And shrinks, and wishes it were day.
He starts and quakes at his own tread,
But dare not turn about his head.
Some sound he hears on ev'ry side;
And thro' the trees strange phantoms glide.
His heart beats thick against his breast,
And hardly stays within its chest:
Wild and unsettled are his eyes;
His quicken'd hairs begin to rise:
Ghastly and strong his features grow;
The cold dew trickles from his brow;
Whilst grinning beat his clatt'ring teeth,
And loosen'd knock his joints beneath.
As to the charnel he draws nigh
The whiten'd tomb-stone strikes his eye:
He starts, he stops, his eye-balls glare,
And settle in a death-like stare:
Deep hollow sounds ring in his ear;
Such sounds as dying wretches hear
When the grim dreaded tyrant calls,
A horrid sound, he groans and falls.

Thou do'st our fairest hope destroy;
Thou art a gloom o'er ev'ry joy;
Unheeded let my dwelling be,
O Fear! but far remov'd from thee!



A STORY OF OTHER TIMES.