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The Harp of Erin

Containing the Poetical Works of the Late Thomas Dermody. In Two Volumes

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DEEDS OF DEATH.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
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134

DEEDS OF DEATH.

What art thou, with ebon hair
Hanging on thy shoulders bare?
Now the hamlet's still as death,
Moping o'er the desert heath!
Wild and wan thy haggard face,
Which by moon-light I can trace:
Fiery red thy ferret eye
Doth deep in hollow socket lie;
And thy fingers lank and lean,
Spotted o'er with blood obscene,
Look as though a wound they gave,
Or had dug a new-made grave!
You move your skinny lips severe,
Yet no murmur'd sound I hear;
Ha! beneath thy sable pall
I hear a babe for mercy call;
Fainter now its feeble shrick;
How you writhe its little neck;
How you suck its flowing gore—
Lo! its bosom throbs no more.

135

Who are these behind that throng,
Dragging a pale corse along?
How their murd'rous eyeballs gleam
O'er his deep wound's sanguine stream:
Now on me their leaden stare
Is levell'd with malignant glare;
Wrapt in Horror's central gloom
Heavy on my heart they come,
Yet with pausing step they steal—
In pity, Fancy, drop the veil.