With a heavy death of stoning!

STROPHE VI.
Chorus.

What black Fury of the place

Shall shout vengeance o’er the race?

Such strange words I hate to hear.

The blithe blood, that crimson ran[n73]

In my veins, runs pale and wan

With the taint of yellow fear,

As when in the mortal anguish,[n74]

Life’s last fitful glimpses languish