Come, do thy worst at once. Bite, scoundrel, bite!
Thou insect vulture, seize thy helpless prey!
No ceremony! (I'd have none with thee,
Could I but find thee.) Fainter now and farther
The tiny war-whoop; now I hear it not.
A cowardly assassin he; he waits,
Full well aware that I am on the alert,
With murderous intent. Perchance he's gone,
Hawk-eye and nose of hound not serving him
To find me in the dark. With a long sigh,
I beat my pillow, close my useless eyes,
And soon again my thoughts whirl giddily,
Verging towards dreams. Starting, I shake my bed;--
Loud thumps my heart,--rises on end my hair!
A murder-screech, and yells of frantic fury,
Under my very window,--a duet
Of fiendish hatred, battle to the death,--
'T is enough to enrage a man! Missile I seize,
Not caring what, and with a savage "Scat!"
That scrapes my throat, let drive. I would it were
A millstone! Swiftly through the garden beds
And o'er the fence on either side they fly;
I to my couch return, but not to sleep.
Weary I toss, and think 't is almost dawn,
So still the streets; but now the latest train,
Whistling melodiously, comes in; the tramp
Of feet, and hum of voices, echo far
In the still night air.
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