Canto XXII

John roamed about, here, there and everywhere,
He felt relieved e'en of his woe and care.
Did he look at the rose pinned to his breast
It did him not with painful thoughts molest.

He bore that rose, he bore it near his heart.
—Plucked from fair Helen's grave, it was a part
Of her sweet self, — to look upon that rose,
Brought to his mind sublimely sweet repose.

He strolled and roamed. The sun which had

shone bright,
Was way down in the West, a beauteous sight
Of scarlet twilight illumined the sky. — —
The pale moon's yellow tinge appears on high.

He strolled and roamed, — the moon too had

declined. —
At dead of night, exhausted, he reclined
His 'head upon a mound, refreshing rest

To find in good night's sleep his only quest.

He fell asleep upon a grassy heap,
Not knowing even, that where he does sleep
A graveyard is, an old abandoned yard,
The graves of which showed plain their

struggling hard

With father time! At ghastly midnight's call,
From open graves — the mounds are yawning all, —
Pale ghosts, clad in white sheets leap forth. The

Earth,
It seems, gave to these apparitions birth.

To dance, to sing the crowd of ghosts began.
The earth is trembling 'neath their feet; that can
However not disturb John in his sleep,
In peaceful dreams he rests upon that heap.

A passing ghost espies him lying there.
"A man!" "A man alive!" yell fills the air.
"Catch him!" "Carry him off!" "How does he dare
To enter our own sacred churchyard square!"

The ghosts drew near, encircle him, when lo!
A call resounds! A cock was heard to crow.
That sound gives notice to the ghosts, we know,
That back, into their graves, they swift must go.

John also woke up from the rooster's call.
He rose, chilled to the bones; above the tall
Grass of the graveyard blew a biting breeze,
He's off; a brisk walk shall his chillness ease.