Chapters 14
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1 The Ghosts' Moonshine - Read by BIL 1:34
It is midnight, my wedded. Let us lie under the tempest bright undreaded in the warm thunder. Tremble and weep not. What can you fear? My heart's best wish is thine, that thou wert white and bedded on the softest bier in the ghost's moonshine. Is that the wind? No, no. Only two devils that blow through the murderer's ribs to and fro in the ghost's moonshine. Who is there, she said, afraid, yet stirring and awaking the poor old dead? His spade, it is only making—tremble and weep not. What do you crave? Where yonder grasses twine a pleasant bed, my maid, that children call a grave in the cold moonshine. Is that the wind? No, no. Only two devils that blow through the murderer's ribs to and fro in the ghost's moonshine.
What dost thou strain above her lovely throat's whiteness? A silken chain to cover her bosom's brightness? Tremble and weep not. What do you fear? My blood is spilt like wine. Thou hast strangled and slain me, lover. Thou hast stabbed me, dear, in the ghost's moonshine. Is that the wind? No, no. Only her goblin doth blow through the murderer's ribs to and fro in its own moonshine.
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2 The Ghosts' Moonshine - Read by BLR 2:19
The Ghost's Moonshine by Thomas Lovell Beddows. Read for LibriVox. By Brian Lee Rosso. October 24th, 2007. It is midnight, my wedded. Let us lie under the tempest, bright undreaded, in the warm thunder. Tremble and weep not. What can you fear? My heart's best wish is thine. That thou wert white and bedded on the softest bear in the ghost's moonshine. Is that the wind? No, no, only two devils that blow through the murderer's ribs to and fro in the ghost's moonshine. Who was there? said she, afraid, yet stirring and awaking, the poor old dead. His spade, it is only making. Tremble and weep not, what do you crave? Where yonder grasses twine, a pleasant bed, my maid, that children call a grave in the cold moonshine.
Is that the wind? No, no, only two devils that blow through the murderer's ribs To and fro in the ghost's moonshine.
What doest thou strain above her lovely throat's whiteness, a silken chain to cover her bosom's brightness? Tremble and weep not. What do you fear? My blood is spilt like wine. Thou hast strangled and slain me, lover, Thou hast stabbed me, dear, in the ghost's moonshine. Is that the wind? No, no. Only her goblin doth blow through the murderer's ribs to and fro in its own moonshine.
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3 The Ghosts' Moonshine - Read by CJRG 1:51
The Ghost's Moonshine.
It is midnight, my wedded. Let us lie under the tempest, bright, undreaded, in the warm thunder. Tremble and weep not, what can you fear? My heart's best wish is thine, that thou wert white, embedded on the softest bier, in the Ghost's Moonshine. Is that the wind? No, no, only two devils that blow through the murderer's ribs to and fro in the ghost's moonshine. Who is there? she said, afraid, yet stirring and awaking the poor old dead. His spade it is only making. Tremble and weep not, what do you crave? Where yonder grasses twine A pleasant bed, my maid, that children call a grave in the cold moonshine. Is that the wind? No, no, only two devils that blow through the murderer's ribs, to and fro in the ghost's moonshine.
What doest thou strain above her lovely throat's whiteness, a silken chain to cover her bosom's brightness? Tremble and weep not, what do you fear?
My blood is spilt like wine. Thou hast strangled and slain me, lover. Thou hast stabbed me, dear, in the ghost's moonshine. Is that the wind? No, no. Only her goblin doth blow through the murderer's ribs, to and fro, in its own moonshine.
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4 The Ghosts' Moonshine - Read by CS 1:45
The Ghost's Moonshine It is midnight, my wedded. Let us lie under the tempest, bright undreaded, in the warm thunder. Tremble and weep not. What can you fear? My heart's best wish is thine, That thou wert white and bedded on the softest bier In the ghost's moonshine. Is that the wind? No, no, only two devils that blow through the murderer's ribs to and fro in the ghost's moonshine.
