Lady Clarisse.
87
Why fling away the scarlet rose, tied with a golden thread;
Its beauty burned to ashes—all scentless—withered—dead,—
Like the blaze of passion quickly lighted, and as quickly fled?
Its beauty burned to ashes—all scentless—withered—dead,—
Like the blaze of passion quickly lighted, and as quickly fled?
But hark! another step is following up the turret stair—
A heavy tread, a clanking sword, which seems to say "Beware!"
I heard it on the battlement, it rent the startled air!
And now 'tis said a spectral lady walks for ever there!
A heavy tread, a clanking sword, which seems to say "Beware!"
I heard it on the battlement, it rent the startled air!
And now 'tis said a spectral lady walks for ever there!
