His traitor's heart with, while I chafed to hear
The laugh, the insult and the villain speech
Of him to her.—Oh, God! could I but clear
The height between and, hanging like a leech,
My fingers at his throat, tear out his base
Vile tongue! yea, tear, and lash it in his face!
VIII
But, badly wounded, what could I but weep
With rage and pity of my helplessness
And her misfortune! Could I only creep