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THE BURNING OF CHAPLESTOWN. 97
And such chastisement coming from a state
Who calls herself our parent, nurse, and friend—
Must rouse each soul that's noble, frank, and great, And urge us on our lives and all to spend!
Oh ! spot once graceful; but, alas ! no more;
Till signs shall end, and time itself shall cease, Thy name shall live, and on fame's pinions soar,
To mark grim blackness on Great Britain's face.
Nor shall the blood of heroes on the plain, Who nobly fell that day in freedom's cause,
Lie unreveng'd, though with thy thousands slain,2 Whilst there's a King who fears nor minds thy laws.
Shall Cain who madly spilt his brother's blood, Receive such curses from the God of all ?
Is not that Sovereign still as just and good, To hear the cries of children when they call ?
Yes, there's a God whose laws are still the same, Whose years are endless, and his power is great;
He is our God : Jehovah is his name;
With him we trust our sore oppressed state. 5 |
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