Deep stealthy disks, instinct with starless night,
That seemed to say, "We're sure of Earth—at least
For some short while, my friend; but afterward—
Nay! ransack not to-morrow till to-day
Lest it engulf thy joy before it is!"—
And when he spoke, the fire in his eyes
Worked restless as a hunted animal's;
Or like the Count von Hackelnburg's,—the eyes
Of the Wild Huntsman,—his that turn and turn
Feeling the unseen presence of a fiend.