See! his crest all stained with rain,
A warrior hastening speeds his way,
He starts, looks round him, starts again,
And sighs for the approach of day. 20

See! his frantic steed he reins,
See! he lifts his hands on high,
Implores a respite to his pains,
From the powers of the sky.—­

He seeks an Inn, for faint from toil, 25
Fatigue had bent his lofty form,
To rest his wearied limbs awhile,
Fatigued with wandering and the storm.

... ...

Slow the door is opened wide—­
With trackless tread a stranger came, 30
His form Majestic, slow his stride,
He sate, nor spake,—­nor told his name—­

Terror blanched the warrior’s cheek,
Cold sweat from his forehead ran,
In vain his tongue essayed to speak,—­ 35
At last the stranger thus began: 

’Mortal! thou that saw’st the sprite,
Tell me what I wish to know,
Or come with me before ’tis light,
Where cypress trees and mandrakes grow. 40

’Fierce the avenging Demon’s ire,
Fiercer than the wintry blast,
Fiercer than the lightning’s fire,
When the hour of twilight’s past’—­

The warrior raised his sunken eye. 45
It met the stranger’s sullen scowl,
‘Mortal!  Mortal! thou must die,’
In burning letters chilled his soul.

WARRIOR: 
Stranger! whoso’er you are,
I feel impelled my tale to tell—­ 50
Horrors stranger shalt thou hear,
Horrors drear as those of Hell.

O’er my Castle silence reigned,
Late the night and drear the hour,
When on the terrace I observed, 55
A fleeting shadowy mist to lower.—­

Light the cloud as summer fog,
Which transient shuns the morning beam;
Fleeting as the cloud on bog,
That hangs or on the mountain stream.—­ 60

Horror seized my shuddering brain,
Horror dimmed my starting eye. 
In vain I tried to speak,—­In vain
My limbs essayed the spot to fly—­

At last the thin and shadowy form, 65
With noiseless, trackless footsteps came,—­
Its light robe floated on the storm,
Its head was bound with lambent flame.

In chilling voice drear as the breeze
Which sweeps along th’ autumnal ground, 70
Which wanders through the leafless trees,
Or the mandrake’s groan which floats around.

’Thou art mine and I am thine,
’Till the sinking of the world,
I am thine and thou art mine, 75
’Till in ruin death is hurled—­