But he perchance may deign to tell,
As he hath told to me, his tale,
In words like these,--while o'er the dell,
The autumn twilight wove its veil.


III.

"Stranger! these woods are wild and drear;
These tangled paths are rough and lone;
These dells are full of things of fear,
And should be rather shunned than known.
Then turn thy truant foot away,
And seek afar the cultured glade,
Nor dare with reckless step to stray,
'Mid these lone realms of fear and shade!
You go not, and you seek to hear,
Why one like me should idly roam,
'Mid scenes like these, so dark, so drear--
These rocks my bed, these woods my home?


IV.

"One crime hath twined with serpent coil
Around my heart its fatal fold;
And though my struggling bosom toil,
To heave the monster from its hold--
It will not from its victim part.
By day or night, in down or dell,