Leonora by J. T. Stanley

"Ah, William! art thou false or dead?"Cried Leonora from her bed."I dreamt thoud'st ne'er return."William had fought in Frederick's hostAt Prague, but what his fate—if lostOr safe, she could not learn.

Hungaria's Queen and Prussia's King,Wearied, at length, with bickering,Resolv'd to end the strife;And homewards, then, their separate routsThe armies took, with songs and shouts,With cymbals, drum, and fife.

As deck'd with boughs they march'd along,From ev'ry door, the old and youngRush'd forth the troops to greet."Thank God," each child and parent cry'd.And "welcome, welcome," many a bride,As friends long parted meet.

They joy'd, poor Leonora griev'd:No kiss she gave, no kiss receiv'd;Of William none could tell;She wrung her hands, and tore her hair;Till left alone, in deep despair,Bereft of sense she fell.

Swift to her aid, her mother came,"Ah! say," she cried, "in mercy's name,What means this frantic grief?""Mother, 'tis past—all hopes are fled,God hath no mercy, William's dead,My woe is past relief."

"Pardon, O pardon, Lord above!My child, with pray'rs invoke his love,The Almighty never errs;""O, mother! mother! idle prate,Can he be anxious for my fate,Who never heard my prayers?"

"Be patient, child, in God believe,The good he can, and will relieve,To trust his power endeavour.""O, mother! mother! all is vain,What trust can bring to life again?The past, is past, for ever."

"Who knows but that he yet survives;Perchance, far off from hence he lives,And thinks no more of you.Forget, forget, the faithless youth,Away with grief, your sorrow soothe,Since William proves untrue."

"Mother, all hope has fled my mind,The past, is past, our God's unkind;Why did he give me breath?Oh! that this hated loathsome lightWould fade for ever from my sight,Come, death, come, welcome death!"

"Indulgent Father, spare my child,Her agony hath made her wild,She knows not what she does.Daughter, forget thy earthly love,Look up to him who reigns above,Where joys succeed to woes."

"Mother, what now are joys to me?With William, Hell a Heaven could be,Without him, Heaven a Hell.Fade, fade away, thou hated light,Death, bear me hence to endless night,With love all hope farewell."

Thus rashly, Leonora stroveTo doubt the truth of heavenly love.She wept, and beat her breast;She pray'd for death, until the moonWith all the stars in silence shone,And sooth'd the world to rest.

When hark! without what sudden sound!She hears a trampling o'er the ground,Some horseman must be near!He stops, he rings. Hark! as the noiseDies soft away, a well-known voiceThus greets her list'ning ear.

"Wake, Leonora;—dost thou sleep,Or thoughtless laugh, or constant weep,Is William welcome home?""Dear William, you!—return'd, and well!I've wak'd and wept—but why, ah! tell,So late—at night you come?"

"At midnight only dare we roam,For thee from Prague, though late, I come.""For me!—stay here and rest;The wild winds whistle o'er the waste,Ah, dearest William! why such haste?First warm thee in my breast."

"Let the winds whistle o'er the waste,My duty bids me be in haste;Quick, mount upon my steed:Let the winds whistle far and wide,Ere morn, two hundred leagues we'll ride,To reach our marriage bed."

"What, William! for a bridal room,Travel to-night so far from home?""Leonora, 'tis decreed.Look round thee, love, the moon shines clear,The dead ride swiftly; never fear,We'll reach our marriage bed."

"Ah, William! whither would'st thou speed,What! where! this distant marriage bed?""Leonora, no delay.'Tis far from hence; still—cold—and small;Six planks, no more, compose it all;Our guests await, away!"

She lightly on the courser sprung,And her white arms round William flung,Like to a lily wreath.In swiftest gallop off they go,The stones and sparks around they throw,And pant the way for breath.

The objects fly on every side,The bridges thunder as they ride:"Art thou, my love, afraid?Death swiftly rides, the moon shines clear,The dead doth Leonora fear?""Ah, no!—why name the dead?"

Hark! as their rapid course they urge,A passing bell, and solemn dirge;Hoarse ravens join the strain.They see a coffin on a bier,A priest and mourners too appear,Slow moving o'er the plain.

And sad was heard the funeral lay;"What the Lord gives, he takes away;Life's but a fleeting shade.A tale that's told,—a flower that falls;Death, when the least expected, calls,And bears us to his bed."

