SHIPWRECK
'Til solemn midnight! On this lonely steep,
Beneath this watch-tow'r's desolated wall,
Where mystic shapes the wonderer appall,
I rest; and view below the desert deep,
As through tempestuous clouds the moon's cold light
Gleams on the wave. Viewless, the winds of night
With loud mysterious force the billows sweep,
And sullen roar the surges, far below.
In the still pauses of the gust I hear
The voice of spirits, rising sweet and slow,
And oft among the clouds their forms appear.
But hark! what shriek of death comes in the gale,
And in the distant ray what glimmering sail
Bends to the storm?--Now sinks the note of fear!
Ah! wretched mariners!--no more shall day
Unclose his cheering eye to light ye on your way!
From these lines it appeared, that Valancourt had visited the tower;
that he had probably been here on the preceding night, for it was such
an one as they described, and that he had left the building very lately,
since it had not long been light, and without light it was impossible
these letters could have been cut. It was thus even probable, that he
might be yet in the gardens.
As these reflections passed rapidly over the mind of Emily, they called
up a variety of contending emotions, that almost overcame her spirits;
but her first impulse was to avoid him, and, immediately leaving the
tower, she returned, with hasty steps, towards the chateau. As she
passed along, she remembered the music she had lately heard near the
tower, with the figure, which had appeared, and, in this moment of
agitation, she was inclined to believe, that she had then heard and seen
Valancourt; but other recollections soon convinced her of her error.
On turning into a thicker part of the woods, she perceived a person,
walking slowly in the gloom at some little distance, and, her mind
engaged by the idea of him, she started and paused, imagining this to
be Valancourt. The person advanced with quicker steps, and, before she
could recover recollection enough to avoid him, he spoke, and she then
knew the voice of the Count, who expressed some surprise, on finding her
walking at so early an hour, and made a feeble effort to rally her on
her love of solitude. But he soon perceived this to be more a subject of
concern than of light laughter, and, changing his manner, affectionately
expostulated with Emily, on thus indulging unavailing regret; who,
though she acknowledged the justness of all he said, could not restrain
her tears, while she did so, and he presently quitted the topic.