 | The Poetic Writings of Thomas Cradock, 1718-1770 |  |
253
Scene 2d
PlatoHer killing griefs have so possest her soul,
That 'twere a needless task to speak to her.
I wou'd have told her of our friendly scheme—
To free her Socrates; but, shou'd it fail,
Shou'd he himself (as much I fear) obstruct
The honest mean we've taken to preserve him,
And, obstinate, resolve to die, her grief
Wou'd have return'd with double weight upon her,
And sunk her soul to utter desolation.
But why delay my friends? tis now the hour
They promis'd here to meet me with the gaoler.
If he is firm, and Socrates will hear us,
He'll yet escape, and triumph o'er the malice
Of his invet'rate foes—grant Heaven, he may!
| The Poetic Writings of Thomas Cradock, 1718-1770 | |