While they drink out of skulls newly torn from the grave,

Dancing round them the spectres are seen:

Their liquor is blood, and this horrible stave

They howl.⁠—“To the health of Alonzo the brave,

And his consort, the false Imogine!”

Alonzo the brave, and fair Imogine

A warrior so bold, and a virgin so bright Conversed, as they sat on the green: They gazed on each other with tender delight; Alonzo the brave was the name of the knight, The maid’s was the fair Imogine.