XI.

Where shall the traitor rest, He, the deceiver, Who could win maiden’s breast, Ruin, and leave her? In the lost battle, Borne down by the flying, Where mingles war’s rattle With groans of the dying.

CHORUS.

_Eleu loro_, &c. There shall he be lying.

Her wing shall the eagle flap O’er the false-hearted; His warm blood the wolf shall lap, Ere life be parted. Shame and dishonour sit By his grave ever: Blessing shall hallow it, Never, oh, never!

CHORUS.

_Eleu loro_, &c. Never, oh, never!