Page:The Poetical Works of William Motherwell, 1849.djvu/463

 Through the deep fissures of the rifted rock— While phantoms flitted by with ghastly mock, And jeers malign—and demons on me glar'd Looks of infernal meaning; then in silence Troop'd onwards to their doom!

Starting, I broke Sleep's leaden bonds of sorrow, and awoke, Wondering to find my eye-balls red with tears! And my breast heaving with sepulchral fears.