56
Lenore:
How strange an hour to demand a debt,
Knew you the woman?
Bale:
All unknown to me,
One of a tribe beyond the woods, mayhap,
But, strangely, on the finger of her hand
A ring of molten metal seemed to cling,
And all the wood was full of sudden calls,
And cries, now single, now of multitudes,
Like mocking peals of laughter
Lenore:
Frighted birds
Bale:
Aye, maybe, tho' I never heard the like,
Birds they might be, and frighted by a fire
Which in the distance glow'd among the pines,
