His solitude to share,
He is not all alone—the eye
Of Him who hears the prisoner’s sigh
Is even on him there.
J. L. Chester.
The captive welcomes even death’s relief:
What then, to him, the frowning prison-walls,
The clanking chain, the tyrant’s ’vengeful spite?
From the freed spirit every shackle falls,—
Earth’s gloom is lost, in Heaven’s glorious light.