XLIV.

Don Carlos wended to Salustian’s home;-- A smouldering heap of ruins met his gaze! And rifled remnants of that noble dome Drunk grenadiers transported through the blaze. Oh, who shall paint his horror and amaze! He took by the throat the first who crost his path. Red bayonets flashed beneath the autumnal rays; But buckled to his side a sword he hath, And many a victim falls a prey to Carlos’ wrath.