Song's last strain was not yet ended
When the doors were flung wide open
And through them, with solemn footsteps
Walked the herald of the order.
On his chest, to knees extending
'gainst the black a white cross flashes,
All about him, bright escutcheons,
In one hand, a gold-topped scepter.
Just behind him, judge in velvet,
Pale of cheek and stern of vision.
Following him, knights in armor,
Soldiers bearing blazing torches,
And within the hallway's darkness
Stood the guards—like clouds of tempests.
Forward quick sprang Roderigo,
Blood-filled veins rose on his forehead,
As he saw 'twixt judge's fingers
Shining sheet of crackling parchment.
He reached hipwise—but what pity—
He forgot there was no sabre,
To the heart he reached, then faltered,
Fell the hand—then fell the body.
In dead silence judge is reading
From the sheet of trembling parchment
With an icy voice, the judgment:
52
