KILKAVEN. 16 



By the murmuring stream, in sad, sable array, 

 A bier and the mourners obstructed his way : — 

 Their plumes grimly shook in the low-moaning wind, 

 And the moon cast her beams on the dark group behind. 

 Kilkaven the spurs in his courser struck deep, — 

 The courser plunged high, and sprang back with a leap >— 

 Then strong in the stirrups young Kilkaven stood, 

 And urged his dun war-horse to breast the cold flood. 



And now at the ford he a passage essays, — 



And now from the earth fade away Luna's rays, — 



While the shadowy train of the mourners advance; 



— Then quick to the poise brought Kilkaven his lance, 



Exclaiming aloud — "Why my passage oppose? 



Brief, speak your intent ! — be ye friends, be ye foes !*' 



Not an answer is heard, save the night raven's croak, 



Or the breezes that sighed through a time-shattered oak. 



Again the spurs reek with the dun courser's blood, 



The horse and the rider press on through the flood : 



Amid the swift waters he levels his spear. 



Faint thunders are heard, and far lightnings appear. 



To meet the strange pageant he urges his steed, — 



The spectres, like mists of the morning, recede ! 



The vision hath vanished away — as a dream. 



Or a bubble that breaks mid the foam of the stream. 



Swift flew the bold youth to his father's estate. 



And the bugle blew loud at the castle's strong gate : 



The minstrels are singing, — the guests are arrayed, 



The tapers are lit, and the banquet is laid. 



He tells his dread tale — 'tis with laughter received : — 



" By sailing cloud-shadows thou'rt surely deceived, " 



Exclaimed the fierce Baron, his father, when, lo ! 



The hoary confessor heaved one sigh of woe. 



Ill omened that one sigh ! — The laughter soon ceased : 



Each guest from his features the passing smile chased. 



The thunder loud roared, and the lightning fierce flashed ; — 



The cup from the hand of the drinker was dashed ; 



