Laying, gazing on the midnight sky  Upon clowdy mountainpeak supine  Below, ruined lands are seen trembling  Her horror and beauty are divine    Return, my Mistress of Gorgon  Thy've marked my heart with wisdom  Return, my Mistress of Gorgon  Thy've scarred my soul, and now it is gone...    Upon her lips and eyelids, seems no lie  Loveliness as a shadow, from which it shines  Fury and luried, struggling underneath  The agonies and anguish of death    My Mistress of Gorgon  Thy've marked my heart with no wisdom  Return not my Mistress of Gorgon  Thy've scarred my soul... Roam alone    Yes, it's the horror than the grace  Which turns the gazer's spirits, into stone  Whereon the lineaments of that dead face  Are graven, till the characters be grown    Into itself and thought no more can trace  'Tis the melodious hue, of beauty enthroned  Arthwont the darkness and the glore of pain  Which humanize and harmonize the strain    From her head, as from one body grows  As rotten grass out of a watery rock  Hair as a viper, they curl and flow  Their long tangles, in each other lock  With unending involutions show...    Their moiled radiance, as it were to mock  The torture and the dead within and saw  The solid air, with many a ragged jaw    'Tis the tempestious loveliness of terror  Far from the serpent's gleam, a brazen glare  Kindled, by that inextricable terror  Which makes a thrilling vapour, of the air    To become an ever shiftening mirror nightmare  Of all the beauty, and terror there  A woman's countenance, with serpent locks  Gazing in depth from heaven on death,   From those wet rocks...