 | The Poetical Works of Walter C. Smith
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Why, what demon is this, with the logic of Hell,
That pleads for the wild Beast within me so well—
The Beast that was doomed to a Cross by the Three
Awful names, that are named in the great Mystery?
Down, down, thou foul fiend! Hence to leprous romance
Of the demi-monde poisonous mushrooms of France.
Better sin like a man, doing after his kind,
Than sit here cold-blooded, debauching the mind.—
Hark! Ralph sings again, but he sings all alone,
And he wails now, poor fellow, the days that are gone.
| The Poetical Works of Walter C. Smith
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