CUMNOR HALL.

"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 beds Where roses and where lilies vie,

To seek a primrose, whose pale shades Must sicken when those gaudes are by?

"Mong rural beauties I was one;

Among the fields wild-flowers are fair: 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

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

"Why didst thou praise my humble charms, And, oh! then leave them to decay?

Why didst thou win me to thy arms,

Then leave me mourn the livelong day?

"The village-maidens of the plain

Salute me lowly as I 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: To smile for joy, than sigh for woe; To be content, than to be great.

CUMNOR HALL.

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How far less blest am I than them,

Daily to pine and waste with care! Like the poor plant that, from its stem 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 prating rude.

"Last night, as sad I chanced to stray,
The village death-bell smote my ear:
They wink'd aside, and seem'd to say,
Countess, prepare: thy end is near!'

And now, while happy peasants sleep,
Here I sit lonely and forlorn;
No one to soothe me as I weep,

Save Philomel on yonder thorn.

"My spirits flag, my hopes decay—

Still that dread death-bell smites my ear

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,
And let fall many a bitter tear.

And ere the dawn of day appear'd

In Cumnor Hall, so lone and drear,
Full many a piercing scream was heard,
And many a cry of mortal fear.

CUMNOR HALL.

The death-bell thrice was heard to ring;
An aerial voice was heard to call;
And thrice the raven flapp'd his wing
Around the towers of Cumnor Hall :

The mastiff howl'd at village door;

The oaks were shatter'd on the green: Woe was the hour,- for never more That hapless Countess e'er was seen!

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, wand'ring onwards, he has spied

The haunted towers of Cumnor Hall.

ALL in the Downs the fleet was moor'd,
The streamers waving in the wind,
When black-eyed Susan came aboard,—
"Oh! where shall I my true-love find?
Tell me, ye jovial sailors, tell me true,
If my sweet William sails among the crew."

William, who high upon the yard

Rock'd with the billow to and fro,

Soon as her well-known voice he heard,

He sigh'd, and cast his eyes below:

The cord slides swiftly through his glowing hands, And (quick as lightning) on the deck he stands.