William Harrison Ainsworth

The Legend of Valdez

		     I.

’Tis night! – Forth Valdez, in disguise,
		     Hies;
And his visage, as he glides,
		     Hides.
Goes he to yon church to pray?
		     Eh!
No! that fane a secret path
		     Hath,
Leading to a neighbouring pile’s
		     Aisles!
Where nuns lurk – by priests cajoled
		     Old.
Thither doth Don Valdez go –
		     Oh!
Thither vestals lips to taste
		     Haste.

		     II.

‘Neath yon arch, why doth he stand?
		     And
Haps it that he lingers now
		     How?
Suddenly cowl’d priests appear
		     Here.
Voices chant a dirge-like dim
		     Hymn:
Mutes a sable coffin drear
		     Rear;
Where a monument doth lie
		     High.
‘Scutcheons proud Death’s dart parade
		     Aid.
Valdez sees, with fresh alarms,
		     Arms,
Which his own – (gules cross and star!)
		     Are.

		     III.

An hour – and yet he hath not gone
		     On!
Neither can he strength to speak
		     Eke.
“Hark!” he cries, in fear and doubt,
		     Out,
“Whom inter ye in that tomb?
		     Whom?” –
“Valdez! – He’ll be, ere twelve hours,
		     Ours! –
Wait we for his funeral
		     All!”

		     IV.

“Monk ! thou bring’st, if this be truth,
		     Ruth!”
Valdez his own fate with dread
		     Read.
Question none he uttered more; –
		     O’er
’Twas; and he doth peacefully
		     Lie
In the tomb he saw, thus crazed,
		     Raised.

                         L’ Envoy
    MEMENTO MORI. Life’s a stale
                         Tale.