How couldst thou trust in aught again?
“He died, and I was changed—my soul,
A lonely wanderer, spurn’d control.
From peace, and light, and glory hurl’d,
The outcast of a purer world,
I saw each brighter hope o’erthrown,
And lived for one dread task alone.
The task is closed, fulfill’d the vow—
The hand of death is on thee now.
Betrayer! in thy turn betray’d,