}
How glare his angry eyes, and yet he's not awake.
See! what cold drops upon his forehead stand,
And how he clenches that broad bony hand."
The priest, attending, found he spoke at times
As one alluding to his fears and crimes:
270
"It was the fall," he mutter'd, "I can show
The manner how—I never struck a blow;"—
And then aloud—"Unhand me, free my chain;