“There in that awful place, when each had quaffed
And pledged in silence such a fearful draught,
Such—oh! the look and taste of that red bowl
Will haunt her till she dies—he bound her soul
By a dark oath, in hell’s own language fram’d.”
It was after this, that he reminded her of the binding force of this blood-covenant:
“That cup—thou shudderest, Lady—was it sweet?
That cup we pledg’d, the charnel’s choicest wine,
Hath bound thee—aye—body and soul all mine.”
And her bitter memory of that covenant-scene, in the presence of the “bloodless ghosts,” was: