His firm-set mouth with rage is foaming;
He waves his cudgel, with war-cry loud,
And dares the bravest of the crowd.
There springs at his throat a hungry hound;
He dashes its brains into the ground.
Rob, the Pauper, is sorely pressed;
The men are crowding all around him.
He crushes one to a bloody rest,
And breaks again from the crowd that bound him.
The crash of a pistol comes unto him—