Say there is danger,-if it could be done,
Sure one would venture-I would be the one; One night I slept not, but I courted sleep,
And when a spirit-much as spirits might-And forced my thoughts on tracks they could
I would to thee communicate my light!

But when he thought alone, his terror gone
Of the strange story, better views came on:
Nay, my enfeebled heart, be not dismay'd!
A boy again, am I of ghosts afraid?
Does she believe it? Say she does believe,
Is she not born of error and of Eve?
O! there is lively hope I may the cause re-
trieve.

If you re-wed, exclaim'd the Ghost-For what
Puts he the case, if marry she will not?
He knows her fate-but what am I about?
Do I believe?-'tis certain I have doubt,
And so has she,—what therefore will she do?
She the predicted fortune will pursue,
And by th' event will judge if her strange
dream was true;

The strong temptation to her thought applied
Will gain new strength,and will not be denied;
The very threat against the thing we love
Will the vex'd spirit to resistance move;
With vows to virtue weakness will begin,
And fears of sinning let in thoughts of sin.

Strong in her sense of weakness, now withdrew

The cautious lady from the lover's view; But she perceived the looks of all were changed,

Her kind old friends grew peevish and es-
tranged:

A fretful spirit reign'd, and discontent
From room to room in sullen silence went;
And the kind widow was distress'd at heart
To think that she no comfort could impart:
But he will go, she said, and he will strive
In fields of glorious energy to drive
Love from his bosom-Yes, I then may stay,
And all will thank me on a future day.
So judged the lady, nor appear'd to grieve,
Till the young soldier came to take his leave;
But not of all assembled-No! he found
His gentle sisters all in sorrow drown'd;
With many a shaken hand, and many a kiss,
He cried: Farewell! a solemn business this;
Nay, Susan, Sophy!—heaven and earth, my
dears!

I am a soldier-What do I with tears?

He sought his parents; — they together
walk'd,
And of their son, his views and dangers,
talk'd;
They knew not how to blame their friend,
but still

Fond, but yet fix'd,he found her in her room;
Firm, and yet fearful, she beheld him come :
Nor sought he favour now-No! he would
meet his doom.
Farewell! and, Madam, I beseech you pray
That this sad spirit soon may pass away;
That sword or ball would to the dust restore
This body, that the soul may grieve no more
For love rejected-O! that I could quit
The life I lothe, who am for nothing fit,
No, not to die!-Unhappy, wilt thou make
The house all wretched for thy passion's sake?
And most its grieving object?—Grieving?—
No!
Or as a conqueror mourns a dying foe,
That makes his triumph sure-Couldst thou
deplore

The evil done, the pain would be no more;
But an accursed dream has steel'd thy breast,
And all the woman in thy soul suppress'd.-
O! it was vision, George; a vision true
As ever seer or holy prophet knew.—
Can spirits, lady, though they might alarm,
Make an impression on that lovely arm?
A little cold the cause, a little heat,
Or vein minute, or artery's morbid beat,
Even beauty these admit.-I did behold
My brother's form.-Yes, so thy Fancy told,
When in the morning she her work survey'd,
And call'd the doubtful memory to her aid.
Nay, think! the night he died - the very
night!-

O! but how strange that all should be com-
bined!-

True; but such combinations we may find;
A dream's predicted number gain'd a prize,
Yet dreams make no impression on the wise,
Though some chance good, some lucky gain
may rise.-

O! but those words, that voice so truly
known!-
No doubt, dear lady, they were all thine own;
Memory for thee thy brother's form por-
tray'd;

It was thy fear the awful warning made:
Thy former doubts of a religious kind
Account for all these wanderings of the mind
But then, how different when my father came,
These could not in their nature be the
same!'-

They murmur'd: She may save us if she will:
Were not these visions working in her mind Yes, all are dreams; but some as we awake
Strange things 'tis in her nature to be kind. Fly off at once, and no impression make;
Their son appear'd-He sooth'd them, and Others are felt, and ere they quit the brain
was bless'd,
Make such impression that they come again;
But still the fondness of his soul confess'd-As half familiar thoughts, and half unknown.
And where the lady ?—To her room retired!
Now show,dear son, the courage she required.
George bow'd in silence, trying for assent
To his hard fate, and to his trial went:

