AT ELSINORE
Reading edition
... And still, they say, when nights are nearly spent, And watchmen take their doze, before relief, He comes to walk upon the battlement, And all his brow is clouded with a grief. From end to end, from end to end he goes, Muttering his maledictions—and a name Of one who drowned, it seems—though no one knows, For there's a madness in his words, they claim.