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Come forth ye murdering conquerors – answer now
How are ye better than that tyrant old
Who joy'd while black & burning ruins roll'd
O'er his death – & freedom & slaves? And ye Ye raptured too can see
This excellent world in flames – if mid the cries
Of widows & of orphans agonies
Ye hear the hellish shouts of "victory"!
Yes! ye would buy a Victor's worthless wreath
With tears & tortures torments – desolation – death!!
– If tortured with this savage thirst of life
This appetite of evil: – go & spread
Persons & pestilence – Rule o'er heaps of dead –
But sheaths war's fierce & lacerating knife
To hypocrites! – if but one drop of gore
Shed by some wretched outcast stain the floor.
The scaffold Ye send your warrant forth – that wretch must die
But had he pour'd forth out rivulets of blood
And waded to a Kingdom thro' the flood
He might have shared your own impurity!
Identifier: | JB/110/179/003 "JB/" can not be assigned to a declared number type with value 110.
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110 |
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179 |
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003 |
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collectanea |
2 |
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recto |
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sir john bowring |
gr |
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36169 |
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