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And a dead man's arm by a magic charm
Each glimmering taper bore,

And where it was lopt, still dropt and dropt
Thick gouts of clotted gore.

Where ends the room, doth a crystal tomb
Its towering front uphold;

And on each hand two skeletons stand,
Which belonged to two giants of old:

That on the right holds a falchion bright,
That on the left a horn;

And crowns of jet with jewels beset
Their eyeless skulls adorn:

And both those grim colossal kings

With fingers long and lean

Point tow'rds the tomb, within whose womb A captive Dame is seen.

A form more fair than that prisoner's, ne'er Since the days of Eve was known;

Every glance, that flew from her eyes of blue,
Was worth an emperor's throne,

And one sweet kiss from her roseate lips
Would have melted a bosom of stone.

Soon as Sir Guy had met her eye,
Knelt low that captive maid;

And her lips of love seemed fast to move,
But he heard not what she said.

Then her hands did she join in suppliant sign,
Her hands more white than snow;

And like dews that streak the rose's cheek,
Her tears began to flow.

The warrior felt his stout heart melt,
When he saw those fountains run:

"Oh! what can I do," he cried, "for you?
What mortal can do, shall be done!"-

Then out and speaks the wizard ;

Hollow his accents fall!

"Was never man,

since the world began,

Could burst that crystal wall:

"For the hand, which raised its magic frame,

Had oft clasped Satan's own;

And the lid bears a name.

the same

Is stamped on Satan's throne;

.Young Knight,

"At its maker's birth long trembled the earth ;

The skies dropt showers of

gore;

And she, who to light gave the wondrous wight,

Had died seven years before;

"And at Satan's right hand while keeping his stand,

The foulest Fiend of fire

Shrunk back with awe, when the babe he saw,
For it shocked its very sire !

"But hark, Sir Knight! and riddle aright
The riddle I'll riddle to thee;
Thou'lt learn a way without delay
To set yon damsel free.

"See'st yonder sword, with jewels rare Its dudgeon crusted o'er?

See'st yonder horn of ivory fair?

'Twas Merlin's horn of yore!

"That horn to sound, or sword to draw, Now, youth, your choice explain;

But that which you choose, beware how you lose, For you never will find it again;

"And that once lost, all hopes are crost, Which now you fondly form;

And that once gone, the sun ne'er shone

A sadder wight to warm;

"But such keen woe, as never can know

Oblivion's balmy power,

With fixed despair your soul will share,

Till comes your dying hour.

"Your choice now make for yon Beauty's sake;

To burst her bonds endeavour ;

But that which you choose, beware how you lose ; Once lost, 'tis lost for ever!"—

In pensive mood awhile now stood

Sir Guy, and gazed around;

Now he turned his sight to the left, to the right, Now he fixed it on the ground.

Now the falchion's blaze attracted his gaze;
On the hilt his fingers lay;

But he heard fear cry,-"you're wrong, Sir Guy!"
And he snatched his hand away!

Now his steps he addrest tow'rds the North and the West;

Now he turned tow'rds the East and the South; Till with desperate thought the horn he caught, And prest it to his mouth.

Hark! the blast is a blast so strong and so shrill, That the vaults like thunder ring;

And each marble horse stamps the floor with force, And from sleep the warriors spring!

And frightful stares each stony eye,
As now with ponderous tread
They rush on Sir Guy, poising on high
Their spears to strike him dead.

At this strange attack full swift sprang back,
I wot, the startled Knight!

Away he threw the horn, and drew

His falchion keen and bright.

But soon as the horn his

grasp forsook,

Was heard a cry of grief;

It seemed the yell of a soul in hell
Made desperate of relief!

And straight each light was extinguished quite,
Save the flame so lurid-blue

On the Wizard's brow, (whose flashings now
Assumed a bloody hue),

And those sparks of fire, which grief and ire
From his glaring eye-balls drew!

And he stamped in rage, and he laughed in

scorn,

While in thundering tone he roared,

"Now shame on the coward who sounded a horn, When he might have unsheathed a sword!"

He said, and from his mouth there came
A vapour blue and dank,

Whose poisonous breath seemed the kiss of death,
For the Warrior senseless sank.

Morning breaks! again he wakes;
Lo! in the porch he lies,

And still in his heart he feels the dart,
Which shot from the captive's eyes.

From the ground he springs! as if he had wings, The ruin he wanders o'er,