I die I die the Mother said
My Children die for lack of Bread t
What more has the merciless Tyrant said
The Monk sat down on the Stony Bed t
The blood red ran from the Grey Monks side 5
His hands & feet were wounded wide
His Body bent his arms & knees
Like to the roots of ancient trees
His eye was dry no tear could flow
A hollow groan first spoke his woe 10
He trembled & shudderd upon the Bedt
At length with a feeble cry he said
When God commanded this hand to write t
In the studious hours of deep midnight
He told me the writing I wrote should provet 15
The Bane of all that on Earth I lovd t
My Brother starvd between two Walls
His Childrens Cry my Soul appalls
I mockd at the wrack & griding chain t
My bent body mocks their torturing pain t 20
Thy Father drew his sword in the North
With his thousands strong he marched forth t
Thy Brother has armd himself in Steel t
To avenge the wrongs thy Children feel t
But vain the Sword & vain the Bow 25
They never can work Wars overthrow
The Hermits Prayer & the Widows tear
Alone can free the World from fear
For a Tear is an Intellectual Thing t
And a Sigh is the Sword of an Angel King 30
And the bitter groan of the Martyrs woe t
Is an Arrow from the Almighties Bow
The hand of Vengeance found the Bed t
To which the Purple Tyrant fled
The iron hand crushd the Tyrants head 35
And became a Tyrant in his steadt