All dread alike his frown or smile.

None come within his door,

Save those who dipp'd their hands in blood with him; Save those who laugh'd to see the white horse swim.

"To night's our anniversary;

And, mind me, lads, we'll have it kept
With royal state and special glee!
Better with those who slept

Their sleep that night, had he be now, who slinks!
And health and wealth to him who bravely drinks!"

The words they spoke, we may not speak.
The tales they told, we may not tell.

Mere mortal man, forbear to seek

The secrets of that hell!

Their shouts grow loud. T is near mid hour of night. What means upon the water that red light?

Not bigger than a star it seems:
And, now, 't is like the bloody moon :
And, now, it shoots in hairy streams
Its light!--'T will reach us soon!

A ship! and all on fire !-hull, yards and mast!
Her sheets are sheets of flame!-She's nearing fast!

And now she rides, upright and still,
Shedding a wild and lurid light

Around the cove, on inland hill,
Waking the gloom of night.

All breathes of terror! Men in dumb amaze
Gaze on each other 'neath the horrid blaze.

It scares the sea-birds from their nests.
They dart and wheel with deaf'ning screams;
Now dark, and now their wings and breasts
Flash back disastrous gleams.

O, sin, what hast thou done on this fair earth?
The world, O man, is wailing o'er thy birth.

And what comes up above that wave,
So ghastly white?-a spectral head!—
A horse's head!-(May heaven save
Those looking on the dead,—

RICHARD H. DANA.

The waking dead!) There on the sea he standsThe spectre-horse-He moves; he gains the sands !

Onward he speeds. His ghostly sides
Are streaming with a cold, blue light.
Heaven keep the wits of him who rides
The spectre-horse tonight!

His path is shining like a swift ship's wake;
He gleams before Lee's door like day's gray break.

The revel now is high within;
It breaks upon the midnight air.
They little think, 'midst mirth and din,
What spirit waits them there.

As if the sky became a voice, there spread
A sound to appal the living, stir the dead.

The spirit-steed sent up the neigh.
It seem'd the living trump of hell,
Sounding to call the damn'd away,
To join the host that fell.

It rang along the vaulted sky: the shore
Jarr'd hard, as when the thronging surges roar.

It rang in ears that knew the sound;

And hot, flush'd cheeks are blanch'd with fear.
And why does Lee look wildly round?

Thinks he the drown'd horse near?

He drops his cup-his lips are stiff with fright.
Nay, sit thee down!-It is thy banquet night,

"I cannot sit. I needs must go:

The spell is on my spirit now.

I

go to dread-I go to wo!"

O, who so weak as thou,

Strong man!—His hoofs upon the door-stone, see, The shadow stands !-His eyes are on thee, Lee!

Thy hair pricks up!" O, I must bear
His damp, cold breath! It chills my frame!
His eyes-their near and dreadful glare
Speak that I must not name!"

Thou 'rt mad to mount that horse!" A power within,
I must obey-cries, mount thee, man of sin!'"

6

He's now astride the spectre's back,
With rein of silk, and curb of gold.

'Tis fearful speed -the rein is slack
Within his senseless hold:

Nor doth he touch the shade he strides-upborne
By an unseen power.-God help thee, man forlorn!

He goes with speed: he goes with dread!
And now they're on the hanging steep!
And, now! the living and the dead,
They'll make the horrid leap!

The horse stops short :-his feet are on the verge.
He stands, like marble, high above the surge.

And, nigh, the tall ship yet burns on,
With red, hot spars and crackling flame.
From hull to gallant, nothing's gone.
She burns, and yet 's the same!

Her hot, red flame is beating, all the night,
On man and horse, in their cold, phosphor light.

Through that cold light the fearful man
Sits looking on the burning ship.
Thou ne'er again wilt curse and ban.
How fast he moves the lip!

And yet he does not speak, or make a sound!

What see you, Lee,-the bodies of the drown'd?

"I look, where mortal man may not-
Into the chambers of the deep.

I see the dead, long, long forgot—

I see them in their sleep.

A dreadful power is mine, which none can know,
Save he who leagues his soul with death and wo.'

Thou mild, sad mother-waning moon,

Thy last, low, melancholy ray

Shines toward him.--Quit him not so soon!
Mother, in mercy, stay!

Despair and death are with him; and canst thou,

With that kind, earthward look, go leave him now?

O, thou wast born for things of love;
Making more lovely in thy shine

Whate'er thcu look'st on. Ilosts above,

In that soft light of thine,

Burn softer:-earth, in silvery veil, seems heaven.-
Thou 'rt going down!-Thou 'st left him unforgiven!

The far, low west is bright no more.
How still it is! No sound is heard
At sea, or all along the shore,

But cry of passing bird.

Thou living thing,-and dar'st thou come so near These wild and ghastly shapes of death and fear?

Now long that thick, red light has shone
On stern, dark rocks, and deep, still bay,
On man and horse that seem of stone,
So motionless are they.

But now its lurid fire less fiercely burns:
The night is going-faint, gray dawn returns.

That spectre-steed now slowly pales;
Now changes like the moonlit cloud.
That cold, thin light, now slowly fails,
Which wrapt them like a shroud.
Both ship and horse are fading into air.-
Lost, mazed, alone, see, Lee is standing there!

The morning air blows fresh on him;
The waves dance gladly in his sight;
The sea-birds call, and wheel, and skim-
O, blessed morning light!

He doth not hear that joyous call; he sees
No beauty in the wave; he feels no breeze.

For he 's accurst from all that's good;
He ne'er must know his healing power.
The sinner on his sins must brood;
Must wait, alone, his hour.

Thou stranger to earth's beauty-human love,
There's here no rest for thee,. no hope above!

The hot sun beats upon his head.

He stands beneath its broad, fierce blaze,
As stiff and cold as one that's dead:
A troubled, dreamy maze

Of some unearthly horror, all he knows-
Of some wild horror past, and coming woes.

18

The gull has found her place on shore;
The sun 's gone down unto his rest;
All's still but ocean's weary roar―
There stands the man unblest.

But, see, he moves he turns, as asking where
His mates!-Why looks he with that piteous stare?

Go, get thee home, and end thy mirth!
Go, call the revellers again!

They've fled the isle; and o'er the earth
Are wanderers, like Cain.

As he his door-stone past, the air blew chill.
The wine is on the board; Lee, take thy fill!

"There's none to meet me, none to cheer:
The seats are empty-lights burnt out;
And I alone, must sit me here:

Would I could hear their shout!"

Thou ne'er shalt hear it more-more taste thy wine!— Silent thou sitt'st within the still moonshine.

Day came again; and up he rose,
A weary man, from his lone board.
Nor merry feast, nor sweet repose
Did that long night afford.

No shadowy-coming night, to bring him rest—
No dawn, to chase the darkness of his breast!

He walks within the day's full glare
A darken'd man. Where'er he comes,
All shun him. Children peep and stare;
Then, frighted, seek their homes.

Through all the crowd a thrilling horror ran.
They point and say "There goes the evil man!”

He turns and curses in his wrath
Both man and child; then hastes away
Shoreward, or takes some gloomy path;
But there he cannot stay:

Terror and madness drive him back to men;
His hate of man to solitude again.

Time passes on, and he grows bold-
His eye more fierce, his oaths more loud.