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THE NIGHT- WALK.* 



A BALLAD. 



IT is no fiction I record, 



No common tale I pen, 

 But misery ah ! woe is me, 



Alone from other men. 



Alone ! alone ! I've been alone, 



Where no house you could see, 

 Alone upon a wide, wild heath ; 



And a dying man with me. 

 The dark destroying angel came, 



Flapping the poison'd air, 

 I saw his black plumes hovering, 



For I alone was there. 



And we set out at early morn, 



The sun all glorious shone ; 

 We were, I ween, wayfaring men ; 



But I returned alone. 



I saw him take his fond wife's hand, 



And kiss his little child; 

 Joy beam'd, like sunshine, from their eyes, 



While hope serenely srmTd. 

 I heard that last heart-rending word, 



That yet sounds like a knell : 

 " Good bye !" " Good bye !" and on went we, 



Within us peace did dwell. 



Our step was light as mountain roe's ; 



The sun, the morn, the flowers, 

 Drove Care from off his cank'ring throne, 



No hearts more blythe than ours. 



Our course lay thro' sweet fertile fields, 



Our path was crown'd with trees ; 

 The merry birds sang jovially, 



And loudly humm'd the bees. 



The bright-brow'd sun stood in the sky, 



As if he had unfurl'd 

 His richest ray, that seem'd to say 



Death dwells not in the world. 

 He could not dwell amid those fields, 



Where flowers were seen to bloom ; 

 Nor bask on banks by sunshine lit, 



Ah, no ! he loves the gloom. 



* It may perhaps add to the melancholy interest of this narrative to state 

 that it is true even to the very words spoken. The heath is situate between 

 Nottingham and Newstead Abbey. 

 M. M. No. 98. S 



