Classic Poem

At length upon a hermit-cottage door,
The good man did the scripture promise test;
Cold perspiration ran from every pore,
And fear, with hope alternate, filled his breast,
As with a trembling hand the latch he press'd:
Slowly the door reluctantly gave way
To usher in the dark magician's guest;
But, standing like a frighted deer, at bay,
He wist not how to act, and knew not what to say.