‘Thou needst not tremble; this arm is bound,
And its iron strength is gone;
Despair came down in the hollow sound
Of my fetters, which clank’d on the loathing ground
Where my wearied limbs I had thrown.
‘I snatched the knife from my jailor’s side
And buried it in my breast,
But they cruelly staunched the gushing tide,
And closed the wound, though ’twas deep and wide,
And still I might not rest!