Page:The Poems of William Blake (Shepherd, 1887).djvu/32

 FAIR ELEANOR. 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, through 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. At length no fancy, but reality Distracts her. A rushing sound, and the feet Of one that fled, approaches.—Ellen stood, Like a dumb statue, froze to stone with fear.