The bell struck one， and shook the silent tower；

    The graves give up their dead： fair Elenor

    Walk'd by the castle gate， and lookèd in.

    A hollow groan¹ ran thro' the dreary² vaults³.

    She shriek'd aloud， and sunk upon the steps，

    On the cold stone her pale cheeks. Sickly smells

    Of death issue as from a sepulchre，

    And all is silent but the sighing vaults.

    Chill Death withdraws his hand， and she revives；

    Amaz'd， she finds herself upon her feet，

    And， like a ghost， thro' narrow passages

    Walking， feeling the cold walls with her hands.

    Fancy returns， and now she thinks of bones

    And grinning skulls⁴， and corruptible⁵ death

    Wrapp'd in his shroud⁶； and now fancies she hears

    Deep sighs， and sees pale sickly ghosts gliding⁷.

    At length， no fancy but reality

    Distracts her. A rushing sound， and the feet

    Of one that fled， approaches—— Ellen stood

    Like a dumb statue， froze to stone with fear.

    The wretch⁸ approaches， crying： `The deed is done；

    Take this， and send it by whom thou wilt⁹ send；

    It is my life——send it to Elenor：——

    He's dead， and howling after me for blood！

    `Take this，' he cried； and thrust into her arms

    A wet napkin， wrapp'd about； then rush'd

    Past， howling： she receiv'd into her arms

    Pale death， and follow'd on the wings of fear.

    They pass'd swift thro' the outer gate； the wretch，

    Howling， leap'd o'er the wall into the moat，

    Stifling¹⁰ in mud. Fair Ellen pass'd the bridge，

    And heard a gloomy voice cry `Is it done？'

    As the deer wounded， Ellen flew over

    The pathless plain； as the arrows that fly

    By night， destruction flies， and strikes in darkness.

    She fled from fear， till at her house arriv'd.

    Her maids await her； on her bed she falls，

    That bed of joy， where erst her lord hath press'd：

    `Ah， woman's fear！' she cried； `ah， cursèd duke！

    Ah， my dear lord！ ah， wretched Elenor！

    `My lord was like a flower upon the brows

    Of lusty May！ Ah， life as frail¹¹ as flower！

    O ghastly death！ withdraw thy cruel hand，

    Seek'st thou that flow'r to deck thy horrid¹² temples？

    `My lord was like a star in highest heav'n

    Drawn¹³ down to earth by spells and wickedness；

    My lord was like the opening eyes of day

    When western winds creep softly o'er the flowers；

    `But he is darken'd； like the summer's noon

    Clouded； fall'n like the stately tree， cut down；

    The breath of heaven dwelt among his leaves.

    O Elenor， weak woman， fill'd with woe¹⁴！'

    Thus having spoke¹⁵， she raisèd up her head，

    And saw the bloody¹⁶ napkin by her side，

    Which in her arms she brought； and now， tenfold

    More terrifièd， saw it unfold itself.

    Her eyes were fix'd； the bloody cloth unfolds，

    Disclosing to her sight the murder'd head

    Of her dear lord， all ghastly pale， clotted¹⁷

    With gory¹⁸ blood； it groan'd， and thus it spake：

    `O Elenor， I am thy husband's head，

    Who， sleeping on the stones of yonder tower，

    Was 'reft of life by the accursèd duke！

    A hirèd villain¹⁹ turn'd my sleep to death！

    `O Elenor， beware the cursèd duke；

    O give not him thy hand， now I am dead；

    He seeks thy love； who， coward， in the night，

    Hirèd a villain to bereave²⁰ my life.'

    She sat with dead cold limbs， stiffen'd to stone；

    She took the gory head up in her arms；

    She kiss'd the pale lips； she had no tears to shed；

    She hugg'd it to her breast， and groan'd her last.

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