Soon as that lady’s face he saw,
All other dread his heart forsook;
He gazed with fixt and frenzied awe,
And vainly tried away to look:
For to his fearful sight it seemed,
As though her eyes on his were bent;
And, where the pale flame wavering gleamed,
As if her varying cheek were blent
With lights and shades of death;
While round her lips a grim smile drew,
And the rose paled that on them blew;
And, with faint lingering breath,
“Prepare,” she said, “thy hour is nigh!
Unpitying, thou hast seen me die;
Unpitied be thy mortal sigh!”