VII.

But onwards--always onwards, In silence and in gloom, The dreary pageant labour'd, Till it reach'd the house of doom: But first a woman's voice was heard In jeer and laughter loud,{D} And an angry cry and a hiss arose From the heart of the tossing crowd: Then, as the Graeme look'd upwards, He caught the ugly smile Of him who sold his King for gold-- The master-fiend Argyle!