Between the witching hour and saffron dawn,
When guileless hearts are peacefully asleep,
An evil prowls a wolf amidst the sheep,
With fangs as bloody daggers swithly drawn;
And erelong the warmth of blood shall spawn,
A frenzy thus unloosed from hellish keep,
While all the angels’ watch and soothly weep,
As souls are bled, until ungodly gone.
Awake I prithee, yon morrow blushes night;
While sun forestalls evil in its grave,
Prepare a holy arsenal to fight;
And double-glaze thine eyes with marbled sight;
Your dead, undead shall rise a vampires’ slave,
Then woe to hearts unsheathed eftsoons twilight.