Black Beetles in Amber

Lord, shed thy light upon his desert path, And gild his branded brow, that no man spillHis forfeit life to balk thy holy willThat spares him for the ripening of wrath. Already, lo! the red sign is descried, To trembling jurors visibly revealed: The prison doors obediently yield, The baffled hangman flings the cord aside. Powell, the brother's blood that marks your trail-Hark, how it cries against you from the ground, Like the far baying of the tireless hound. Faith! to your ear it is no nightin