His treasures, his presents, his spacious domain
Soon made her untrue to her vows;
He dazzled her eyes, he bewildered her brain,
He caught her affection, so light and so vain,
And carried her home as his spouse.
And now had the marriage been blest by the priest,
And revelry now had begun;
The tables they groaned with the weight of the feast.
Nor yet had the laughter and merriment ceased,
When the bell at the castle tolled—one.
Then first with amazement Fair Imogene found
A stranger was placed by her side;
His air was terrific, he uttered no sound—
He spake not, he moved not—he looked not around,
But earnestly gazed on the bride.
His visor was closed, and gigantic his height,
His armour was sable to view;
All pleasure and laughter were hushed at the sight,
All the dogs as they eyed him drew back in afright,
All the lights in the chamber burned blue.
His presence all bosoms appeared to dismay,
The guests sat in silence and fear;
At length spake the bride, while she trembled, "I pray,
Sir Knight, that your helmet aside you would lay,
And deign to partake of our cheer."
The lady is silent—the stranger complies—
His visor he slowly unclosed;
Oh God! what a sight met Fair Imogene's eyes!
What word can express her dismay and surprise,
When a skeleton's head was exposed.
All present then uttered a terrified shout,
All turned in disgust from the scene;
The worms they crept in, and the worms they crept out,
And sported his eyes and his temples about,
While the spectre addressed Imogene.
"Behold me, thou false one—behold me!" he cried; "Remember Alonzo the Brave!
God grant that to punish thy falsehood and pride,
My ghost at thy marriage should sit at thy side,
Should tax thee with perjury, claim thee as bride,
And bear thee away to the grave!"
Thus saying, his arms round the lady he wound,
While loudly she shrieked in dismay;
And sank with his prey through the wide yawning ground,
Nor ever again was Fair Imogene found,
Or the spectre that bore her away.
Not long lived the Baron, and none since that time
To inhabit the castle presume;
For chronicles say, that by order sublime,
There Imogene suffers the pain of her crime,
And mourns her deplorable doom.