Now silent was the hearth and lone,
Save that a stag-hound slumber’d there.
The tables in disorder were,
With relics of the evening fare;
The household to their rest were gone,
And now no light was seen but one,
The light that led the stranger on;
That show’d above steel armour gleaming,
And many a dusky banner streaming,
From the black rafters of the roof,
In the night-wind, far aloof,
Like to some flitting phantom seeming;
And, stalking o’er the rushy floor,
It showed the knight where steps of gore
Had stain’d its green, with foot-prints red.
And the stag-hound, as the knight passed by,
Sent forth a mournful fearful cry.