42
THE IMPROVISATRICE.
When followed, like a curse, the crash
Of the pines in the lightning flash:—
A place of evil and of fear—
Oh! what can Julian’s love do here?
On, on the pale girl went. At last
The gloomy forest depths are past,
And she has reached the wizard’s den,
Accursed by God and shunned by men.
And never had a ban been laid
Upon a more unwholesome shade.
There grew dank elders, and the yew
Its thick sepulchral shadow threw;
And brooded there each bird most foul,
The gloomy bat and sullen owl.
