THE NIGHT-WALK. 133 



At length the moon broke thro' a cloud, 



And o'er that wild heath shone ; 

 The rain-drops gleam'd on blue-bell buds, 



Like gems around a throne. 

 Said I, his gloomy thoughts to chase, 



"^The moon shines bright, dost see?" 

 He turn'd his eyes to look, then said, 



" She'll shine no more on me." 



He stood and paus'd a little while, 



But not a word spake he; 

 And then upstarted, as men start 



From idle reverie ; 



And seiz'd me firmly by the arm, 



<f Dost think yon moon," said he, 

 " Contains our souls when we are dead, 



Or where can heaven be ?" 



And then he murmur'd " wife and child !" 



Ah ! me, I knew his fears, 

 And glancing sidelong on his face, 



Saw heart- wrung hopeless tears. 

 " And dost thou think we meet our kin 



In heaven ? O God ! this pain !" 

 Then down I knelt on that wild heath, 



And rubb'd his limbs again. 



" We must reach home on, on," he cried ; 



His look, his words were stern. 

 He walk'd as tho' he tramp'd on death, 



Then fell amid the fern. 



And there he lay on that drear heath, 



Amid that heathery bloom ; 

 The sky his only canopy, 



His couch the furze and broom. 



His hands were clench'd, his lips were black, 



His face was dark likewise ; , 



His cheeks were fallen dreadfully, 

 But, oh ! his glassy eyes, 



Rolling upon the sailing moon, 



Then glaring fixed on me ; 

 Stretch' d groaning on a wild wide heath, 



'Twas dreadful but to see ! 



Again I bore him from the ground, 



While deeply he did sigh ; 

 Then bow'd his head, and sadly said, 



(t But wait, I soon shall die." 



He ground his teeth, it was not rage, 



But that deep writhing pain 

 That chill'd and froze his stagnant blood ; 



Then came the cramp again. 



