No window to look any way,
A sky-light shew’d some peep of day.
When he view’d his prison round and round,
Said, he’d been worse into Scots ground;
Poor Charlie this was hard to thole,
To clap thee in a French black-hole!
And there he was confin’d to ly,
Till to depart he did comply,
As the Pope and King James did desire,
That he from French ground should retire.