The dark clouds crowd round the mountain peak,[298]
Caws the crow on the bough[299] o’erhead
The great limbs bend and the branches creak—
“Ah, why do I live?[300] He is false!”[301] she said.
A shriek is heard through the gathering storm;
A rushing figure darkens the air;
Out from the cliff[302] springs a slender form
And the maiden’s grief lies buried there.[303]
Towers the gray crag[304] grim and high;
Drips the blood from its rugged side;