E'en here the madly eager train Rush swift with impious rage, When, lo! persuasion on his tongue, Steps forth the reverend sage. 'O cease thy chase! nor thus invade Religion's free abode; For know, the tortur'd creature's groans E'en now have reach'd his god. 'They cry at heaven's high mercy seat, For vengeance on thy head; O turn, repentant turn, ere yet The avenging bolt is sped.' Once more religion's cause in vain The gentle stranger pleads; Once more, alas! his sullen frere A willing victim leads. 'Dash on!' the harden'd sinner cries; 'Shalt thou disturb our sport? No! boldly would I urge the chase In heaven's own inmost court. 'What reck I then thy pious rage? No mortal man I fear: Not god in all his terrors arm'd Should stay my fix'd career.' He cracks his whip, he winds his horn, He calls his vassal-crew; Lo! horse and hound, and sage and cell, All vanish from his view. All, all, are gone!--no single rack His eager eye can trace; And silence, still as death, has hush'd The clamors of the chase. In vain he spurs his courser's sides, Nor back nor forward borne; He winds his horn, he calls aloud, But hears no sound return. And now inclos'd in deepest night, Dark as the silent grave, He hears the sullen tempest roar, As roars the distant wave. Loud and louder still the storm Howls through the troubled air; Ten thousand thunders from on high The voice of judgment bear. Accursed before god and man, Unmoved by threat or prayer; Creator, nor created, aught Thy frantic rage would spare. 'Think not in vain creation's lord Has heard his creature's groan; E'en now the torch of vengeance flames High by his awful throne. 'Now, hear thy doom! to aftertimes A dread example given, For ever urge thy wild career, By fiendish hell-hounds driven.' The voice had ceased; the sulphurous flash Shot swift from either pole; Sore shook the grove; cold horror seized The trembling miscreant's soul. Again the rising tempest roars, Again the lightnings play; And every limb, and every nerve Is frozen with dismay. He sees a giant's swarthy arm Start from the yawning ground; He feels a demon grasp his head, And rudely wrench it round. In torrents now from every side, Pours fast a fiery flood; On each o'erwhelming wave upborne, Loud howls the hellish brood. Sullen and grisly gleams the light, Now red, now green, now blue; Whilst o'er the gulf the fiendish train Their destined prey pursue. In vain he shrieks with wild despair, In vain he strives to fly; Still at his back the hell-born crew Their cursed business ply.