Why, then, Sir Edward, bow thy head?"
A mocking demon cried.
"Hell-hound! and art thou here to taunt
My last—Yet 'tis thy meed:
'Twas thou that in this fevered breast
Wrath and revenge didst feed,
Till—woe unutterable!—I
Wrought the accursèd deed.
"'Twas at thy feet, a pupil apt,
I learnt this lying art;—