Of their fierce foes. "Oh, father, I shall die!
Take me upon your lap—my life is spent—
Kiss me—farewell!" Then with a gentle sigh,
Its spotless spirit left the suff'ring clay,
And wing'd its fright to everlasting day.
(He who has mark'd that wild, distracting mien,
Which for this Count immortal Reynold's drew,
When bitter woe, despair, and famine keen
Unite in that sad face to shock the view,
Will wish, while gazing on th' appalling scene,