‘Remorse has oft waved his dusky wings
O’er the path I was doom’d to tread;
Despair has long frozen Hope’s warm springs;
I have felt the soul’s madness which Memory brings,
When she wakes up the murder’d dead.
‘Tell me not now of God’s mercy or love!
All hope of pardon is past:
A brother’s blood cries for vengeance above;
This brand on my brow will my foul crime prove—
My torment for ever must last!