My Godfrey hence, and he return’d no more.
Dear Suffering Youth, forgive me; I lament }
A Man to Misery by my Humour sent; }
Doomed to rude War, sore Wounds, and long Imprisonment! }
How has he curs’d the fickle Mind! how long
Brooded in Anguish o’er the causeless Wrong!
* * *—or now perhaps a foreign Grave
Holds one so dear, so tender and so brave!
Nay, give thy Pardon; did’st thou not implore
The frank Confession? I will add no more. 130