Long he sat with vacant stare,
Large his eyes, quite gray and full;
Fell in tangled locks his hair,
O'er his dirty forehead there,
Fit covering for such skull.
Stands in the room a crazy bed And two wretched, worn-out chairs. That had rested limbs and head, These now served for that instead; Thus ill the villain fares.
Heard he on that gloomy night
Demon foul to urge the deed?
Would he tremble at the sight
If some horrid goblin sprite
Came his strong wrath to feed?
He would welcome as his friend
Ev'n proud Satan, prince of Hell,
If he would assistance lend
So that he could gain his end
In crime—so very fell.
She who thus had roused his ire,
Lived a little distance off.
With his jealous soul on fire
Cudgel stout suits his desire;
He has one stout and tough.
Soon he reached her shabby home,
Rapped aloud upon the door.
"Yes, John Bristol, you may come,"
Said a voice within that room
So high on the third floor.
Near the window, very sad,
Sat she, deeply wrapped in thought
And appeared but thinly clad.
Brown her hair, blue eyes she had
As e'en with love were fraught!
She asked the man to take a seat.
He "preferred to stand awhile,
Had been sitting much of late."
Now, as if impelled by fate,
He has recourse to guile.
Says she, "Glad I am you've come
For I thought you took offense."
Little dreams she of the doom
Hanging o'er her in that room,
Or she would flee from thence.
He her conduct now reproves,
She replies in innocence.
Softly he behind her moves,
Right behind the girl he loves,
In cowardly pretence.