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Rh Hustled she drains among the cursing crew Ordeal poison from a gourden bowl, And, struggling piteous to reverse the doom Of her young murder, reels, and sinks, and falls; A hundred daggers mangling her fair life Do these not need the Gospel of the Lord?

Therefore I press right onward to my goal: Nor only for an hour, a month, a year; But while life lasts, a warrior to the end, I wrest from Fortune all she would withhold. Even as a lion in his sultry lair Shakes off a myriad dew-drops from his mane, So have I spurn'd all hampering obstacle, Regarding danger with a quiet smile. O civilizer, shrink from Violence! Use Righteousness, and broad Humanity, With temperate firmness; govern your own selves, And so the people: yet never seem to fear; Nor be ye loth to call auxiliar might Of muscular right arm, or deadly rifle,