II

"ON THE DARK HEIGHT OF JURA”

I

GHOSTS of the dead! have I not heard your yelling

Rise on the night-rolling breath of the blast, When o'er the dark ether the tempest is swelling, And on eddying whirlwind the thunder-peal passed?

II

For oft have I stood on the dark height of Jura, Which frowns on the valley that opens beneath; Oft have I braved the chill night-tempest's fury, Whilst around me, I thought, echoed murmurs of death.

III

And now, whilst the winds of the mountain are howling,

O father! thy voice seems to strike on mine ear; In air whilst the tide of the night-storm is rolling, It breaks on the pause of the elements' jar.

IV

On the wing of the whirlwind which roars o'er the mountain

Perhaps rides the ghost of my sire who is dead, On the mist of the tempest which hangs o'er the

fountain,

Whilst a wreath of dark vapor encircles his head.

"On the Dark Height of Jura," Dowden || The Father's Spectre, Rossetti, without title, Shelley.

The mountain repeats

The echoing sound of the knell;
And the dark monk now

Wraps the cowl round his brow,
As he sits in his lonely cell.

II

And the cold hand of death Chills his shuddering breath, As he lists to the fearful lay, Which the ghosts of the sky, As they sweep wildly by, Sing to departed day.

And they sing of the hour

When the stern fates had power To resolve Rosa's form to its clay.

But that hour is past;

III

And that hour was the last

Of peace to the dark monk's brain;

Bitter tears from his eyes gushed silent and

fast;

And he strove to suppress them in vain.

Sister Rosa, Rossetti || Ballad, Shelley.

IV

Then his fair cross of gold he dashed on the floor, When the death-knell struck on his ear,

"Delight is in store

For her evermore;

But for me is fate, horror, and fear."

V

Then his eyes wildly rolled,
When the death-bell tolled,
And he raged in terrific woe;
And he stamped on the ground,
But, when ceased the sound,
Tears again began to flow.

And the ice of despair

VI

Chilled the wild throb of care,

And he sate in mute agony still;

Were delights to his agonized pain;

And he prayed to God to dissolve the spell, Which else must forever remain.

VIII

And in fervent prayer he knelt on the ground,
Till the abbey bell struck one;

His feverish blood ran chill at the sound;

A voice hollow and horrible murmured around "The term of thy penance is done!"

Grew dark the night;

The moonbeam bright

IX

Waxed faint on the mountain high;

And from the black hill

Went a voice cold and still,

"Monk! thou art free to die."

X

Then he rose on his feet,

And his heart loud did beat,

And his limbs they were palsied with dread; Whilst the grave's clammy dew

O'er his pale forehead grew;

And he shuddered to sleep with the dead.

XI

And the wild midnight storm
Raved around his tall form,
As he sought the chapel's gloom :
And the sunk grass did sigh

To the wind, bleak and high,

As he searched for the new-made tomb.

XII

And forms, dark and high,

Seemed around him to fly,

And mingle their yells with the blast,

And on the dark wall

Half-seen shadows did fall,

As, enhorrored, he onward passed.

XIII

And the storm-fiends wild rave

O'er the new-made grave,

And dread shadows linger around;

The Monk called on God his soul to save, And, in horror, sank on the ground.

XIV

Then despair nerved his arm
To dispel the charm,

And he burst Rosa's coffin asunder;

And the fierce storm did swell

More terrific and fell,

And louder pealed the thunder.

XV

And laughed in joy the fiendish throng,

Mixed with ghosts of the mouldering dead ; And their grisly wings, as they floated along, Whistled in murmurs dread.

XVI

And her skeleton form the dead Nun reared,
Which dripped with the chill dew of hell;

In her half-eaten eyeballs two pale flames appeared, And triumphant their gleam on the dark Monk glared,

As he stood within the cell.