The knight would oft, as he strode by,
Cast on their shade a searching eye;
And pause, as list’ning some drear sound,
That rose within the glimmering bound:
And start, as though some fearful sight
Passed along this gloom of night;
But, at a lesser winding stair,
(The long drawn chambers ended there,)
When to that narrow stair he drew,
He thought a robe of mourning hue
Went fleeting up that winding way;
No glimpse had he of shape or ray;
No foot he heard the stair ascend.
Yet still that seeming garment passed,
As though some fiend, with evil haste,
Did up that lonely tower wend.