'Miscellaneous Poems. 123

'Ghosts, from the loos’ning Pavement, raise their Head,And yawning Graves disclose their fhrowded Dead!Shot up, in Streams, a Mist of Spirits rife,

As morning Exhalations streak the Skies.

Soul-freezing Horror tingled thro’ my Blood,

And curdling Fear bound hard the vital Flood!Unbending Nerve's their dying Vigour lost,

And drooping Life scarce held her dangerous Post:Large Drops of Sweat from every Finger shed,

And all the Frame of Nature shook with Dread.

From the East End, where mouldring Monarchs lie,And Worms, luxuriant, feast on Royalty;

Where each proud Tomb some Dust of Princes boasts,There marches out a Troop of Sovereign Ghosts!

F.ach, in his Shadowy Hand, a Scepter brings,

Th’ acknowledg’d Mark of Power in living Kings!

A glitt’ring Diadem each Forehead wore;

Their Robes trail’d loose, and swept the honour’d Floor?With flow, and stately Stride, the Monarchs tread,

And ev’ry Meaner Spirit bows its Head !

In foremost Rank, as latest known to Fame,

The grave-brow d Ghost of awful Ann a came !

■Calm, and Serene, the silent Walks they trace,

And halt, regardful, at each solemn Place.

Visit each Tomb, and in mysterious State,

Hail the dry Remnant of the wasted Great.

This Pomp of Death, thus, wore half Night away,And came, at length, where Denmark’s Body lay;There Anna staid, and looking careful round,

With shadowy Scepter touch’d the conscious Ground :’Tis strange, she sigh’d, that he, whom most I blest,Has never thank’d me, since I came to Rest !

The willing Ghost his marbly Fetters broke,

And rose up, slowly, at the pow’rful Stroke :

An Air of Sorrow bent his serious Head;

His Eyes some seeming Tears, reluctant, shed:

With folded Arms, and discontented Look,

Thrice bow’d he gently, and thus faintly spoke;

G 2 Hail!