It was the hour of midnight deep:
Ulric lay stretched in balmy sleep,
When, lo! a shape obscene,
With stealthy pace and envious leer,
Did sudden at his side appear,
And o'er his bosom lean.
"So ho! while yet thou may'st, Pure one!
In virtue's pleasing dream, sleep on!
Thou 'scap'st not thus; Hell's every snare
Let all thy angels, if they dare,
Pretend to save thee. Effort vain!
I mark thy foul heart's fatal stain!
Sleep on! sleep on! we meet again."
Thus the remorseless tempter breathed
His threatening words, in vapor wreathed,
Which, with voluptuous influence fraught,
Of erring hope and poisoned thought,
In loveliest forms of earth arrayed,
Around th' unconscious sleeper played;
Down sinking slowly, half inclose
The cheek, where modest virtue glows,
And then, in beauteous visions, roll
Across his mind, and through his soul.
And straightway Ulric seems to roam,
With a sweet one—he knows not whom—
O'er many a meadow, bright and broad,
Through many a deep and solemn wood.
Thus far—when started from the bed,
With terror struck, the fiend, and fled,
Ashamed, unable, and afraid—
An angel's glance to meet.
So the hyena foul at night,
That seeks, with monstrous appetite,
Of some new grave the inmate bright,
With fear and conscious guilt takes flight,
Disturbed by human feet.
And as he vanished, wrapped in gloom,
A tender radiance filled the room,
So once our Saviour's empty tomb,
And Ulric's poisoned slumber broke;
Who with convulsive start awoke,
As one who falls into the sea
From some high mountain suddenly!
And a clear voice, all low and still,
Flowed through his veins with secret thrill.
"Ulric! well done! thou hast, by faith’s pure light,
Escaped perdition. As thy lips did pray,
Around thee gathered hosts of angels bright,
Ready to guide thee to eternal day.
For, know, the Evil One doth haunt thy way,
And, for thee, weaves another, deadlier snare.
Watch thy weak heart! it leads thy steps astray,
Nor cling to earthly thing, how sweet so e'er!
Oh, Ulric! tremble! watch! beware! beware!"