And scarcely recollected as our own;
For half a day abide some vulgar dreams.
And give our grandams and our nursea
themes;

Others, more strong, abiding figures draw | Hear me, Oh! hear me

Upon the brain, and we assert: I saw;
And then the fancy on the organs place
A powerful likeness of a form and face.
Yet more-in some strong passion's troubled
reign,

Or when the fever'd blood inflames the brain,
At once the outward and the inward eye
The real object and the fancied spy;
The eye is open, and the sense is true,
And therefore they the outward object view;
But while the real sense is fix'd on these,
The power within its own creation sees; .
And these, when mingled in the mind, create
Those striking visions which our dreamers
state;

For knowing that is true that met the sight,
They think the judgment of the fancy
right;-

Your frequent talk of dreams has made me

turn

My mind on them, and these the facts I
learn.

Or should you say, 'tis not in us to take
Heed in both ways, to sleep and be awake,
Perhaps the things by eye and mind sur-
vey'd

Shall I wed my

son?'-
I am in fondness and obedience one;
And I will reverence, honour, love, adore,
Be all that fondest sons can be-and more;
And shall thy son, if such he be, proceed
To fierce encounters, and in battle bleed ?
No; thou canst weep! O! leave me,
entreat;

Leave me a moment

we shall quickly.
meet.'-
No! here I kneel, a beggar at thy feet.-
He said, and knelt-with accents, softer still,
He woo'd the weakness of a failing will,
And erring judgment — took her hand, and
cried,

Withdraw it not!-O! let it thus abide,
Pledge of thy love-upon thy act depend
My joy, my hope, thus they begin or end!
Withdraw it not.-He saw her looks express'd
Favour and grace-the hand was firmer
press'd ;-

Signs of opposing fear no more were shown,
And, as he press'd, he felt it was his own.
Soon through the house was known the glad
assent,

The night so dreaded was in comfort spent ;
War was no more, the destined knot was
tied,

Are in their quick alternate efforts made;
For by this mixture of the truth, the dream
Will in the morning fresh and vivid seem. And the fond widow made a fearful bride.
Dreams are like portraits, and we find they

please

Because they are confess'd resemblances;
But those strange night-mare visions we

compare

To waxen figures-they too real are,
Too much a very truth, and are so just
To life and death, they pain us or disgust.
Hence from your mind these idle visions
shake,

And O! my love, to happiness awake!
It was a warning, tempter! from the dead;
And, wedding thee, I should to misery wed!'
False and injurious! What! unjust to thee?
0! hear the vows of Love-it cannot be ;
What, I forbear to bless thee-I forego
That first great blessing of existence; No!
Did every ghost that terror saw arise
With such prediction, I should say it lies;
But none there are—a mighty gulf between
Hides the ideal world from objects seen;
We know not where unbodied spirits dwell,
But this we know, they are invisible; -
Yet I have one that fain would dwell with
thee,

And always with thy purer spirit be.--
O! leave me, George! To take the field, and
die,

So leave thee, Lady? Yes, I will comply ;
Thon art too far above me Ghosts with-
stand

My hopes in vain, but riches guard thy hand,
For I am poor-affection and an heart
To thee devoted, I but these impart :
Then bid me go, I will thy words obey,
But let not visions drive thy friend away.

Let mortal frailty judge how mortals frail
Thus in their strongest resolutions fail,
And though we blame, our pity will prevail.
Yet, with that Ghost-for so she thought-
in view!

When she believed that all he told was true;
When every threat was to her mind recall'd,
Till it became affrighten'd and appall'd;
When Reason pleaded, think! forbear! refrain!
And when, though trifling, stood that mystic
stain,

Predictions, warnings, threats, were present
all in vain.

?

