"The sun looked over a cloud of gold;
Lady Margaret looked over the wall.
Over the bridge rode Archibold;
Behind him his merry men all.
"He leads his band to the holy land.
They follow with merry din.
"And the white cross burned him like the fire,
That he could nor eat nor rest;
It burned in and in, to get at the sin, That lay cowering in his breast.
"A mile from the shore of the Dead Sea,
The army lay one night.
Lord Archibold rose; and out he goes, Walking in the moonlight.
"He came to the shore of the old salt sea-- Yellow sands with frost-like tinge; The bones of the dead on the edge of its bed, Lay lapped in its oozy fringe.
"He sat him down on a half-sunk stone,
And he sighed so dreary and deep:
'The devil may take my soul when I wake, If he'd only let me sleep!'
"Out from the bones and the slime and the stones,
Came a voice like a raven's croak:
'Was it thou, Lord Archibold Gordon?' it said, 'Was it thou those words that spoke?'
"'I'll say them again,' quoth Archibold, 'Be thou ghost or fiend of the deep.' 'Lord Archibold heed how thou may'st speed, If thou sell me thy soul for sleep.'
"Lord Archibold laughed with a loud ha! ha!--
The Dead Sea curdled to hear:
'Thou would'st have the worst of the bargain curst-- It has every fault but fear.'
"'Done, Lord Archibold?' 'Lord Belzebub, done!'
His laugh came back in a moan.
"And back he went to his glimmering tent;
And down in his cloak he lay;
"And if ever he turned or moaned in his sleep,
Or his brow began to lower,
"Till his lips would quiver, and sighs of bliss
From sorrow's bosom would break;
"Every night the pale-faced man
Sat by his bed, I say;
"But well I wot that it was not
The devil that took his part;