And reckless of the darkling grave
That yawns below, we speed the sail!
XIII.
"Stranger! a murderer stands before thee!
To tell the guilty tale were vain—
It is enough—the curse is o'er me—
And I am but a wandering Cain.
What boots it that the world bestows,
For deeds of death its honors dear?
The blood that from the duel flows,