To claim fair Margaret for his bride,
But on every Hallowe’en,
When the castle clock tolls midnight’s hour,
As on that night of yore,
The ladye and knight are seen to sweep
Adown the drearie moor.
The coal-black steed doth champ his bit
An’ flash his fiery e’e,
But he slacks his speed at the knight’s command
As he gains the trysting-tree.