XXII. "Enough enough of this vile stuff! Come, Chorister! with all your throng, XXIII. The chant is done; the bier is gone, They follow, one and all. Again away! hurra! hurra! 'Tis gallop! gallop! all the way! The horse and horseman pant for breath; XXIV. On either side, as on they ride, The hills, and everything, Trees, houses, cities, villages, Are all upon the wing. Art frighten'd, love? Down dale! up dike! Hurra! we go it, spectre-like! Dost fear the spectres, sweetheart?" But, dearest William! talk not so!” "No! XXV. "Stay! stay! I see the gallows tree; And footing it about, Half out of sight, by the moonlight, What ho! you rabble! here! come here! XXVI. The dance is up; the rabble troop Like whistling breeze through thick pine-trees, Once more away! hurra! hurra! 'Tis gallop! gallop! all the way! The horse and horseman pant for breath; The pavement sparkles underneath. XXVII. As on they ride, on either side, - Down dale! up dike! "Art frighten'd, love? Dost fear the spectres sweetheart?” "No! XXVIII. What ho! what ho! the roosters crow! We've had a pretty chase! Your work is sped, my gallant steed! For we are at the place. 'Tis time; I scent the morning air; XXIX. A lofty gate of iron grate Athwart the passage rose: At his whip-stroke back springs the lock, The church-yard portals open wide, XXX. Look! look! what now? A pretty show! What miracle is this? See! see the horseman's drapery Is falling piece by piece! Off go at once his flesh and hair! His skull and all his bones are bare! A naked skeleton he stands, With scythe and hour-glass in his hands. XXXI. Uprears the horse with wildest force, Then wheeling round sinks in the ground There's howling in the upper spheres! There's wailing from the sepulchres! Till poor Lenora well may doubt, XXXII. Around her then the spectre train A ghostly dance prolong, And capering in airy ring, They howl a parting song: "Be patient, though your heart should break! And never, never undertake God's holy purpose to control: The Lord have mercy on your soul!" 529 THE WATER KING, A LEGEND FROM THE NORSE. [Democratic Review, May, 1843.] ["Two little boys were playing by the side of a river and they saw the Ström Karl, or Water Spirit, sitting on the shore and playing on his harp. Then the children called out to him, and said, 'Ström Karl, why do you sit here playing? there is no salvation for you.' Whereupon the Ström Karl fell to weeping bitterly, threw his harp away, and sunk in the deep waters. When the boys returned home, they related to their father, who was a godly man, what had befallen them. The father said, You have sinned against the Ström Karl. Go back and comfort him, and tell him that he too shall be saved.' When they went back to the river, the Ström Karl sate on the shore, weeping and lamenting. And the children said, 'Weep not so, Ström Karl! our Father says that thy Redeemer also liveth.' Then the Ström Karl joyfully took his harp and played sweetly until sunset." Another slightly different version of this pretty legend is given in Miss Bremer's admirable novel, The Neighbors. The Spirit is there called Neck.] Two boys beside a river play'd At eve's retiring light, And there, beneath the alder shade, He sate beneath the alder shade, Long time the boys attentive heard |