Lone to-night he came to dine,
Struck the hound that asked a share,
Heard a step upon the stair—
“Come, the thief is at your wine!”
Baron of Killowen keep
Running down the vaulted way,
To the cellar dark by day,
Took the ten steps at a leap.
There he listened with the throng
Of frighted servants at the door,
He heard the wine drip on the floor,
And sea-mew’s laughter loud and long.
Of oaken beam, of bolt and chain
They freed the door, and crowded through,
Their eyes a horror claimed in vain,
Nor ghost nor devil met their view.
They searched behind the hogshead, where
The watchful spider spied and span;
They sighed to see the wine that ran
A crimson torrent, wasting there.
They even searched the gloomy well
That legend said rose from the lake;
They saw bright bubbles rise and break,
But nothing stranger here befell.
The Baron cursed—the Baron said,
“Now all be gone, alone I’ll stay,
There shall not rise another day
Without this thief, alive or dead.”
So still he stood, no sound was there,
But just the wine went drop and drip;
Save that, the silence seemed to slip
Its threatening fingers through his hair.
And then as last an echo flew,
The splash of waters thrown apart;
He cursed the beating of his heart
Because the thief was listening too.
The slipping scrape of scales he hears,
And sea-mew laughter, loud and sweet;
He dares not move his frightened feet,
His pulse beats with a thousand fears.