I.

Rise from thy bloody grave, Thou soft Medusa of the Fated Line[F] Whose evil beauty look'd to death the brave;-- Discrowned Queen, around whose passionate shame Terror and Grief the palest flowers entwine, That ever veil'd the ruins of a Name With the sweet parasites of song divine!-- Arise, sad Ghost, arise, And if Revenge outlive the Tomb, Behold the Doomer brought to doom! Lo, where thy mighty Murderess lies, The sleepless couch--the sunless room,-- Through the darkness darkly seen Rests the shadow of a Queen; Ever on the lawns below Flit the shadows to and fro, Quick at dawn, and slow at noon, Halving midnight with the moon: In the palace, still and dun, Rests that shadow on the floor; All the changes of the sun Move that shadow nevermore.