A Wild Moon Riding High From Cloud To Cloud, That Sees And Sees Not, Glimmering Far Beneath, Hell'S Children Revel Along The Shuddering Heath With Dirge-Like Mirth And Raiment Like A Shroud: A Worse Fair Face Than Witchcraft'S, Passion-Proud, With Brows Blood-Flecked Behind Their Bridal Wreath And Lips That Bade The Assassin'S Sword Find Sheath Deep In The Heart Whereto Love'S Heart Was Vowed: A Game Of Close Contentious Crafts And Creeds Played Till White England Bring Black Spain To Shame: A Son'S Bright Sword And Brighter Soul, Whose Deeds High Conscience Lights For Mother'S Love And Fame: Pure Gipsy Flowers, And Poisonous Courtly Weeds: Such Tokens And Such Trophies Crown Thy Name.