Did ye but mark, when from that thunder stroke
He led this host of spectres to their homes,
What gloomy sadness darkened o’er his brow?
The worm of pain unwound him from his cheek,
And Konrad suffered; but look on his eyes!
That large half-open eye, bright shining throws
Its darts aslant, like comet threatening war;
Each moment changing, like the gleams of night,
Whereby the wily demon travellers lures.
Uniting joy and rabid rage in one,