Dark, dark was that night, and yet darker the hour
When Culzean’s lord did yield up his breath;
You’d have thought that the fiends of hell had power
To preside o’er the wizard’s death!
The thunder roll’d loud, while the lightning flashed,
And by tempest the Castle was shook;
Wild shrieks of despair echo’d loud in the blast,
And from fear none dared upward to look.
The dying man toss’d, and oft did he turn,
But for him was no rest or sleep;
Fierce flames of remorse in his breast did burn,
And his curses were loud and deep.
When reverend fathers sought to cheer,
And smooth down the way to heaven,
He mocked them all with a taunt and jeer;
They from the room were driven.
He died—though for him the black banner wav’d
And nodded the sable plume;
By no rich nor poor was a blessing craved
For him who that night met his doom.
* * * * *
The wild winds rag’d and the lightnings flashed,
While the sea ran mountains high;
And the good ship’s crew all stood aghast
As they gaz’d on the stormy sky.
"Haste haste, my men," the bold Captain cried,
"Haste, haste! make no delay!
We’ll bravely steer through the foaming tide,
And trust in God our stay."
The death lights do burn this night in Culzean,
The old lord is dead at last;
And the powers of darkness are there I ween.
Careering on the blast!
With a crash the thunder o’er them peal’d,
And its harsh and sullen roar;
Though to fear the sailors hearts were steel’d,
Caus’d them tremble more and more.
"A boat! a boat!" the steersman cried,
"I see by the flashes bright."
"NO BOAT," the Captain quick replied,
"Could live on this awful night!"
Then the heavens burst, and a flood of light
Lit up all with its ghastly glare;
And the ship’s crew gaz’d on a fearful sight,
For a funeral train was there!
Four coal-black horses drew each coach,
And they pranced upon the sea;
As each driver caus’d them swift approach,
What a ghastly look had he!
Soon as they reach’d the vessel’s side,
That awful train funereal,
"FROM WHENCE—to where?" the Captain cried
"From H—ll to Culzean’s burial!"
*PEDEN’S STONE.*
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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