17096.) 
All in her farke, as there the lay, 
Upon his horfe fhe fprung 5 
And with-her lilly hands fo pale 
About her William clung. 
And hurry-fkurry forth they go, 
Unheeding wet or dry ; 
And horfe and rider {nort and blow, 
' And fparkling pebbles fly. 
How fwift the flood, the mead, the wood, 
Aright, aleft, are gone! 
The bridges thunder as they-pafs, 
But earthlie fowne is none. 
Tramp, tramp, acrofs the land they fpeede ; 
Splath, fplafh, acrofs the fee: 
‘* Hurrah ! the dead can ride apace ; 
Doft feare to ride with mee ? 
_ The moone is bryghte, and blue the nyghte ; 
Doft quake the blaft to {tem ? 
Doft fhudder, mayde, to feeke the dead *” 
‘< No, no, but what of them ? 
How glumlie fownes yon dirgye fong ! 
Night- ravens flappe the wing. 
What knell doth flowlie toll dine -dong ? 
The pfalmes of death who fing ? 
It creeps, the fwarthie funeral traine, 
The corfe is onn the beere ; 
Like croke of todes from lonely moores, 
The chaunte doth meet the eere.” 
*¢ Go, bear her corfe when midnight’s pat, | 
With fong, and tear, and wayle ; 
Ive gott my wife, Itake her home, 
My howre of wedlocke hay!. 
Lead forth, O clarke, the chaunting quire, 
To {well our nuptial fong : 
Come, preafte, and reade the bleffing foone 3 
For bed, for bed we long.” 
They heede his calle, and hufht the fowne ; 
Vhe biere was feene no mote; 
And followde him ore feeld and flood 
Yet fafter than before. 
Halloo! halloo! away they goe, 
Unheeding wet or drye ; 
And horfe and rider {nort and blowe, 
And fparkling pebbles flye. 
‘How {wifte the hill, how fwifte the dale, 
Aright, aleft, are gone ! 
By hedge and tree, by thorpe and towne, 
They gallop, gallop on. 
Tramp, tramp, acrofs the land they fpeede ; 
Splaih, {plath, acroffe the fee : 
§* Hurrah! the dead can ride apace ; 
Doft fear to ride with me ? 
Look up, look up, an airy crewe 
In roundel daunces reele : 
The moone is bryghte, and. blue the nyghte, 
Mayft dimlie ice them wheéle. 
Come to, come to, ye goftlie crew, 
Come to, and follow mee, 
“And daunce for us the wedding daunce, 
When we in bed fhall be.” 
my 
Monvury Mac. No. II. 
Original Poetry. 
And brufh, brufh, brufh, the goftlie crew 
Come wheeling ore their heads, 
All ruftling like the wither’d leaves 
TE hat wyde the wirlwind fpreads. 
Halioo! halloo! away they go, 
Unheeding wet or dry ; 
And horfe and rider fnort and blowe, 
And {parkling pebbles flye. 
And all that in the moonthyne lay, 
Behynde them fled afar ; 
And backwarde fcudded overhead 
The fky and every ftar. 
Tramp, tramp, acrofs the lande they fpeedg ; 
Splafh, fplath, acrofs the fee: 
*¢ Hurrah! the dead can ride apace ; 
Doft fear to ride with me? 
IT weene the cock prepares to crowe 3 
The fand will foone be runne : 
I f{nufte the earlye morning aire ; 
Downe, downe! our work is dane. 
The dead, the dead can ryde apace 5 
Oure wed-bed here is fit : 
Cur race is ridde, oure journey ore, 
Our endleffe union knit.” 
And lo! an yren-grated grate 
Soon biggens to their viewe : 
He crackte his whyppe; the oases boltesy 
The doores afunder flew 
They pafs, and ’twas on graves they trode 3 
s¢ *Tis hither we are bounde :” 
And many a tombftone goftlie white 
Lay inn the moonfhyne round. 
And when hee from his fteede alytte, 
His armour, black as cinder, 
Did moulder, moulder all awaye, 
As were it made of tinder. 
His head became a naked fkull ; 
Nor haire nor eyne had hee: 
His body grew a fkeleton, 
"Whilome fo blythe of blee. 
And att his dry and boney heele 
No jfpur was left to be ; 
And inn his witherde hande you might 
The fcythe and hour-glaiie fee. 
And lo! his fteede did thin to fmoke, 
And charnel fires outbreathe ; 
And pal’d, and bleach’d, then vantfh’d quite 
The mayde from whderneathe: 
And hollow howlings hung inaire, 
And fhrekes from vaults arofe. 
Then knew the mayde fhe mighte no more 
Her living eyes unclofe. 
But onwarde to the judgement feat, 
Thro’ myfte and moonlight dreare, 
The goftlie crewe their flyghte perfewe, 
And hollowe inn her eare :— 
“+ Be patient ; tho’ thyne herte should breke, 
Arrayne not Heven’s decree; 
Thou nowe art of thie bodie refte, 
Thie foule forgiven bee '” 
For a particular account of Birger, fee p. 117. 
A. COR- 
A, 
137 
