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The brisk bridegroom, and all his kin,
Came trooping with a joyous din,
In seemliest array.
The bridegroom came, but ah! the bride
Was missing and away!
And of that gentle lady's fate
None wot of till this day!
And, since that night, all tenantless
Of life hath been her room;
Till even I did madly break
Upon its sacred gloom.
It was a dull and eerie night
Of wind and bitter sleet,
When first that tomb-like chamber rung
With the echoes of my feet;
And on its narrow casements hard
The hail and rain did beat,
While through each crazed and time-worn chink
The hollow wind did moan,
As if a hundred harps were strung
Within that chamber lone,
And every minstrel there had been
Some disembodied one!
