Lo! deeply engraved, an inscription blood red,
In characters fresh and clear—
’The guilty Black Canon of Elmham’s dead,
And his wife lies buried here!’
100
In Elmham’s tower he wedded a Nun,
To St. Edmond’s his bride he bore,
On this eve her noviciate here was begun,
And a Monk’s gray weeds she wore;—
O! deep was her conscience dyed with guilt,
105
Remorse she full oft revealed,
Her blood by the ruthless Black Canon was spilt,
And in death her lips he sealed;
Her spirit to penance this night was doomed,
’Till the Canon atoned the deed,
110
Here together they now shall rest entombed,
’Till their bodies from dust are freed—
Hark! a loud peal of thunder shakes the roof,
Round the altar bright lightnings play,
Speechless with horror the Monks stand aloof,
115
And the storm dies sudden away—
The inscription was gone! a cross on the ground,
And a rosary shone through the gloom,
But never again was the Canon there found,
Or the Ghost on the black marble tomb.
120
15. REVENGE.
’Ah! quit me not yet, for the wind whistles
shrill,
Its blast wanders mournfully over the hill,
The thunder’s wild voice rattles madly above,
You will not then, cannot then, leave me my love.—’
I must dearest Agnes, the night is far gone—
5
I must wander this evening to Strasburg alone,
I must seek the drear tomb of my ancestors’
bones,
And must dig their remains from beneath the cold stones.
’For the spirit of Conrad there meets me this
night,
And we quit not the tomb ’till dawn of the light,
10
And Conrad’s been dead just a month and a day!
So farewell dearest Agnes for I must away,—
’He bid me bring with me what most I held dear,
Or a month from that time should I lie on my bier,
And I’d sooner resign this false fluttering
breath, 15
Than my Agnes should dread either danger or death,
’And I love you to madness my Agnes I love,
My constant affection this night will I prove,
This night will I go to the sepulchre’s jaw
Alone will I glut its all conquering maw’—
20
’No! no loved Adolphus thy Agnes will share,
In the tomb all the dangers that wait for you there,
I fear not the spirit,—I fear not the grave,
My dearest Adolphus I’d perish to save’—
’Nay seek not to say that thy love shall not
go, 25
But spare me those ages of horror and woe,
For I swear to thee here that I’ll perish ere
day,
If you go unattended by Agnes away’—
The night it was bleak the fierce storm raged around,
The lightning’s blue fire-light flashed on the
ground, 30
Strange forms seemed to flit,—and howl
tidings of fate,
As Agnes advanced to the sepulchre gate.—