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46

And fixed eyeballs starting in their sockets, Who speak'st thus wildly to the vacant space, Say rather, what art thou.

Ah! wherefore dost thou stare so strangely on me? There's no blood on me now! 'tis long since past. Hast thou thyself no crime, that thus from me Thou dost in horror shrink?

Most miserable man!

Thou truly say'st, for I am most miserable.

And what am I?(After a disturbed pause.) The storm did rage and bellow thro' the air, And the red lightning shiver'd: No traveller would venture on his way In such a night.—O, blessed, blessed storm! For yet it hath not been, and shall be never. Most great and Merciful! sav'd from this gulf, May I to thee look up?—No: in the dust— 'Tis done!—O, it is done!—the horrible act! (Exit, beating his forehead violently.)