Classic Poem

Kinder then a condemned man's reprieve,
Was your deare company that bade me live,
When by Rosania's silence I had been
The wretched'st martyr any age hath seen.
But as when Traytors faint upon the rack,
Tormentors strive to call their spirits back;
Yet not in kindness to preserve their breath,
But to increase the torments of their death:
So was I raised to this glorious height,
To make my fall the more unfortunate
But this I know, none ever dy'd before
Upon a sadder or a nobler score.