'O Edrehi, forbear to-night br Your ghostly legends of affright, br And let the Talmud rest in peace; br Spare us your dismal tales of death br That almost take away one's breath; br So doing, may your tribe increase.' br br Thus the Sicilian said; then went br And on the spinet's rattling keys br Played Marianina, like a breeze br From Naples and the Southern seas, br That brings us the delicious scent br Of citron and of orange trees, br And memories of soft days of ease br At Capri and Amalfi spent. br br 'Not so,' the eager Poet said; br 'At least, not so before I tell br The story of my Azrael, br An angel mortal as ourselves, br Which in an ancient tome I found br Upon a convent's dusty shelves, br Chained with an iron chain, and bound br In parchment, and with clasps of brass, br Lest from its prison, some dark day, br It might be stolen or steal away, br While the good friars were singing mass. br br 'It is a tale of Charlemagne, br When like a thunder-cloud, that lowers br And sweeps from mountain-crest to coast, br With lightning flaming through its showers, br He swept across the Lombard plain, br Beleaguering with his warlike train br Pavia, the country's pride and boast, br The City of the Hundred Towers.' br br Thus heralded the tale began, br And thus in sober measure ran.