SECTION 6.

The Fakenham ghost.

THE lawns were dry in Euston park ;
(Here truth* inspires my tale ;)
The lonely footpath, still and dark,
Led over hill and dale.

Benighted was an ancient dame;
And fearful haste she made,

To gain the vale of Fakenham,
And hail its willow shade.

Her footsteps knew no idle stops,

But follow'd faster still;

And echo'd to the darksome copse,

That whisper'd on the hill.

Darker it grew; and darker fears

Came o'er her troubled mind:

When now, a short, quick step she hears,

Come patting close behind.

She turn'd; it stopp'd!-naught could she see,

Upon the gloomy plain !

But, as she strove the sprite to flee,

She heard the same again.

Now terror seiz'd her quaking frame:

For, where the path was bare,

The trotting Ghost kept on the same!

She utter'd many a pray'r.

* The circumstance occurred perhaps long before I was born: but it is still related by my mother, and some of the oldest inhabitants, in that part of the country. R. B.-1801.

Yet once again, amidst her fright,
She tried what sight could do;

When through the cheating glooms of night,
A MONSTER Stood in view.

Regardless of whate'er she felt,

It follow'd down the plain!

She own'd her sins, and down she knelt,

And said her pray'rs again.

Then on she sped: and hope grew strong,
The white park-gate in view,

Which pushing hard, so long it swung,
The Ghost and all pass'd through.

Loud fell the gate against the post!
Her heart-strings like to crack:
For much she fear'd the grisly Ghost
Would leap upon her back.

Still on, pat! pat! the Goblin went,
As it had done before :-

Her strength and resolution spent,

She fainted at the door.

Out came her husband much surpris'd;

Out came her daughter dear:

Good-natur'd souls! all unadvis'd

Of what they had to fear.

The candle's gleam pierc'd through the night,

Some short space o'er the

green;

And there, the little trotting sprite

Distinctly might be seen.

An Ass' Foal had lost its dam,

Within the spacious park ;
And simple as the playful lamb,
Had follow'd in the dark.

No Goblin he, nor Imp of sin ;
No crimes had ever known.
They took the shaggy stranger in,
And rear'd him as their own.

His little hoofs would rattle round,

Upon the cottage floor:

The matron learn'd to love the sound,

That frighten'd her before.

A favourite the Ghost became ;

And 'twas his fate to thrive :

And long he liv'd, and spread his fame;

And kept the joke alive.

For many a laugh went through the vale;

And some conviction too:

Each thought some other Goblin tale,
Perhaps, was just as true,

CHAPTER III.

DESCRIPTIONS,

SECTION 1.

My mother.

WHO fed me from her gentle breast;
And hush'd me in her arms to rest;

And on my cheek sweet kisses press'd?

My mother,

When sleep forsook my open eye,

Who was it sung sweet lullaby,

And sooth'd me that I should not cry?

My mother,

Who sat and watch'd my infant head,

When sleeping on my cradle bed;

And tears of sweet affection shed?

My mother,

When pain and sickness made me cry,
Who gaz'd upon my heavy eye,
And wept, for fear that I should die?

Who lov'd to see me pleas'd and gay,
And taught me sweetly how to play,
And minded all I had to say?

My mother,

My mother,

Ah, no! the thought I cannot bear ;
And if God please my life to spare,
I hope I shall reward thy care,

My mother.

When thou art feeble, old, and gray,

My healthful arm shall be thy stay;

And I will sooth thy pains away,

My mother.

And when I see thee hang thy head,

'Twill be my turn to watch thy bed;

And tears of sweet affection shed,

My mother.

For God, who lives above the skies,

Would look with vengeance in his eyes,

If I should ever dare despise

My mother!