Chapter 157 No.157

Or suppose

Back, and not forward, transformation goes?

Once more some sable-stoled procession-say,

From Little-ease to Tyburn-wends its way,

Out of the dungeon to the gallows-tree

Where heading, hacking, hanging is to be

Of half-a-dozen recusants-this day

Three hundred years ago! How duly drones

Elizabethan plain-song-dim an