Then on the bed he prest the old man down; With sinewy knee upon his breast he lies, His struggles stifling with terrific frown, And with his sword-point blinded both his eyes! Dire were the wounds he made, and crimson flies The warm blood forth, yet save some groans of pain, Which spoke poor Pablo’s natural agonies, Nor shriek nor cry drew forth this deed of Cain, For Blanca’s sire no weak faintheartedness could stain! XLI. Then bound the villain both his hands and feet, And while its master helpless nought did say, Ransacked the house for all of wine or meat, Or forage that within its precincts lay, And thus caroused till near the break of day, When all with wine o’ercome the troopers flung Their lengths upon the floor at dawning grey, As weary Bacchants with whose orgies rung Ismenian heights at morn reposed with lolling tongue. XLII. Long Pablo heard their movements with disgust, Till silence broke but by repletion’s snore Convinced the sightless man that Heaven is just, And with excitement fierce his bonds he tore. Trembling with rage, he stood upon the floor An instant, then drew forth a dagger keen, And groped his blind way through the chamber-door. From sleeping form to form he passed, I ween With preternatural touch as true as each were seen! XLIII. Jules he hath found! A scar upon his face The trooper gives to his revenge at last. With gentlest finger he the seam doth trace Along his cheek, till doubt to surety past. A ghastly smile then Pablo’s features cast, All grim and gory ’neath his butchered eyes! His finger’s point to where the heart beat fast Unerring moved--supine the monster lies-- Beneath blind Pablo’s blade heart-pierced he instant dies! HISTORICAL AND ILLUSTRATIVE NOTES TO CANTO IV.