Back to the palace, now, the dying Bridegroom,
By Knights in hymeneal robes was borne,
Whilst others dragg'd his murd'rer's mangled corps,
To search for motives to the cruel deed.
His mask unclasp'd, disclos'd a well-known face
— A mute he was, and in ZORADOR's train.
A fiend-like scroll, conceal'd within his vest,
Develop'd all the murd'rous hell-born project.
These were its words: "'Tis not the slave, but
Who give the blow.  if not my
Shall be appeas'd. Learn, King of
Learn both to know and dread the scorn'd ZORADOR!"