O thou pale moon, arrayed in sombre hues

“O thou pale moon, arrayed in sombre hues, Thou lookest o’er the earth in awe sublime, Like some sad, pitying spirit when it views The mortal clod that linked it once to time. Oh, tell me, for ’tis said that in thy clime Fate’s mystic scroll is seen for e’er unrolled, Tell me he lives. Ah, no!—I hear the chime That speaks the death-note of the brave and bold; Let fate take back her scroll, the tale must not be told.”