I.
Rise, winds of night! relentless tempests rise!
Rush from the troubled clouds, and o'er me roll;
In this chill pause a deeper horror lies,
A wilder fear appals my shudd'ring soul.--
'Twas on this day[A], this hour accurst,
That Nature starting from repose
Heard the dire shrieks of murder burst--
From infant innocence they rose,
And shook these solemn towers!--
I shudd'ring pass that fatal room
For ages wrapt in central gloom;--
I shudd'ring pass that iron door
Which Fate perchance unlocks no more;
Death, smear'd with blood, o'er the dark portal lowers.
[A] The anniversary of the murder of Edward the Fifth, and his brother
Richard, Duke of York.
II.
How fearfully my step resounds
Along these lonely bounds:--
Spare, savage blast! the taper's quiv'ring fires,
Deep in these gath'ring shades its flame expires.
Ye host of heaven! the door recedes--
It mocks my grasp--what unseen hands
Have burst its iron bands?
No mortal force this gate unbarr'd
Where danger lives, which terrors guard--
Dread powers! its screaming hinges close
On this dire scene of impious deeds--
My feet are fix'd!--Dismay has bound
My step on this polluted ground--
But lo! the pitying moon, a line of light
Athwart the horrid darkness dimly throws,
And from yon grated window chases night.
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