Tried madly, vainly, to recoil!
A mutter'd curse--a sabre goad--
Full at the leap the robber rode:
Great God! his horse near dead and spent,
Scarce halfway o'er the chasm went.
That fearful rush, and daring bound,
Was followed by a crashing sound--
A sudden, awful knell!
For down, more than a thousand feet,
Where mist and mountain torrent meet,
That reckless rider fell.

His band drew up:--they could not speak,
For long, and loud his charger's shriek
Was heard in an unearthly scream,
Above that roaring mountain stream--
Like fancied sound in fever'd dream,
When the sick brain with crazy skill
Weaves fantasies of woe and ill.
Some said: no steed gave forth that yell,
And hinted solemnly of--hell!
And others said, that from his vest
A miniature with haughty crest
And features like the lady's 'pressed,
Fell on the rugged bank:
But who he was, none knew or tell;

They simply point out where he fell
When horse and horseman sank.
Like Ravenswood he left no trace--