Then, crash! the heavy drawbridge fell That o'er the moat was hung; And, clatter, clatter, on its boards The hoof of courser rung. The clank of echoing steel was heard As off the rider bounded; And slowly on the winding stair A heavy footstep sounded. And hark! and hark! a knock--Tap! tap A rustling stifled noise; Door-latch and tinkling staples ring; At length a whispering voice: "Awake, awake, arise, my love! How, Helen, dost thou fare? Wak'st thou, or sleep'st? laugh'st thou, or weep'st? Hast thought on me, my fair?" "My love! my love! so late at night! I waked, I wept for thee. Much have I borne since dawn of morn; Where, William, couldst thou be?" "We saddle late--from Hungary I rode since darkness fell; And to its bourne we both return Before the matin bell." "O rest this night within my arms, And warm thee in their fold! Chill howls through hawthorn bush the wind;-- My love is deadly cold." "Let the wind howl through hawthorn bush! This night we must away; The steed is wight, the spur is bright; I cannot stay till day. "Busk, busk, and boune! Thou mount'st behind Upon my black barb steed: O'er stock and stile, a hundred mile, We haste to bridal bed." "To-night--to-night a hundred miles! O dearest William, stay! The bell strikes twelve--dark, dismal hour! O wait, my love, till day!" "Look here, look here--the moon shines clear-- Full fast I ween we ride; Mount and away! for ere the day We reach our bridal bed. "The black barb snorts, the bridle rings, Haste, busk, and boune, and seat thee! The feast is made, the chamber spread, The bridal guests await thee." Strong love prevailed: she busks, she bounes, She mounts the barb behind, And round her darling William's waist Her lily arms she twined. And, hurry! hurry! off they rode, And fast as fast might be; Spurned from the courser's thundering heels The flashing pebbles flee. And on the right, and on the left, Ere they could snatch a view, Fast, fast each mountain, mead, and plain, And cot and castle flew. "Sit fast--dost fear?--The moon shines clear!-- Fleet goes my barb--keep hold! Fear'st thou?"--"O no!" she faintly said; "But why so stern and cold? "What yonder rings, what yonder sings? Why shrieks the owlet gray?"-- "'Tis death-bells' clang, 'tis funeral song, The body to the clay. "With song and clang, at morrow's dawn, Ye may inter the dead; To-night I ride, with my young bride, To deck our bridal bed. "Come with thy choir, thou coffined guest, To swell our nuptial song! Come, priest, to bless our marriage feast! Come all, come all along!"