Hast thou a friend to set thee free,
Till Death, perhaps too late,
In the dark evening of thy cheerless day,
Shall take thee, fainting on thy way,
From the rude storm of unresisted hate.
Yet dares the erroneous crowd to mark
With folly thy despised race,
Th’ ungovernable pack, who bark
With impious howlings in Heaven’s awful face,
If e’er on their impatient head