Page:Poems of Emma Lazarus vol 2.djvu/190

172 Too late ! too late ! All 's done ! The fire ! the fire ! liebhaid, I come to thee. [He is ahout to spring forward, but is held back by guards,

Oh cruel Christ ! Is there no bolt in heaven For the child murderer ? Kill me, my friends ! my breast Is bare to all your swords.

[He tears open his jerkin, and falls unconscious. [Curtain falls, THE END.