While the folk murmur’d, and the death-bell[749] toll’d,
And the day brighten’d,[750] and his time had come.
… Till, Nan!—all else was silent[751] but the knell
Of the slow bell![752]
And I could only wait, and wait, and wait,
And what I waited for[753] I couldn’t tell—
At last there came a groaning deep and great—
St. Paul’s struck “eight”[754]—
I scream’d, and seem’d to turn to fire and fell![755]
God[756] bless him, live or dead!