GOLFRE,A GOTHIC SWISS TALE.IN FIVE PARTS.
Where freezing wastes of dazzl’ing SnowO’erLeman’s Lake rose, tow’ring;TheBaron Golfre’s Castle strongWas seen, the silv’ry peaks among,With ramparts, darkly low’ring!—Tall Battlements of flint, uprose,Long shadowing down the valley,A grove of sombre Pine, antique,Amid the white expanse would break,In many a gloomy alley.A strong portcullis entrance show’d,With ivy brown hung over;And stagnate the green moat was found,Whene’er the Traveler wander’d round,Or moon-enamour’d Lover.Within the spacious Courts were seenA thousand gothic fancies;Of banners, trophies, armour bright,Of shields, thick batter’d in the fight,And interwoven lances.TheBaron Golfrelong had beenTo solitude devoted;And oft, in pray’r would pass the night’Till day’s vermillion stream of lightAlong the blue hill floated.And yet, his pray’r was little mark’dWith pure and calm devotion;For oft, upon the pavement bare,He’d dash his limbs and rend his hairWith terrible emotion!And sometimes he, at midnight hourWould howl, like wolves, wide-prowling;And pale, the lamps would glimmer round—And deep, the self-mov’d bell would soundA knell prophetic, tolling!For, in the Hall, three lamps were seen,That quiver’d dim;—and near themA bell rope hung, that from the Tow’rThree knells would toll, at midnight’s hour,Startl’ing the soul to hear them!And oft, a dreadful crash was heard,Shaking the Castle’s chambers!And suddenly, the lights would turnTo paly grey, and dimly burn,Like faint and dying embers.Beneath the steep, a Maiden dwelt,The dove-eyedZorietto;A damsel blest with ev’ry grace—And springing from as old a race—As Lady ofLoretto!Her dwelling was a Goatherd’s poor;Yet she his heart delighted;Their little hovel open stood,Beside a lonesome frowning wood,To travellers—benighted.Yet oft, at midnight when the MoonIts dappled course was steering,The Castle bell would break their sleep,AndZoriettoslow would creep—To bar the wicket—fearing!What did she fear? O! dreadful thought!The Moon’s wan lustre, streaming;The dim grey lamps, the crashing sound,The lonely Bittern—shrieking roundThe roof,—with pale light gleaming.And often, when the wintry windLoud whistled o’er their dwelling;They sat beside their faggot fireWhileZorietto’s aged SireA dismal Tale was telling.He told a long and dismal TaleHow a fairLadyperish’d;How her sweet Baby, doom’d to beThe partner of her destinyWas by a peasant cherish’d!He told a long and dismal Tale,How, from a flinty Tow’rA Lady wailing sad was seen,The lofty grated bars between,At dawnlight’s purple hour!He told a Tale of bitter woe,His heart with pity swelling,How the fairLadypin’d and died,And how her Ghost, at Christmas-tide—Would wander,—near her dwelling.He told her, how a lowlyDameTheLady, lorn, befriended—Who chang’d her own dear baby, dead,And took theLady’s in its stead—And then—“Forgive her Heav’n!” He said,And so, his Story ended.
