O'er many a mountain, moor and vale,
On that tremendous night,

The ghost of Ella, wild and pale,
Pursued her lover's flight.

But when the dawn began to gleam,
Ere yet the morning shone,
She vanish'd like a nightmare-dream,
And Edmund stood alone.

Three days, bewilder'd and forlorn,
He sought his home in vain;
At length he hail'd the hoary thorn
That crown'd his native plain.

'Twas evening-all the air was balm,
The heavens serenely clear;
When the soft music of a psalm
Came pensive o'er his ear.

Then sunk his heart;-a strange surmise
Made all his blood run cold:
He flew, a funeral met his eyes!
He paused, a death-bell toll'd,

'Tis she! 'tis she!"-He burst away;
And bending o'er the spot
Where all that once was Ella lay,
He all beside forgot!

A maniac now, in dumb despair,
With love-bewilder'd mien,

He wanders, weeps and watches there,
Among the hillocks green.

And every eve of pale St. Mark,

As village hinds relate,

He walks with Ella in the dark,
And reads the rolls of fate!

NG

"THE Princess Anne, to her bower is gone,
"To watch, and weep, and pray,
"Where the yellow moon, shining alone,
"Lights the traveller's way.

"Her bower is high on that lonely hill,
"Where hoary ash-trees shake;
"And down below, sublimely still,
"Lies Killarney's Lake."

The warder ceased, and closed the gates,
And the man that asked, rode on ;
No word he said, but bowed his head,
And heaved a heavy groan.

The man was clad in a mantle red,

And his bonnet was large and dark;

So musing still, he gained the hill,
The lady's bower to mark.

'Twas black and drear, the silent trees,
Stood tall, and still, around;

The long grass stirred not in the breeze;
The water gave no sound.

But the lady bright, on the battlement's height, He saw by the burning moon;

From her locks so light, and her garments white, The stranger knew her soon,

"Ho! Lady Anne, thou must come down; Thy husband sends for thee:

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"By the cross of stone, on the heath alone,
"He waits to fly with thee.

"For the fight is o'er, and the rebel power,
"Hath vanquished its lord;
"And now his store is nothing more,
"But only his good sword.".

-"Now tell me knight! by a warrior's might, "I charge thee, tell me true!

"If from the fight, this fatal night, "My love, unhurt withdrew!

"Ah! be my bed, the leaves that are shed, By Autumn's hollow wind,

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"If on his breast, my head but rest,

"The sweetest sleep I'll find.".

"He waits for thee," the knight replied,"By the mouldering cross of stone: "Thy sleep will be sweet:" the stranger sigh'd— "But never sweet alone.

"Come, mount thee here; nay do not fear, "Tho' the clouds be gathering fast:

"My courser's swift, for his career,

"Is like the ocean's blast.".

They rode o'er hill, they rode o'er vale,
They rode thro' the groaning wood;
Till by the glare of the light'ning pale,
They saw the holy rood,

And near it lay a comely form,
In dusky armour drest-

He lay in sleep; and the raging storm,
Could not break his rest.

The warrior slept, and the lady stepped
His well-known form to fold;

She kiss'd his brow, but the nightly snow
Is not so icy cold..

With piercing cries she rais'd her eyes,
And the stranger stood by her side;
His mantle was gone, and his armour shone,
And his dark plume floated wide.

His steed was form'd of the foaming surf
Which roars in Killarney's lake,
When the furious blast its water casts,
And rocking turrets shake.

"Behold your Lord!" the phantom said,
"The fight indeed is o'er;

"And under this shade my corse is laid,. "To sleep for evermore.

"But thou must with me; for the shoreless sea › "Is given us, for our reign;

"And Killarney's lake each year shall quake.. "For its prince and hero slain.

"Killarney's hills, and Killarney's caves, "Our lonely, dwellings must be,

"Till this yearly hour, when its shuddering waves;», My airy horse shall see:

"Then in angry pomp, thro' the waters wide, "In light'ning and thunder drest,

"Your prince shall ride, while the stormy tide --· "O'erwhelms his vassal's rest.

"For three long days, and three long nights, "Must they tremble with guilty fear, Till the whirlwind cease, and all be peace,, "And I no longer there,"

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He spoke and clasp'd his arms to grasp
The form of that lady fair;

But she breath'd a groan, and her spirit alone
Now wanders with his thro' the air.

"THE RING.

HOLLOWAY.

THE sea-gull wheel'd in circles low,
And, screaming, skimm'd the wintry tide;
The evening blast began to blow,

Up the steep cliff's rifted side.

In broken foam, the white surge drove,

And back recoil'd, with rushing sound; When on the precipice above,

With haggard eyes, and locks unbound,

Stood Mary, once the fairest maid

And chastest wife on Cornwall's shore,

Till lost her spouse, herself betray'd,

And fair, and virtuous, now no more!

Down on the crumbling rock she kneel'd,
O'er which the waving samphire grew ;
And, while her aching bosom swell'd,

Her ring she from her finger drew.

"O! golden pledge of early love!

"Thou promise of connubial bliss! Upbraid me not!"-she cried-" nor prove "How ill this soul sustains distress.

"Whene'er thy glittering form I view,

My heart reproaches me and cries"Could'st thou forget a spouse so true,

"Who first conferr'd this hallow'd prize?