Alarms for young Francisco’s weal,
And doubts into thy breast steal;
While retrospection carries back
Thy memory o’er time’s beaten track
And stops at that dread hour when thou
With burning eyes and flashing brow,
Call’d Heaven to hear the solemn vow
Dictated with the latest breath
Of the fond mother on the untimely bed of death.”
Thus spoke the demon; and having chanted the incantation, full of menace and of deep design, he turned to depart.