Page:Poems Douglas.djvu/137

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the condemned.
131
And she his own betrothed—his own!—
For such a crime what could atone?
Ill-guided youth, while life is thine,
Fly to the mercy-seat divine—
Raise up those blood-stained hands in prayer,
A King, a mighty Judge is there.

******

Hark! hark! a cry, so wild and loud,
It thrills through all that silent crowd:
An old man, with his bosom bare,
And streaming wild his silver hair,
Like lightning rushes 'mid the throng.
"Stay, stay thy hand, the deed is wrong,
I am the murderer—yes I—
The fiend incarnate who must die.
Impelled by avarice I slew
That maiden, pure as mountain dew.
The truth was ascertained by none
Save my self-sacrificing son,
Who would his spotless life resign
From #this to save accursed mine.
On him suspicion strongly fell,
And seeming facts confirmed it well.
Long has madness burned my brain,
But now I am myself again;
To me unearthly strength was given—
My strongest cords with ease were riven.
My keepers, terrified, beheld—
They knew not what my mind impelled,