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Original Poetry By Victor And Cazire
by
‘Oh! say upon that black marble tomb,
What memorial sad appears.’–
‘Undistinguished it lies in the chancel’s gloom,
No memorial sad it bears’–
The Canon his paternoster reads,
His rosary hung by his side,
Now swift to the chancel doors he leads,
And untouched they open wide,
Resistless, strange sounds his steps impel,
To approach to the black marble tomb,
‘Oh! enter, Black Canon,’ a whisper fell,
‘Oh! enter, thy hour is come.’
He paused, told his beads, and the threshold passed.
Oh! horror, the chancel doors close,
A loud yell was borne on the rising blast,
And a deep, dying groan arose.
The Monks in amazement shuddering stand,
They burst through the chancel’s gloom,
From St. Edmond’s shrine, lo! a skeleton’s hand,
Points to the black marble tomb.
Lo! deeply engraved, an inscription blood red,
In characters fresh and clear–
‘The guilty Black Canon of Elmham’s dead,
And his wife lies buried here!’
In Elmham’s tower he wedded a Nun,
To St. Edmond’s his bride he bore,
On this eve her noviciate here was begun,
And a Monk’s gray weeds she wore;–
O! deep was her conscience dyed with guilt,
Remorse she full oft revealed,
Her blood by the ruthless Black Canon was spilt,
And in death her lips he sealed;
Her spirit to penance this night was doomed,
‘Till the Canon atoned the deed,
Here together they now shall rest entombed,
‘Till their bodies from dust are freed–
Hark! a loud peal of thunder shakes the roof,
Round the altar bright lightnings play,
Speechless with horror the Monks stand aloof,
And the storm dies sudden away–
The inscription was gone! a cross on the ground,
And a rosary shone through the gloom,
But never again was the Canon there found,
Or the Ghost on the black marble tomb.
15. Revenge
‘Ah! quit me not yet, for the wind whistles shrill,
Its blast wanders mournfully over the hill,
The thunder’s wild voice rattles madly above,
You will not then, cannot then, leave me my love.–‘
I must dearest Agnes, the night is far gone–
I must wander this evening to Strasburg alone,
I must seek the drear tomb of my ancestors’ bones,
And must dig their remains from beneath the cold stones.
‘For the spirit of Conrad there meets me this night,
And we quit not the tomb ’till dawn of the light,
And Conrad’s been dead just a month and a day!
So farewell dearest Agnes for I must away,–
‘He bid me bring with me what most I held dear,
Or a month from that time should I lie on my bier,
And I’d sooner resign this false fluttering breath,
Than my Agnes should dread either danger or death,
‘And I love you to madness my Agnes I love,
My constant affection this night will I prove,
This night will I go to the sepulchre’s jaw
Alone will I glut its all conquering maw’–
‘No! no loved Adolphus thy Agnes will share,
In the tomb all the dangers that wait for you there,
I fear not the spirit,–I fear not the grave,
My dearest Adolphus I’d perish to save’–
‘Nay seek not to say that thy love shall not go,
But spare me those ages of horror and woe,
For I swear to thee here that I’ll perish ere day,
If you go unattended by Agnes away’–
The night it was bleak the fierce storm raged around,
The lightning’s blue fire-light flashed on the ground,
Strange forms seemed to flit,–and howl tidings of fate,
As Agnes advanced to the sepulchre gate.–
The youth struck the portal,–the echoing sound
Was fearfully rolled midst the tombstones around,
The blue lightning gleamed o’er the dark chapel spire,
And tinged were the storm clouds with sulphurous fire.