Who is there? she said, afraid, yet stirring and awaking. The poor old dead? His spade? It is only making—tremble and weep not. What do you crave? Where yonder grasses twine, a pleasant bed, my maid, that children call a grave in the cold moonshine? Is that the wind? No, no, only two devils that blow through the murderer's ribs, to and fro, in the ghost's moonshine.
What doest thou strain above her lovely throat's whiteness? A silken chain, to cover her bosom's brightness? Tremble and weep not, what do you fear? My blood is spilt like wine. Thou hast strangled and slain me, lover. Thou hast stabbed me, dear, in the ghost's moonshine. Is that the wind? No, no, only her goblin doth blow Through the murderer's ribs to and fro In its own moonshine.
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5 The Ghosts' Moonshine - Read by EHL 1:41
The Ghost's Moonshine by Thomas Level Beddows. It is midnight, my wedded. Let us lie under the tempest, bright undreaded. In the warm thunder, tremble and weep not. What can you fear? My heart's best wish is thine, that thou wert white embedded on the softest bier. Is that the wind? No, no, only to devils that blow. Through the murderer's ribs to and fro, in the ghost's moonshine. Who is there? she said, afraid, yet stirring and wakening, the poor old dead. His spade it is only making. Tremble and weep not, what do you crave? Where yonder grass is twine? A pleasant bed, my maid, that children call a grave. In the cold moonshine. Is that the wind? No, no, only two devils that blow. Through the murderer's ribs, to and fro, in the ghost's moonshine.
What dost thou strain above her lovely throat's whiteness? A silken chain to cover her bosom's brightness. Tremble and weep not. What do you fear? My blood is spilt like wine. Thou hast strangled and slain me, lover. Thou hast stabbed me, dear, in the ghost's moonshine. Is that the wind? No, no, only her goblin doth blow. Through the murderer's ribs, to and fro, in its own moonshine.
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6 The Ghosts' Moonshine - Read by JCG 2:04
The Ghost's Moonshine by Thomas Lowell Beddows.
It is midnight, my wedded. Let us lie under the tempest, bright undreaded, in the warm thunder. Tremble and weep not. What can you fear? My heart's best wish is thine, that thou art white and bedded. On the softest bier, in the ghost's moonshine. Is that the wind? No, no, only two devils that blow, through the murderer's ribs to and fro, in the ghost's moonshine. Who is there? she said, afraid, yet stirring and awaking, the poor old dead. He spayed. It is only making. Tremble and weak not, what do you crave? Where yonder grasses twine, A pleasant bed, my maid, that children call a grave. In the cold moonshine, Is that the wind? No, no, only two devils that blow Throw the murderer's ribs to and fro.
In the ghost's moonshine, What dost thou strain above her, Lovely throat's whiteness? A silken chain to cover her bosom's brightness. Tremble and weep not, what do you fear? My blood is spilt like wine. Thou hast strangled and slain me, lover. Thou hast stabbed me, dear, in the ghost's moonshine. Is that the wind? No, no, only her goblin doth blow through the murderer's ribs to and fro, in its own moonshine.
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7 The Ghosts' Moonshine - Read by JFG 1:53
The Ghost's Moonshine by Thomas Lovell Beddows.
It is midnight, my wedded. Let us lie under the tempest bright undreaded. In the warm thunder, tremble and weep not. What can you fear? My heart's best wish is thine, that thou wert white and bedded on the softest bier in the Ghost's Moonshine. Is that the wind? No, no. Only two devils that blow through the murderer's ribs to and fro in the ghost's moonshine. Who is there? she said, afraid, yet stirring and awaking the poor old dead? His spade, it is only making. Tremble and weep not. What do you crave? Where yonder grasses twine, a pleasant bed, My maid, that children call a grave in the cold moonshine. Is that the wind? No, no, only two devils that blow through the murderer's ribs to and fro in the ghost's moonshine.
What dost thou strain above her lovely throat's whiteness? A silken chain to cover her bosom's brightness? Tremble and weep not. What do you fear? My blood is spilt like wine. Thou hast strangled and slain me, lover. Thou hast stabbed me, dear, in the ghost's moonshine. Is that the wind? No, no. Only her goblin doth blow through the murderer's ribs to and fro in its own moonshine.
