In gaol for murder, wholly innocent,
Yet caught in webs of luckless circumstance;—
Thou know’st how lies, of good and ill intent,
Cluster like flies around a justice-court,
Wheel within wheel, revolving screw on screw;—
But from his prison he escaped and fled,
Keeping his liberty a night or two
Among the lonely hills, where, shackled still,
He braved a village, seeking for a file
To loose his irons; alas! he lost his life