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ii4 THE GOLDEN TREASURY OF |
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JOHN T. CAMPION (1814- )
EMMET'S DEATH
" TTE dies to-day," said the heartless judge, Whilst he sate him down to the feast, And a smile was upon his ashy lip As he uttered a ribald jest; For a demon dwelt where his heart should be,
That lived upon blood and sin, And oft as that vile judge gave him food The demon throbbed within. |
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" He dies to-day," said the jailer grim,
Whilst a tear was in his eye; " But why should I feel so grieved for him ?
Sure, I've seen many die ! Last night I went to his stony cell,
With the scanty prison fare — He was sitting at a table rude,
Plaiting a lock of hair ! And he look'd so mild, with his pale, pale face,
And he spoke in so kind a way, That my old breast heaved with a smothering feel,
And I knew not what to say ! " |
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