The bridal of Vaumond A Metrical Romance |
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The bridal of Vaumond | ||
VII.
But he is safe! —the struggle o'erThe cold dews gush'd from every pore—
An icy trembling came;
Such knew he not on battle plain,
When the bloodhound gorging o'er the slain
Laid the quivering flesh all bare,
Till bursting with his banquet there
Sunk down his bloated frame!
A deathlike damp was on his brow—
The nerveless limbs all idly now
In fear's delirium motionless
The passive failing will confess.
The bridal of Vaumond | ||