And down the winding stair, with noiseless tread, Seem'd to his step at once familiar grown, As though the domicile had been his own, Despite its wooden bolt, with jarring sound, It turn'd as if its follower's fears it knew, Beneath a pond'rous archway's somber shade, Where once the huge portcullis swung sublime, 'Mid ivied battlements in ruin laid, Sole, sad memorials of the olden time, The Phantom held its way,-and though afraid Within the moldering fabric's deep recess At length they reach a court obscure and lone; It seemed a drear and desolate wilderness, The blackened walls with ivy all o'ergrown, As though indignant mortal step should dare, -The Apparition paused, and would have spoke As that shrill clarion the silence broke. -We know how much dead gentlefolks eschew The vision was no more-and Nick alone "His streamer's waving" in the midnight wind, Which through the ruins ceased not to groan; -His garment, too, was somewhat short benind,And, worst of all, he knew not where to find The ring,-which made him most his fate bemoan- "What's to be done?" he cried, "'t were vain to stay 'Fore George, I'm sadly puzzled what to do." And drag their victims to the gulfs below;- Scared by his Lady's heart-appalling cry, Vanished at once poor Mason's golden dreamFor dream it wa;-and all his visions high, Of wealth and grandeur, fled before that scream- And still he listens, with averted eye, When gibing neighbors make "the Ghost" their ther 6 While ever from that hour they all declare That Mrs. Mason used a cushion in her chair! A LAY OF ST. GENGULPHUS. ENGULPHUS comes from the Holy Land, R. HARRIS BARHAN With his scrip, and his bottle, and sandal shoon; Full many a day hath he been away, Yet his lady deems him return'd full soon. ful many a day hath he been away, This spruce young guest, so trimly drest, Stay'd with that Lady, her revels to crown; they would walk in the park, that spruce young Clerk Trying balls and plays, and all manner of ways, Now the festive board with viands is stored, There's a flagon of ale as large as a pail— When, cockle on hat, and staff in hand, While on naught they are thinking save eating and drinking, Gengulphus walks in from the Holy Land! "You must be pretty deep to catch weasels asleep," Says the proverb: that is "take the Fair unawares:" A maid o'er the banisters chancing to peep, Whispers, "Ma'am, here's Geagulphus a-coming up-stairs." Pig, pudding, and soup, the electrified group, The oh! what rapture, what joy was exprest, When "poor dear Gengulphus" at last appear'd! Such hugging and squeezing! 't was almost unpleasing, Then she calls up the maid and the table-cloth's laid, Then again she began at the "poor dear" man; She press'd him to drink, and she press'd him to eat, And she brought a foot-pan, with hot water and bran, To comfort his "poor dear" travel-worn feet. 'Nor night nor day since he'd been away, Had she had any rest," she "vow'd and declared." never could eat one morsel of meat, She " For thinking how 'poor dear' Gengulphus fared." She "really did think she had not slept a wink But he thought she was "coming it rather too strong." Now his palate she tickles with the chops and the pickles Then out comes the Clerk from his secret lair; Then the bolster they place athwart his face, And his night-cap into his mouth they cram; And she pinches his nose underneath the clothes, Till the "poor dear soul" goes off like a lamb. And now they tried the deed to hide; For a little bird whisper'd "Perchance you may swing; Bo the Clerk and the wife, they each took a knife, Thus, limb from limb, they dismember'd him So entirely, that e'en when they came to his wrists, With those great sugar-nippers they nipped off his "flippers," As the Clerk, very flippantly, termed his fists. When they cut off his head, entertaining a dread Lest the folks should remember Gengulphus's face, But first the long beard from the chin they shear'd, They contriv'd to pack up the trunk in a sack, But to see now how strangely things sometimes turn out, Who'd been thus carbonado'd, cut up, and dissected? No doubt 't would surprise the pupils at Guy's; I am no unbeliever-no man can say that o' me- You may deal as you please with Hindoos and Chinese, A Jew or a Turk, but it's rather guess work When a man has to do with a Pilgrim or Palmer. By chance the Prince Bishop, a Royal Divine, Sends his cards round the neighborhood next day, and urges his Wish to receive a snug party to dine, Of the resident clergy, the gentry, and burgesses. At a quarter past five they are all alive, At the palace, for coaches are fast rolling in, And to every guest his card had express'd "Half-past" as the hour for " a greasy chin." |