Love made the assignation;
For there, the sov’reign of her soul
Watch’d the blue mists of morning roll
Around her habitation.
The Baron, by a Spy appriz’d,
Was there before his Bride;
He seiz’d the Youth, and madly strew’d
The white Cliff, with his steaming blood,
Then hurl’d him down its side.
And now ’twas said, an hungry wolf