Page:Poetical sketches reprint (1868).djvu/30

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HE bell struck one and shook the silent tower; The graves give up their dead: fair Eleanor Walk'd by the castle-gate, and looked in: A hollow groan ran thro' the dreary vaults.

She shriek'd aloud, and sunk upon the steps, On the cold stone her pale cheek. Sickly smells Of death, issue as from a sepulchre, And all is silent but the sighing vaults.

Chill death withdraws his hand, and she revives; Amazed she finds herself upon her feet, And, like a ghost, thro' narrow passages Walking, feeling the cold walls with her hands.

Fancy returns, and now she thinks of bones And grinning skulls, and corruptible death Wrapt in his shroud; and now fancies she hears Deep sighs, and sees pale sickly ghosts gliding.