Classic Poem

I

T HUNDERWIND C ASILE ! High it stands,
Looking over the neighbouring lands —
On the upmost edge of a mighty peak
Sawn by some deluge to form oblique:
A wondrous thunderous pile it is,
Scarred by a terrible emphasis.

II

You should hear the wind on that wild hill's crest:
Why, it blew the young hawk out of his nest;
And it blew the ghosts — there were ghosts by scores —
Like a laundress's rags through the corridors;
And it blew by night, and it blew by day,
Till it blew the lords of the land away.

III

It is summer now, and it looks full fair,
Set like a gem in the gold-blue air;
But when the storm its stonework splinters
In the murkest nights of the wildest winters,
'Tis a place that men should shun, unless
They can gaze upon shapes of hideousness.

IV

Wild blew the wind as Ralph Loraine
Lay on his couch in maddening pain;
Knelt beside him his stately wife,
Longing at heart to end his life.
Came a sudden surging sound, and he
Started. " Only the wind ," said she.

V

Only the wind! 'Twas the march of men,
Fiendish foes from the Dark Wolf's glen;
And the Dark Wolf's self at their head was there,
With his red right arm and his dagger bare!
And by murderous hands the good knight died,
And Alice Loraine was his foeman's bride.

VI

Only the wind! It roared one night,
When Alice died in a mad affright;
And it roared, and rent the Dark Wolf's sails,
And dashed his ship on the coast of Wales;
It will roar through the long black nights, until
No castle stands on the lonely hill.