I drink each accent falling from thy tongue—
Again—again—O God!—the steel gleams bright—
As speeds the deadly blow before my sight,
I see the warm blood gushing from thy breast—
But grim despair and darkness hold the rest.
. . . . . . . . . . .
. . . . . . . . . . .
High hangs that blade above my chamber-door—
The fiend that from my heart its idol tore,
Before my gaze displays the unwiped steel,