And when it stopp'd, he tried in vain to stand;
Closed was his eye, and clench'd his clammy hand;
Life ebb'd apace, and our best aid no more
Could his weak sense or dying heart restore:
But now he fell, a victim to the snare,
That vile attorneys for the weak prepare—
They who, when profit or resentment call,
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Heed not the groaning victim they enthrall.
Then died lamented, in the strength of life,