suffers. None of you Will mercy show, or pity sigh?"  Strong men drew back, and lordly train Did slowly file from monarch's look, Whose lips curled scorn. But from a nook A voice cried out, "Though he has slain That which I loved the best on earth, Yet will I tend him till he dies, I can be brave." A woman's eyes Gazed fearlessly into his own. [Pg 20]

SECOND

"Who dares stand forth?" the monarch cried,

"Amid the throng, and dare to give

Their aid, and bid this wretch to live?

I pledge my faith and crown beside,

A woeful plight, a sorry sight,

This outcast from all God-given grace.

What, ho! in all, no friendly face,

No helping hand to stay his plight?

St. Peter's name be pledged for aye,

The man's accursed, that is true;

But ho, he suffers. None of you

Will mercy show, or pity sigh?"

Strong men drew back, and lordly train

Did slowly file from monarch's look,

Whose lips curled scorn. But from a nook

A voice cried out, "Though he has slain

That which I loved the best on earth,

Yet will I tend him till he dies,

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