A Scene In The Same Prison, On The Night Of The 16th Of May, 1820. Poem by Samuel Bamford

'Good night,' the brave man said,
As to the door we passed;
And then he took my hand
And held it very fast,
And he look'd on me with a steadfast eye;
And there was neither tear nor sigh,

'Good night, sir,' I replied,
And did his hand detain;
'Good night, but, Oh, my friend,
When shall we meet again?'
And then I felt a tear would stray,
And so I turned and came away.

They took him on the morn,
Unto a prison sure;
Where the arch enemy
Might hold her prey secure:
But the Patriot's God is with him gone,
And he will not be left alone!