bigboi2's blog
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The bell struck one, and shook the silent tower; She shriek'd aloud, and sunk upon the steps, Chill Death withdraws his hand, and she revives; Fancy returns, and now she thinks of bones At length, no fancy but reality The wretch approaches, crying: `The deed is done; `Take this,' he cried; and thrust into her arms They pass'd swift thro' the outer gate; the wretch, As the deer wounded, Ellen flew over Her maids await her; on her bed she falls, `My lord was like a flower upon the brows `My lord was like a star in highest heav'n `But he is darken'd; like the summer's noon Thus having spoke, she raisèd up her head, Her eyes were fix'd; the bloody cloth unfolds, `O Elenor, I am thy husband's head, `O Elenor, beware the cursèd duke; She sat with dead cold limbs, stiffen'd to stone; - Fair Elenor William Blake
The graves give up their dead: fair Elenor
Walk'd by the
castle gate, and lookèd in.
A hollow groan ran thro' the dreary vaults.
On the cold stone her pale cheeks. Sickly smells
Of death
issue as from a sepulchre,
And all is silent but the sighing vaults.
Amaz'd, she finds herself upon her feet,
And, like a
ghost, thro' narrow passages
Walking, feeling the cold walls with her hands.
And grinning skulls, and corruptible death
Wrapp'd in his
shroud; and now fancies she hears
Deep sighs, and sees pale sickly ghosts gliding.
Distracts her. A rushing sound, and the feet
Of one that fled, approaches--
Ellen stood
Like a dumb statue, froze to stone with fear.
Take this, and send it by whom thou wilt send;
It is my
life--send it to Elenor:--
He's dead, and howling after me for blood!
A wet napkin, wrapp'd about; then rush'd
Past, howling: she
receiv'd into her arms
Pale death, and follow'd on the wings of fear.
Howling, leap'd o'er the wall into the moat,
Stifling in
mud. Fair Ellen pass'd the bridge,
And heard a gloomy voice cry `Is it done?'
The pathless plain; as the arrows that fly
By night, destruction flies,
and strikes in darkness.
She fled from fear, till at her house arriv'd.
That bed of joy, where erst her lord hath press'd:
`Ah, woman's
fear!' she cried; `ah, cursèd duke!
Ah, my dear lord! ah, wretched Elenor!
Of lusty May! Ah, life as frail as flower!
O ghastly death! withdraw
thy cruel hand,
Seek'st thou that flow'r to deck thy horrid temples?
Drawn down to earth by spells and wickedness;
My lord was like
the opening eyes of day
When western winds creep softly o'er the flowers;
Clouded; fall'n like the stately tree, cut down;
The breath of
heaven dwelt among his leaves.
O Elenor, weak woman, fill'd with woe!'
And saw the bloody napkin by her side,
Which in her arms
she brought; and now, tenfold
More terrifièd, saw it unfold itself.
Disclosing to her sight the murder'd head
Of her dear lord,
all ghastly pale, clotted
With gory blood; it groan'd, and thus it spake:
Who, sleeping on the stones of yonder tower,
Was 'reft of life by the
accursèd duke!
A hirèd villain turn'd my sleep to death!
O give not him thy hand, now I am dead;
He seeks thy love; who, coward,
in the night,
Hirèd a villain to bereave my life.'
She took the gory head up in her arms;
She kiss'd the
pale lips; she had no tears to shed;
She hugg'd it to her breast, and groan'd her last.
