  Within a vast and gloomy Fane There hung a Curtain to the floor, Which fill’d with terror those who came To wonder there or to adore; For, as the Priest had often said, Within the chamber dwelt in sooth A breathing Horror, half divine, Half demon, and whose name was Truth. And none there were so doughty bold As durst to lift the tapestry; For it was death, he said, to peer Upon the awful Mystery; Until one day—oh dreadful hour— Up jump’d a foolish hardy Youth, Who cried, ‘I care not if I die, But I will have the truth of Truth.’ There came a Crowd to see the deed— To hear him shriek within and fall; But they were much astonish’d when He found—why Nothing there at all; Except indeed upon the floor (Ill fortune take the prying sinner!) A Pasty and a Pot of Beer Which the poor Priest had got for dinner. |
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