Where freezing wastes of dazzl’ing SnowO’erLeman’s Lake rose, tow’ring;TheBaron Golfre’s Castle strongWas seen, the silv’ry peaks among,With ramparts, darkly low’ring!—Tall Battlements of flint, uprose,Long shadowing down the valley,A grove of sombre Pine, antique,Amid the white expanse would break,In many a gloomy alley.A strong portcullis entrance show’d,With ivy brown hung over;And stagnate the green moat was found,Whene’er the Traveler wander’d round,Or moon-enamour’d Lover.Within the spacious Courts were seenA thousand gothic fancies;Of banners, trophies, armour bright,Of shields, thick batter’d in the fight,And interwoven lances.TheBaron Golfrelong had beenTo solitude devoted;And oft, in pray’r would pass the night’Till day’s vermillion stream of lightAlong the blue hill floated.And yet, his pray’r was little mark’dWith pure and calm devotion;For oft, upon the pavement bare,He’d dash his limbs and rend his hairWith terrible emotion!And sometimes he, at midnight hourWould howl, like wolves, wide-prowling;And pale, the lamps would glimmer round—And deep, the self-mov’d bell would soundA knell prophetic, tolling!For, in the Hall, three lamps were seen,That quiver’d dim;—and near themA bell rope hung, that from the Tow’rThree knells would toll, at midnight’s hour,Startl’ing the soul to hear them!And oft, a dreadful crash was heard,Shaking the Castle’s chambers!And suddenly, the lights would turnTo paly grey, and dimly burn,Like faint and dying embers.Beneath the steep, a Maiden dwelt,The dove-eyedZorietto;A damsel blest with ev’ry grace—And springing from as old a race—As Lady ofLoretto!Her dwelling was a Goatherd’s poor;Yet she his heart delighted;Their little hovel open stood,Beside a lonesome frowning wood,To travellers—benighted.Yet oft, at midnight when the MoonIts dappled course was steering,The Castle bell would break their sleep,AndZoriettoslow would creep—To bar the wicket—fearing!What did she fear? O! dreadful thought!The Moon’s wan lustre, streaming;The dim grey lamps, the crashing sound,The lonely Bittern—shrieking roundThe roof,—with pale light gleaming.And often, when the wintry windLoud whistled o’er their dwelling;They sat beside their faggot fireWhileZorietto’s aged SireA dismal Tale was telling.He told a long and dismal TaleHow a fairLadyperish’d;How her sweet Baby, doom’d to beThe partner of her destinyWas by a peasant cherish’d!He told a long and dismal Tale,How, from a flinty Tow’rA Lady wailing sad was seen,The lofty grated bars between,At dawnlight’s purple hour!He told a Tale of bitter woe,His heart with pity swelling,How the fairLadypin’d and died,And how her Ghost, at Christmas-tide—Would wander,—near her dwelling.He told her, how a lowlyDameTheLady, lorn, befriended—Who chang’d her own dear baby, dead,And took theLady’s in its stead—And then—“Forgive her Heav’n!” He said,And so, his Story ended.
Where freezing wastes of dazzl’ing SnowO’erLeman’s Lake rose, tow’ring;TheBaron Golfre’s Castle strongWas seen, the silv’ry peaks among,With ramparts, darkly low’ring!—
Where freezing wastes of dazzl’ing Snow
O’erLeman’s Lake rose, tow’ring;
TheBaron Golfre’s Castle strong
Was seen, the silv’ry peaks among,
With ramparts, darkly low’ring!—
Tall Battlements of flint, uprose,Long shadowing down the valley,A grove of sombre Pine, antique,Amid the white expanse would break,In many a gloomy alley.
Tall Battlements of flint, uprose,
Long shadowing down the valley,
A grove of sombre Pine, antique,
Amid the white expanse would break,
In many a gloomy alley.
A strong portcullis entrance show’d,With ivy brown hung over;And stagnate the green moat was found,Whene’er the Traveler wander’d round,Or moon-enamour’d Lover.
A strong portcullis entrance show’d,
With ivy brown hung over;
And stagnate the green moat was found,
Whene’er the Traveler wander’d round,
Or moon-enamour’d Lover.
Within the spacious Courts were seenA thousand gothic fancies;Of banners, trophies, armour bright,Of shields, thick batter’d in the fight,And interwoven lances.
Within the spacious Courts were seen
A thousand gothic fancies;
Of banners, trophies, armour bright,
Of shields, thick batter’d in the fight,
And interwoven lances.
TheBaron Golfrelong had beenTo solitude devoted;And oft, in pray’r would pass the night’Till day’s vermillion stream of lightAlong the blue hill floated.
TheBaron Golfrelong had been
To solitude devoted;
And oft, in pray’r would pass the night
’Till day’s vermillion stream of light
Along the blue hill floated.
And yet, his pray’r was little mark’dWith pure and calm devotion;For oft, upon the pavement bare,He’d dash his limbs and rend his hairWith terrible emotion!
And yet, his pray’r was little mark’d
With pure and calm devotion;
For oft, upon the pavement bare,
He’d dash his limbs and rend his hair
With terrible emotion!
