Brian the Hermit by it stood,
Barefooted, in his frock and coat.
. . . . . . . . . . .
’Twas all prepared;—and from the rock
A goat, the patriarch of the flock,
Before the kindling fire was laid,
And pierced by Roderick’s ready blade.
Patient the sickening victim eyed
The life-blood ebb in crimson tide
Down his clogged beard and shaggy limb,