That he would shoot the man who shot a hare Was what her timid conscience could not bear; But still she loved him—wonder’d where he stray’d In this loud night! and if he were afraid. 530 More than one hour she thought, and, dropping then, In sudden sleep, cried loudly “Spare him, men! And do no murder!”—then, awaked, she rose, And thought no more of trying for repose. ’Twas past the dead of night; when every sound That nature mingles might be heard around; But none from man—man’s feeble voice was hush’d, Where rivers swelling roar’d, and woods were crush’d; Hurried by these, the wife could sit no more, But must the terrors of the night explore. 540 Softly she left her door, her garden gate, And seem’d as then committed to her fate; To every horrid thought and doubt a prey, She hurried on, already lost her way; Oft as she glided on in that sad night, She stopp’d to listen, and she look’d for light. An hour she wander’d, and was still to learn Aught of her husband’s safety or return: A sudden break of heavy clouds could show A place she knew not, but she strove to know. 550 Still further on she crept with trembling feet, With hope a friend, with fear a foe, to meet; And there was something fearful in the sight, And in the sound of what appear’d to-night; For now, of night and nervous terror bred, Arose a strong and superstitious dread; She heard strange noises, and the shapes she saw Of fancied beings bound her soul in awe. The moon was risen, and she sometimes shone Through thick white clouds, that flew tumultuous on, 560 Passing beneath her with an eagle’s speed, That her soft light imprisoned and then freed; The fitful glimmering through the hedge-row green Gave a strange beauty to the changing scene; And roaring winds and rushing waters lent Their mingled voice that to the spirit went. To these she listen’d; but new sounds were heard, And sight more startling to her soul appear’d; There were low, lengthen’d tones with sobs between, And near at hand, but nothing yet was seen; 570 She hurried on, and “Who is there?” she cried; “A dying wretch!”—was from the earth replied. It was her lover, was the man she gave— The price she paid, himself from death to save— With whom, expiring, she must kneel and pray, } While the soul flitted from the shivering clay } That press’d the dewy ground, and bled its life away! } This was the part that duty bad her take, Instant and ere her feelings were awake; But now they waked to anguish; there came then, 580 Hurrying with lights, loud-speaking, eager men. “And here, my lord, we met—And who is here? The keeper’s wife—Ah! woman, go not near! There lies the man that was the head of all— See, in his temples went the fatal ball! And James that instant, who was then our guide, Felt in his heart the adverse shot, and died!