O ought I to wake my Harry, or no?
To question the Thing, and let it depart?
The good God would never frighten me so,
If it was not to ease my Harry's heart.
But while I was doubting in fear and pain,
And praying for light to see my way clear,
The ghost said--'My goodness! it's Mrs. Vane!
How in the world did the woman come here?'
The ghost stalk'd towards me with outstretch'd hand:
I put mine behind me, and back'd away;
My terrified brain could not understand,
And my arid lips had nothing to say.
Yet for Harry's sake no time must be lost:
I must ask the dreadful Thing why it came;
Then I remember'd 'twas he kill'd the ghost,
And I hung down my head and blush'd for shame.
Suddenly turning, my Harry it saw;
Suddenly sprang t'wards the couch where he lay;--
A deadlier terror conquering awe,
Brave as a lion, I stood in its way.
I wav'd both my hands to signal it back:
'You shall not come near him!' I wildly said;
'He never intended to kill you, Jack--
O Jack, I _hope_ you don't mind being dead!'
Strive as we will, fate can calmly defeat--
What _is_ to be, happens--and always will;
Harry awoke, and stood up on his feet,
And my heart leapt madly and then stood still.
I trembled for Harry, all unprepar'd!
I stood between the Alive and the Dead!
The man and the ghost at each other star'd--
And the man got white, and the ghost got red.
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