parade of death? Townsman. A long parade, indeed, sir, and yet here You see but half; round yonder bend it reaches A furlong farther, carriage behind carriage. S. 'Tis but a mournful sight, and yet the pomp Tempts me to stand a gazer. T. Yonder school-boy, Who plays the truant, says the proclamation Of peace was nothing to the show, and even The chairing of the members at election Would not have been a finer sight than this; Only that red and green are prettier colours Than all this mourning.-There, sir, you behold One of the red-gown'd worthies of the city, The envy and the boast of our exchange; I Ay, what was worth, last week, a good half million, Screw'd down in yonder hearse. S. Then he was born Under a lucky planet, who to-day Puts mourning on for his inheritance. T. When first I heard his death, that very speech Leapt to my lips; but now the closing scene Of the comedy hath waken'd wiser thoughts: And I bless God, that, when I go to the grave, There will not be the weight of wealth like his To sink me down. S. The camel and the needle, Is that, then, in your mind? T. Even so. The text Is gospel wisdom. I would ride the camel,- Could pass the narrow gate. S. Your pardon, sir; But sure this lack of Christian charity T. Your pardon, too, sir, If, with this text before me, I should feel In the preaching mood! But for these barren fig-trees, With all their flourish and their leafiness, We have been told their destiny and use, When the axe falls upon their root, and they Cumber the earth no longer. S. Was his wealth Stored fraudfully; the spoil of orphans wrong'd, |