Page:The Emigrants.pdf/48



The hope of cultivation; gives to Fiends, The meagre, ghastly Fiends of Want and Woe, The blasted land—­There, taunting in the van Of vengeance-breathing armies, Insult stalks; And, in the ranks, "1 Famine, and Sword, and Fire, "Crouch for employment."­—Lo! the suffering world, Torn by the fearful conflict, shrinks, amaz'd, From Freedom's name, usurp'd and misapplied, And, cow'ring to the purple Tyrant's rod, Deems that the lesser ill­—Deluded Men! Ere ye prophane her ever‐glorious name, Or catalogue the thousands that have bled Resisting her; or those, who greatly died Martyrs to Liberty­—revert awhile To the black scroll, that tells of regal crimes Committed to destroy her; rather count