Page:The Works of Lord Byron (ed. Coleridge, Prothero) - Volume 3.djvu/553

Rh Well,—let that pass,—there breathes not one

Who would not do as I have done:

Those ties are broken—not by me;

Let that too pass;—the doom's prepared!

Hugo, the priest awaits on thee,

And then—thy crime's reward!

Away! address thy prayers to Heaven;

Before its evening stars are met,

Learn if thou there canst be forgiven;

Its mercy may absolve thee yet.

But here, upon the earth beneath,

There is no spot where thou and I

Together for an hour could breathe:

Farewell! I will not see thee die—

But thou, frail thing! shalt view his head—

Away! I cannot speak the rest:

Go! woman of the wanton breast;

Not I, but thou his blood dost shed:

Go! if that sight thou canst outlive,

And joy thee in the life I give."

XIII.

And here stern Azo hid his face—

For on his brow the swelling vein

Throbbed as if back upon his brain

The hot blood ebbed and flowed again;

And therefore bowed he for a space,

And passed his shaking hand along

His eye, to veil it from the throng;

While Hugo raised his chainéd hands,

And for a brief delay demands

His father's ear: the silent sire

Forbids not what his words require.