Think what remorse thy maddening thoughts shall sting, When dying pangs their gentle bosoms tear Where shalt thou sink, when lingering echoes ring The screams of horror in thy tortured ear? No! let thy bosom melt to Pity's cry,— In dust we kneel-by sacred heaven implore O! stop thy lifted arm, ere yet they die, Nor dip thy horrid hands in infant gore! 1 ANTISTROPHE II. Say, how shalt thou that barbarous soul assume, Undamp'd by horror at the daring plan? Hast thou a heart to work thy children's doom? Or hands to finish what thy wrath began? When o'er each babe you look a last adieu, And gaze on Innocence that smiles asleep, Shall no fond feeling beat to Nature true, Charm thee to pensive thought—and bid thee weep? When the young suppliants clasp their parent dear, Heave the deep sob, and pour the artless prayer,— Aye! thou shalt melt ;-and many a heart-shed tear Gush o'er the harden'd features of despair! Nature shall throb in every tender string, Thy trembling heart the ruffian's task deny ;Thy horror-smitten hands afar shall fling The blade, undrench'd in blood's eternal dye! CHORUS.. Hallow'd Earth! with indignation Mark, oh, mark the murderous deed! Radiant eye of wide creation, Watch the damned parricide! Yet, ere Colchia's rugged daughter Perpetrate the dire design, And consign to kindred slaughter, Children of thy golden line! Shall thy hand, with murder gory, Cause immortal blood to flow! Sun of Heaven!-array'd in glory! Rise, forbid, avert the blow! F In the vales of placid gladness Let no rueful maniac range; Chase afar the fiend of Madness, Wrest the dagger from Revenge! Say, hast thou, with kind protection, Rear'd thy smiling race in vain; Fostering Nature's fond affection, Tender cares, and pleasing pain? Hast thou, on the troubled ocean, Braved the tempest loud and strong, Where the waves, in wild commotion, Roar Cyanean rocks among? |