The boy has suffered in these fatal years;
Pity, at least, becomes his iron lot;
What ruin is there that a jail has not?
He is my countryman, my noble lords,
And room for hope your genius affords;
Be truly noble; hear my well-meant prayer.
And deign my fellow citizen to spare.
In the letter accompanying the English verses, he says:—
I have not such good hopes as I had of the young boy being set at liberty upon whose account they were made; he has some enemies or other that have represented him in so ill a light that I much question at present if he will meet with the favour which has been so long expected except affairs shall take a turn with relation to him (other) than I was told they had done. But I am not sorry I have spoken my thoughts about him as opportunity offered.
On “Prince Charles’s Birthday” (November 30th), he writes to his daughter Beppy:—