The old knight heard the mystic clock; And the sound, like a funeral bell, Rang in his ears till their caverns were full Of the knoll of the desolate knell. And the steed, as aroused by a spell, Sprang away with a withering yell, While the old man strove again, But each time, with feebler force, To arrest the spectral horse In its mad, remorseless course, But, alas! he strove in vain. _“Dong—dong!” And the sound of a bell_ _Went wailing away over meadow and mere—_ “Eight!” _Counted aloud by the sentinel clock_ _On the turret of Time; and the regular beat_ _Of his echoing feet_ _Fell—like lead—on the ear—_ _As he left the dead Hour on its desolate bier._ The steed was white, and gaunt, and grim, With lidless, leaden eyes That burned with the lurid, livid glare Of the stars of Stygian skies; And the wind, behind, with sighs, Mimicked his maniac cries, While through the ebony gloom, alone, Wan-visaged Saturn gazed On the warrior—unamazed— On the steed whose eye-balls blazed With a lustre like his own. _“Dong—dong!” And the sound of a bell_ _Went wailing away over meadow and mere—_ “Nine!” _Counted aloud by the sentinel clock_ _On the turret of Time; and the regular beat_ _Of his echoing feet_ _Fell—like lead—on the ear—_ _As he left the dead Hour on its desolate bier._ Athwart a swart and shadowy moor The struggling knight was borne, And far away, before him, gleamed A light like the gray of morn; While the old man, weak, forlorn, And wan, and travel-worn, Gazed, mad with deathly fear: For he dreamed it was the day, Though the dawn was far away, And he trembled with dismay In the desert—dark and drear. _“Dong—dong!” And the sound of a bell_ _Went wailing away over meadow and mere—_“Ten!” _Counted aloud by the sentinel clock_ _On the turret of Time; and the regular beat_ _Of his echoing feet_ _Fell—like lead—on the ear—_ _As he left the dead Hour on its desolate bier._ In casque and cuirass, white as snow, Came, merrily, over the wold, A maiden knight, with lance and shield, And a form of manly mould, And a beard of woven gold, When—suddenly!—behold! With a loud defiant cry, And a tone of stern command, The ancient knight, with lance in hand, Rushed, thundering, over the frozen land, And bade him “Stand! or die!”