Over all her pride and hate,
Like a stifling mist, that ever
Hangs above a burning river
With its dull and stagnant weight:
Slowly o’er the spectral Future crept the shadows of her fate!
Now the eastern stars had mounted,
And the midnight watch was o’er,
When the long suspense was broken
By a hasty watchword spoken,
And a dark form passed the door.