Poetry Explorer- Classic Contemporary Poetry, LADY HAMILTON, by ISABELLA LICKBARROW


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Classic and Contemporary Poetry

LADY HAMILTON, by                     Poet's Biography
First Line: Round sizergh's antique, massy walls
Last Line: In solemn dirges o'er her tomb.
Subject(s): Death; Ghosts; Hamilton, Lady Emma (1765-1815); Supernatural; Youth; Dead, The


Round Sizergh's antique, massy walls,
Full frequent swept the whistling blast;
It sigh'd along the spacious halls,
And through the tap'stried chambers past.

The clock, with solemn-sounding knell,
Proclaim'd the dreary midnight hour;
And loud the deep-ton'd magic bell
Slow answer'd from the lonely tower.

But wherefore, at this silent hour,
When every eye is clos'd in sleep,
In yonder lonely desert tower,
Why tolls the midnight bell so deep?

Immur'd within these gloomy walls,
Here long a gentle lady lay;
Far from her dear paternal halls,
She wept her bloom of life away.

Far from the noble youth she lov'd,
A youth for matchless constancy,
For worth and valour, long approv'd,
For generous deeds and courtesy.

When Albert clasp'd her trembling hand,
And press'd it to his throbbing heart,
Sighing, that honour's stern command,
Compell'd such faithful friends to part;

And whisper'd vows of endless truth,
To soothe the parting sense of pain,
Ah! little thought the gentle youth,
They never were to meet again.

Hither, allur'd by treach'rous art,
Deceiv'd by friendship's specious name,
Hither, with unsuspecting heart,
In evil hour, fair Marg'ret came.

When first these fatal doors she pass'd,
On heavy wing the bat flew by;
And hollow moaning rush'd the blast;
The owlet gave a boding cry.

Then first that sullen peal was rung,
Loud bursting on the night's dark gloom;
That bell by unseen spirits swung,
Foretold fair Hamilton's sad doom.

But guileless, nor suspecting harm,
These with no terrors struck her mind,
Soon she forgot the slight alarm,
Which left no lasting fears behind.

A few short days within these walls
Were heard the festive notes of joy;
Music's sweet strains and sprightly balls
Conspir'd to please the ear and eye.

Soon those delusive visions past;
Her few last days of pleasure o'er,
(She little dreamt they were her last,)
Fair Hamilton was seen no more.

But when the chill autumnal breeze
Swept briskly o'er the curling flood—
Shook the high towering forest trees,
And of its foliage stript the wood—

O'er all the neighb'ring hamlet round,
Was heard once more that wizard bell;
And those who heard the dreadful sound,
Said that it toll'd fair Margaret's knell.

E'er since, when o'er this ancient pile
The deep'ning shades of ev'ning fell,
And lingering day-light's latest smile
Seem'd loath to bid the world farewell—

Amid the melancholy glooms,
Her spirit oft was seen to walk,
Through gall'ries long, and spacious rooms,
And to herself would whisp'ring talk.

In sorrow's sable weeds array'd,
She mov'd with pensive, solemn grace;
Slow was her step, noiseless her tread,
A sable veil conceal'd her face.

Sometimes she seem'd in thought profound,
Her head reclining on her arm;
Her eyes still fixt upon the ground,
As spell-bound by some powerful charm.

When the dim taper's feeble beam
Around the lone apartment shed,
Of partial light, a sudden gleam—
Instant the shadowy form was fled.

Still as that woful night returns
Which seal'd the lovely Margaret's doom;
That bell her cruel exit mourns,
In solemn dirges o'er her tomb.





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