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Ghizela Rowe
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The Vampyre By Lord Byron
But first, on earth, as vampyres sent,
Thy call shall from its tomb be rent.
Then ghastly haunt thy native place,
And suck the blood of all thy race.
There, from my daughter, sister, wife,
At midnight, drain the stream of life.
Yet loathe the banquet by which per force
Must feed thy livid living corpse
Thy victims, ere, they yet expire,
Shall know the demon for their sire.
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As cursing thee, thou cursing them,
Thy flowers are withered on the stem.
Wet with thine own best blood shall drip,
By gnashing tooth and haggard lip.
Then stalking to thy sullen grave,
Go, and with ghouls and aphrids rave,
'Til these in horror shrink away,
From a spectre more acursed than they.
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