Behind me once again my black And mask’d attendant speeded; I felt so weary, my knees wellnigh broke, Yet on, still on, we proceeded. We onward went. My heart in my breast Gaped open, and parted in sunder, And the red drops glided out of the wound In my heart,--a sight of wonder. I oftentimes dipp’d my finger therein, And often the fancy came o’er me To streak with the blood, as I onward pass’d, Each doorpost lying before me. And every time that I mark’d a house In this very peculiar fashion, A funeral bell was heard in a tone Of mournful and soft compassion. But now in the heavens the moon grew pale, And darkness came over me thickly, And over her face, like horses black, The stormy clouds sped quickly. And still behind me onward went My dark companion ever, His hidden axe grasping,--on, still on, And pausing and resting never. We went and went, till we reach’d at length The Cathedral precincts’ centre; The doors of the church wide open stood, And straightway did we enter. Within its capacious expanse but death And night and silence hover’d, While here and there a glimmering lamp The darkness plainly discover’d. I wander’d long the pillars among, And heard the footsteps only Of my attendant, who follow’d me still E’en here in the silence lonely. At length we came to a certain place, With gold and jewels quite glorious, And illumed by the tapers’ sparkling light,-- ’Twas the three kings’ chapel notorious. But the three holy kings, who were wont to lie Quite still, and in order befitting-- O sight of wonder!--were now upright Upon their sarcophagi sitting. Three skeletons, deck’d in fantastic array, With crowns on their skulls dry and yellow, And each one held in his bony hand A sceptre, beside his fellow. Like dancing puppets they moved about Their bones which so long had perish’d; They smelt of mould, and they also smelt Of incense fragrant and cherish’d. One ’mongst the number soon moved his mouth, And utter’d a lengthy oration, Explaining the reasons why he claim’d My respectful salutation. The first, because he was a corpse, Because a monarch, the second; Because a saint, the third,--but the whole Of little account I reckon’d. I gave him an answer in laughing mood: “In vain is all thy endeavour! “I see that thou’rt still in ev’ry respect “As strange and old-fashion’d as ever! “Away! away! In the deep grave alone “Your lengths ye ought to measure! “Real life will shortly confiscate “This chapel’s mighty treasure. “Hereafter the merry cavalry “Shall make the Cathedral their dwelling; “If ye will not go gently, then force shall be used, “With clubs your exit compelling!”