For lost  much my Soul endures,
'Tis mine the private Grief, the publick, yours.
Three warlike Sons adorn'd my nuptial Bed,
Three Sons, alas, before their Father dead!
Our Eldest perished by the rav'ning
As near my Court the  unheedful sate.
Our next, an Engine fraught with Danger drew,
The Portal gap'd, the Bait was hung in View,
Dire  assist the  the  decoy,
And Men unpitying kill'd my
The last, his  Hope, his  Pride,
Plung'd in the Lake by  dy'd.
Rouse all the War, my Friends! avenge the Deed,
And bleed that  and his  bleed.