about an hour after midnight
The first one that caught his eye was a missive from Lady Monteagle . Cadurcis seized it like a wild animal darting on its prey , tore it in half without opening it , and , grasping the poker , crammed it with great energy into the fire . This exploit being achieved , Cadurcis began walking up and down the room ; and indeed he paced it for nearly a couple of hours in a deep reverie , and evidently under a considerable degree of excitement , for his gestures were violent , and his voice often audible . At length , about an hour after midnight , he rang for his valet , tore off his cravat , and hurled it to one corner of the apartment , called for his robe de chambre , soda water , and more lights , seated himself , and began pouring forth , faster almost than his pen could trace the words , the poem that he had been meditating ever since he had quitted the roof where he had met Venetia . She had expressed a wish to read his poems ; he had resolved instantly to compose one for her solitary perusal Thus he relieved his heart : Within a cloistered pile , whose Gothic towers Rose by the margin of a sedgy lake , Embosomed in a valley of green bowers , And girt by many a grove and ferny brake Loved by the antlered deer , a tender youth Whom Time to childhood 's gentle sway of love Still spared ; yet innocent as is the dove , Nor mounded yet by Care 's relentless tooth ; Stood musing , of that fair antique domain The orphan lord ! And yet , no childish thought With wayward purpose holds its transient reign In his young mind , with deeper feelings fraught ; Then mystery all to him , and yet a dream , That Time has touched with its revealing beam .