OSRIC
—
THE
LION
!
A
ROMANCE
.
SWIFT
roll
the
Rhine's
billows
,
and
water
the
plains
,
Where
Falkenstein
Castle's
majestic
remains
,
Their
moss-cover'd
turrets
still
rear
;
Oft
loves
the
gaunt
wolf
midst
the
ruins
to
prowl
,
What
Time
from
the
battlements
pours
the
lone
owl
Her
plaints
in
the
passenger's
ear
.
No
longer
resound
through
the
vaults
of
yon
hall
The
song
of
the
minstrel
,
and
mirth
of
the
ball
;
Those
pleasures
for
ever
are
fled
;
There
now
dwells
the
bat
with
her
light-shunning
brood
;
There
ravens
and
vultures
now
clamour
for
food
,
And
all
is
dark
,
silent
,
and
dread
!
Ha
!
Dost
thou
not
see
by
the
Moon's
trembling
light
,
Directing
his
steps
,
where
advances
a
Knight
,
His
eye
big
with
vengeance
and
fate
?
'Tis
Osric
—
the
Lion
,
his
Nephew
who
leads
,
And
swift
up
the
crackling
old
stair-case
proceeds
,
Gains
the
hall
,
and
quick
closes
the
gate
.
Now
round
him
young
Carloman
casting
his
eyes
,
Surveys
the
sad
scene
with
dismay
and
surprize
,
And
fear
steals
the
rose
from
his
cheeks
;
His
spirits
forsake
him
,
his
courage
is
flown
;
The
hand
of
Sir
Osric
he
clasps
in
his
own
,
And
while
his
voice
falters
he
speaks
:
—
"
Dear
Uncle
,
"
he
murmurs
,
"
why
linger
we
here
?
'Tis
late
,
and
these
chambers
are
damp
and
are
drear
;
Keen
blows
through
the
ruins
the
blast
!
Oh
!
let
us
away
and
our
journey
pursue
;
Fair
Blumenberg's
Castle
will
rise
on
our
view
,
Soon
as
Falkenstein
Forest
is
past
.
"
Why
roll
thus
your
eye-balls
?
Why
glare
they
so
wild
?
Oh
!
chide
not
my
weakness
,
nor
frown
,
that
a
child
Should
view
these
apartments
with
dread
;
For
know
,
that
full
oft
have
I
heard
from
my
Nurse
,
There
still
on
this
Castle
has
rested
a
curse
,
Since
innocent
blood
here
was
shed
.
"
She
said
,
too
,
bad
spirits
,
and
ghosts
all
in
white
,
Here
use
to
resort
at
the
dead
time
of
night
,
Nor
vanish
till
breaking
of
day
;
And
still
at
their
coming
is
heard
the
deep
tone
Of
a
bell
—
loud
and
awful
—
Hark
!
hark
!
'twas
a
groan
!
Good
Uncle
,
oh
!
let
us
away
!
"
"
Peace
,
serpent
!
"
thus
Osric
—
the
Lion
,
replies
,
While
rage
and
malignity
gloom
in
his
eyes
;
"
Thy
journey
and
life
here
must
close
:
Thy
Castle's
proud
turrets
no
more
shalt
thou
see
;
No
more
betwixt
Blumenberg's
Lordship
and
me
Shalt
thou
stand
,
and
my
greatness
oppose
.
"
My
Brother
lies
breathless
on
Palestine's
plains
,
And
though
once
remov'd
,
to
his
noble
domains
My
right
can
no
rival
deny
:
Then
,
stripling
,
prepare
on
my
dagger
to
bleed
;
No
succour
is
near
,
and
thy
fate
is
decreed
;
Commend
thee
to
Jesus
,
and
die
!
"
Thus
saying
,
he
seizes
the
boy
by
the
arm
,
Whose
grief
rends
the
vaulted
hall's
roof
,
while
alarm
His
heart
of
all
fortitude
robs
:
His
limbs
sink
beneath
him
;
distracted
with
fears
,
He
falls
at
his
Uncle's
feet
,
bathes
them
with
tears
,
And
—
"
Spare
me
!
Oh
!
spare
me
!
"
he
sobs
.
But
ah
!
'tis
in
vain
that
he
strives
to
appease
The
miscreant
;
in
vain
does
he
cling
round
his
knees
,
And
sue
in
soft
accents
for
life
:
Unmov'd
by
his
sorrow
—
unmov'd
by
his
pray'r
,
Fierce
Osric
has
twisted
his
hand
in
his
hair
,
And
aims
at
his
bosom
a
knife
.
