Classic and Contemporary Poetry
THE REVENGE; FROM A FACT, ATTESTED BY THE SPANISH HISTORIANS, by HELEN LEIGH First Line: Twas night -- and darkness all around Last Line: To end her wretched days. Subject(s): Ghosts; Graves; Murder; Supernatural; Tombs; Tombstones | ||||||||
'Twas nightand darkness all around, Her sable curtain spread, When Claudio soughtand seeking found, The mansions of the dead: For having, in his own defence Slain his invet'rate foe, Ere he cou'd prove his innocence, Elsewhere 'twas death to go. A church's sacred portal gain'd, He lean'd against the door Surpriz'd!the door on which he lean'd Flew open;but what more The wretched wanderer did affright, Within the hallow'd dome, He saw a pale and glimmering light, As issuing from a tomb: Yet still had courage to draw near, When, dreadful to behold! He saw, what chill'd his heart with fear, What made his blood run cold A beauteous Lady, clad in white, With wild and frantic look, Rose from the grave;while, at the sight, His frame with horror shook: Who stepping, with a threat'ning tone, And with a bloody knife, To Claudio, almost turn'd to stone, Almost bereft of life; Demanded, what had brought him there, At such an hour of night? The tim'rous youth, benumb'd with fear, And thinking her a sprite, The truth, without reserve, confest, And why he thither fled "Art thou, indeed, so much distrest?" The beauteous phantom said. "Tis true, thou'rt in my pow'r," she cry'd, "But fear no harm from me; "I amand own the deed with pride "A murderer like thee. "A Lady of a noble race, "By perjur'd man betray'd; "And doom'd to mis'ry and disgrace, "Tho' late a spotless maid. "The wretch who won my virgin heart, "Soon triumph'd o'er my fame; "Acted the treacherous villain's part, "And boasted of my shame. "I hir'd a ruffianhad him slain "But not with that content, "Still greater vengeance to obtain, "I to the Sexton went; "And purchas'd, with a purse of gold, "Permission to explore "His grave;and here that heart behold, "The perjur'd villain wore. "From his vile breast, these hands have torn "This heartRevenge how sweet!" She saidand with a look of scorn, Stamp'd on it with her feet. "Be this," she cry'd, "each traitor's doom "Who our weak sex betrays"; Then turn'dand sought the Convent's gloom, To end her wretched days. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...THE SURVIVOR AMONG GRAVES by RANDALL JARRELL SUBJECTED EARTH by ROBINSON JEFFERS THE GRAVE OF MRS. HEMANS by CECIL FRANCES ALEXANDER THOSE GRAVES IN ROME by LARRY LEVIS NOT TO BE DWELLED ON by HEATHER MCHUGH ONE LAST DRAW OF THE PIPE by PAUL MULDOON ETRUSCAN TOMB by JOHN FREDERICK NIMS ENDING WITH A LINE FROM LEAR by MARVIN BELL THE LINNET; A FABLE by HELEN LEIGH |
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