The wolves were yelping round the castle tower;
The witches croaked a baleful bridal hymn;
The marsh lights danced all round the black moat's rim,
Where swam the moonlit snakes at spellful hour;

Like a hot whirlwind to my mother's bower,
Then, Fiend, thou camest — scorching breast and limb
With sulph'rous kisses — till the stars grew dim
And hungry Day did the thin moon devour.

O Lucifer, O Father, have I done
Enough in thy dread service? Art thou pleased,
O pain-inflictor, with thy Paduan son?

Have I not turned my cities into hells?
Foreburnt thy damned, innumerably teazed
Men's feet with fire, and filled the world with yells?