  Onward he gallops through enchanted gloom. The spectres of the forest, dark and dim, And shadows of vast death environ him— Onward he spurs victorious over doom. Before his eyes that love's far fires illume— Where courage sits, impregnable and grim— The form and features of her beauty swim, Beckoning him on with looks that fears consume. The thought of her distress, her lips to kiss, Mails him with triple might; and so at last To Lust's huge keep he comes; its giant wall, Wild-towering, frowning from the precipice; And through its gate, borne like a bugle blast, O'er night and hell he thunders to his all. |
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