And torture one poor word ten thousand ways;
Or, if thou would'st thy different talents suit,
Set thy own songs, and sing them to thy lute.—
}
He said:—but his last words were scarcely heard; }
For Bruce and Longvil had a trap prepared, }
And down they sent the yet declaiming bard.[444] }
Sinking he left his drugget robe behind,
Borne upwards by a subterranean wind.
The mantle fell to the young prophet's part,