Prisoners to a foe inhuman, Oh! but our hearts rebel: Defenceless victims ye are, in claws of spite a prey, Conquering your torturers, enduring night and day Malice, year-long drawn out your noble spirits to quell. Fearsomer than death this rack they ranged, and reckon'd well 'Twould harrow our homes, and plied, such devilish aim had they, That England roused to rage should wrong with wrong repay, And smirch her envied honour in deeds unspeakable. Nor trouble we just Heaven that quick revenge be done On Satan's chamberlains highseated in Berlin; Their reek floats round the world on all lands 'neath the sun: Tho' in craven Germany was no man found, not one With spirit enough to cry Shame!—Nay, but on such sin Follows Perdition eternal ... and it has begun. |