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Aktualisiert: 10. Mai 2025
Like to a vision, seen in days long by gone, This maiden’s face and form appear: What I have sought thro’ countless years of sorrow Am at I last beholding here! Oft ’mid the torment of my night eternal, Longing I gaz’d upon some being fair! But I was driv’n by Satan’s pow’r infernal On my dread course, in anguish and despair!
’The skies they were ashen and sober; The leaves they were crispèd and sere The leaves they were withering and sere; It was night in the lonesome October Of my most immemorial year. It was hard by the dim lake of Auber In the misty mid region of Weir It was down by the dank tarn of Auber In the ghoul haunted Woodland of Weir.
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