Anti-slavery bugle. [volume] (New-Lisbon, Ohio) 1845-1861, 1855-02-03
THE ANTI4sLAVERY BUGLE.

said, is it not the same to theo
That watch by thy bedi
answered her, 81 love you too;
But it can never DO the same:
She was no Countess like you,
Nor wore such sparkling stones of fame"
0 the wild look of fear aud dread
The cry she gave of bitter woe
| often wonder what | said
To make her moan and shudder so.
Through the long night she tended mo
With such sweet care and charity.
But l should weary you to tell
All that l know and love so we'll
Yet one night more stands out alone
With a sad sweetness all its own.
The wind blew loud hat dreary night,
Its wailing voice 1 we'll remember;
The stars shone out so large and bright
Upon the frsoty fr.broughs white:
That dreary night of cold December.
] saw old Walter silent stand,
Watching the soft last flakes of snow
With looks l could not understand
Of strange perplexity and woe.
AT last he turned and took my hand,
And said the Countess just had sent
To bid us com for she would fam
See me once more before she went
Away never to come back again.
We came in silence through the wood
fDur fnoffa1l woS tho nplv eon,dN-
To where the great white castle stood,
With darkness shadowing it around.
Breathless we trod with cautious care
Up the great echoing marble stair;
Trembling, by Walters hand | held,
Scared by the splendors l bebeld
Now thinking, Should the Earl appear!
Now looking up with giddy fear
To the dim-vaulted roof, that spread
Its gloomy arches overhead.
Long corridors we softly passed,
my heart was beating loud and fast,)
And reached the Lady's room at last.
A strange, faint odor seemed to weigh
Upon the dim and darkened air.
One shaded lamp, with softened ray,
Scarce showed the gloomy splendor there.
The dull red brands were burning low;
And yet a ftful CLEAN of light
Would now and then with sudden glow
Start forth, then sink again in night.
l gazed around, yet half in fear,
Till Walter told me to draw near.
And in the strange and Pickering light
Towards the Lady's bed l crept.
All folded round with snowy white,
She lay, tote would have said she slept
So still the look of that white face,
1t seemed as it were carved in stone.
l paused before / dared to place,
Within her cold white hand my own.
But, with a smile Of sweet surprise,
She turned to me her dreamy eyes;
And slowly, rs if life were pain,
Size drew me in her arm to lie:
She strove to speak, ard strove in vain
Each breath was like a long-drawn sigh.
The sobs that seemed to shake her breast,
The trembling clasp, so loose and weak,
AT last grew calmcr, and at rest;
And then triel she once more to speak;
my God, l thank thee, that my pain
of day by day and year by year
Has not been suffered in vain,
And / may die while he is near.
l will not fear but that Thy grace
Has swept away my sin and woe,
And sent this little angel face,
In my last hour to tell me So"
(And here her voice grew faint and low j
MY child where'er thy life may go,
To know that thou art brave and true,
Will pierce the highest heavens through,
And even there my soul shall be
More joyful for this thought of thee"
She folded her white hands and stayed,
All cold and silently she lay:
! knelt beside the bed, and prayed
The prayer she used to make me say.
| said it many times, and then
She did not move, but seemed to be
In a deep sleep, nor stirred again.
No sound stirred in the silent room,
Or broke the dim and solemn gloom,
Save when the brands that burnt so low,
With noisy ftful CLEAN of light,
Would spread around a sudden glow,
Then sink in silence and in night.
Hon long / sood do not know
At last poor Walter came, and said
$50 sadly } that we now must go,
And whispered, she we loved was dead.
He babe me kiss her face once more,
Then led me sobbing to the door.
I scarcely knew what dying meant,
Yet a strange grief, before unknown,
Weighed on my spirit as we went
And left her lying all alone.
We went to the far North once more,
To seek the well-remembercd home.
Where my poor kinsman dwelt before,
Whence now he was too old to roam
And there six happy years we past,
Happy and peaceful till the last:
When poor old Walter died, and he
Blessed me and said now might be
A sailor on the deep blue sea.
And so go and yet in spite
OF all the joys longed to know;
Though | look onward with del light,
With something of regret 1 go,
And young or old, on land or sea,
One guiding memory | shall take
OF what she prayed | might be,
And what | will be for her sake!