'Tis midnight, falls the lamp-light dull and sickly On a pale and
anxious crowd, Through the court,
and round the judges thronging thickly, With prayers they
dare not speak aloud Two youths, two
noble youths, stand prisoners at the bar You can see them
through the gloom In the pride of
life and manhood's beauty, there they are Awaiting their
death-doom.