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8 The Ghosts' Moonshine - Read by JMS 1:34
The Ghost's Moonshine by Thomas Lovell Beddows. It is midnight, my wedded. Let us lie under the tempest bright undreaded in the warm thunder. Tremble and weep not. What can you fear? My heart's best wish is thine, that thou wert white embedded on the softest beer in the Ghost's Moonshine. Is that the wind? No, no, only two devils that blow through the murderer's ribs, to and fro, in the ghost's moonshine. Who is there? she said, afraid, yet stirring and awaking the poor old dead? His spade it is only making. Tremble and weep not, what do you crave? Where yonder grass is twine, a pleasant bed my maid, that children call a grave. In the cold moonshine. Is that the wind? No, now only two devils that blow through the murderer's ribs to and fro in the ghost's moonshine.
What doest thou strain above her lovely throat's whiteness? A silken chain to cover her bosom's brightness? Tremble and weep not. What do you fear? My blood is spilt like wine. Thou hast strangled and slain me, lover. Thou hast stabbed me, dear. In the ghost's moonshine. Is that the wind? No, no, only her goblin doth blow through the murderer's ribs, to and fro, in its own moonshine.
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9 The Ghosts' Moonshine - Read by KF 1:49
It is midnight, my wedded. Let us lie under the tempest, bright undreaded in the warm thunder. Tremble and weep not. What can you fear? My heart's best wish is thine, that thou wert white and bearded on the softest bier in the ghost's moonshine. Is that the wind? No, no, only two devils that blow through the murderer's ribs to and fro in the ghosts' moonshine. Who is there? she said, afraid, yet stirring and awaking the poor old dead, his spade it is only making. Tremble and weep not. What do you crave? Where yonder grasses twine a pleasant beard, my maid, that children call a grave in the cold moonshine. Is that the wind? No, no, only two devils that blow through the murderer's ribs to and fro, in the ghost's moonshine.
What does thou strain above her lovely throat's whiteness? A silken chain to cover her bosom's brightness? Tremble and weep not. What do you fear? My blood is spilt like wine. Thou hast strangled and slain me, lover. Thou hast stabbed me, dear, in the ghost's moonshine. Is that the wind? No, no. Only her goblin doth blow through the murderer's ribs to and fro in its own moonshine.
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10 The Ghosts' Moonshine - Read by KG 1:49
The Ghost's Moonshine It is midnight, my wedded. Let us lie under the tempest bright undreaded, In the warm thunder. Tremble and weep not, what can you fear? My heart's best wish is thine, That thou wert white and bedded on the softest bier. In the Ghost's Moonshine Is that the wind? No, no, only two devils that blow through the murderer's ribs to and fro in the ghost's moonshine. Who is there? she said, afraid, yet stirring and awaking the poor old dead? His spade? It is only making. Tremble and weep not. What do you crave? Where yonder grasses twine, a pleasant bed, my maid? that children call a grave in the cold moonshine. Is that the wind? No, no, only two devils that blow through the murderer's ribs to and fro in the ghost's moonshine.
What dost thou strain above her lovely throat's whiteness? A silken chain, to cover her bosom's brightness? Tremble and weep not. What do you fear? My blood is spilt like wine. Thou hast strangled and slain me, lover, Thou hast stabbed me, dear, In the ghost's moonshine. Is that the wind? No, no, only her goblin doth blow Through the murderer's ribs to and fro In its own moonshine.
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11 The Ghosts' Moonshine - Read by KLH 2:03
The Ghost's Moonshine It is midnight, my wedded. Let us lie under the tempest bright, undreaded in the warm thunder. Tremble and weep not. What can you fear? My heart's best wish is thine. That thou wert white and bedded on the softest bier in the ghost's moonshine. Is that the wind? No. No, only two devils that blow through the murderer's ribs to and fro in the ghost's moonshine. Who is there? she said, afraid, yet stirring and waking the poor old dead. His spade it is only making. Tremblin' weep not, what do you crave? Where yonder grasses twine, a pleasant bed, my maid, that children call a grave, in the cold moonshine. Is that the wind? No. No, only two devils that blow through the murderer's ribs to and fro in the ghost's moonshine.
