And partly, for they dreaded lest his frame, Which had been ever tender, weak, and frail, And evidently weaker now became With each succeeding day, should wholly fail, Nor longer to sustain itself avail;— Lest it should sink beneath its cruel toil, And them of all their promised gain despoil,—
They now denied him the sad liberty To share whatever pains the others knew: Shut in a narrow dungeon must he lie, Shut from their fellowship and service true; There he his resolution high may rue, If ever ruth on high and noble deeds, Whatever consequence they bring, succeeds.
Oh dreary months! months growing into years, Which o’er their heads, bringing no respite, past; And they must mingle still their drink with tears, While fell upon them thicker and more fast The shafts of anguish;—yet for him at last, The noblest sufferer of this suffering band, The hour of his deliverance was at hand.
For once, when they as usual passed before His vault, and softly called him, no reply Might they obtain;—but listening at the door, They only heard him breathing heavily, And caught at intervals a long-drawn sigh; Till, more times called, he faintly did desire Who called to know, and what they might require.
—“Oh! fares it, dearest lord, so ill with thee, That now thou dost no more our voices know, Who once could’st tell us each from each, if we Did but so much as near thy dungeon go, Bound on our weary errands to and fro?” —“Oh, pardon me, my friends,—my extreme pain Hath robbed me of all sense and dulled my brain.
“But go and say in what an evil case I find me now;—perchance they will relent So far that I may in this noisome place, For my short time remaining, not be pent; Or at my prayer they will at least consent That one of you may now continue nigh, And watch beside me—for, dear friends, I die.”
To the king’s presence straight they forced their way, Regardless of what dangers they might meet: Before him prone upon the earth they lay; They kissed the very ground beneath his feet, Laying the dust with tears, and did entreat In anguish that their lord might not be left Unhelped to perish, of all aid bereft.
But little might they find of pity there; New insults and new taunts were all they won; These, with rude blows, their only answer were: —“Back to your tasks, ye Christian dogs—begone— Away! from me compassion finds he none: Let him upon himself compassion show; I swear, by Heaven, he shall no other know!