And is not spent. Hark, it has found a breach--
Some latch unloosed--the house is full of wind;
It rushes, wailing, down the corridor;
It seeks the King; it cries on him to waken;
Now 'tis without, and shakes the rattling bolt;
Lo, it has broken in, in little gusts,
I feel it in my hair; 'twill lay cold fingers
Upon his lips, and start him from his sleep.
See, it has whipt the yellow flame to smoke.
SECOND SLAVE: And now it fails; the heavy, hanging gold