A prelude to the death these captives died.
And on a luckless day it thus befell—
About their surly jailer's wonted hour
To bring them food, he enter'd not their cell,
But bolted fast their prison's outer door.
This on the County's heart rang like a knell—
Hope was excluded from this grizzly tow'r.
Speechless he sat, despair forbade to rave—
This hold was now their dungeon and their grave.
His youngest babe had not seen summers three;