Chapter 52 No.52

Her comrade was a sordid soul,

Such as does murder for a meed;

Who, but of fear, knows no control,

Because his conscience, seared and foul,

Feels not the import of his deed;

One, whose brute-feeling ne'er aspires

Beyond his own more brute desires.

Such tools the Tempter ever needs,

To do the savagest of deeds;

For them no