 | Poems, by Joseph Cottle |  |
72
How! many a hateful form before Thee flies,
On whose dark brow, and grinning smile, and yell,
Thou might'st, if justice reign'd, for ever dwell!
Yet thou hast mark'd their faults, whilst pity sigh'd,
And to disturb thy peace, their little powers defy'd.
| Poems, by Joseph Cottle | |