So some poor Exile, long in bondage kept,
Dead to his friends, and ev'n by strangers wept,
Disdaining bondage, tho' in chains of gold,
Breaks thro' his prison, by resentment bold:
Yet if some gen'rous friend, of soul sincere,
Soften'd his fate, or smooth'd his bed of care,
Deep in his heart the grateful sense remains,
And when he thinks on him, forgets his chains.