At last the captive's summons came : 

 They led him forth his doom to hear ; 



No tremor shook his thrice-nerved frame, 

 Whose heart was dead to hope and fear. 



So with calm step he moved along, 



And calmly faced the murderous crew ; 



But close and closer for the throng, 

 Poor Nina to her master grew. 



And she has found a resting place 



Between his knees — her old safe home — 



And she looks round in every face 

 As if to read his written doom. 



There is no mercy but above — 



The word goes forth — the fatal breath — 

 Does instinct, or more powerful Love, 



Tell thee, poor brute ! that word is death ? 



Howe'er informed, a child might see 

 The sentence struck upon her heart, 



And that her eye's keen misery 



Said, " Master ! we will never part ! " 



'Twas but a step, in those dread days, 



From trial to the guillotine — 

 A moment — and Valrive surveys, 



With steadfast eye, the fell machine. 

 156 



