She is blitliely laid in her bridal sheet,
But a spirit stands at her bed feet.
Ay, though she be laid in her bridal bed,
There is guiltless blood upon her head;
And on her soul the hue of a crime,
That will never wash out till the end of time.
Advise, advise! dear matron, advise!
For you are humble, devout, and wise.
We ask a last advice from you—
Our hour is come—what shall we do?"