The Solitary, and other poems With The Cavalier, a play. By Charles Whitehead |
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 | The Solitary, and other poems |  |
Now, when the scrivener and the leech,
Awe-stricken, leave the place of death,
What is the hideous thing that each
Beholds, down-looking far beneath?
The two descend, holding their breath,
Fearing, from death above they go,
To meet him once again below.
Nor are they wrong; 'tis even so.
Kirke, in a noose his hands had made,
Hangs from the lowest balustrade:—
His journey had not been delay'd.
Awe-stricken, leave the place of death,
What is the hideous thing that each
Beholds, down-looking far beneath?
The two descend, holding their breath,
Fearing, from death above they go,
To meet him once again below.
Nor are they wrong; 'tis even so.
144
Hangs from the lowest balustrade:—
His journey had not been delay'd.
| The Solitary, and other poems | |