The blood upon their hands shall show.
Better it were at once to close,
In this dark tower a captive here,
The life I suffer now of woes,
Than that today thou sett’st me clear;
Alas! thou sell’st it very dear.
Adieu! tomorrow o’er, thy slave
May never vex thy soul again,
But vain is all the hope it gave:
Still must I bear the captive’s chain,