First, Murder came, his right hand red
With the pure blood of his young brother’s heart,
For which his own, in every clime and age,
Hath deeply paid. “Cursed art thou!” said God,
And set his mark upon the murderer’s brow.
We were not, until now, aware that Murder was a Passion, considering it rather as a deed, consequent upon some one of the Passions. Next in order comes Remorse, “whose step is followed by Despair.” “Next comes Revenge.” And what Passion, reader, do you imagine follows next? “ ’Tis War, insatiate War.” Another new Passion. Afterwards “pale Jealousy is seen,” in an awful taking because “the treasured ideal of his soul is false;” accordingly, he rushes blindly forth, meets his haughty foe, and, though he is blind, “their eyes have met,” and
The fierce volcano’s flame
Ne’er flashed more wildly than his furious glance!
No more. ’Tis done—the double deed of death.
The reeking steel, red from his rival’s heart,