Most cherish’d since his natal hour, 165

His mother’s image in fair face,

The infant love of all his race,

His martyr’d father’s dearest thought

My latest care, for whom I sought

To hoard my life, that his might be 170

Less wretched now, and one day free;

He, too, who yet had held untired

A spirit natural or inspired—

He, too, was struck, and day by day