Pale as in that sad hour when doomed to feel,
Deep in thy perjured heart, the bloody steel!
“Demons of Vengeance! ye at whose command
I grasped the sword with more than woman’s hand.
Say ye, did Pity’s trembling voice control,
Or horror damp the purpose of my soul?
No! my wild heart sat smiling o’er the plan,
Till Hate fulfilled what baffled Love began!
“Yes; let the clay-cold breast that never knew
One tender pang to generous Nature true,