When autumn winds were sighing low,
When birds were singing on the tree,
Amidst their song she met the foe,
And sank beneath the fell decree.

Nor yet the sibyl leaf all read,
Dark Nemesis is grim and sullen;
She bends again her vengeful head--
Woe! woe! to old Craigullan.
The next by fatal count of Time,
The next by her foreboding fears---
Jane falls, like those in early prime--
She falls amidst a mother's tears.

Nor finished yet the weird spell,
Wrought out by some high powers divine.
The victim next is Florabel,
The fairest of Craigullan's line.
The shadow fell upon her bloom,
Grew darker as the period neared,
As if the terror of her doom
Wrought out the issue which it feared.

If Superstition has her dreams,
Proud reason has her mystic day;
And who shall harmonize the themes
In this world's dark and dreary way?
If Clementine is yet forgot,
Is the relief to her a gain?
She fears the demon in each thought,