 | The Poetical Works of the Rev. George Croly |  |
XXIII.
Perish the vision!—no,—on France's eyeStill let it hang,—as o'er a murderer's
His victim's shade,—in noon, in midnight nigh,
Till she has laid it in repentant tears;
Till man has seen what fruit rebellion bears;
The noblest sure to perish by the low,
Stripp'd by their rapine, slaughter'd by their fears;
Guilt's tender mercies, that uplift the blow,
While from its pallid lips “faith, honor, country” flow.
| The Poetical Works of the Rev. George Croly | |