But
e'er
the
steel
blushes
with
blood
,
strange
to
tell
!
Self-struck
,
does
the
tongue
of
the
hollow-ton'd
bell
The
presence
of
midnight
declare
:
And
while
,
with
amazement
,
his
hair
bristles
high
,
Hears
Osric
a
voice
,
loud
and
terrible
,
cry
,
In
sounds
heart
appalling
—
"
Forbear
!
"
Straight
curses
and
shrieks
thro'
the
chambers
resound
,
With
hellish
mirth
mingled
;
the
walls
shake
around
;
The
groaning
roof
threatens
to
fall
;
Loud
bellows
the
thunder
;
blue
lightnings
still
flash
;
The
casements
they
clatter
;
chains
rattle
;
doors
clash
,
And
flames
spread
their
waves
through
the
hall
.
The
clamour
increases
;
the
portals
expand
;
O'er
the
pavement's
black
marble
now
rushes
a
band
Of
daemons
all
dropping
with
gore
;
In
visage
so
grim
,
and
so
monstrous
in
height
,
That
Carloman
screams
,
as
they
burst
on
his
sight
,
And
sinks
without
sense
on
the
floor
.
Not
so
his
fell
Uncle
:
he
sees
that
the
throng
Impels
,
loudly
shrieking
,
a
female
along
,
And
well
the
sad
spectre
he
knows
:
The
daemons
with
curses
her
steps
onward
urge
;
Her
shoulders
with
whips
form'd
of
serpents
they
scourge
,
And
fast
from
her
wounds
the
blood
flows
.
"
Oh
!
welcome
,
"
she
cry'd
,
and
her
voice
spoke
despair
;
Oh
!
welcome
,
Sir
Osric
,
the
torments
to
share
,
Of
which
thou
hast
made
me
the
prey
:
Twelve
years
have
I
languish'd
thy
coming
to
see
;
Ulrilda
,
who
perish'd
dishonour'd
by
thee
,
Now
calls
thee
to
anguish
away
!
My
ruin
compleated
,
thy
love
became
hate
;
Thy
hand
gave
the
draught
which
consign'd
me
to
Fate
;
Nor
thought
I
death
lurk'd
in
the
bowl
;
Unfit
for
the
grave
,
stain'd
with
guilt
,
swell'd
with
pride
,
Unblest
,
unabsolv'd
,
unrepenting
I
dy'd
,
And
daemons
straight
seiz'd
on
my
soul
!
"
Thou
com'st
,
and
with
transport
I
feel
my
breast
swell
!
Full
long
I
have
suffer'd
the
torments
of
hell
,
And
now
shall
its
pleasures
be
mine
!
See
,
see
,
how
the
fiends
are
athirst
for
thy
blood
!
Twelve
years
has
my
panting
heart
furnish'd
their
food
,
Come
,
wretch
,
let
them
feast
upon
thine
!
"
She
said
,
and
the
daemons
their
prey
flock'd
around
;
They
dash'd
him
with
horrible
yell
on
the
ground
,
And
blood
down
his
limbs
trickl'd
fast
:
His
eyes
from
their
sockets
with
fury
they
tore
;
They
fed
on
his
entrails
,
all
reeking
with
gore
,
And
his
heart
was
Ulrilda's
repast
.
But
now
the
grey
cock
told
the
coming
of
day
;
The
fiends
with
their
victim
straight
vanish'd
away
,
And
Carloman's
heart
throbb'd
again
:
With
terror
recalling
the
deeds
of
the
night
,
He
rose
,
and
from
Falkenstein
speeding
his
flight
,
Soon
reach'd
his
paternal
domain
.
Since
then
all
with
horror
the
ruins
behold
;
No
shepherd
,
though
stray'd
be
a
lamb
from
his
fold
,
No
mother
,
though
lost
be
her
child
,
The
fugitive
dares
in
these
chambers
to
seek
,
Where
fiends
nightly
revel
,
and
guilty
ghosts
shriek
,
In
accents
most
fearful
and
wild
!
Oh
!
shun
them
,
ye
pilgrims
,
tho'
late
be
the
hour
,
Tho'
loud
howl
the
tempest
,
and
fast
fall
the
show'r
,
From
Falkenstein
Castle
be
gone
!
There
still
their
said
banquet
Hell's
denizens
share
;
There
Osric
—
the
Lion
,
still
raves
in
despair
;
Breathe
a
prayer
for
his
soul
,
and
pass
on
!