text:  Whose prison annals speak of thrilling deeds How truth is tortured and how genius bleeds? Whose eye dare trace them down the tragic stream-- Mark what fresh phantoms in the distance gleam As dark and darker o'er th' ensanguined page The ruthless deed pollutes each later age? See where the rose of Bolingbroke's rich bloom Fades on the bed of martyr'd Richard's tomb! Look where the spectre babes still smiling fair Spring from the couch of death to realms of air! Oh thought accurst! that uncle guardian foe Should join in one to strike the murderous blow