JOURNAL AND PROCEEDINGS. 
Wild she arraigns the eternal doom, 
Upbraids each sacred power, 
Till spent, she sought her silent room 
All in the lonely tower. 
She beat her breast, she wrung her hands, 
Till sun and day were o’er, 
And through the glimmering lattice shone 
The twinkling of the star. 
Then crash! The heavy drawbridge fell, 
That o’er the moat was hung ; 
And clatter ! clatter ! on its boards 
The hoof of courser rung. 
The clank of echoing steel was heard, 
As off the rider bounded ; 
And slowly on the winding stair 
A heavy footstep sounded. 
And hark ! and hark ! a knock—tap ! tap! 
A rustling, stifled noise ; 
Door latch and tinkling staples ring ; 
At length a whispering voice. 
“« Awake, awake, arise, my love ! 
How, Helen, dost thou fare ? 
Wakest thou, or sleep’st? Laugh’st thou or weep’st ? 
Hast thought on me, my fair ?” 
“« My love ! my love ! so late by night ! 
I waked, I wept for thee : 
Much have I borne since dawn of morn ; 
Where, William, could’st thou be? 
‘\ We saddle late—from Hungary 
I rode since darkness fell ; 
And to its bourne we both return 
Before the matin bell. 
* O rest this night within my arms, 
And warm thee in their fold ! 
Chill howls through hawthorn bush the wind, 
My love is deadly cold.” 
‘¢ Tet the wind howl through hawthorn bush ! 
This night we must away ; 
The steed is wight, the spur is bright ; 
I cannot stay till day.” 
“Busk, busk and boune ! Thou mount’st behind 
Upon my black barb steed : 
O’er stock and stile, a hundred miles, 
We haste to bridal bed.” 
‘“« To-night ! to-night a hundred miles ? 
O dearest William, stay ! 
The bell strik’st twelve—dark dismal hour ! 
O wait, my love, till day ! 
