From the stake that stands erected
On the castle's spacious court-yard,
From the stake whose gruesome outline
Gazes through the chamber windows
As a horrible indictment
Of her innocent conviction.
Led by secret inner calling
Gazes on the musing prelate,
As the cautious, frightened, moonbeam
Steals across the Satan's picture.
And at times to him it seems that
Once before, in past now distant,
He had seen those dreadful features;
Where and when? In vain he muses!
Is it only play of moonbeams,
Or is it imagination?
Now he clearly sees the Satan
Drop the hand before his forehead,
Lay aside the shield, eight-pointed,
Sees him stretch his limbs and body
And with slow delib'rate movement
Leave the hearth and walk right towards him.
And his spectral silent paces
Flit as noiselessly as shadows
'cross the floor illumined brightly
By the fickle, changing moonbeams.
60
