If you dare ask it why it leaves its tomb,
I'll see your sheets well air'd, and show the room.
Soon as the fighted maid her tale had told,
The stranger enter'd, for his heart was bold.
The damsel led him thro' a spacious hall,
Where ivy hung the half-demolish'd wall:
She frequent look'd behind, and chang'd her hue,
While Fancy tipt the candle's flame with blue.
And now they gain'd the winding stair's ascent,
And to the lonesome room of terrors went.
When all was ready, swift retir'd the maid,
The watch-lights burn; tuckt warm in bed was laid
The hardy stranger, and attends the sprite
Till his accustom'd walk at dead of night.
At first he hears the wind with hollow roar
Shake the loose lock, and swing the creaking door:
Nearer and nearer draws the dreadful sound
Of rattling chains that dragg'd upon the ground;
When, lo! the spectre came with horrid stride,
Approach'd the bed, and drew the curtains wide!
In human form the ghastful phantom stood,
Expos'd his mangled bosom dy'd with blood;
Then silent pointing to his wounded breast,
Thrice way'd his hand. Beneath the frighted guest The bed-chords trembled, and with shudd'ring fear, Sweat chill'd his limbs, high rose his bristled hair; Then mutt'ring hasty pray'rs, he mann'd his heart, And cry'd aloud, Say whence and who thou art?
The stalking ghost with hollow voice replies,
Three years are counted since with mortal eyes
I saw the sun, and vital air respir'd.
Like thee benighted, and with travel tir'd,
Within these walls I slept. O thirst of gain!
See, still the planks the bloody marks retain;
Stretch'd on this very bed, from sleep I start,'
And see the steel impending o'er my heart;
The barb'rous hostess held the lifted knife,
'The floor ran purple with my gushing life.
My treasure now they seize; the golden spoil
They bury deep beneath the grass-grown soil,
Far in the common-field. Be bold, arise,
My steps shall lead thee to the secret prize;
There dig and find; let that thy care reward;
Call loud on Justice, bid her not retard
To punish murder; lay my ghost at rest,
So shall with peace secure thy nights be blest;
And when beneath these boards my bones are found,
Decent inter them in some sacred ground.
Here ceas'd the ghost. The stranger springs from bed,
And boldly follows where the phantom led.
The half-worn stony stairs they now descend,
Where passages obscure their arches bend.
Silent they walk; and now thro' groves they pass,
Now thro' wet meads their steps imprint the grass;
At length amidst a spacious field they came;
There stops the spectre, and ascends in flame.
Amaz'd he stood; no bush or brier was found
To teach his morning search to find the ground:
What could he do? the night was hideous dark,
Fear shook his joints, and Nature dropt the mark:
With that he starting wak'd, and rais'd his head,
But found the golden mark was left in bed.
What is the statesman's vast ambitious scheme,
But a short vision and a golden dream?
Pow'r, wealth, and title, elevate his hope;
He wakes; but for a garter finds a rope.
A PRUDE, at morn and ev'ning pray'r,
Had worn her velvet cushion bare;
Upward she taught her eyes to roll,
As if she watch'd her soaring soul;
And when devotion warm'd the crowd,
None sung or smote their breast so loud:
Pale Penitence had mark'd her face
With all the meagre signs of grace.
Her mass-book was completely lin'd
With painted saints of various kind;
But when in ev'ry page she view'd
Fine ladies who the flesh subdu'd,
As quick her beeds she counted o'er,
She cry'd-Such wonders are no more!
She chose not to delay confession,
To bear at once a year's transgression,
But ev'ry week set all things ev'n,
And balanc'd her accounts with Heav'n.
Behold her now, in humble guise,
Upon her knees with downcast eyes
Before the priest; she thus begins,
And sobbing, blubbers forth her sins:
Who could that tempting man resist?
My virtue languish'd as he kiss'd;
I strove,---till I could strive no longer;
How can the weak subdue the stronger?
The Father ask'd her where and when?
How many? and what sort of men?
By what degrees her blood was heated?
How oft' the frailty was repeated?
Thus have I seen a pregnant wench
All flush'd with guilt before the bench,
The judges, (wak'd by wanton thought)
Dive to the bottom of her fault;
They leer, they simper at her shame,
And make her call all things by name.
And now to sentence he proceeds,
Prescribes how oft' to tell her beads;
Shows her what saints could do her good,
Doubles her fasts to cool her blood.
Eas'd of her sins, and light as air,
Away she trips perhaps to pray'r.
'Twas no such thing. Why then this haste? The clock has struck, the hour is past,
And on the spur of inclination,
She scorn'd to bilk her assignation.
Whate'er she did, next week she came,
And piously confest the same:
The priest, who female frailties pity'd,
First chid her, then her sins remitted.
But did she now her crime bemoan
In penitential sheets alone?
And was no bold, no beastly fellow,
The nightly partner of her pillow?
No, none: for next time in the grove.
A bank was conscious of her love.
Confession-day was come about,
And now again it all must out:
She seems to wipe her twinkling eyes;
What now? my child! the father cries.
Again, says she!--- With threat'ning looks
He thus the prostrate dame rebukes.
Madam, I grant there's something in it,
That,virtue has th' unguarded minute;
But pray now tell me what are whores
But women of unguarded hours?
Then you must sure have lost all shame.
What, ev'ry day, and still the same,
And no fault else! 'tis strange to find
A woman to one sin confin'd!
Pride is this day her darling passion,
The next day slander is in fashion;
|