University of Virginia Library

“'Tis well—-now closer draw the snare;
Around you is their nest;
Dispatch and stillness be your care;
Away—-ye know the rest!”

Through winding galleries they disperse;
A scorpion crawls to every door:
Grim Havoc snuffs the draught of gore;
And still, alas! with weightiest curse,
Sleep's dull Lethean dews immerse
The dreamers who may wake no more.
And now on each recess of sleep
Those stern assassins slowly creep;
And now at each unconscious couch,
Behold a plaided murderer crouch;
And lift his arm—-and hold his breath,
Ere he begin the work of death,
As by the pale lamp's sickly beam,
His cruel eye reflects a gleam
Upon the red and dropping dirk,
Already stain'd with bloody work!
And now—-O thou mysterious Power!
In such a spot—-at such an hour,
Will not the reverend sleep of Age
Disarm the fierce Destroyer's rage?
The tranced innocence of youth,
Ah! will not that awake his ruth?
And will not Beauty's slumbering smile
Away his savage purpose wile?
No: hear ye not a hundred groans?
All Hell reverberates their moans;
And all its fiends at once arise,
To mark that scene, with haggard eyes;
Then, shuddering at so black a sight,
Plunge back into their native night.