Th' exulting youth a mighty conqueror rose,
And who hereafter shall his will oppose
Such is our tale; but we must yet attend
Our weak, kind widow to her journey's end;
Upon her death-bed laid,confessing to a friend
Her full belief, for to the hour she died
This she profess'd-The truth I must not
hide,

It was my brother's form, and in the night
he died:

In sorrow and in shame has pass'd my time,
All I have suffer'd follow from my crime;
I sinn'd with warning-when I gave my hand
A power within said, urgently,—Withstand!
And I resisted-O! my God, what shame,
What years of torment from that frailty came;
That husband-son!-I will my fault review;
What did he not that men or monsters do?
His day of love, a brief autumnal day,
Ev'n in its dawning hasten'd to decay;

Doom'd from our odious union to behold
How cold he grew, and then how worse than
cold;

Eager he sought me, eagerly to shun,
Kneeling he woo'd me,but he scorn'd me, won;
The tears he caused served only to provoke
His wicked insult o'er the heart he broke;
My fond compliance served him for a jest,
And sharpen'd scorn—I ought to be distress'd;
Why did I not with my chaste ghost comply!
And with upbraiding scorn he told me why ;-
O! there was grossness in his soul; his mind
Could not be raised, nor soften'd, nor refined.
Twice he departed in his rage, and went
I know not where, nor how his days were
spent ;

Twice he return'd a suppliant wretch, and
craved,

It led him far about to Wickham Green,
Where stood the mansion of the village-

queen;

Her garden yet its wintry blossoms bore,
And roses graced the windows and the door-
That lasting kind, that through the varying

year

Or in the bud or in the bloom appear;
All flowers that now the gloomy days adorn
Rose on the view, and smiled upon that morn:
Richard a damsel at the window spied,
Who kindly drew a useless veil aside,
And show'd a lady who was sitting by,
So pensive, that he almost heard her sigh:
Full many years she could, no question, tell,
But in her mourning look'd extremely well.

Mean as profuse, the trifle I had saved.
I have had wounds, and some that never heal, His tale to George, it was a pleasant sight;
In truth, said Richard, when he told at night
What bodies suffer, and what spirits feel; She look'd like one who could, in tender tone,
But he is gone who gave them, he is fled
To his account! and my revenge is dead-See! Time has touch'd me gently in his race,
Say, 'Will you let a lady sigh alone?
Yet is it duty, though with shame, to give And left no odious furrows in my face;
My sex a lesson-let my story live;
See, too, this house and garden, neat and trim,
For if no ghost the promised visit paid,
Still was a deep and strong impression made, Say this is vain and foolish if you please,
Kept for its master-Will you stand for him?”
That wisdom had approved, and prudence But I believe her thoughts resembled these:
had obey'd;
Come! said her looks, and we will kindly take
The visit kindness prompted you to make.
And I was sorry that so much good play
On one who has his lot, on one who had his
Of eye and attitude were thrown away
day.

But from another world that warning came,
And O! in this be ended all my shame!
Like the first being of my sex I fell,
Tempted, and with the tempter doom'd to

dwell

He was the master-fiend, and where he reign'd was hell.'

Your pity, brother,—George, with smile,
replied,-
You may dismiss, and with it send your
pride:

No need of pity, when the gentle dame
Has thrice resign'd and reassumed her name ;
And be not proud-for, though it might be
thine,

She would that hand to humbler men resign.
Young she is not,-it would be passing
strange

If a young beauty thrice her name should change:

Yes! she has years beyond your reckoning

seen

Smiles and a window years and wrinkles
screen;
Butshe, in fact,has that which may command
The warm admirer and the willing hand:
What is her fortune we are left to guess,
But good the sign—she does not much profess;
Poor she is not, and there is that in her
That easy men to strength of mind prefer;
She may be made, with little care and skill,
Yielding her own, t'adopt an husband's will:
Women there are, who, if a man will take
The helm and steer-will no resistance make ;
Who, if neglected, will the power assume,
And then what wonder if the shipwreck
come?