"But it was Andrew's laughing voice That sounded in my tingling ear, 'Now, Gervase Matcham, at thy choice,' It seem'd to say, 'are gawds and gear, And all that wealth can buy or bring, Ease,--wassail,--worship,--every thing! "'No tedious drill, no long parade, No bugle call at early dawn;-- For guard-room bench, or barrack bed, The downy couch, the sheets of lawn And I thy Page,--thy steps to tend, Thy sworn companion,--servant,--friend! --"He ceased--that is, I heard no more, Though other words pass'd idly by, And Andrew chatter'd as before, And laugh'd--I mark'd him not--not I. '_Tis at thy choice!_' that sound alone Rang in mine ear--voice else was none. "I could not eat,--the untasted flask Mocked my parch'd lip,--I passed it by. 'What ails thee, man?' he seem'd to ask.-- I _felt_, but could not _meet_ his eye.-- '_Tis at thy choice!_'--it sounded yet,-- A sound I never may forget. --"'Haste! haste! the day draws on,' I cried, 'And, Andrew, thou hast far to go!'-- '_Hast far to go!_' the Fiend replied Within me,--'twas _not_ Andrew--no! 'Twas Andrew's voice no more--'twas HE _Whose_ then I was, and aye must be! --"On, on we went;--the dreary plain Was all around us--we were _Here_! Then came the storm,--the lightning,--rain,-- No earthly living thing was near, Save one wild Raven on the wing, --If that, indeed, were earthly thing! "I heard its hoarse and screaming voice High hovering o'er my frenzied head, '_'Tis, Gervase Matcham, at thy choice! But he--the Boy!_' methought it said. --Nay, Andrew, check that vengeful frown,-- I lov'd thee when I struck thee down! * * * * * "'Twas done!--the deed that damns me--done I know not how--I never knew;-- And _Here_ I stood--but not alone,-- The prostrate Boy my madness slew, Was by my side--limb, feature, name, 'Twas HE!!--another--yet the same! * * * * * "Away! away! in frantic haste Throughout that live-long night I flew-- Away! away!--across the waste,-- I know not how--I never knew,-- My mind was one wild blank--and I Had but one thought,--one hope--to fly! "And still the lightning ploughed the ground, The thunder roared--and there would come Amidst its loudest bursts a sound, Familiar once--it was--A DRUM!-- Then came the morn,--and light,--and then Streets,--houses,--spires,--the hum of men.