So sad, yet proudly met the morn:
But, lighter built, his slender frame
Far less of grace, as strength, could claim;
And, with an eye that, sharp and fierce,
Would seem the gazer’s breast to pierce,
And low’ring visage, aye the while
Inwrought of subtlety and guile,
Whose every glance, that darkly stole,
Bespoke the crafty, cruel soul.
There was from all his presence shed