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Storia della Tortura, della Inquisizione, della Caccia alle Streghe e del Fanatismo Religioso - The Tale of Terror, A Study of the Gothic Romance

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Ghost, The by Thomas Ingoldsby



 There stands a City, —neither large nor small, 
	Its air and situation sweet and pretty; 
 It matters very little—if at all— 
	Whether its denizens are dull or witty, 
 Whether the ladies there are short or tall, 
 	Brunettes or blondes, only, there stands a city!—
 Perhaps 'tis also requisite to minute 
 That there's a Castle and a Cobbler in it. 
 A fair Cathedral, too, the story goes, 
 	And kings and heroes lie entomb'd within her; 
 There pious Saints, in marble pomp repose, 
 	Whose shrines are worn by knees of many a Sinner; 
 There, too, full many an Aldermanic nose 
 	Roll'd its loud diapason after dinner; 
 And there stood high the holy sconce of Becket, 
 —Till four assassins came from France to crack it. 

 The Castle was a huge and antique mound, 
 	Proof against all th' artillery of the quiver, 
 Ere those abominable guns were found 
 	To send cold lead through gallant warrior's liver. 
 It stands upon a gently rising ground, 
 Sloping down gradually to the river, 
 Resembling (to compare great things with smaller), 
 A well-scooped, mouldy Stilton cheese,—but taller.