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The Usher took six hasty strides,
As smit with sudden pain,
Six hasty strides beyond the place,
Then slowly back again;
And down he sat beside the lad,
And talk'd with him of Cain;

And, long since then, of bloody men,
Whose deeds tradition saves;
Of lonely folk cut off unseen,

And hid in sudden graves;
Of horrid stabs, in groves forlorn,
And murders done in caves;

And how the sprites of injur'd men
Shriek upward from the sod;
Aye, how the ghostly hand will point
To show the burial clod;
And unknown facts of guilty acts

Are seen in dreams from God!

He told how murderers walk the earth
Beneath the curse of Cain,

With crimson clouds before their eyes,
And flames about their brain :
For blood has left upon their souls
Its everlasting stain.

"And well," quoth he, "I know, for truth, Their pangs must be extreme,

Woe, woe, unutterable woe,

Who spill life's sacred stream!

For why? Methought, last night, I wrought A murder, in a dream!

"One that had never done me wrong, A feeble man and old :

I led him to a lonely field;

The moon shone clear and cold: Now here, said I, this man shall die,

And I will have his gold!

"Two sudden blows with a ragged stick,
And one with a heavy stone,
One hurried gash with a hasty knife,
And then the deed was done;
There was nothing lying at my foot
But lifeless flesh and bone!

"Nothing but lifeless flesh and bone,
That could not do me ill;
And yet I fear'd him all the more,
For lying there so still :
There was a manhood in his look,
That murder could not kill.

"And, lo! the universal air

Seem'd lit with ghastly flame;
Ten thousand thousand dreadful eyes
Were looking down in blame :
I took the dead man by his hand,
And call'd upon his name!

"Oh, God! it made me quake to see
Such sense within the slain !
But when I touch'd the lifeless clay,
The blood gush'd out amain!
For every clot, a burning spot
Was scorching in my brain!

"My head was like an ardent coal, My heart as solid ice;

My wretched, wretched soul, I knew, Was at the Devil's price;

A dozen times I groan'd: the dead Had never groan'd but twice.

"And now, from forth the frowning sky, From the Heaven's topmost height,

I heard a voice the awful voice
Of the blood-avenging sprite :
'Thou guilty man! take up thy dead
And hide it from my sight!'

"I took the dreary body up,

And cast it in a stream,
A sluggish water, black as ink,

The depth was so extreme :My gentle Boy, remember this Is nothing but a dream!

"Down went the corse with hollow plunge And vanish'd in the pool; Anon I cleans'd my bloody hands,

And wash'd my forehead cool, And sat among the urchins young, That evening in the school.

"Oh, Heaven! to think of their white souls, And mine so black and grim!

I could not share in childish prayer
Nor join in Evening Hymn :
Like a Devil of the Pit I seem'd,
'Mid holy Cherubim !

"And peace went with them, one and all,
And each calm pillow spread;
But Guilt was my grim Chamberlain
That lighted me to bed,

And drew my midnight curtains round,
With fingers bloody red!

All night I lay in agony,

In anguish dark and deep, My fever'd eyes I dar'd not close, But star'd aghast at Sleep: For Sin had render'd unto her The keys of hell to keep.

"All night I lay in agony,

From weary chime to chime, With one besetting horrid hint, That rack'd me all the time; A mighty yearning like the first Fierce impulse unto crime;

"One stern tyrannic thought, that made
All other thoughts its slave:
Stronger and stronger every pulse
Did that temptation crave,
Still urging me to go and see
The Dead Man in his grave!

Heavily I rose up, as soon As light was in the sky, And sought the black accursed pool With a wild misgiving eye: And I saw the Dead in the river bed, For the faithless stream was dry.

"Merrily rose the lark, and shook

The dew-drop from its wing;

But I never mark'd its morning flight,
I never heard it sing,

For I was stooping once again
Under the horrid thing.

"With breathless speed, like a soul in chase, I took him up and ran;

There was no time to dig a grave

Before the day began :

In a lonesome wood, with heaps of leaves, I hid the murder'd man.

"And all that day I read in school,

But my thought was other where ; As soon as the mid-day task was done, In secret I was there;

And a mighty wind had swept the leaves, And still the corse was bare!

"Then down I cast me on my face,

And first began to weep,

For I knew my secret then was one
That earth refus'd to keep :
Or land or sea, though he should be
Ten thousand fathoms deep.

