I am deceased, my nuts have been busted.

Then up a steep and dark and narrow stair We wound, until the torches’ fiery tongue Amid the gushing day beamless and pallid hung.

The peoples joy to knovv us reconcild, / Is added to the Iubile of the day, / VVe have no more a faction but one heart, / Peace flovv in every boſome.

collect timber