Say what can ail her, in her sleep,
That thus she begins to ‘moan and leap,’
I know not, I know not the reason I swear,
And e’en if I did, I’ll be hang’d if I care.
* * * * *
The Baron awoke at the usual hour,
And the bell toll’d loud in his moss-covered tow’r,
Slowly it swung to the gales of the west,
Like a voice from the dead when the winds are at rest,
And a grinning nightmare withheld his rest,