60
Lenore:
Sylvester, what belated visitant
With lilting voice and high unmirthful laugh,
And restless, padding foot-fall to and fro
Paces without? The light, uneasy step,
Soft as a child's and restless as a beast's
Thrills me with foolish, causeless fear.
The Voice.(From without):
Sylvester
The hour has come!
Sylvester:
Hour of my victory!
Over th' inveterate adversary age.
Is the door bolted fast? Who trys the bolt?
Lenore:(Looking thro' the key-hole)
Only I see a slim and dusky hand
That fingers at the latch!
