THE WANDERER: 5. IN HOLLAND: THE CASTLE OF KING MACBETH by EDWARD ROBERT BULWER-LYTTON

THIS is the castle of King Macbeth.
And here he feasts -- when the daylight wanes,
And the moon goes softly over the heath --
His Earls and Thanes.

A hundred harpers with harps of gold
Harp thorough the night high festival:
And the sound of the music they make is rolled
From hall to hall.

They drink deep healths till the rafters rock
In the Banquet Hall; and the shout is borne
To the courts outside, where the crowing cock
Is waked ere morn.

And the castle is all in a blaze of light
From cresset, and torch, and sconce: and there
Each warrior dances all the night
With his lady fair.

They dance and sing till the raven is stirred
On the wicked elm-tree outside in the gloom:
And the rustle of silken robes is heard
From room to room.

But there is one room in that castle old,
In a lonely turret where no one goes,
And a dead man sits there, stark and cold,
Whom no one knows.

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