Upon the axe which near him shone

With a clear and ghastly glitter

Oh! that parting hour was bitter!

425

Even the stern stood chilled with awe :

Dark the crime, and just the law

Yet they shuddered as they saw.

XVII.

The parting prayers are said and over
Of that false son-and daring lover!

430

"These hands are chained-but let me die

"At least with an unshackled eye

450

"Strike:"-and as the word he said,
Upon the block he bowed his head;
These the last accents Hugo spoke :
"Strike”—and flashing fell the stroke→→→

Rolled the head—and, gushing, sunk
Back the stained and heaving trunk,
In the dust, which each deep vein
Slaked with its ensanguined rain;
His eyes and lips a moment quiver,
Convulsed and quick-then fix for ever.

455

460

He died, as erring man should die,
Without display, without parade;
Meekly had he bowed and prayed,
As not disdaining priestly aid,
Nor desperate of all hope on high.

And while before the Prior kneeling,

His heart was weaned from earthly feeling;

His wrathful sire—his paramour

465

He claimed to die with eyes unbound,

His sole adieu to those around.

XVIII.

Still as the lips that closed in death,
Each gazer's bosom held his breath:

But yet, afar, from man to man,

A cold electric shiver ran,

475

Pierced through with forced and sullen shock,

Save one-what cleaves the silent air

So madly shrill-so passing wild?
That, as a mother's o'er her child,

Done to death by sudden blow,
To the sky these accents go,
Like a soul's in endless woe.

Through Azo's palace-lattice driven,
That horrid voice ascends to heaven,

485

490

And every eye is turned thereon;
But sound and sight alike are gone!
It was a woman's shriek—and neʼer
In madlier accents rose despair;
And those who heard it, as it past,
In mercy wished it were the last.

XIX.

Hugo is fallen; and, from that hour,
No more in palace, hall, or bower,
Was Parisina heard or seen :

495

500