Suddenly, in that terror-stricken night,
To tell her that her kingdom now was mine,
If haply her pure spirit still might haunt
That mildewed chamber, stained and sanctified
By her own blood: but by the arras paused,
And through my tears looked on the little room
Where she had housed so meanly; and it was
To me the temple of her shame and wrongs.
Then that old lust for blood, unsatisfied,
Dried up the gentle sources of my tears,