The White Lady

ONCE more the Phantom Countess, attired in white, appears,
With mourning and with wailing, with tremors and with tears,
Once more appears a-gliding forth from pictures and from walls
In Prussia's gorgeous palaces and old baronial halls —
And the guards that pace the ramparts and the terrace-walks by night
Are stricken with a speechlessness and swooning at the sight.

O pray for Lady Agnes!

Pray for the soul of Lady Agnes!

What bodes this resurrection upon our illumined stage?

Comes she perchance to warn and wake a ghostless, godless age?

Announces she the death of Kings and Kaisers as of yore —
A funeral and a crowning — a pageant, and no more?

I know not — but men whisper through the land, from south to north,
That a deeper grief, a wider woe, to-day has called her forth.

O pray for Lady Agnes!

Pray for the hapless Lady Agnes!

She nightly weeps — they say so! — o'er the beds of Young and Old,
O'er the infant's crimson cradle— o'er the couch of silk and gold.
For hours she stands, with clasped hands, lamenting by the side
Of the sleeping Prince and Princess — of the Landgrave and his bride;
And at whiles along the corridors is heard her thrilling cry—
"Awake, awake, my kindred! — The Time of Times is nigh!"

O pray for Lady Agnes!

Pray for the suffering Lady Agnes!

"Awake, awake, my kindred! O saw ye what I see,
Sleep never more would seal your eyes this side eternity!
Through the hundred-vaulted cavern-crypts where I and mine abide,
Boom the thunders of the rising storm, the surgings of the tide —
You note them not: you blindly face the hosts of Hate and Fate!
Alas! your eyes will open soon — too soon, yet all too late!"

O pray for Lady Agnes!

Pray for the soul of Lady Agnes!

"Oh, GOD! Oh, GOD! the coming hour arouses even the Dead:
Yet the Living thus can slumber on, like things of stone or lead.
The dry bones rattle in their shrouds, but you, you make no sign!
I dare not hope to pierce your souls by those weak words of mine,
Else would I warn from night to morn, else cry, '0
Kings, be just!
Be just, if bold! Loose where you may: bind only where you must!' "
O pray for Lady Agnes!

Pray for the wretched Lady Agnes!

"I, sinful one, in Orlarnund I slew my children fair:
Thence evermore, till time be o'er, my dole and my despair.
Of that one crime in olden time was born my endless woe;
For that one crime I wander now in darkness to and fro.
Think ye of me, and what I dree, you whom no law controls,
"Who slay your people's holiest hopes, their liberties, their souls!"

O pray for Lady Agnes!

Pray for the hapless Lady Agnes!
"Enough! I must not say Good Night, or bid the doomed
Down to mine own dark home I go — my Hades' dungeon cell.
Above my head lie brightly spread the flowers that Summer gives,
Free waters flow, fresh breezes blow, all nature laughs and lives;
But where you tread the flowers drop dead, the grass grows pale and sere,
And round you floats in clotted waves Hell's lurid atmosphere!"

O pray for Lady Agnes 1
Pray for the wandering Lady Agnes!

She lifts on high her pallid arms — she rises from the floor,
Turns round and round without a sound, then passes through the door.

But through the open trellises the warden often sees
Her moonpale drapery floating down the long dim galleries;
And the guards that pace the ramparts and the terrace-walks by night
Are stricken with a speechlessness and swooning at the sight.

O pray for Lady Agnes!

And myriads more with Lady Agnes 1