VIII.

The Marquis gazed a moment, And nothing did he say, But the cheek of Argyle grew ghastly pale, And he turn'd his eyes away. The painted harlot at his side, She shook through every limb, For a roar like thunder swept the street, And hands were clench'd at him, And a Saxon soldier cried aloud, "Back, coward, from thy place! For seven long years thou hast not dared To look him in the face."{E}