"Forbear;"—imperious William cry'd,I carry home a beauteous bride,Come to our marriage feast;Mourners, away, we want your song;And as we swiftly haste along,Give us your blessing, priest.

"Sing on, that life is like a shade,A tale that's told, or flowers which fade;Such strains will yield delight.And, when we to our chamber go,Bury your dead, with wail and woe;The service suits the night."

While William speaks, they silent stand,They run obedient to command.But, on with furious bound,The foaming courser forward flew,Fire and stones his heels pursue,Like whirlwinds dash'd around.

On right and left, on left and right,Trees, hills, and towns flew past their sight,As on they breathless prest;"With the bright moon, like death we speed,Dost Leonora fear the dead?""Ah! leave the dead at rest."

Behold, where in the moon's pale beam,As wheels and gibbets faintly gleam,Join'd hand in hand, a crowdOf imps and spectres hover high,Or round a wasted wretch they fly,When William calls aloud:

"Hither, ye airy rabble, come,And follow till I reach my home;We want a marriage dance."As when the leaves on wither'd trees,Are rustled by an eddying breeze,The muttering sprites advance.

But, soon with hurried steps, the crewRush'd prattling on, for William flew,Clasp'd by the frighted fair;Swifter than shafts, or than the wind,While struck with earth, fire flash'd behind,Like lightnings through the air."

Not only flew the landscape by,The clouds and stars appear'd to fly."Thus over hills and heathWe ride like death; say, lovely maid,By moon-light dost thou fear the dead?""Ah! speak no more of death."

"The cock hath crow'd.—Away! away!The sand ebbs out: I scent the day.On! on! away from here!Soon must our destin'd course be run,The dead ride swift,—hurrah! 'tis done,The marriage bed is near."

High grated iron doors, in vainBarr'd their way.—With loosened reinWhil'st William urg'd his steed,He struck the bolts;—they open flew,A church yard drear appear'd in view;Their path was o'er the dead."

As now, half veil'd by clouds, the moonWith feebler ray, o'er objects shone,Where tomb-stones faint appear,A grave new dug arrests the pair,Cry'd William, and embraced the fair,"Our marriage bed is here."

Scarce had he spoke, when, dire to tell,His flesh like touchwood from him fell,His eyes forsook his head.A skull, and naked bones alone,Supply the place of William gone,'Twas Death that clasp'd the maid.

Wild, snorting fire, the courser rear'd,As wrapp'd in smoke he disappear'd,Poor Leonora fell;The hideous spectres hover round,Deep groans she hears from under ground,And fiends ascend from hell.

They dance, and cry, in dreadful howl,"She asks no mercy for her soul;Her earthly course is done.When mortals, rash and impious! dareContend with God, and court despair,We claim them as our own."

"Yet," thus was heard, in milder strains,"Call on the Lord, while life remains,Unite your heart to his;When Man repents and is resign'd,God loves to soothe his suff'ring mind,And grant him future bliss."

"We claim as ours, who impious dareContend with God, and court despair;"Again the spectres cry'd."Fate threats in vain, when man's resign'd,God loves to soothe the suffring mind,"The gentler voice reply'd."

Leonora, ere her sense was gone,Thus faint exclaim'd,—"Thy will be done,"Lord, let thy anger cease."Soft on the wind was borne the pray'r;The spectres vanish'd into air,And all was hushed in peace.

Now redd'ning tints the skies adorn,And streaks of gold proclaim the morn;The night is chas'd away.The sun ascends, new warmth he gives,New hope, new joy; all nature lives,And hails the glorious day.

No more are dreadful phantoms near;Love, and his smiling train appear;They cull each sweetest flow'r,To scatter o'er the path of youth,To deck the bridal bed, when TruthAnd Beauty own their pow'r.

Ah,—could your pow'r avert the blastWhich threatens Bliss!—could passion last!Ye dear enchanters tell;What purer joy could Heaven bestow,Than when with shar'd affection's glow,Our panting bosoms swell?

Sweet spirits! wave the airy wand,Two faithful hearts your care demand;Lo! bounding o'er the plain,Led by your charm, a youth returns;With hope, his breast impatient burns;Hope is not always vain.

"Wake, Leonora—wake to love!For thee, his choicest wreath he wove."Death vainly aim'd his Dart.The Past was all a dream; she woke—He lives;—'twas William's self who spoke,And clasp'd her to his Heart.