In the taper's treacherous gleam;

   And they hissed, and they rose, by the tempest tossed

    Through that pale and lonely beam.

   What hideous thing comes swift and dark

    Athwart that flickering wave?

   A spectre boat there seems to glide,

    With many an uplift glaive.

   The bolts are unslid by that grim porter,

    And a gladsome man was he,

   When three foemen fierce strode up the stair,

    All trim and cautiously.

   "Now who be ye," cried the chamberlain,

    "That come with stealth and staur?"

   "We come to bid thy lord good den,

    So open to us the door."

   "Ere I will open to thieves like ye,

    My limbs ye shall hew and hack.

   Awake, Sir John! awake and flee;

    These blood-hounds are on thy track!"

   "We'll stop thy crowing, pretty bird!

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