She started up with an abortive scream,
As if some midnight ghost, from regions colder,
Had come within his bony arms to fold her.
“Lorenzo!” “Ellen!” then came “Sir!” and “Madam!”
They tried to speak, but hammer’d at each word,
As if it were a flint for great Mac Adam:
Such broken English never else was heard,
For like an aspen leaf each nerve was stirr’d,
A chilly tremor thrill’d them through and through,
Their efforts to be stiff were quite absurd,