“And it was this noble hidalgo Who sat in this chamber dim and low, But now a score of years ago, With a youth who bore beside his name, Which had never known the weight of blame, A treasure placed in his trusty hand By the sovereign lord of this mighty land. “And it was in this chamber dim and low, As the pendulum wide swung to and fro, That this youth and the high-born hidalgo Rattled a cursèd horn; That they played for the treasures of the king, Played till the cocks began to sing. And the youth had become a worthless thing— A mark for shame and scorn. “The youth knelt down at the noble’s feet, And, weeping, prayed that he should not meet The eyes of his master, the injured king, Who had trusted him well—a worthless thing! Yet he turned, the wretch! to stalk away, When a cry arrested his cruel way, And he heard a voice in agony say— A voice departing from its clay— ‘It shall follow thy house—it shall blast thy pride— It shall be as a thorn in thine aching side— Yea, learn, unpitying child of sin, Not always lucky are those who win; For they who would thrive with unthrifty clod, Who would reap where fortune’s wheel hath trod, Are the foes of man and the cursed of God!’ The blood which has ceased in the veins to run Of this form that shall nevermore feel the sun, This blood—a score of years ago— Belonged to a noble hidalgo, And _I am_—” Here the ancient clock, With a rusty, rumbling sound, Shook as it struck—and the matin cock Answered the solemn chime of the clock, Till it echoed round and round! The embers that on the hearth-stone lay Down into ashes dropped away, While from the lattice worn and white, In the moonshine waning with the night, A steed was seen like the drifted snow As it galloped across the plain below, Swift as an arrow from its bow; With the slouchèd hat and the dingy frock Of the figure that sat near the corner and clock, And which came and went without nod or knock. And they that remained on each other bent Glances so dim and drear, That neither could tell what the other meant, Save that in all there was fear blent With a something which told them Heaven-sent Was the doom of the dead man there.