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· How far less blest am I than them,

Daily to pine and waste with care ! Like the poor plant that, from its stem

Divided, feels the chilling air.

“Nor, cruel Earl, can I enjoy

The humble charms of solitude ; Your minions proud my peace destroy,

By sullen frowns or prating rude.

· Last night, as sad I chanced to stray,

The village death-bell smote my ear: They wink'd aside, and seem'd to say, 'Countess, prepare: thy end is near!'

“And now, while happy peasants sleep,

Here I sit lonely and forlorn ; No one to soothe me as I weep,

Save Philomel on yonder thorn.

“My spirits flag, my hopes decay

Still that dread death-bell smites my ear, And many a boding seems to say, Countess, prepare: thy end is near!'


Thus, sore and sad, that lady grieved

In Cumnor Hall, so lone and drear, And many a heartfelt sigh she heaved,

And let fall many a bitter tear.

And ere the dawn of day appear'd

In Camnor Hall, so lone and drear, Full many a piercing scream was heard,

And many a cry of mortal fear.


The death-bell thrice was heard to ring:

An aërial voice was heard to call; And thrice the raven flapp'd his wing

Around the towers of ('umnor Hall:

The mastiff howl’d at ritage divor;

The oaks were shatter'd on the green : Woe was the hour,--for never more

That hapless Countess e'er was seen'

And in that malor now no more

Is cheerful feast and sprightly bull; For ever since that dreary hour

Have spirits hauntel C'umnor Hall!

The village-maids, with fearful glance,

Avoid the ancient moss-crown wall, Nor ever lead the merry dance

Among the groves of C'umnor Hall.

Full many a traveller oft hath sigh'd,

And pensive wept the countess fall, As, wand'ring onwards, he has spied

The haunted towers of Cumnor Hall.

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