| |
| 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 nought 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-belovèd 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 sang 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 to me first 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 dead. | |
| |
| ‘For know, when sick’ning 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 bed | 45 |
| Where roses and where lilies vie, | |
| To seek a primrose, whose pale shade | |
| 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 ’tis 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 sooth 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 nevermore | |
| 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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