Page:Poems Holford.djvu/84

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72
carisbrooke:
Then, he who views thy mouldering gate,
And stands in thy desert hall,
Shall breathe a curse on the rebel hate
Which decreed our martyr's fall:

Whenever thy battlements shall lie
Inglorious in the dust,
Each Briton who marks thy destiny
Shall smile on a fate so just!

'Twas the dull and dusky twilight hour,
When close to his window grate,
Catching the breath of an April show'r
The captive sovereign sate:

A tear glisten'd bright in Stuart's eye,
And his cheek was deadly pale,