And now she kiss’d her Holly-beads, And now she cross’d her breast; The night-dew fell from ev’ry tree— It fell upon her rosary, Like tears of Heav’n twice bless’d! She knelt upon the brown moss, cold, She knelt, with eyes, mild beaming! The day had clos’d, she heard a sigh! She mark’d the clear and frosty sky With starry lustre gleaming. She rose; she heard the drawbridge chains Loud clanking down the valley; She mark’d the yellow torches shine Between the antique groves of Pine— Bright’ning each gloomy alley. And now the breeze began to blow, Soft-stealing up the mountain; It seem’d at first a dulcet sound— Like mingled waters, wand’ring round Slow falling from a fountain. And now, in wilder tone it rose, The white peaks sweeping, shrilly: It play’d amidst her golden hair It kiss’d her bosom cold and fair— And sweet, as vale-born Lily! She heard the hollow tread of feet Thridding the piny cluster; The torches flam’d before the wind— And many a spark was left behind, To mock the glow-worm’s lustre. She saw them guard the Cottage door, Her heart beat high with wonder! She heard the fierce and Northern blast As o’er the topmost point it past Like peals of bursting thunder! And now she hied her swift along And reach’d the guarded wicket; But O! what terror fill’d her soul, When thrice she heard the deep bell toll— Above the gloomy thicket. Now fierce, the BARON darted forth, His trembling victim seizing; She felt her blood, in ev’ry vein Move, with a sense of dead’ning pain, As though her heart were freezing. “This night,” said he, “Yon castle tow’rs “Shall echo to their centre! “For, by the HOLY CROSS, I swear,”— And straight a cross of ruby glare Did through the wicket enter! And now a snowy hand was seen Slow moving, round the chamber! A clasp of pearl, it seem’d to bear— A clasp of pearl, most rich and rare! Fix’d to a zone of amber. And now the lowly Hovel shook, The wicket open flying, And by, the croaking RAVEN flew And, whistling shrill, the night-blast blew Like shrieks, that mark the dying!