THE EXORCIST OF HALSTOCK. 213 



And nothing seen in the chapel nave, 



Only the marks of a rifled grave. 



A haggard wight from the neighbouring town 



Came by the oozy moss, 

 Where a w^izard of power at midnight hour 



Once buried St. Michael's cross. 

 At his back an oaken chest 

 Firmly strapped about his breast ; 

 On his shoulder the mattock and shovel 

 Might have been stolen from a moorman's hovel. 

 Wliat would the resurrection knave 

 Seek at the sexton of Halstock's grave ? 



He began to dig as the clock struck one, 

 But 't was twilight hour ere his work was done. 

 A weary task, for each quarter time 

 That townward the clock was heard to chime 

 He must give as many knocks 

 On the lid of his cumbrous oaken box. 

 With might and main, by way of spell, 

 • Or the sexton's grave will become a well. 



He opened the box with a rusty key 

 Once the nail of a gibbet in Hatherley ; 

 He opened the box, and again began 

 To fill up the grave of the twice-dead man. 

 He threw in a thing like a small white hand 

 Of a lady to rank with the best in the land 

 And all at once through the west park-gate 

 A chariot drove at a fearful rate ; 

 The bay of a hound at the horses' heels. 

 Mixed with the sound of the whirring wheels 

 And the coachman laughed in fiendish glee 

 And shouted, " On ! for the trysting tree." 

 Heavy and hot was the morning air. 



And clouds on Meldon lowered ; 

 But never again on Meldon round 

 Were met the ghosts of that skeleton hound, 



And his mistress the Lady Howard. 



He threw in a thing like the high-crowned hat 



Of a roystering cavalier. 

 And Charles himself in judgement sat 



In the Guild of the township near. 



