The man who murdered him!
Yes; he has boasted
How in the back the traitorous blow was dealt.
And now he sleeps, with drowsiness oppressed,
Roger’s assassin; and ’twas she, Irene,
Who bade him sleep in peace! And then again,
With what cruel mockery, cruel and supreme,
She from this brow must wipe away the sweat!
She by this couch must watch till dawn of day,
As loving mother by a suffering child!