Pursued by Hate, debarred from friendly care;
An old weak Man for vengeance thrown aside,
Long “in the painful art of dying” tried,
(Like a poor Bird entangled in a Snare
Whose heart still flutters, though his wings forbear
To stir in useless struggle) Laud relied
Upon the strength which Innocence supplied,
And in his prison breathed celestial air.
Why tarries then thy Chariot? Wherefore stay,
O Death! the ensanguined yet triumphant wheels,
Which thou prepar’st, full often, to convey
(What time a State with madding faction reels)
The Saint or Patriot to the world that heals
All wounds, all perturbations doth allay?
