And all the signs they shudder’d to behold.
“Look! look!” they cried; “His limbs with horror shake
And as he grinds his teeth, what noise they make!
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;
“It was the fall,” he mutter’d, “I can show
The manner how, - I never struck a blow:” -