500] ANNUAL: REGISTER, 1796. 
The moone is bryghte, and blue the nyghte ; 
Dost quake the blast to stem ? 
Dost shudder, mayde, to seeke the dead ?’” 
*« No, no, but what of them? 
How giumlie sownes yon dirgye song ! 
Night-ravens flappe the wing, 
What knell doth slowlie toll ding-dong ? 
The psalmes of death who sing ? 
It crceps, the swarthie funeral traine, 
The corse is onn the beere ; 
Like croke of todes from lonely moores, 
The chaunte doth meet the eere.’’ 
« Go, bear her corse when midnight’s past, 
With song, and tear, and wayle ; 
I’ve got my wife, I take her home, 
My howre of wedlocke hayl. 
Lead forth, O clarke, the chaunting quire, 
‘To swell our nuptial song: 
Come, prieste, and reade the blessing scone ; 
For bed, for bed we long.’’ 
They heede his calle, and husht the sowne ; 
The biere was scene no more ; 
And followde him ore feelde and flood 
Yet faster than before. 
Hallo! hallo! away they goe, 
Unheeding wet or drye; 
And horse and rider snort and blowe, : 
And sparkling pebbles flye, 
How swifte the hill, how swifte the dale, 
Aright, aleft, are gone! 
By hedge and tree, by thorpe and towne, 
THey gallop, gallop on. 
‘Framp, tramp, across the land they speede 5 
Spiash, splash, acrosse the sea; 
*¢ Hurrah! the dead-can ride apace ; 
Dost fear to ride with mee ? 
Look up, leok up, an airy crewe - 
In roundel daunces reele : 
The moohe is bry ghte, and blue the nyghte, 
Mayst dimlie see them wheele. 
Come to, come to, ye gostlie crew, 
Come to, and follow mee, 
And daunce for us the wedding daunce, 
When we in bed shal] be.” . 
Ard 
