But onwards--always onwards,
In silence and in gloom,
The dreary pageant laboured,
Till it reach'd the house of doom:
Then first a woman's voice was heard
In jeer and laughter loud,
And an angry cry and a hiss arose
From the heart of the tossing crowd:
Then, as the Græme looked upwards,
He met the ugly smile
Of him who sold his King for gold--
The master-fiend Argyle!