CANTO THE SECOND IV |
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CANTO THE SECONDIV
Short was the conflict; furious, blindly rash,
Vain Otho gave his bosom to the gash:
He bled, and fell; but not with deadly wound,
Stretch`d by a dextrous sleight along the ground.
"Demand thy life!" He answer`d not: and then
From that red floor he ne`er had risen again,
For Lara`s brow upon the moment grew
Almost to blackness in its demon hue;
And fiercer shook his angry falchion now
Than when his foe`s was levell`d at his brow;
Then all was stern collectedness and art,
Now rose the unleaven`d hatred of his heart;
So little sparing to the foe he fell`d,
That when the approaching crowd his arm withheld
He almost turn`d the thirsty point on those
Who thus for mercy dared to interpose;
But to a moment`s thought that purpose bent;
Yet look`d he on him still with eye intent,
As if he loathed the ineffectual strife
That left a foe, howe`er o`erthrown, with life;
As if to search how far the wound he gave
Had sent its victim onward to his grave.
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