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And in that manor now no more
Is cheerful feast and sprightly ball;
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
Among the groves of Cumnor Hall. Full many a traveller oft hath sigh'd,
And pensive wept the countess' fall, As wandering onwards they've espied
The haunted towers of Cumnor Hall!
ADMIRAL HOSIER'S GHOST.
As near Porto Bello lying
On the gently swelling flood,
At midnight with streamers flying
Our triumphant navy rode;
There while Vernon sat all glorious
From the Spaniards' late defeat:
And his crews, with shouts victorious,
Drank success to England's fleet:
On a sudden, shrilly sounding,
Hideous yells and shrieks were heard:
Then each heart with fear confounding,
A sad troop of ghosts appear'd,
All in dreary hammocks shrouded,
Which for windingsheets they wore,
And with looks by sorrow clouded
Frowning on that hostile shore.
On them gleam'd the moon's wan lustre,
When the shade of Hosier brave
His pale bands was seen to muster,
Rising from their watery grave:
O'er the glimmering wave he hied him,
Where the Burford rear'd her sail,
With three thousand ghosts beside him,
And in groans did Vernon hail-
'Heed, O heed our fatal story,
I am Hosier's injured ghost,
You who now have purchased glory
At this place where I was lost;
Though in Porto Bello's ruin
You now triumph free from fears, When you think on our undoing,
You will mix your joy with tears.
'See these mournful spectres sweeping
Ghastly o'er this hated wave,
Whose wan cheeks are stain'd with weeping;
These were English captains brave:
Mark those numbers pale and horrid,
Those were once my sailors bold,
Lo, each hangs his drooping forehead,
While his dismal tale is told.
'I, by twenty sail attended,
Did this Spanish town affright; Nothing then its wealth defended
But my orders not to fight:
O! that in this rolling ocean
I had cast them with disdain,
And obey'd my heart's warm motion
To have quell'd the pride of Spain;
For resistance I could fear none,
But with twenty ships had done
What thou, brave and happy Vernon,
Hast achieved with six alone.
Then the Bastimentos never
Had our foul dishonour seen, Nor the sea the sad receiver
Of this gallant train had been.
6 Thus, like thee, proud Spain dismaying,
And her galleons leading home,
Though condemn'd for disobeying,
I had met a traitor's doom,
To have fallen, my country crying
He has play'd an English part,
Had been better far than dying
Of a grieved and broken heart.
'Unrepining at thy glory,
Thy successful arms we hail; But remember our sad story,
And let Hosier's wrongs prevail : Sent in this foul clime to languish,
Think what thousands fell in vain, Wasted with disease and anguish,
Not in glorious battle slain.
'Hence with all my train attending,
From their oozy tombs below,
Through the hoary foam ascending,
Here I feed my constant woe;
Here, the Bastimentos viewing,
We recall our shameful doom,
And, our plaintive cries renewing,
Wander through the midnight gloom.
'O'er these waves for ever mourning
Shall we roam deprived of rest,
If to Britain's shores returning
You neglect my just request;
After this proud foe subduing,
When your patriot friends you see,
Think on vengeance for my ruin,
And for England shamed in me.'
Ar break of day, with frightful dreams
Lenora struggled sore:
My William, art thou slaine, say'd she,
Or dost thou love no more?
He went abroade with Richard's host,
The Paynim foes to quell;
But he no word to her had writt,
An he were sick or well.
With sowne of trump and beat of drum,
His fellow soldyers come;
Their helmes bedeckt with oaken boughs,
They seeke their long'd-for home.
And every roade and every lane
Was full of old and young,
To gaze at the rejoicing band,
To hail with gladsome toung.
'Thank God!' their wives and children saide, Welcome!' the brides did saye:
But greete or kiss Lenora gave
To none upon that daye.
She askte of all the passing traine
For him she wisht to see:
But none of all the passing traine
Could tell if lived hee.
And when the soldyers all were bye,
She tore her raven haire,
And cast herself upon the growne
In furious despaire.
Her mother ran and lyfte her up,
And clasped in her arme,
'My child, my child, what dost thou ail? God shield thy life from harm!'
'O mother, mother! William's gone!
What's all besyde to me?
There is no mercye, sure, above!
All, all were spared but hee!'
'Kneel downe, thy paternoster saye,
"Twill calm thy troubled spright: The Lord is wyse, the Lord is good; What hee hath done is right.'
'O mother, mother! say not so; Most cruel is my fate:
I prayde, and prayde; but watte avayl'd? 'Tis now, alas! too late.'
'Our Heavenly Father, if we praye,
Will help a suffering childe:
Go take the holy sacrament;
So shall thy grief grow milde.'
'O, mother, what I feel within
No sacrament can staye;
No sacrament can teache the dead
To bear the sight of daye.'