Enchanted, mystic lament stirs me from slumber,
Vanishing dreams of sweet success with abrupt reproach.
The fallen hero will not be vanquished here this night,
Nor fair maiden glow in loving embrace.

Floating, delicately upon flutters of cool air,
The sorrowful hymn permeates.
And my ears fill with a plaintive midnight song,
That, it doth seem, hails with familiarity.

Within darkness deep of this bedchamber,
A vacant slip into silence beckons sad return.
Shimmering with fading echoes,
This voice, surely 'tis, of tormented, broken soul.

Peering eyes scan ghostly shadows,
But all to spy is night and night.
Not fallen angels, nor apparitions grim will here appear,
Nor any evils my imagination might yet concoct.

A beauty finite gleams beneath this ghost'song,
With harpy's charm it doth draw me near.
Again I know this voice from old.
Yet fading memories hesitate to see.

Discomfort grows with my invisible visitor,
Uninvited and intervening in this rest!
Each passing moment lost to the night,
Destroys the calm that once warmed my soul.

Searing, seething, the song now turns awry,
And fear shifts evening currents to chills of dread.
Listless, paralysed, my mind doth race,
I flee! But in escape torment makes chase.

Now swiftly, into taunts of cruel extremes,
One voice of anger joined by demon chorus.
Bellowing, wailing, evil incarnate doth make pursuit,
My heart prepares to beat the last.

And yet, with sudden fury, a voice now intervenes,
Shrill with agony, wrought with twisted pains.
So potent as to mute this stygian hunt,
And break resolve in hell itself.

The antidote bitter, for unwelcome song,
Enchantment lost. Sweet hymns no more.
Yet soothe it may the ills of late autumn hours,
And for fright, it will, lest I cease this midnight cry.