Did chatter forth his rude and dismal song,
While bellowing thunder shook the troubled earth,
“And the livid and flaky lightning,
“Widely burst ope each crack in heav’n’s high portal.”
Have ye the traitor seiz’d? Is he yet dead?
Off. Hard by, my lord, he lies reeking in’s blood!
Despair and horror master’d each man’s breast;
The attempt to check their rage would have been useless,
His body is become one gaping wound.
Vor. O! my good friends, would ye had spar’d his life,