And sometimes he, at midnight hourWould howl, like wolves, wide-prowling;And pale, the lamps would glimmer round—And deep, the self-mov’d bell would soundA knell prophetic, tolling!
And sometimes he, at midnight hour
Would howl, like wolves, wide-prowling;
And pale, the lamps would glimmer round—
And deep, the self-mov’d bell would sound
A knell prophetic, tolling!
For, in the Hall, three lamps were seen,That quiver’d dim;—and near themA bell rope hung, that from the Tow’rThree knells would toll, at midnight’s hour,Startl’ing the soul to hear them!
For, in the Hall, three lamps were seen,
That quiver’d dim;—and near them
A bell rope hung, that from the Tow’r
Three knells would toll, at midnight’s hour,
Startl’ing the soul to hear them!
And oft, a dreadful crash was heard,Shaking the Castle’s chambers!And suddenly, the lights would turnTo paly grey, and dimly burn,Like faint and dying embers.
And oft, a dreadful crash was heard,
Shaking the Castle’s chambers!
And suddenly, the lights would turn
To paly grey, and dimly burn,
Like faint and dying embers.
Beneath the steep, a Maiden dwelt,The dove-eyedZorietto;A damsel blest with ev’ry grace—And springing from as old a race—As Lady ofLoretto!
Beneath the steep, a Maiden dwelt,
The dove-eyedZorietto;
A damsel blest with ev’ry grace—
And springing from as old a race—
As Lady ofLoretto!
Her dwelling was a Goatherd’s poor;Yet she his heart delighted;Their little hovel open stood,Beside a lonesome frowning wood,To travellers—benighted.
Her dwelling was a Goatherd’s poor;
Yet she his heart delighted;
Their little hovel open stood,
Beside a lonesome frowning wood,
To travellers—benighted.
Yet oft, at midnight when the MoonIts dappled course was steering,The Castle bell would break their sleep,AndZoriettoslow would creep—To bar the wicket—fearing!
Yet oft, at midnight when the Moon
Its dappled course was steering,
The Castle bell would break their sleep,
AndZoriettoslow would creep—
To bar the wicket—fearing!
What did she fear? O! dreadful thought!The Moon’s wan lustre, streaming;The dim grey lamps, the crashing sound,The lonely Bittern—shrieking roundThe roof,—with pale light gleaming.
What did she fear? O! dreadful thought!
The Moon’s wan lustre, streaming;
The dim grey lamps, the crashing sound,
The lonely Bittern—shrieking round
The roof,—with pale light gleaming.
And often, when the wintry windLoud whistled o’er their dwelling;They sat beside their faggot fireWhileZorietto’s aged SireA dismal Tale was telling.
And often, when the wintry wind
Loud whistled o’er their dwelling;
They sat beside their faggot fire
WhileZorietto’s aged Sire
A dismal Tale was telling.
He told a long and dismal TaleHow a fairLadyperish’d;How her sweet Baby, doom’d to beThe partner of her destinyWas by a peasant cherish’d!
He told a long and dismal Tale
How a fairLadyperish’d;
How her sweet Baby, doom’d to be
The partner of her destiny
Was by a peasant cherish’d!
He told a long and dismal Tale,How, from a flinty Tow’rA Lady wailing sad was seen,The lofty grated bars between,At dawnlight’s purple hour!
He told a long and dismal Tale,
How, from a flinty Tow’r
A Lady wailing sad was seen,
The lofty grated bars between,
At dawnlight’s purple hour!
He told a Tale of bitter woe,His heart with pity swelling,How the fairLadypin’d and died,And how her Ghost, at Christmas-tide—Would wander,—near her dwelling.
He told a Tale of bitter woe,
His heart with pity swelling,
How the fairLadypin’d and died,
And how her Ghost, at Christmas-tide—
Would wander,—near her dwelling.
He told her, how a lowlyDameTheLady, lorn, befriended—Who chang’d her own dear baby, dead,And took theLady’s in its stead—And then—“Forgive her Heav’n!” He said,And so, his Story ended.
He told her, how a lowlyDame
TheLady, lorn, befriended—
Who chang’d her own dear baby, dead,
And took theLady’s in its stead—
And then—“Forgive her Heav’n!” He said,
And so, his Story ended.