midnight
But they could carry maddening fires , As when they inspired Sir Evan 's breast , And roused therein those wild desires That stole from Dowielee his rest . And led to that , oh , fatal night ! When , less beguiling than beguiled , She fled , and left in her maddened flight The good Sir Gregory and her child . The castle menials hear in bed Their master 's foot-fall overhead -- All in the silent midnight hour , All under unrest 's chafing power , On and on upon the floor , On and on both back and fore -- Bereaved , betrayed , disgraced , forlorn , His brain on fire , his bosom torn By fancy 's images -- sad lumber Of man 's proud spirit -- care and cumber Waxing brighter as they keep From the vexed soul the frightened sleep . By balustrade and corridor That lead him to his lady 's bower , He stands before that crape-draped frame -- Its hidden face of _ beauteous _ shame -- And holds aloft in his shaking hand The glimmering lamp , nor can withstand The fierce desire to feed his eye With that fair-painted treachery . He lifts the crape , he peers below -- The fire of wrath upon his brow ; He lets it fall -- he lifts again , To feed on the _ pleasure _ of his _ pain _ , And gazes without stint or measure To gloat on the _ pain _ that is his _ pleasure _ ; He turns the picture upon its face , And reads _ the curse of his broken peace _ . He turns the picture round again , Then away to toss in his bed of pain .