| |
| THE DEWS of summer night did fall; | |
| The moon, sweet regent of the sky, | |
| Silvered the walls of Cumnor Hall, | |
| And many an oak that grew thereby. | |
| |
| Now naught was heard beneath the skies, | 5 |
| The sounds of busy life were still, | |
| Save an unhappy lady’s sighs, | |
| That issued from that lonely pile. | |
| |
| “Leicester,” she cried, “is this thy love | |
| That thou so oft hast sworn to me, | 10 |
| To leave me in this lonely grove, | |
| Immured in shameful privity? | |
| |
| “No more thou com’st with lover’s speed | |
| Thy once belovéd bride to see; | |
| But be she alive or be she dead, | 15 |
| I fear, stern Earl, ’s the same to thee. | |
| |
| “Not so the usage I received | |
| When happy in my father’s hall; | |
| No faithless husband then me grieved, | |
| No chilling fears did me appall. | 20 |
| |
| “I rose up with the cheerful morn,— | |
| No lark more blithe, no flower more gay; | |
| And like the bird that haunts the thorn, | |
| So merrily sung the livelong day. | |
| |
| “If that my beauty is but small, | 25 |
| Among court ladies all despised, | |
| Why didst thou rend it from that hall | |
| Where, scornful Earl, it well was prized? | |
| |
| “And when you first to me made suit, | |
| How fair I was! you oft would say; | 30 |
| And, proud of conquest, plucked the fruit, | |
| Then left the blossom to decay. | |
| |
| “Yes! now neglected and despised, | |
| The rose is pale, the lily ’s dead; | |
| But he that once their charms so prized | 35 |
| Is sure the cause those charms are fled. | |
| |
| “For know, when sickening grief doth prey, | |
| And tender love ’s repaid with scorn, | |
| The sweetest beauty will decay: | |
| What floweret can endure the storm? | 40 |
| |
| “At court, I ’m told, is beauty’s throne, | |
| Where every lady ’s passing rare, | |
| That Eastern flowers, that shame the sun, | |
| Are not so glowing, not so fair. | |
| |
| “Then, Earl, why didst thou leave the beds | 45 |
| Where roses and where lilies vie, | |
| To seek a primrose, whose pale shades | |
| Must sicken when those gauds are by? | |
| |
| “’Mong rural beauties I was one, | |
| Among the fields wild flowers are fair; | 50 |
| Some country swain might me have won, | |
| And thought my beauty passing rare. | |
| |
| “But, Leicester, (or I much am wrong,) | |
| Or ’t is not beauty lures thy vows; | |
| Rather ambition’s gilded crown | 55 |
| Makes thee forget thy humble spouse. | |
| |
| “Then, Leicester, why, again I plead, | |
| (The injured surely may repine!)— | |
| Why didst thou wed a country maid, | |
| When some fair princess might be thine? | 60 |
| |
| “Why didst thou praise my humble charms, | |
| And, oh! then leave them to decay? | |
| Why didst thou win me to thy arms, | |
| Then leave to mourn the livelong day? | |
| |
| “The village maidens of the plain | 65 |
| Salute me lowly as they go; | |
| Envious they mark my silken train, | |
| Nor think a countess can have woe. | |
| |
| “The simple nymphs! they little know | |
| How far more happy ’s their estate; | 70 |
| To smile for joy than sigh for woe, | |
| To be content than to be great. | |
| |
| “How far less blest am I than them! | |
| Daily to pine and waste with care, | |
| Like the poor plant, that, from its stem | 75 |
| Divided, feels the chilling air. | |
| |
| “Nor, cruel Earl! can I enjoy | |
| The humble charms of solitude; | |
| Your minions proud my peace destroy, | |
| By sullen frowns or pratings rude. | 80 |
| |
| “Last night, as sad I chanced to stray, | |
| The village death-bell smote my ear; | |
| They winked aside, and seemed to say, | |
| ‘Countess, prepare, thy end is near!’ | |
| |
| “And now, while happy peasants sleep, | 85 |
| Here I sit lonely and forlorn; | |
| No one to soothe me as I weep, | |
| Save Philomel on yonder thorn. | |
| |
| “My spirits flag, my hopes decay, | |
| Still that dread death-bell smites my ear; | 90 |
| And many a boding seems to say, | |
| ‘Countess, prepare, thy end is near!’” | |
| |
| Thus sore and sad that lady grieved, | |
| In Cumnor Hall so lone and drear; | |
| And many a heartfelt sigh she heaved, | 95 |
| And let fall many a bitter tear. | |
| |
| And ere the dawn of day appeared, | |
| In Cumnor Hall, so lone and drear, | |
| Full many a piercing scream was heard, | |
| And many a cry of mortal fear. | 100 |
| |
| The death-bell thrice was heard to ring, | |
| An aerial voice was heard to call, | |
| And thrice the raven flapped its wing | |
| Around the towers of Cumnor Hall. | |
| |
| The mastiff howled at village door, | 105 |
| The oaks were shattered on the green; | |
| Woe was the hour; for never more | |
| That hapless countess e’er was seen! | |
| |
| And in that manor now no more | |
| Is cheerful feast and sprightly ball; | 110 |
| For ever since that dreary hour | |
| Have spirits haunted Cumnor Hall. | |
| |
| The village maids with fearful glance | |
| Avoid the ancient moss-grown wall, | |
| Nor ever lead the merry dance | 115 |
| Among the groves of Cumnor Hall. | |
| |
| Full many a traveller oft hath sighed, | |
| And pensive wept the countess’ fall, | |
| As wandering onwards they ’ve espied | |
| The haunted towers of Cumnor Hall. | 120 |
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