I’ve had such sights as may not be express’d.
Lo! that chateau, the western tower decay’d,
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
And the long passage send a dismal tune, -
Music that ghosts delight in; and now heed