self-murder'd

Updated: June 10, 2025

Surrounded by a low, degraded train, His fiendish laugh defiance bids to pain; He hugs the cup more dear than friends to him Nor sees stern ruin from the goblet rise, Nor flames of hell careering o'er the brim, The lava flood that glads his bloodshot eyes Poisons alike his body and his soul, Till reason lies self-murder'd in the bowl.

Susanna Moodie - Life in the Clearings versus the Bush