Remorse--She Ne'er Forsakes Us

REMORSE--she ne'er forsakes us !--
A bloodhound stanch -- she tracks our rapid step
Through the wild labyrinth of youthful frenzy,
Unheard, perchance, until old age hath tamed us ;
Then in our lair, when Time hath chill'd our joints,
And maim'd our hope of combat, or of flight,
We hear her deep-mouth'd bay, announcing all,
Of wrath, and woe, and punishment, that bides us.