And, when the weary world was sunk to rest,
I've had such sights as—may not be express'd.
Lo! that chateau, the western tower decay'd,
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The peasants shun it—they are all afraid;
For there was done a deed!—could walls reveal,
Or timbers tell it, how the heart would feel!
Most horrid was it:—for, behold, the floor
Has stain of blood, and will be clean no more.
Hark to the winds! which through the wide saloon