GILBERT (3)

III. THE WELCOME HOME. Above the city hangs the moon, Some clouds are boding¹ rain； Gilbert, erewhile on journey gone, To-night comes home again. Ten years have passed above his head, Each year has brought him gain ； His prosperous life has smoothly² sped, Without or tear or stain.

    'Tis somewhat late——the city clocks Twelve deep vibrations³ toll⁴, As Gilbert at the portal knocks, Which is his journey's goal. The street is still and desolate⁵, The moon hid by a cloud； Gilbert, impatient, will not wait,- His second knock peals⁶ loud.

    The clocks are hushed——there's not a light In any window nigh, And not a single planet bright Looks from the clouded sky； The air is raw, the rain descends⁷, A bitter north-wind blows； His cloak the traveller scarce defends—— Will not the door unclose？

    He knocks the third time, and the last His summons now they hear, Within, a footstep, hurrying fast, Is heard approaching near. The bolt is drawn⁸, the clanking chain Falls to the floor of stone； And Gilbert to his heart will strain His wife and children soon.

    The hand that lifts the latchet, holds A candle to his sight, And Gilbert, on the step, beholds⁹ A woman, clad in white. Lo！ water from her dripping dress Runs on the streaming floor； From every dark and clinging tress The drops incessant¹⁰ pour.

    There's none but her to welcome him； She holds the candle high, And, motionless in form and limb, Stands cold and silent nigh； There's sand and sea-weed on her robe, Her hollow eyes are blind； No pulse in such a frame can throb¹¹, No life is there defined.

    Gilbert turned ashy-white, but still His lips vouchsafed¹² no cry； He spurred his strength and master-will To pass the figure by,—— But, moving slow, it faced him straight, It would not flinch¹³ nor quail¹⁴： Then first did Gilbert's strength abate¹⁵, His stony¹⁶ firmness quail.

    He sank upon his knees and prayed The shape stood rigid¹⁷ there； He called aloud for human aid, No human aid was near. An accent strange did thus repeat Heaven's stern but just decree： "The measure thou to her didst mete¹⁸, To thee shall measured be！"

    Gilbert sprang from his bended knees, By the pale spectre pushed, And, wild as one whom demons¹⁹ seize, Up the hall-staircase rushed； Entered his chamber——near the bed Sheathed²⁰ steel and fire-arms hung—— Impelled²¹ by maniac²² purpose dread²³ He chose those stores among.

    Across his throat a keen-edged knife With vigorous hand he drew； The wound was wide——his outraged²⁴ life Rushed rash and redly through. And thus died, by a shameful²⁵ death, A wise and worldly man, Who never drew but selfish breath Since first his life began.