Page:Poems of Emma Lazarus vol 1.djvu/354

Rh Rebels against the habit of despair, And, ere I am aware, has wandered back, Among forbidden paths. What prayer, what penance. Will shrive me clean before the sight of Heaven ? My hands are black with parricide. Why else Should his dead face arise three nights before me, Bleached, ghastly, dripping as of one that's drowned. To freeze my heart with horror ? Christ, have mercy ! [She covers her face with her hands in an agony of despair.

Enter a Monk.

THE MONK.

May peace be in this place !

Welcome, thrice welcome! Bid me not rise, nor bless me with pure hands. Ask not to see my face. Here let me lie. Kissing the dust — a cast-away, a trait'ress, A murderess, a parricide!

MONK.

Accursed With all Hell's curses is the crime thou nam'st!