"The lady gat her to the tower,
She clomb the battlement;
She watched and greet, while through the woods
The glittering falchions went.
"The wind was high, the storm grew loud,
Fierce rose the billowy sea;
When from Sir Bertine's lordly tower
The bell boomed heavily!
"'O mother dear, what bodes that speech
From yonder iron tongue?'
''Tis but the rude, rude blast, my love,
That idle bell hath swung.'
"Upon the rattling casement still
The beating rain fell fast;
When creeping fingers wandering thrice
Across that window passed.
"'O mother dear, what means that sound
Upon the lattice nigh?'
''Tis but the cold, cold arrowy sleet,
That hurtles in the sky.'
"The blast was still—a pause more dread
Ne'er terror felt—when, lo!
An armed footstep on the stair
Clanked heavily and slow.
"Up flew the latch and tirling-pin,
Wide swung the grated door,
Then came a solemn stately tread
Upon the quaking floor!
"A shudder through the building ran,
A chill and icy blast;
A moan, as though in agony
Some viewless spirit passed!
"'O mother dear, my heart is froze,
My limbs are stark and cold.'
Her mother spake not, for again
That turret bell hath tolled.
"Three days passed by. At eventide
There came an aged man,
He bent him low before the dame,
His wrinkled cheek was wan.