Oh, lady bright! can it be right—­
  This window open to the night! 
  The wanton airs, from the tree-top,
  Laughingly through the lattice-drop—­
  The bodiless airs, a wizard rout,
  Flit through thy chamber in and out,
  And wave the curtain canopy
  So fitfully—­so fearfully—­
  Above the closed and fringed lid
  ’Neath which thy slumb’ring soul lies hid,
  That, o’er the floor and down the wall,
  Like ghosts the shadows rise and fall! 
  Oh, lady dear, hast thou no fear? 
  Why and what art thou dreaming here? 
  Sure thou art come o’er far-off seas,
  A wonder to these garden trees! 
  Strange is thy pallor! strange thy dress! 
  Strange, above all, thy length of tress,
  And this all-solemn silentness!

  The lady sleeps!  Oh, may her sleep
  Which is enduring, so be deep! 
  Heaven have her in its sacred keep! 
  This chamber changed for one more holy,
  This bed for one more melancholy,
  I pray to God that she may lie
  For ever with unopened eye,
  While the dim sheeted ghosts go by!

  My love, she sleeps!  Oh, may her sleep,
  As it is lasting, so be deep;
  Soft may the worms about her creep! 
  Far in the forest, dim and old,
  For her may some tall vault unfold—­
  Some vault that oft hath flung its black
  And winged panels fluttering back,
  Triumphant, o’er the crested palls,
  Of her grand family funerals—­
  Some sepulchre, remote, alone,
  Against whose portal she hath thrown,
  In childhood many an idle stone—­
  Some tomb from out whose sounding door
  She ne’er shall force an echo more,
  Thrilling to think, poor child of sin! 
  It was the dead who groaned within.

1845.

* * * * *

BRIDAL BALLAD.

  The ring is on my hand,
    And the wreath is on my brow;
  Satins and jewels grand
  Are all at my command. 
    And I am happy now.

  And my lord he loves me well;
    But, when first he breathed his vow,
  I felt my bosom swell—­
  For the words rang as a knell,
  And the voice seemed his who fell
  In the battle down the dell,
    And who is happy now.

  But he spoke to reassure me,
    And he kissed my pallid brow,
  While a reverie came o’er me,
  And to the churchyard bore me,
  And I sighed to him before me,
  Thinking him dead D’Elormie,
    “Oh, I am happy now!”

  And thus the words were spoken,
    And thus the plighted vow,
  And, though my faith be broken,
  And, though my heart be broken,
  Behold the golden keys
    That proves me happy now!

  Would to God I could awaken
    For I dream I know not how,
  And my soul is sorely shaken
  Lest an evil step be taken,—­
  Lest the dead who is forsaken
    May not be happy now.