I
My hair is gray, but not with years,
Nor grew it white
In a single night,
As men's have grown from sudden fears.[107]
My limbs are bowed, though not with toil, 5
But rusted with a vile repose,
For they have been a dungeon's spoil,
And mine has been the fate of those
To whom the goodly earth and air
Are banned, and barred--forbidden fare; 10
But this was for my father's faith
I suffered chains and courted death;
That father perished at the stake
For tenets he would not forsake;
And for the same his lineal race 15
In darkness found a dwelling-place;
We were seven--who now are one,
Six in youth, and one in age,
Finished as they had begun,
Proud of Persecution's rage; 20
One in fire, and two in field,
Their belief with blood have sealed[108]:
Dying as their father died,
For the God their foes denied;--
Three were in a dungeon cast, 25
Of whom this wreck is left the last.