Page:Poems - Southey (1799) volume 2.djvu/56

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From thence they came,Where, in the next ward, a most wretched bandGroan'd underneath the bitter tyrannyOf a fierce Dæmon. His coarse hair was red,Pale grey his eyes, and blood-shot; and his faceWrinkled by such a smile as Malice wearsIn ecstacy. Well-pleased he went around,Plunging his dagger in the hearts of some,Or probing with a poison'd lance their breasts,Or placing coals of fire within their wounds;Or seizing some within his mighty grasp,He fix'd them on a stake, and then drew back,And laugh'd to see them writhe."These," said the Spirit,Are taught by Cruelty, to loath the livesThey led themselves. Here are those wicked menWho loved to exercise their tyrant powerOn speechless brutes; bad husbands undergoA long purgation here; the traffickersIn human flesh here too are disciplined.
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