Tortured, unaided, and alone,
Thunders were silence to his groan,
Bagpipes sweet music to its tone:
'What? Ever thus, in dismal round,
Shall Pain and Misery profound
Pursue me like a sleepless hound,
'With crimson-dashed and eager jaws,
Me, still in ignorance of the cause,
Unknowing what I brake of laws?'
The whisper to his ear did seem