What dost thou strain above her lovely throat's whiteness? A silken chain to cover her bosom's brightness? Tremble and weep not. What do you fear? My blood is spilt like wine. Thou hast strangled and slain me, lover. Thou hast stabbed me, dear, in the ghost's moonshine. Is that the wind? No, no. Only her goblin doth blow through the murderer's ribs to and fro in its own moonshine.
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12 The Ghosts' Moonshine - Read by KS 1:45
THE GHOST'S MOONSHINE It is midnight, my wedded. Let us lie under the tempest bright undreaded, in the warm thunder. Tremble and weep not, what can you fear? My heart's best wish is thine, that thou wert white and bedded on the softest bier in the ghost's moonshine. Is that the wind? No, no! Only two devils that blow through the murderer's ribs, to and fro, in the ghost's moonshine. Who is there, she said, afraid, yet stirring and awaking? The poor old dead? His spade it is only making. Tremble and weep not. What do you crave? Where yonder grasses twine, a pleasant bed, my maid, that children call a grave in the cold moonshine. Is that the wind? No, no. Only two devils that blow through the murderer's ribs, to and fro, in the ghost's moonshine.
What dost thou strain above her lovely throat's whiteness, a silken chain to cover her bosom's brightness? Tremble and weep not. What do you fear? My blood is spilt like wine. Thou hast strangled and slain me, lover. Thou hast stabbed me, dear, in the ghost's moonshine. Is that the wind? No, no. Only her goblin doth blow through the murderer's ribs, to and fro, in its own moonshine.
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13 The Ghosts' Moonshine - Read by LAH 1:54
The Ghost's Moonshine It is midnight, my wedded. Let us lie under the tempest bright undreaded in the warm thunder. Tremble and weep not. What can you fear? My heart's best wish is thine, That thou wert white embedded on the softest In the ghost's moonshine. Is that the wind? No, no. Only two devils that blow through the murderer's ribs to and fro in the ghost's moonshine. Who is there? She said, afraid, yet stirring and awaking the poor old dead. His spade it is only making. Tremble and weep not. What do you crave? Where yonder grasses twine a pleasant bed, my maid, that children call a grave in the cold moonshine. Is that the wind? No, no. Only two devils that blow through the murderer's ribs to and fro in the ghost's moonshine.
What doest thou strain above her lovely throat's whiteness? A silken chain to cover her bosom's brightness? Tremble and weep not. What do you fear? My blood is spilt like wine. Thou hast strangled and slain me, lover. Thou hast stabbed me, dear, in the ghost's moonshine. Is that the wind? No, no. Only her goblin doth blow through the murderer's ribs to and fro in its own moonshine.
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14 The Ghosts' Moonshine - Read by MW 2:16
The Ghost Moonshine by Thomas Lovell Beddows. Read for LibriVox.org by Michelle White, Ottawa, Canada.
It is midnight, my wedded. Let us lie under the tempest bright undreaded, in the warm thunder. Tremble and weep not. What can you fear? My heart's best wish is thine, that thou wert white and bedded on the softest beer in the ghost's moonshine. Is that the wind? No, no. Only two devils that blow through the murderer's ribs to and fro in the ghost's moonshine.
Who is there? she said, afraid. Yet stirring and awaking the poor old dead, his spade it is only making. Tremble and weep not. What do you crave? Where yonder grasses twine, a pleasant bed, my maid, that children call a grave in the cold moonshine. Is that the wind? No, no. Only two devils that blow. Through the murderer's ribs, to and fro, in the ghost's moonshine.
What dost thou strain above her, lovely throat's whiteness? A silken chain to cover her bosom's brightness? Tremble and weep not. What do you fear? My blood is spilt like wine. Thou hast strangled and slain me, lover. Thou hast stabbed me, dear, in the ghost's moonshine. Is that the wind? No, no. Only her goblin doth blow, through the murderer's ribs to and fro, in its own moonshine.