XLV.

O William, why this savage haste?
And where thy bridal bed?"-

""Tis distant far."-"Still short and stern?” --
""Tis narrow, trustless maid."

XLVI.

"No room for me?"-" Enough for both ;-
Speed, speed, my Barb, thy course!"
O'er thundering bridge, through boiling surge,
He drove the furious horse.

XLVII.

Tramp! tramp! along the land they rode
Splash! splash! along the sea;
The steed is wight, the spur is bright,
The flashing pebbles flee.

XLVIII.

Fled past on right and left how fast
Each forest, grove, and bower;
On right and left fled past how fast
Each city, town, and tower.

XLIX.

"Dost fear? dost fear?-The moon shines clear;~ Dost fear to ride with me?

Hurrah! hurrah! The dead can ride!"—

"O William, let them be!

L.

"See there, see there! What yonder swings And creaks 'mid whistling rain?"

"Gibbet and steel, the accursed wheel;

A murderer in his chain.

LI.

"Hollo! thou felon, follow here:
To bridal bed we ride;

And thou shalt prance a fetter dance
Before me and my bride."

LII.

And hurry, hurry! clash, clash, clash!

The wasted form descends;

And fleet as wind through hazel-bush
The wild career attends.

LIII.

Tramp! tramp! along the land they rode,
Splash! splash! along the sea;

The scourge is red, the spur drops blood,
The flashing pebbles flee.

LIV.

How fled what moonshine faintly showed!
How fled what darkness hid!

How fled the earth beneath their feet,

The heaven above their head!

LV.

"Dost fear? dost fear?-The moon shines clear,

And well the dead can ride;

Does faithful Helen fear for them?"

"Barb! Barb! methinks I hear the cock;

The sand will soon be run:

Barb! Barb! I smell the morning air;
The race is well nigh done."

LVII.

Tramp! tramp! along the land they rode,
Splash! splash! along the sea;

The scourge is red, the spur drops blood,
The flashing pebbles flee.

LVIII.

"Hurrah! hurrah! well ride the dead,
The bride, the bride is come!
And soon we reach the bridal bed,
For, Helen, here's my home."

LIX.

Reluctant on its rusty hinge

Revolved an iron door,

And by the pale moon's setting beam
Were seen a church and tower.

LX.

With many a shriek and cry whiz round
The birds of midnight, scared;
And rustling like autumnal leaves
Unhallowed ghosts were heard.

LXI.

O'er many a tomb and tombstone palo
He spurred the fiery horse,

Till sudden at an open grave

He checked the wondrous course.

LXII.

The falling gauntlet quits the rein,
Down drops the casque of steel,
The cuirass leaves his shrinking side,
The spur his gory heel.

LXIII.

The eyes desert the naked skull,

The mouldering flesh the bone,
Till Helen's lily arms entwine
A ghastly skeleton.

LXIV.

The furious Barb snorts fire and foara,
And, with a fearful bound

Dissolves at once in empty air,
And leaves her on the ground.

LXV.

Half seen by fits, by fits half heard,
Pale spectres fleet along;

Wheel round the maid in dismal dance,
And howl the funeral song:

LXVI.

"E'en when the heart's with anguish cleft,
Revere the doom of Heaven.

Her soul is from her body reft;
Her spirit be forgiven !"

66

THE FIRE-KING.

The blessings of the evil Genii, which are curses, were upon him."-Eastern Tale.

THIS ballad was written, at the request of Mr Lewis, to be inserted in his "Tales of Wonder," published in 1801. It is the third in a series of four ballads, on the subject of Elementary Spirits. The story is, however, partly historical, for it is recorded that, during the struggles of the Latin kingdom of Jerusalem, a knight-templar, called Saint Alban, deserted to the Saracens, and defeated the Christians in many combats, till he was finally routed and slain, in a conflict with King Baldwin, under the walls of Jerusalem.

BOLD knights and fair dames, to my harp give an ear,
Of love, and of war, and of wonder to hear;

And you haply may sigh, in the midst of your glee,
At the tale of Count Albert and fair Rosalie.

Oh, see you that castle, so strong and so high?
And see you that lady, the tear in her eye?
And see you that palmer, from Palestine's land,
The shell on his hat, and the staff in his hand?--
"Now palmer, gray palmer, oh, tell unto me,
What news bring you home from the Holy Countrie?
And how goes the warfare by Galilee's strand?
And how fare our nobles, the flower of the land?”—

"Oh, well goes the warfare by Galilee's wave,
For Gilead, and Nablous, and Ramah we have;
And well fare our nobles by Mount Lebanon,

For the Heathen have lost, and the Christians have won.'

A rich chain of gold 'mid her ringlets there hung;

O'er the palmer's gray locks the fair chain has she flung:

"O palmer, gray palmer, this chain be thy fee,

For the news thou hast brought from the Holy Countrie.

"O palmer, good palmer, by Galilee's wave,

Oh, saw ye Count Albert, the gentle and brave?

When the Crescent went back, and the Red-cross rushed on,
Uh, saw ye him foremost on Mount Lebanon?"—