Come read, ye ministers of Fate, the lore
That fills the dark soul of the fiend ye bore;
Reveal the secret purpose that inspires
That deadly mood, and kindles all its fires;
Scan the dread meaning in that viperous glance
Fixed on those ruins in intensest trance,
That nothing speaks to that it still surveys,
And looks within alone with meaning gaze;
Unclose that lip, that rigidly compressed,
Stops the free rush of feeling from the breast;