When lo! his brutal heart was quell’d:
’Twas a fair woman he had slain.
The tan upon her face was paint,
The manly hair was torn away,
Soft was the breast that he had pierced;
Beautiful in her death she lay.
His was no heart to faint at crime,
Tho’ half he wished the deed undone.
He pulled the valise from the bed
To find what booty he had won.