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I WILL not have the mad Clytie,
Whose head is turn'd by the sun;
The tulip is a courtly quean,
Whom, therefore I will shun;
The cowslip is a country wench,
The violet is a nun;

But I will woo the dainty rose,
The queen of every one.

The pea is but a wanton witch,
In too much haste to wed,
And clasps her rings on every hand;
The wolfsbane I should dread;
Nor will I dreary rosemarye,
That always mourns the dead;
But I will woo the dainty rose,
With her cheeks of tender red.

The lily is all in white, like a saint,
And so is no mate for me,

And the daisy's cheek is tipp'd with a blush,

She is of such low degree;

Jasmine is sweet, and has many loves, And the broom's betroth'd to the bee; But I will plight with the dainty rose, For fairest of all is she.

FAIR INES

O SAW ye not fair Ines?
She's gone into the West,

To dazzle when the sun is down,
And rob the world of rest :
She took our daylight with her,
The smiles that we love best,
With morning blushes on her cheek,
And pearls upon her breast.

O turn again, fair Ines,
Before the fall of night,

For fear the Moon should shine alone,
And stars unrivall'd bright;
And blessed will the lover be
That walks beneath their light,

And breathes the love against thy cheek
I dare not even write.

Would I had been, fair Ines,

That gallant cavalier

Who rode so gayly by thy side,
And whisper'd thee so near!

Were there no bonny dames at home,
Or no true lovers here,

That he should cross the seas to win The dearest of the dear?

I saw thee, lovely Ines,

Descend along the shore,

With bands of noble gentlemen,
And banners wav'd before ;

And gentle youth and maidens gay,

And snowy plumes they wore ;

It would have been a beauteous dream,

If it had been no more!

Alas, alas, fair Ines,

She went away with song,

With Music waiting on her steps,
And shoutings of the throng;

But some were sad, and felt no mirth,
But only Music's wrong,

In sounds that sang Farewell, Farewell,
To her you've lov'd so long.

Farewell, farewell, fair Ines!
That vessel never bore

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LEAR

A POOR old king with sorrow for my crown, Thron'd upon straw, and mantled with the wind For pity, my own tears have made me blind That I might never see my children's frown; And maybe madness like a friend has thrown

A folded fillet over my dark mind, So that unkindly speech may sound for kind,

Albeit I know not. -I am childish grown, And have not gold to purchase wit withal, I that have once maintain'd most royal state,

A very bankrupt now that may not call My child, my child-all-beggar'd save in tears,

Wherewith I daily weep an old man's

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FROM "MISS KILMANSEGG AND HER PRECIOUS LEG"

HER DEATH

'Tis a stern and startling thing to think
How often mortality stands on the brink
Of its grave without any misgiving:
And yet in this slippery world of strife,
In the stir of human bustle so rife,
There are daily sounds to tell us that Life
Is dying, and Death is living!

Ay, Beauty the Girl, and Love the Boy,
Bright as they are with hope and joy,

How their souls would sadden instanter, To remember that one of those wedding bells,

Which ring so merrily through the dells,
Is the same that knells

Our last farewells,
Only broken into a canter!

But breath and blood set doom at nought:
How little the wretched Countess thought,

When at night she unloos'd her sandal, That the Fates had woven her burial cloth, And that Death, in the shape of a Death's Head Moth,

Was fluttering round her candle!

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Wherefore else does the spirit fly
And bids its daily cares good-bye,
Along with its daily clothing?
Just as the felon condemn'd to die,
With a very natural loathing,
Leaving the Sheriff to dream of ropes,
From his gloomy cell in a vision elopes
To caper on sunny greens and slopes,

Instead of the dance upon nothing.

Thus, even thus, the Countess slept,
While Death still nearer and nearer crept,
Like the Thane who smote the sleeping;
But her mind was busy with early joys,
Her golden treasures and golden toys,
That flash'd a bright
And golden light

Under lids still red with weeping

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Gold still gold! it haunted her yet:
At the Golden Lion the Inquest met
Its foreman a carver and gilder,
And the Jury debated from twelve till three
What the Verdict ought to be,
And they brought it in as Felo-de-Se,
"Because her own Leg had kill'd her!"

HER MORAL

Gold! Gold ! Gold ! Gold !
Bright and yellow, hard and cold,
Molten, graven, hammer'd, and roll'd;
Heavy to get, and light to hold;
Hoarded, barter'd, bought, and sold,
Stolen, borrow'd, squander'd, doled:
Spurn'd by the young, but hugg'd by the old
To the very verge of the churchyard mould;

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