Not always should the tear`s ambrosial dew Roll its soft anguish down thy furrowed cheek! Not always heaven-breathed tones of suppliance meek Beseem thee, Mercy! Yon dark Scowler view, Who with proud words of dear-loved Freedom came-- More blasting than the mildew from the south! And kissed his country with Iscariot mouth; (Ah! foul apostate from his Father`s fame!) Then fixed her on the cross of deep distress, And at safe distance marks the thirsty lance Pierce her big side! But oh! if some strange trance The eye-lids of thy stern-browed Sister press, Seize, Mercy! thou more terrible the brand, And hurl her thunderbolts with fiercer hand!SourceThe script ran 0.001 seconds.
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