A vile enchanter dwelt, who oft of yore
Had worked deep mischief. Naught on earth could save
From his enchantments, when his soul would crave
And lust for evil; with such direful aim
He wrought his purposes. The bold, the brave,
The fair, the lovely, without ruth or shame,
He brought to ill. Pauvero was his name.
He was in sooth a most repulsive wight,
With matted locks, and sallow livid hue;
His red eyes glared as if in wild affright,