III.

But there are sounds that from the regal dwelling Free hearts and fearless only may exclude; ’Tis not alone the wind at midnight swelling, Breaks on the soft repose by luxury woo’d! There are unbidden footsteps, which intrude Where the lamps glitter and the wine-cup flows; And darker hues have stain’d the marble, strew’d With the fresh myrtle and the short-lived rose; And Parian walls have rung to the dread march of foes.