they blest the chains and sprinkled them, And fifty priests stood round, By night and day the mass to say Where she lay on the ground. And fifty choristers were there To sing the funeral song, And a hallowed taper blazed in the hand Of all the sacred throng. To see the priests and choristers It was a goodly sight, Each holding, as it were a staff, A taper burning bright. And the church bells all both great and small Did toll so loud and long, And they have barr’d the church door hard After the even song. And the first night the taper’s light Burnt steadily and clear. But they without a hideous rout Of angry fiends could hear; A hideous roar at the church door Like a long thunder peal, And the priests they pray’d and the choristers sung Louder in fearful zeal. Loud toll’d the bell, the priests pray’d well, The tapers they burnt bright, The monk her son, and her daughter the nun They told their beads all night. The cock he crew, away they flew The fiends from the herald of day, And undisturb’d the choristers sing And the fifty priests they pray. The second night the taper’s light Burnt dismally and blue, And every one saw his neighbour’s face Like a dead man’s face to view. And yells and cries without arise That the stoutest heart might shock, And a deafening roaring like a cataract pouring Over a mountain rock. The monk and nun they told their beads As fast as they could tell, And aye as louder grew the noise The faster went the bell. Louder and louder the choristers sung As they trembled more and more, And the fifty priests prayed to heaven for aid, They never had prayed so before. The cock he crew, away they flew The fiends from the herald of day, And undisturb’d the choristers sing And the fifty priests they pray. The third night came and the tapers flame A hideous stench did make, And they burnt as though they had been dipt In the burning brimstone lake. And the loud commotion, like the rushing of ocean, Grew momently more and more, And strokes as of a battering ram Did shake the strong church door. The bellmen they for very fear Could toll the bell no longer, And still as louder grew the strokes Their fear it grew the stronger. The monk and nun forgot their beads, They fell on the ground dismay’d, There was not a single saint in heaven Whom they did not call to aid. And the choristers song that late was so strong Grew a quaver of consternation, For the church did rock as an earthquake shock Uplifted its foundation. And a sound was heard like the trumpet’s blast That shall one day wake the dead, The strong church door could bear no more And the bolts and the bars they fled. And the taper’s light was extinguish’d quite, And the choristers faintly sung, And the priests dismay’d, panted and prayed Till fear froze every tongue.  

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